#heartau

[heartau]

Domaine de la Romanée | J.JH [M]

Genre: rich kid!au - angst, smut, slow burn-ish, pining, fluff Word count: 41.2k (i am so sorry.) Comments: ok.... i got rly engrossed in the plot and world building so i went super buckwild on this. i apologize for that. i worked on this for a whole month + 2 weeks so .... enjoy! i’d love love looove hearing some feedback! also UNEDITED.  Warnings: very, very, very explicit sexual content - rough sex, choking, throat-fucking, degradation, dirty talk, oral sex, dom!jaehyun, sub!reader, overstimulation, unprotected, breeding kink | strong language, various sexual scenes, infidelity(? kinda). 

Even the most pure become tainted when their eyes meet his. This was doomed from the start; you knew it was dangerous, you knew it was bad - but all those thoughts left your mind the second he made you feel good. 

[ ⚠ ] This piece involves a very problematic scenario (ie. infidelity). Please note that I do not promote nor advocate it. This is a work of pure fiction, involving a plot that is compelling to read and write about. Please read the trigger warnings listed and assess if you are comfortable to proceed - I do not wish to harm or trigger anybody. Adding on, while this work of fiction features real people, I would like to remind you that how I portray them does not, in any way, correlate to how they truly act in real life - I am just using them as characters for a plot. I do not wish to defame or insult anybody, I am just here to practice my passion in writing and entertain you.

Domaine de la Romanée - Field of Romance

You eyed the roses placed within the glass vase situated in the center of the table and wondered to yourself when this monotonous gala will reach its conclusion. The Versace gown that hugs your body has already started to itch at your skin and the corset that your stylists forced you into before leaving for the jubilee eludes you from making numerous rounds to the dessert table, but your mother’s joyful grin and welcoming arms lead you to believe that the night is far from reaching its end. Unable to slouch over in your seat, all you are able to do is sit stiff against the backrest of your plush velvet chair, fingers pinched at the stem of your glass of wine, swirling the liquid of domaine de la romanée-cont.

This gala was all your mother’s proposal for her new Spring collection releasing just a few days prior, ensembles of pastel and bold colours rolling out onto the runway and fostering a flock of people to rush into your boutiques littered across the globe. Your great-great-grandmother was the founder of Decoré, established in the year 1882, and the brand overtook the fashion industry by storm, raking millions and millions of dollars into your family name. She, who passed the company down to her daughter, who passed it onto her own daughter, who passed it onto your mother, were all eager with the idea of leading their own business. Forthwith, in a few years time, it’ll be your own turn in leading this empire - and you couldn’t be more than fervent in finally having the brand in your own two hands.

Of course, your mother thinks the same, as to why this celebration doubles as a matchmaking service for you, her only child. 

“(Y/N), dear!” she calls your name, hushed by the constant classical music reverberating from the string ensemble. You turn to meet her direction, eyes automatically moving to the man she was pulling along with her, and for the nth time that night, wished that you weren’t stuck in such a tight corset so you could guzzle up every wine bottle in sight in order to avoid the imminent doom. “There is someone I’d like you to meet!” 

Yukhei “Lucas” Xuxi Wong the IV, whom most people know as Wong Yukhei, whom most people refer to as only Lucas. The amount of names that the man holds equates nowhere near the amount of distaste you hold for him; if it weren’t for the grossly iniquitous personality that you have come to know and hear by virtue of the internet, you would have already been charmed by his sharp, dusky eyes and spellbinding smile. Your poor mother, far too oblivious, beams in what you could only describe as acceptance.

“This is Yukhei Wong the IV,” your mother grins as Lucas pulls a chair out for her to sit on. He smooths down his tan Hermés suit before sitting down in the plush seat on your other side, already attempting to send provocative eyes your way. “He is the next in line for the chief executive position of the Wong Institute of Medicine, you know, the beautiful university in New York? Yukhei, this is my daughter, (Y/N)!” 

“It’s very nice to meet you, Yukhei.” you say, feigning a kind smile as you outstretch your hand towards the tall, handsome man. 

“Please, call me Lucas,” he coquettes, taking your hand and leaning down to press a kiss on your knuckles. For a split second, you are unsure if the cause of the slight taste of domaine de la romanée-cont travelling back up your esophagus was induced by this wanton or if it’s due to your corset digging into your stomach. “It’s very nice to meet you as well, dear. You are just as beautiful as you are in the photo shoots I’ve seen. Even more so, really.”

You throw him a simper as you gently pull your hand away from him, rejection clear on your expression but unbeknownst to him. You’ve read up on countless articles about this man, how doomed the reputation of Wong Institute was going to be once he gets ahold of the company; limitless cheating scandals, a myriad of DUIs, and multitudes of other alleged crimes, you’re almost confused, if not horrified, at how on earth your mother would think he’d be a perfect candidate for you - but the glimmering chandelier that must have cost millions above you is the token answer to that.

“Lucas was telling me about how the last of his father’s inquiries are wrapping up before KIM is being passed onto him. Isn’t that right, Lucas?” your mother urges the man, who looks at you with a type of hunger in his eyes that you’d rather not question him about. “You two youngsters have a chat, I have to go welcome my guests!”

“Yes, of course!” Lucas tears his eyes off your body for the first time since meeting him only seconds ago, sending a kilowatt smile at your mother, who pivots on her heel before walking back towards the entrance hallway. “My father is such an inspirational man, he’s built an empire of medical resources. So many of the world’s renowned doctors graduated from our institute - but, to be truthful, I’m terrified of taking that empire into my own hands without someone I can call my wife by my side to cheer me on.” 

You try all you can to stop yourself from rolling your eyes. “Is that so?” leaves your mouth in bitter fashion.

Ever since you had become of age five years ago, your mother has been desperately trying to match you with a whole slew of men to wed from her business networks, planning blind dates for you and offering you their numbers. From medicine, to theatrics, you have encountered every type of man possible in just the last few years and yet, none of them come quite close to your savour. Either they were far too goal-oriented for you to envision a loving future, far too dull for you to envision a happy future, or far too… abhorrent for you to envision a healthy future. Perhaps your mother knew of Lucas’ true colours but only considered the business venture and the large percentage of the stock he would inherit from the Wong Institute - but other than that, you are stumped as to why she would even contemplate a marriage between the two of you, fields of expertise far too wide and vast from each other.

“Yes, it is,” Lucas says, eyes casting down as if he were reenacting a monologue of a play. “But it’s hard, you know? I haven’t found the perfect woman to marry yet; they’re either far too childish, or are plain gold-diggers, which, frankly, isn’t really my taste.”

“Hm.” you answer bluntly, taking another sip of your savoury wine. 

As he continues to drone on and on about his ideals and morals, none of which you are inclined to believe at all, you find yourself falling short from the wine in your glass, having already drunk all of the liquid. 

“Would you like me to get you some more, (Y/N)?” Lucas asks, cocking his head to the side, a gummy smile stretching on his face. 

You shake your head. “It’s alright, I’ll get it myself. I’m in need of a refresher, anyways,” you stand, legs slightly numb from where your corset pinched your waist. “It was very nice talking to you, Lucas.”

“Of course, of course,” he says, standing up as well. “Can I see you again sometime?”

You scrunch your nose, and for the first time since meeting him, he flashes a dejected look in his eye. “You’ll have to book an appointment with my manager.” 

And with that, you pivot on your heel and head towards the refreshments, leaving a stunned Lucas in your wake, praising yourself for finishing your wine rather than dumping the remnants of it over his Hermés suit. You let out a sigh as you find solace in the classical music, reading the labels of each wine bottle displayed in rows on the table. Finding the bottle for domaine de la romanée-conti, you request one of the caterers to fill your glass, and within seconds, you find yourself standing in the corner of the venue, far from where you originally sat. You studied the decorations adorned throughout the hall, very much in theme with your mother’s Spring collection - fabrics of pastel silk and decorative flowers suspending from the ceiling above, causing chandeliers to look like floweret bulbs and to emit a slight, coral glow. 

“Quite peculiar that the great (Y/N) (Y/L/N) is standing in the corner and not conversing with the guests of her mother’s own gala,” a merry voice causes you to look up from your swirling wine, breaking out into your first smile of the night at the sight of your best friend. 

Joohyun “Irene” Kim, is the granddaughter of the founder of Bae Institute of Fashion, a very renowned university of design established in the hills of Beverly and Hollywood. You had met her the first year you had gone to school, automatically sticking to each other like magnets. Although she may be a quiet woman herself, she was relatively much more confident than you were as a growing child; she had helped you bloom from your shell. You are an only child, but ever since meeting Irene, you only feel as though you’ve grown with a sister.

“Irene,” you smile, crossing your arms over your chest. “I didn’t know you were coming.”

“Of course I came!” she giggles, pressing a kiss to your cheek. “How could I miss the unravelling of Decoré’s Spring Collection, especially so, since some graduates of the institute collaborated on the subject. I actually saw you not too long ago, conversing with Wong Yukhei,” she leans against the wall beside you. “Anything juicy?”

“Not so,” you let out a sigh. “It’s just mother trying to get me to meet another man for marriage. Although, I’m not sure why she would think that man is a good choice.” 

“Evidently so, last I heard, he splurged half of his institute’s money on a night spent in a hotel in Italy with dozens of women on his arms,” Irene sighs, shaking her head. “Why does your mother insist on you marrying? You’re still a young woman, you have a life to live first - and besides, it’s not like any of the guys she’s found for you are all that interesting either.”

You let out a snicker, shaking your head. “You have no right in lecturing me, Irene, aren’t you engaged?” you quirked an eyebrow at your best friend while she rolls her eyes at you. “Frankly, I’ve never seen you so happy than the night Seokjin proposed. It was quite a sight, really.”

“Oh shut up,” she pouts, lightly hitting you on your shoulder. “Once you find the man you’ve been waiting for, you’ll know the feeling exactly.” 

The rest of the night is spent with you glued to her arm, following her around the venue as she greets the people that she knows. Irene has always been just a little more social than you have ever been, and now with an engagement ring on her finger, it only brings more topics of discussion with her. You had the chance to meet her fiancé, Kim Seokjin, as well, proving himself a good and commendable man; he held admiring eyes for only her and had an air of genuinity - you felt the inkling of envy building in your stomach, not because you wished for Seokjin to love you, but because your best friend had found a good man to settle down with, something that doesn’t seem at all possible for you. 

As the night continues on, you find yourself seated at their table, watching as individuals adorned in brand names from Vuitton to Marchesa walk past you with high chins and flutes of liquor. The string ensemble has shifted their focus from classical and moved onto jazz, and you’re almost sure they’ve been playing the same measure for the past twelve minutes. Sighing as the couple beside you converse as if they’re in their own world, you continue to look around the room, finding your mother rearranging a pot of decorative flowers to her liking right next to a panoramic window. Your eyes shift to the other side of the window, and you instinctively sit forward in your chair.

Clad in a dark grey suit by Hemsworth and a black tie tucked behind his blazer, a handsome man of tall stature does the same thing as you, watching individuals walk past and interact amongst themselves, swirling cheval blanc in his wine glass. His hair, an ash blonde, a dye job that works wonders for his creamy skin tone, is slicked back messily, a few strands of hair slipping through the layer of gel and hanging in front of his forehead. His face, square in shape, held a juxtaposition of features, sharp eyes, but a soft nose; sharp lips, but a sleek jawline and fleshy cheeks. He looked stunning, far more stunning than the men you’ve met throughout the last five years; he looked as if he walked out of an impressionist painting. 

Just before you were about to tear your eyes off of the man, his head turns to your direction, automatically meeting your eyes. For a split second, his gaze tears, only to return boring into yours again, which causes you to gasp slightly. His face remains expressionless as he continues your eye contact, before he surely looks away from you one last time. Your hand bunches up the soft blue silk of your Versace gown before spinning towards Irene. 

“Irene.” you grab her hand, diverting her attention away from her fiancé. 

“Yes? What is it?” she turns to you. You let out a puff of air before continuing your sentence.

You turn your head again to see if the man is still there, to which he was, eyes back to focusing on the rest of the crowd lining the halls. “That man over there, in the dark grey, next to the window,” you whisper to her. “Who is he? I’ve never seen him before.”

Her eyes follow your line of sight with an expression of joy since at last, you’ve finally found a man you showed at least an inkling of interest in, but once her eyes land on the man in question, her expression falls.

“No.” her voice turns grave, much to your panic. “(Y/N), don’t you dare even think about it.”

You widen your eyes in confusion, searching her face to find clues if she were just joking - but her expression remains serious. “Why?” you ask her. “Who is he?”

“That’s Jay Jung,” she tells you, grasping your hands. “Better known as Jung Jaehyun. He’s next in line for the position of CEO for Jung & Associates, you know, that really famous law firm? They’re a family full of lawyers - they come from old money, (Y/N), they’re extremely powerful. They’re not here to play dress-up like the rest of us.” 

You furrow your brows. You’ve heard about Jung & Associates before in fleeting conversations. Always on the topic of them winning innumberal cases and trials, or articles that litter your ears during outings of his father merging with and overpowering other law firms. You recall hearing your mother talking about Jung & Associates on the phone while you sat in the lounging area scrolling through your Twitter feed, just a few weeks ago.

“What? We come from old money as well, Irene.” you urge her on, not quite understanding her rejectful view of the man. The two of you also come from old money, Decoré and the BAE Institute have been established for generations and still continue to stick around by blood lineage, so you were unsure why she seemed so rattled by the man and his family name.

“Yes, but we’re different,” Irene pauses. “Our companies collaborate with each other, because we can, and because our environments and industries are light-hearted enough. Jung & Associates does not collaborate - they purchase the smaller companies, no matter what field of expertise the company aims for, and whether they like it or not.” She glances back towards Jaehyun, who had begun to walk back into the lounging area, walking past the plush velvet chairs. “I know that Jung Jaehyun holds the ego of five men, he thinks of himself as if he is on a pedestal.” 

You watch as the man gazes at the decorations strewn across the gallery, a flat expression gracing his angelic features. It’s quite disheartening that a man so attractive as he could possess such alleged revolting qualities - but you aren’t shocked; throughout the years of being taught by your mother on how to pull the ropes of a company as a woman, it isn’t like you’re unaccustomed to men forging their own skills in order to get to the top. You’ve learned that the hard way.

“Why does he look like that? He looks miserable.” you scoff, eyeing him as he continues to walk past an array of your mother’s guests, avoiding their widened eyes and hushed whispers. He looks as if he’d rather be anywhere else but to be present in this gala, which is a feeling you associate with, but you would never say that out loud. 

“I’m not sure, he usually has the semblance of a smile on - but that’s mostly when he’s with his brothers,” she says, watching him along with you. “It’s peculiar that he’s here by himself.” 

The faintest feeling of apprehension bubbles up in your stomach once more, but you shake it off. This man is still young, the law firm hasn’t been passed down to him yet - he’s probably just here for his own amusement and pleasure, and was wholly disappointed by the lack of fun and the droning jazz music. Whatever the case, you still find yourself unable to look away from him, taking in his beauty, finding yourself wish, just for a split second, that the rumours about him are nowhere near true. He seats himself at a table near the center of the ballroom, and his eyes flashes to yours once again, his gaze lingering on your eyes. This time, you’re the first to look away.

-----

The silk chiffon robe that adorns your body designed specifically for you by Montenero is a price that even your shoes tucked away in their own walk-in closet cannot reach. The hush humdrum of french chatter originating from people passing underneath your hotel balcony is calming to you, having growing used to the booming noises that come with residing deep within a city. October is your favourite time of year to visit Bordeaux, France, as the pesky throngs of tourists finally dwindle away and due to the sun deciding to emit heat much gentler than any other season. Even the staff of Hôtel Le Palais Gallien bear a jolly expression this time of year.

It is occasions like this when you would find yourself sojourned in this city for a breather from your hectic work life, photoshoots and fashion shows demanding your occupancy more than seventy hours per week, the cool evening air kissing your cheek bones as you breath out a blissful sigh. Just on the 7 rue Ferrere inside an old warehouse building built of cobblestones and brick, was an exhibition held by your favourite photographer, John Suh - rather than flashy ornaments strewn over sets and models posing themselves in an avant-garde manner, he always pursued natural lighting, habitual individual quirks; simplistic, comfortable, authentic. You had always wished to collaborate with him on a photoshoot, but his schedule would always turn up booked; you would have to wait years to be able to book an appointment with him.

You smooth down the slightly scrunched fabric of your lilac Rachel Parcell summer dress, leather satchel by Kate Spade in tow as you step out of the sleek black car; you had told your chauffeur to meet you at the same spot in about two hours and a half, wanting to experience the exhibition in full on your own. Journalists and cameramen have already bombarded the entrance, yelling multiple queries for you to answer, ranging from questioning your enthusiasm on the upcoming exhibition or if your mother has any plans releasing a new collection before the year ends. You are only thankful for the Tom Ford sunglasses that you pull down to perch on your nose, blocking the frantic flashing lights of cameras, making your way into the cobblestone building with the help of the doorman.

When the wooden doors close and the yells of journalist cease behind the doorways, your ears are calmed with the sound of classical music, playing faintly along the gallery. It echoes against gravel walls, the effect soothing to you, encompassed in art. The photographs, stuck against large, plain, white boards, lit with dim lighting, is your first priority, slipping your sunglasses off and perching them back on your head. You study each one, carefully, analyzing each snapshot eagerly. 

“(Y/N)!” you hear a familiar voice, and you quickly spin around, meeting the cordial eyes of your best friend’s fiancé. Seokjin strolls towards you with a casual gait in his step. “Fancy seeing you here!”

“Hello, Seokjin,” you smile and nod your head towards him. You take note of the wine glass pinched between his fingers, telling yourself to make rounds to the beverages soon. “I never took you as the person to enjoy fine arts.” you joke, watching him chuckle in response.

“I am the grandson of the guy who founded Kim Productions,” he tells you in a light tone. Seokjin’s grandfather is the chief executive of Kim Pictures, a prominent production company known by their several high-grossing films and featurettes; he doesn’t show it on his face nor in his attitude though - he is down-to-earth, which is admirable; men in this environment seem to forget their manners and morals. “However, I’m really just here to support one of my best friends.”

“You’re friends with John Suh?” you question him.

He nods, pressing his lips together which causes his cheeks to puff out slightly. “Yep!” he answers. “We went to the same university together, took the same courses and whatnot. One of the nicest men I’ve ever met. He actually goes by Johnny - he uses John to sound more professional.” 

You nod your head in understanding, attempting to keep your excitement under wraps. You couldn’t bare risking your clean repute to be tainted by pestering Kim Seokjin for a collaboration with your favourite photographer. A smile finds their way on your lips before you open your mouth again. “I’m a very big fan,” you tell him. “His pictures are some of the best I’ve ever seen.”

“Really?” Seokjin asks you, lifting his wine glass to his lips and taking a momentary sip. “I never took you as the type to be engrossed in photography.” 

“I am a model.” you laugh, using the same tone he had used with you prior.

“You got me there,” he jokes. “Johnny’s actually doing an interview for Aesthetica right now, but perhaps once he’s finished I can take you to meet him!” 

“Are you willing to?” you ask him, unsure if he feels as if he’s forced to do so, or if he’s genuinely happy to let you meet his good friend. He nods, an authentic smile gracing his features, and you push back the will to grin in a cheerful manner of excitement, a small, thankful smile finding its way onto your face.

It takes all for you to keep that calm, serene beam on your face though, when you finally come face to face with one of your heroes. He stands tall, taller than you would have ever imagined a person to be, with long brown locks that sway in front of his face and square shoulders that slightly protrude forward due to endless nights of editing his own photos. A knit black sweater by Valentino curtains his body, fit beige trousers covering his endless legs and ending with polished black shoes that you can see your reflection in. 

“Ah,” he says, clasping his hands together in excitement. “You’re (Y/N) (Y/L/N)! I’ve seen you in many advertisements and fashion magazines - my husband is a very big fan!” 

You are in heaven at the sound of your idol recognizing you, finally letting your excited grin show on your face as you consent to his kiss upon your knuckles. You had heard of John Suh being cheerful and pleasant through many accounts, you are aware of his philanthropic duties, constantly bringing awareness to the troubles around the world. Often does he donate the money that he’s cashed in from his projects to multiple charities - these moments seem to be the chit-chat that takes place around garden parties and other functions frequently. His husband, Chittaphon, who is known solely as Ten, is a prominent model of whom he had met during a shoot with Vogue. You remember their love story being placed on television, articles littered all over your social media; a charming model known for his playboy repute has fallen for a peaceful, relaxing photographer - their love story is something you could only dream about and desire as your own.

“I’m so excited to meet you,” you tell him, face red with enthusiasm. “I'm a very, very big fan of your works - I’ve always wished for us to collaborate.” 

He lets out a deep laugh, hand resting on his stomach. “Actually, I’ve always tried to book an appointment with you, but your manager would only tell me of dates years into the future.” 

Your jaw drops. “No way,” you let out a laugh. “I’ve been doing the same thing for you!”

The three of you, including Seokjin, converse like old college friends, quickly becoming close as you exchange laughs and slight quips; you and Johnny excitedly make plans for a shoot, promising to clear out the least important schedules in your itinerary. Wholly excited, you’ve got to owe everything to Seokjin, who was able to make this possible for you. As the event nears its end, people beginning to clear out of the warehouse, you find a new friend in Johnny, thankful for the opportunity to make acquaintance with him.

You leave briefly in the midst of the two men’s conversation about their college days to make rounds to the beverages, letting the server pour domaine de la romanée-conti into your wine glass, letting the heavenly liquid attack your taste buds and closing your eyes in delight. The knowledge of your mother not being present with you, having stayed behind in Seoul to run the reigns of the company building thusly not breathing down your neck to keep your eyes open for a potential future husband, is something equivalent to freedom. You listen to classical music playing softly along the gallery for a few seconds, Franz Schubert absorbing into your eardrums, before opening your eyes to find your way back to Johnny and Seokjin. 

You only find yourself frozen when your eyes open to familiar ones staring back at you. 

His hair is still an ash blond, styled much like the first time you saw him, a few loose strands escaping the net of hair gel and kissing the front of his forehead. His lips, which were pulled into a slight scowl when you had first seen them, had the slightest sight of a smirk, the corner of his lip raised faintly. He’s dressed in a fit, pressed, light grey suit by Ted Baker, Daniel Wellington watch peeking from his exposed wrist when he pulls his hand to his lips to sip from his veuve clicquot champagne. Yet, even with the details of his dress and face, you find your eyes stuck on one feature; his eyes. Never tearing from yours, his brown eyes hold an emotion that you cannot decipher. 

It takes you a nanosecond to shake yourself out of your trance, averting your eyes away from his gaze as you pivot on your heel, making your way back through the gallery towards Seokjin and Johnny. You are unsure as to why Jaehyun is here, much like the first time you had seen him at your mother’s galal; you recall Irene talking about his personality and morals, he does not seem like the type to enjoy fine arts. A heat crawls up your neck upon realizing how you must have looked like a deer in headlights upon meeting his eyes, cursing at yourself for being so brash with your staring, feeling the heat cloud your cheeks when you realize he probably must have recognized you from the first time you had seen him - there is no way he will not recognize you now. 

“There you are,” Johnny says, raising his glass when you return. “I was starting to think you had gotten lost. I was going to ask one of my guards to search for a short woman in lilac!”

You shake your head fervently, bubbling up a laugh that didn’t sound so nervous much to your favour. “No, no,” you smile, letting out a sigh in attempt to let go of what had just happened. “I just got distracted.”

You will yourself to catch up on the conversation that you had missed while you were stuck staring into the umber eyes of Jung Jaehyun, but it is all that you could think about, finding yourself falling quiet and finding interest in the way the wine in your glass swirls. The two men did not really notice as they were in deep conversation, and you did not mind. Hushed under your thoughts, their voices become familiar enough for you to decipher - until a new voice began to cut through a conversation. 

“Brother,” a deep, booming baritone voice sounds, and you grip the stem of your wine glass with tension. You glance upwards, Jaehyun right in front of you now, hand on Johnny’s shoulder, whose entire body has gone stiff. His eyes are cast at Johnny, deftly avoiding yours. Brother?, you wonder. They are related? “Father called, he’s had a flight booked for the both of us back to Seoul tonight. We should get going now.”

“Jaehyun, it seems as if you do not understand that this is my exhibition,” Johnny turns to the slightly shorter man. He seems to visibly relax but his fist that hangs loose on his side is still clenched. “It will be rude of me to leave the guests that came to support me so early. You go on that flight. I can handle my own payments, I’ll catch the next flight out.”

Jaehyun huffed, his jaw clenching. From a distance, he was beautiful, but up close, he looks unreal; his lips much plumper and skin similar to porcelain, spotless. You look towards Seokjin, unsure of how to act, but even the confident, humorous man finds solace in staring into his wine glass. “These are father’s orders,” Jaehyun tells him, voice authoritative. “He wants us home by tonight.”

“And we will be,” Johnny says through a grit smile. “I’ll just be late. Please, Jaehyun; tonight is my night. Don’t let your family business ruin this for me as well.”

You are confused as you listen to them, still reeling from the information that you had uncovered that Johnny and Jaehyun are related to each other. Your family business, you repeat in your head. He words his sentence as if he was not a part of the family, and judging by his body language, it seems as if that is what he wishes. Your thoughts are interrupted when Jaehyun lets out a loud sigh, eyes dark as he glares at Johnny. He backs away without a word, before he pivots on his heel, and in a fleeting moment his eyes lock with yours; you suck in a breath as the nanosecond passes you by. His lips, this time, do not form into a smirk, but are pressed into a thin line. Withdrawing back into the crowd, he is the first to tear his eyes away. 

“Sorry about him,” Johnny breathes after a few moments of silence, perching the glass of wine atop a table beside him. He reaches to scratch the back of his neck, grimacing. “My brother is not usually like that. It’s just... he’s stressed about the law firm.”

You nod, listening intently, hoping for Johnny to continue into a discussion about his relation to Jaehyun, wanting to know more about the Jung family, desiring answers to the questions that you have conjured in your brain, but he does not mention it again after that. As the night comes to a close, you have already eased up from the short moment you shared with the enigmatic man; as the night comes to a close, you find yourself exchanging numbers with Johnny, proving him to be a friend you will keep for a long time; as the night comes to a close, the dark, impenetrable eyes that lingers on your form is something you stay oblivious to.

-----

The heat of the Philippine sun beating into your skin is nothing short of pleasant, the scent of salt water lacing its way into your nostrils. The grains of sand that dig into your skin bears no competition to the softness of your carpeted bedroom floors back home You are in paradise; actually, you are in Cebu, Philippines, tanning underneath the blazing sun in Plantation Bay, which is most possibly the closest to paradise you will ever meet. It is after you and Irene had finished volunteering at a children’s center situated in the middle of Cebu City, finding solace in making friends with the children and helping them with whatever you could. Children have always been a soft spot for you, you absolutely adored them and were a natural with handling them, so you jumped at the chance to experience this when Irene father had brought it up in conversation with the both of you. 

“There is a live band playing tonight at the Palermo restaurant,” says Irene, voice deafened by the loud crashing of the ocean waves in front of you as well as the clamorous yelling of children and other people staying in the resort around the pool area. “We should check it out. It’s been a while since I’ve heard music other than jazz and classical being played live.” 

You nod, agreeing to her plans, before the two of you rest in peaceful silence once more, taking in the heat of the sun. You find yourself hours later, in the hotel room that the two of you shared, placing a Salina crop top by Reformation atop your Burberry printed bikini top, and high waisted denim shorts you had acquired from a fast fashion brand while scavenging through one of the malls. Placing some lip gloss and mascara on before ensuring that Irene was ready, the both of you eagerly leave to head to the ground floor, where the restaurant is situated. 

As soon as you step foot into the restaurant, the air is filled with nothing but of music and the smell of savoury foods. You had acquired a taste for many of the dishes, finding it fitting to your tastes, so you were excited to have a full meal and enjoy some music that night. A band composed of four people stand atop a panel, jamming out to local music, people singing along joyfully, which makes you grin in delight. You do not know how to speak in Bisaya, knowing only a few short phrases here and there, but the tune is familiar to you, and so you hum along. 

You and Irene sit in one of the tables on the elevated level of the restaurant, just a few more feet away from the band, enjoying a space that isn’t so crowded. 

“Seokjin tells me that he took you to meet Johnny Suh at his photography exhibition in Bordeaux,” she mentions to you after the waitress had left with your orders. “Tell me, how did it feel meeting your hero?”

“It was amazing,” you giggled, recalling the feeling of meeting someone you had looked up to that happened just a mere few weeks ago. “We actually became good friends - we have our own group chat and everything. Tell Seokjin I said thank you, he’s such a kind man.”

Irene laughs, waving you off. “Anything else interesting that happened on that trip?” she asks. “Hooked up with any French boys? I heard that the hotel you stayed in proves to be a beautiful place to have sex.”

You roll your eyes at her as you take a sip of your water. “No, Irene, I did not bone anyone,” you tell her as she snickers. You suddenly recollect memories of meeting Jaehyun’s eyes; the mere thought sends jolts to run through your nerves. “However, Jaehyun was there.”

“Really?” Irene asks, wonder on her face, before she let out a gasp, bringing her hands to her cheeks as she grimaces. “Goodness, my apologies, I forgot to mention that Johnny and Jaehyun are half-brothers, how could I forget!” she seems to beat herself up momentarily but then calms. “Did anything happen with him?”

You gulp down the urge to tell her about his intense staring. “Not anything special,” you lie. “He and Johnny got into a heated discussion about going back to Seoul, something about their father needing them back at that very moment. However, Jaehyun left before it could get worse.“ Irene seems to relax in her seat as you play with one of the dining utensils placed in front of you. After a few moments of silence, you open your mouth. “Irene, tell me about the Jung family. I’m curious.”

Irene seems to be taken aback from your question but hums, recalling some facts that she may know of. “From what I know, Johnny is the child of Mr. Jung’s first wife, who had left him for one of their butlers. Jaehyun, and their youngest, Jaemin, are the sons of his second, and current, wife,” she pauses. “Apparently, Mr. Jung is still furious about his first wife leaving him, which is why he promised Jaehyun, his second son, the company, instead of Johnny.”

“Oh.” you whisper, heartstrings tugging at the sad story - spite causes people to make the most hurtful actions.

“Seokjin met Johnny in university, they’re very, very good friends,” Irene continues. “From what he’s told me, Johnny and Jaehyun have always had a strained relationship - he’s unsure why, really. I guess you can tell from the way Johnny still continues to bear his mother’s last name. Anyways, Seokjin told me that it was never Johnny’s dream to run a law firm, and when Mr. Jung appointed Jaehyun as the next chief executive officer, the hateful tension between them raised a little bit more.”

“Why?” you find yourself engrossed in the story, waiting for her to tell you more about the Jung family, but she shakes her head. 

Irene sighs. “I’m afraid this is where my knowledge reaches its end,” she says, and you will yourself not to pout, relishing in the newfound information. “Why do you want to know about the Jung family so much, though? Don’t tell me you’ve taken an interest in Jaehyun, (Y/N); he’s devious, please remember that.”

You shake your head fervently, heat rising up your neck. “No! No, of course not,” you tell her, waving your arms in front of your face. “I was just curious as to why he was so snippy. It was quite rude, really, to see him talking down on his brother like that at his own exhibition.”

She hums in response, not quite believing your tale, but your orders arrive before she could say anything else. The two of you enjoy your meal and converse, talking up a storm like the two of you usually do whenever together. When you are halfway into your meal, the calamares fritos proving heavenly to your stomach, Irene stands from her chair with her purse, excusing herself to the bathroom. You nod, letting her go as you continue to eat your meal alone, instead, facing the screen of your phone. Woefully finishing your meal before Irene can return, you take this time to relish in the atmosphere. The music, now traded for a softer sound with velvety guitars and smooth bass, calms the environment, people around you had went from a jovial bellowing to conversing calmly in their circle groups. To your right is a panoramic window that is painted over with watercolour. You study each stroke as you rest your chin on top of your hand. 

“Excuse me, miss,” the waitress’ hushed voice catches your attention, and you turn towards her. “Domaine de la romanée-conti, from the gentleman at the bar.”

You nod your head at her in thanks, curiously accepting the glass of wine. She sets it down on the table in front of you, and you are stumped. Domaine de la romanée-conti is your favourite, and although it was commonplace in many wine enthusiasts’ palates and collections, it was very expensive to purchase. You look around the restaurant, hoping to catch sight of whomever had, not only splurged their money on you, but had correctly guessed your favoured vin dus pays, eyes dashing around each individual until you land on a gaze that causes your breath to hitch.

His smirk is more distinctive now, even under the dim lights of the restaurant. His ash blond hair was not slicked back this time, instead swept aside on his forehead in messy layers. He is dashing even in casual attire, Commes des Garçons fit on his upper body, short sleeves revealing the veins that run through his muscular arms and tight black jeans that capture every curve of his thighs. The look was appalling to you, having grown used to seeing him clad in nothing but expensive suits - but even when you bite back the gasp from seeing him in the area, your eyes are still locked on his. 

He grabs the glass that he had situated in front of him, filled with veuve clicquot, before standing up from his chair and approaching you. Your eyes never leave his; you still cannot pinpoint the emotions stirring inside them, even when he takes his seat in front of you. 

“It’s funny that we see each other so often, but we still have yet to introduce ourselves to each other,” he starts, the voice you had heard almost booming at Johnny’s exhibition a few weeks ago is at a much gentler tone now. He reaches his hand over the table, expecting you to grab it. “My name is Jung Jaehyun, of Jung & Associates.”

You stare at his hand for a few seconds, not knowing whether you should accept it or not. You interrogate yourself in your thoughts, recalling Irene several warnings; but his gaze is far too intense for you to reject it - and even then, you do not wish for sour feelings between the both of you; even if Jaehyun’s moral compass was wrong, you know Decoré would be ruined the day you decide to act antagonistic towards him. You reach your hand over the table as well, taking his and shaking it lightly, memorizing the smoothness of his hands.

“I’m (Y/N) (Y/L/N) of Decoré,” your voice is kind, sending him a smile. You remember the time you had given Wong Lucas the same tone and face when he thought he could have a chance with you; it’s almost deja vu when you send it towards Jaehyun - almost. “It’s very nice to meet you, Jaehyun.”

“Same to you,” he begins, a charming smile on his face. He has dimples, and you gulp as your breathing begins to falter. “I know that we met at my older brother, Johnny’s, exhibition, and I just wanted to clear up any misunderstandings you might have from my character that night. I’m sure we can try again, right? A friend of Johnny’s is a friend of mines.”

You press your lips into a thin line; when he’s dressed in casual attire, he takes the appearance of a casual, everyday boy, someone you might have met in college, someone in a different social class - someone authentic and normal, yet he still has the same intensity that he holds in suits worth millions by Hemsworth, even in comfortable clothing. “Of course we can,” you tell him, to which he relaxes, a wider grin displaying on his face and urging the dimple on his cheeks to form deeper. “Thank you for the domaine de la romanée-cont, by the way, it’s my favourite.”

“Just a lucky guess,” Jaehyun smiles at you. “I remember that was the drink you held both times we came across each other.” 

You ignore the feeling of your heart slightly skipping a beat, gulping down a sip of the wine down your throat; Irene’s voice is booming within your head now. “You have a very good memory, Jaehyun.” you say, taking a sip of the sauvignon, the familiar taste flooding your tastebuds. 

“Just the important things,” he says, chuckling to himself as he takes a sip of his champagne. “So, what brings you to the island of Cebu?”

He talks to you so casually, but his eyes drip with intention, staring into your own eyes and unending; it was as if he was mocking you - mocking the lack of power you had compared to him. “My friend, Irene, and I volunteered at an orphanage in Cebu City,” you tell him, setting the glass of wine down in front of you. “What about you, Jaehyun? Are you following me?”

Your eyes widen when you hear the words fall past your own lips, bringing a hand to your mouth in shock as you yell blasphemous words inside your head. You watch his face, waiting for his reaction to your rudeness, but he just lets out a lighthearted laugh, eyes forming into crescents as he bellows out whimsical notes. “I’m actually here for a business venture,” he tells you after his laughter calms down. “But perhaps I should be the one asking that question, hm, (Y/N)?” 

His voice is teasing, a smirk playing on his lips; you swallow your words instead trading them for nervous giggles. “Maybe we just have the same mind, and similar thoughts.” you tell him, adding a small smile at the end of your sentence, looking directly into his eyes. He raises his eyebrows for a nanosecond, as if an expression of surprise took over his face, before he lets out a deep chuckle.

“I hope so,” he says with a simper, voice slightly deafened from the sounds of guitars and basses reverberating off the walls of Palermo. Just as you open your mouth reply, his phone emits a loud ringtone from his pocket, causing him to tear his eyes off of you. He digs for his phone from his jeans pocket, glancing at his screen and seeing his face fall for a split second before he stands up. “I’m afraid our conversation might have to end early. It was nice seeing you here, (Y/N). I hope we can meet again soon.”

You ignore the slight disappointment emerging from the bottom of your throat, taking in a deep breath. “The same to you, Jung Jaehyun,” your voice is hushed. He nods once, smile bright but brown eyes concentrated, a juxtapositioned expression. His action is delayed, eyes lingering on your for one more second, before he pivots on his heel and marches towards the doors of the restaurant. After watching his retreating figure through the glass doors walk around the corner, you let out a sigh of relief, looking down at the glass of wine he had purchased for you, the liquid now sitting near the bottom. You question yourself on the emotions you felt while conversing with him, chalking it up as a side-effect of constant travelling and having no sleep. 

“Hey, sorry, I’m back, Seokjin called,” your best friend finally reappears, taking her seat in the seats Jaehyun had been in just a few mere seconds ago. Before she turns to hang the sling of her purse on the backrest of the chair, she notices your half-drunk wine glass and eyes you with sharpened eyes. “Started drinking without me, hm?” she quips.

You simply just let out a laugh, fingers twirling the stem of the wine glass as you avoid Irene’s gaze, terrified of her knowing, because you cannot form words. Not when the only image that lingers in your mind is the enigma of Jung Jaehyun’s breathtaking, umber eyes burning into yours.

-----

If you had to pinpoint out the few days you dreadfully loath in a year, you would pick the days Fashion Week is active. 

It is not that you dislike Milan; it is an alluring, beautiful, celebrated city, with copious choices of museums such as the Sforzesco Castle, architecture and cobblestone roads rather gothic yet stunningly vibrant and electrifying, and how could you possibly forget the beautiful view of the Navigli and Darsena districts when the lanterns are lit the moment the stars come out, the sight alone bringing back memories of European romance movies and dialogue to begin playing in your mind. It is a beautiful, wonderful city - but just the name being simply uttered, along with New York, Paris, and London, brings flashbacks that you would rather avert.

The warmth of the sunlight spilling through the crème curtains would usually leave you energized and ready for the oncoming day, yet, somehow, it only puts a kink in your attitude as you groan dismally, longing for just a few more hours of sleep. Perhaps it was your alarm tone whose snooze button you kept missing everytime you would reach for the device, the obnoxious tone emitting constantly, or perhaps it was the horde of screaming stylists and the feeling of your manager pulling your legs out of bed, but you couldn’t bare to close your eyes again and instead of the smile you often wear on your risen face, a slight scowl plays on your lips. Sitting up on your plush mattress with knotted muscles, your stylists have already begun to pull you out of bed, along with your cries of lament. You had barely even rubbed your eyes to rid of the rheum that lined your eyelashes from your few hours of sleep before they had forced you down in a makeup chair, pressuring you to look at yourself in a circular mirror lined with LED lights.

Oh, how horrid, you thought. 

This years theme was Bridal, much to your mother’s dismay - she had believed in an old superstition that wearing a wedding dress before you even have the chance to get married only brings bad luck in your love life; but after she had seen the paycheck that would be wired into her account after you walk down the runway, her mind seemed to forget about the superstition altogether. You eyed the several pimples that had found their way onto your forehead in scrutiny, knowing that the makeup artist will most likely opt for a lighter look to fit the theme. 

“Don’t worry, the pieces you will be wearing will take the attention away from your newfound friends.” a teasing, familiar voice makes their way into your ears as you feel two hands resting on your shoulders. You perk up at the voice and look past your reflection to see Johnny’s friendly face, grinning ear to ear as he laughs at his own joke. Rolling your eyes, you lightly slap his hand on your right shoulder, cracking your first smile of the day. 

“I didn’t know you were coming, Johnny!” you exclaimed, turning around to face him. He was clad in a Raf Simmons cropped sweater with black trousers by Helmut Lang, the sense of casual attire yet the prices of the simple looking fabrics were more than ostentatious. He ruffles your unstyled hair with a mischievous grin. You and Johnny have grown closer in the months since the two of you met, constantly texting each other back and forth; it has gotten to the point where you consider him a best friend, right beside Irene. “You should have texted me!”

“That would have ruined the surprise!” Johnny laughs, walking towards the table in front of you and leaning against a spot where makeup wasn’t littered everywhere. As the makeup artist begins their work on your face, laying and spreading out tones of beige and browns and the slightest hints of pink, you and Johnny converse naturally. 

“So are you the only one that came?” you ask as you watch the makeup artist brush the slightest of coral toned blush onto the apples of your cheek; you’re unsure if it is Johnny’s presence that helped you become fully awake or if it’s due to the work of the artist, but you are positively impressed with how you look so far. 

“No,” Johnny pauses while he digs through one of the bags of makeup opened on the desk. You had solicited constantly to meet Johnny’s husband, Ten, only ever hearing about him through Johnny’s own words and stories - you wanted to meet him, especially since you had heard he was a big fan of yours. You gasp in surprise at his answer, joy setting down on your shoulders when you realize you might be finally meeting your friend’s lover, but it is swept from underneath you in just milliseconds. “I brought Jaehyun with me.” 

“Jaehyun?” you repeat after a few beats, to which he nods. 

“Yep, you know, my brother,” Johnny says, an unknowing smile gracing his features when he glances at you. “He had actually told me that the two of you bumped into each other in the Philippines; he wanted to come to fashion week to support you.”

“Oh…” you respond, trailing off. “Well, that’s very nice of him.” 

“It is,” Johnny confirms, returning the nude lipstick by MAC back into the unzipped bag before digging around again. “It’s quite peculiar, really. Ever since father appointed the chair to Jaehyun, he’s been… quite antagonistic towards me, but ever since his trip to the Philippines, he’s been… alright. Perhaps the merger with PunoLaw went splendidly.” 

You ignore the flip that your heart makes in your chest while the makeup artist sweeps streaks of highlight upon your cheekbones; there could be a number of reasons why Jaehyun’s temperament had gotten better - a simple exchange of greeting and a purchased drink of wine means nothing in a business trip to a foreign country. 

“Johnny,” you starts off, and he hums in response. “You don’t have to answer, but… have the both of you always had bad blood?” 

“I’m sure as someone next in line for the CEO of a company, you have obligations, right?” Johnny lets out a soft sigh, his top teeth sinking into his bottom lip as he patently probes his mind for the correct words. He sets down the lipstick tube that he had been toying with and looks straight at you, a serious expression on his face. “Well… Jaehyun deals with these… obligations... differently. He’s always been a rambunctious man. He grew up thinking that the company would be passed down to me, so he didn’t care much for his own image - so when the news came out that he would be leading Jung & Associates in the future, he just… lashed out, he became slightly more antagonistic to everyone around him. He was never trained for that position, and he still doesn’t know what he’s doing,” Johnny pauses. “He’s just afraid.”

“Ah…” you hum after a short pause, your voice hanging in the air. As next in line for the executive position for Decoré, you are responsible in retaining your clean reputation; you were to be immaculate with your choices, you were expected to stay absolute and virtuous, they wished for you to hold a record that is the epitome of every parent’s wet dream. The constant demanding of these obligations, as well as the constant invariable conversations of marriage and children from your mother, takes a toll on your own wellness daily; you can never say what you truly want to say, you can never do what you truly want to do. You can never underestimate the press when they hone into your every action, words, glances and body language forged into the world with printed ink and a mass of pixels. One slip of character, and it could mean the end of the empire that your great-great grandmother had established. As you stare into the mirror, hairstylist taking over as they brush your hair with a flat comb, you think to yourself; perhaps Jung Jaehyun is just misjudged, perhaps his true reasons for his actions may not be what the media observes. Irene was not the sole heiress to her family’s fashion institute, so she does not know of the demanding expectations that comes forth with preparing for an established company to be in your hands; perhaps she heard of idle conversations of those envious and took their words of spite as gospel.

As time passes, you quickly come to when find yourself lined up backstage along with other models walking the catwalk. The show had just started, the piercing sound of classical piano music blaring through the speakers deafening to your ears as stylists make last minute touch ups on your makeup and dress. You are adorned in a beautiful metallic white dress by Valentino; the top made entirely of chiffon, with a low cut neckline, diamonds formed to cover your chest area. The skirt, made of tulle fabric, is decorated with strewn diamonds, every move you make sending each jewel to swing, making it look as if you had just bathed in a pool of gems. The billowy sleeves are also strewn with diamonds, you can already see the brilliant reflections of light against the harsh LED bulbs above. 

Your hair is pulled back into a braided low bun, your veil, attached to the bottom of your bun, trails behind you for meters, acting like a cape.; you can feel the hairs on the back of your neck stand up as you draw closer towards the front of the line. You suck in a deep breath; you’ve walked countless runways in the past, it’s like a fluent language to you - straight back, intense eyes, just an inkling of attitude - yet, your mind seems to be in a haze, and you can comprehend exactly why. As the last model before you makes her way back behind the stage, you close your eyes momentarily, letting out a puff of hair, before setting off through the doors. 

Your fists relax, hands swaying by your side as the bright lights pointed towards the catwalk causes your dress to glimmer in ways you would only predict ever seeing in fantasy movies. You keep your face monotonous, taking in the audience’s gasps of delight and pleasure at the sight of your dress, the familiar sounds of cameras clicking over and over again proving louder than the booming violins blaring through the speakers. Your lips are flat, and expression featureless as you make your way to the very front of the catwalk - this is the dress’s show, and not yours. You see Johnny in the audience, camera in hand as he takes a few shots of your walk, but it is the man beside him that causes your eyes to slightly widen.

He looks far too beautiful, as if he should be the one walking the runway. His ash blonde hair is slicked back but in the way as if he had forked his dry fingers through his locks rather than wet with gel. He is dressed in a suit made of crushed velvet, also by Valentino, trousers highlighting the curves of his thighs, a pure black button up shirt underneath his velvet blazer. The people seated around him were focused on observing him and attempting to catch his attention rather than to give their attention to the piece that you displayed for them; but he - not paying one glance to your gown, not one glimpse to the veil that flowed behind you, not even regarding the rude chatter emitting around him sparked by his presence - keeps his eyes gazing into yours.

The feeling alone is enough to make you lose your breath, the sight of his deep, teasing eyes causing you to open your mouth slightly, urging you losing track of where you were supposed to be. But just as your lips lightly part, you force them closed in panic of feeling your muscles twitch at the movement; you watch as an amused smile plays his lips, before he crosses his arms over his chest. You tear your eyes away from his, pivoting on your heel as you make your way to the back behind the stage - but even through the chiffon fabric of your veil, you can feel the all-too familiar feeling of Jung Jaehyun’s eyes lingering on your form.

The after party is far too congested to your liking, and even though the air was rich with air conditioning, your skin feels moist to the touch after having to weave your way through hordes of people dancing and chatting with each other. You had traded in the wedding dress that you wore for a shorter light pink chiffon dress by Valentino that ended right before your knees, your feet are already sore from the heels that you’ve been wearing the entire day. You wonder if Johnny might be present at this party too, but you aren’t sure if you’re willing to weave deeper into the venue through more crowds nor are you sure if your feet have enough vitality for a couple more steps. 

“Leaving early?” a distinctive voice causes you to halt before you can walk through the exit. You turn your head, ready to face impact before facing Jaehyun. He has a small smile on his face, cradling a coca-cola can in his hand. “If so, can I leave with? I lost Johnny in the crowd.”

A smile appears on your lips. “Johnny is over six feet tall, I find it hard to believe that you lost him, Jung Jaehyun,” you tell him, quirking your eyebrow, to which he lets out a chuckle, glancing down at his coca-cola. “But yes, you may join.”

The next few minutes are a flurry of exchanges with the guards at the door and retrieving your coats from the lobby. As you walk through the exit doorways, you can only sigh in content when the cool, December breeze kisses the clammy skin of your neck, sweat accumulated from the overcrowded afterparty. It is twelve at midnight, and the streets house only a few people walking up and down the cobblestone roads. You’re glad that your manager had packed a pair of Tory Burch flats for you in your purse, your heels finally getting the rest they need as you turn towards the direction of your hotel, but the reminder in the form of a person speaks before you could hobble off.

“How long will you be staying in Milan?” Jaehyun finds a pace in walking beside you, hands shoved into the deep pockets of his black Burberry trench coat. You take your arms and pull the front lapels of your tweed coat by Gucci. 

“I’ll be leaving tomorrow morning,” you tell him, looking at the streets in front of you. The stars were on display in the night sky, and lamps have lit up, dimly illuminating the roads. You can feel the heat radiating off of Jaehyun as he listens intently to you; your stomach flips with an emotion that you cannot decipher. “Mother wants me back in Seoul before she begins clearing the pieces for her collection releases by Spring. And you?” 

“I’ll be here until Tuesday,” he says, in a tone of dread, the both of you slowing down your walking pace. “Jung & Associates are establishing a branch here, I’ll just be doing the finalizations - then I’ll be back in Seoul.” 

You look at him in surprise. “Really?” you question. “How interesting.”

“Perhaps we’ll bump into each other again on the streets of Myeong-dong.” he grins, kilowatt smile spreading across his face causing his dimples to form on his cheeks. You eye them before looking away, feeling your cheeks begin to heat up - you still had to be careful around him, you are unsure as to what his true character is really like. 

You let out a hum. “You know what, Jung Jaehyun?” you start off in a hesitant teasing tone, unsure of how to interact with him; you didn’t want to accidentally set him off, in case Irene was actually correct with her hypothesis, however, you weren’t sure if Johnny was telling the truth either, details far too vague for your liking. “I’m starting to think you’re actually following me.” 

He lets out an amused puff of air as the two of you round a corner, the Navigli canal coming into view, lit up by the streetlamps that litter beside it; it was breathtaking scenery, it never fails to cause your heartbeat to quicken whenever you catch sight of it - everything about the view is romantic. He walks towards the body of water, strolling to the concrete railing. He halts, growing silent, eyes fixated on the number of stars illuminating the night sky. Even through all the dim light posts, you are still able to see the glimmering spots shining outside of the Earth’s atmosphere. You watch the back of Jaehyun’s head as he shoves his hands inside the pockets of his coat. Hesitantly, you approach him, coming to a pause beside him just as you see the profile of his face; his eyes are trained solely on the stars, the ghost of a smile teasing his lips. Turning your head to look at the stars with him, the both of you stay in a comfortable silence for a few minutes.

“Sometimes,” you’re the first to break the silence, eyes still training on the stars. “Whenever I stroll past this canal, I envision those classic movies filmed in Europe; a confession of love near the body of water, a kiss in the rain surrounded by romantic architecture.” 

You are unsure as to why those are the first words that fall past your lips, but you let out a dreamy sigh, scenes of Audrey Hepburn to Marilyn Monroe, recollecting portrayals of old-school love play in your mind. Jaehyun looks away from the sky, switching his gaze towards you, a small smile playing on his lips. 

“You yearn for love?” he questions you, and you giggle softly, crossing your arms over your chest as a chilling breeze kisses your neck. 

“Doesn’t everyone?” you question him, eyes trailing along the gothic architecture of the streets of Milan. “I’ve dreamt of it since I was a little girl, but everyday, it seems as if my chance at finding it grows more impossible.” 

Jaehyun is silent for a few seconds, you can still feel his eyes lingering on your face. “And what if you’ve already found your love?”

You gulp, biting down on your bottom lip. Your eyes cast downwards towards the body of water before you open your mouth. You aren’t sure why, but your heartbeat bangs against your chest painfully, and your ears are heating up despite the fact that the air is chilly. You let out a sigh, fog of condensation escaping your lips. “I mustn’t.”

“Why not?” 

“Because my mother will defy the man I choose,” you pause, a pitiful smile finding its way onto your face. “I know that I will be forced to marry someone from her inner circle to ensure Decoré’s future. I don’t have a choice in this matter anyway,” you let out a chuckle before turning to him, his eyes training on yours. “The position comes with disadvantages, and it makes me rethink my options even though I’ve ached to lead Decoré all my life.”

“But that does not mean you shouldn’t live,” he trails off. “Just because your life is led by responsibility… doesn’t mean you should avoid love.” 

“There’s no other way, Jaehyun,” you tell him. You extract your hands from deep within the pockets of your tweed coat and press your palms again the concrete railing before you form them into fists. “I’m sure that you understand as well, your company is being handed down to you - you have an image to uphold, right?”

He grows silent. “Yes, I do.” 

“Love is a risk that I’d rather not make.” you say. You have dated in the past, once in middle school, with a boy named Jeon Jungkook, a short relationship that lasted for only three days, and your first year in college, with a boy named Kim Mingyu, which lasted deftly for eight months - both relationships, of which, weren’t serious at all. Kim Mingyu was your first kiss, and first time; you remember the crushing disappointment at the lack of sparks that flew between the both of you each time your bodies were pressed against each other. Additionally, your name has been caught in multiple articles since the beginning of forging your model career that articulated dating rumours with you and innumerable celebrities and other of the elite class, all of which had been false. The feedback that you received during those times were immensely painful for you, and you worked hard to keep your reputation clear since then.

“But life, itself, is a risk. Is it not?” Jaehyun’s voice is hushed, but his eyes are not directed towards you, instead training on the Gothic buildings situated opposite from where you are standing, on the other side of the canal. You press your lips into a straight line, furrowing your eyebrows together as you think of his sentence, not knowing how to reply.

As you open your mouth to finally answer, a familiar tone emits through the air. He reaches into the pocket of his coat and grabs his vibrating phone, letting out a sigh when his eyes land on the screen of his phone. Turning to you, he outstretches a hand towards you for you to shake, a gracious smile on his face, dimples in full view, but his eyes are still dull. You take your hand and enclose your fingers around his, deja-vu as you memorize the warmth of his skin around your cold hands, before weakly shaking his fist.

“I have to go,” Jaehyun says, putting his phone back into his pocket, not accepting the call. You find that peculiar, but it is not your business, so you do not press. “I’ll see you when I get back to Seoul?” 

You smile at him, nodding your head. “Yes,” you tell him. “I’ll see you then.”

And as you turn to part ways, he lingers his gaze on you only for a second more, before pivoting on his heel. Just outside the doors of your hotel that you stayed in while in Milan, the only image that clouds your mind is of the last gaze that he had given you, almost certain that he held longing in his pupils, and as you think of the lasting image that haunts your brain, you are reminded of your heart beating wildly against your ribcage, this time, accompanied with the slight excitement that rises in the pit of your stomach.

-----

The cool, frigid, January air laces into the studio, entirely made of hard concrete, excluding the various set pieces spread around the area. You lay on top of a long, woven seat, bare legs, hair standing up in defense of the chilly breeze, hanging off the side of the arm rest. You are draped in only an oversized, pure-white shirt, the fabric blanketing your sighs and sleeves barely able to hang onto your shoulder; clickings of camera ensue, underneath the humming bass of the Frank Ocean song blaring through the speakers. Today was the day you had finally scheduled your photoshoot with Johnny, eager for the outcome as you let your head slightly hand from the other side of the woven seat.

“Point your chin just a bit upwards, (Y/N),” Johnny tells you from off the set. Johnny uses a particular method of photography, using natural lighting from outside to create an authentic ambience in his photos - the only window in the studio was a large, panoramic one that had the most beautiful view of the garden. His studio is located on the Jung premises, in its own little estate behind the main house; when you had walked through the main gates you had felt completely intimidated by the domineering aura of the house, much larger than your own - it took up nearly two football fields,  and it was then when you realized how powerful this family really is. “Okay, there, perfect!”

The humming of the bass of songs emitting from Johnny’s playlist as well as the clicks of his film camera are the only sounds that emit between the both of you as you try out different poses, boudoir poses come naturally to you. Johnny had given you one of his own shirts to use as clothing, the oversized fabric hanging off you loosely. A break ensues halfway through the shoot, at five p.m., almost three hours since you had begun posing. The sun has already set an hour ago, winter nights a longer span than winter mornings, and you desperately had the urge to pee, having downed an entire bottle of water before the shoot due to your adrenaline.

“Hey, Johnny?” you ask while he reviews his photos. He looks up towards you in curiosity, letting out a hum of acknowledgement. “Where’s the bathroom?” 

“Oh,” he says, setting his camera down before he begins to use charades as a way to give you the directions. “Down the hall, on the third left, fifth door on the right side. If you want, the lower bathroom is a lot more cleaner.” 

“No, it’s alright,” you let out a laugh, before walking out of the studio. When one would say the Jung Estate was big; it was big. Multiple hallways and multiple doors make up the interior of the estate, and it wasn’t even the main house on the Jung premises - this estate was only slightly smaller in size compared to the large castle-like structure that stood before the front gates. It seemed a little silly to you - who needs this many rooms? You were almost sure that Johnny and Ten, who you finally had the fortunate chance of meeting earlier that afternoon, were the only two who resided in this house - yet it’s so vastly empty, not even one inkling of a server or butler. 

You follow the directions that Johnny had given you just a few minutes ago to no attempt because before you know it, you are lost in a daze of paintings and golden decals. He said third right, right?, you thought to yourself as you look around. You weren’t even sure which direction your had come from, the diminishing sunlight from outside beginning to darken the hallways. You let out a sigh as you take a chance, figuring that if you were wrong anyways, you’d just be greeted to an empty room and you’d have to force your bladder to not erupt for a few more minutes until you’d finally find the bathroom. You push a large, mahogany door open, the creaking reverberating off the marble walls of the hallway, and then you pause.

“Jesus, Johnny, can’t you knock?” his voice seems aggravated while he’s hunched over a desk, face buried into a stack of paper. “I told you, I’m doing paperwork right now. I’m b-” 

His eyes automatically widen when he looks up towards the door, eyes snapping to yours. A plane of glass covers his eyes, entwined with a golden frame as they perch neatly on his nose, ash blonde hair in messy ruffles, obviously having had his fingers run through them numerous times throughout the night. He wears a simple, basic, white button up shirt, with simple black trouser bottoms, the most casual attire you have ever seen him wear; yet, he still looked stunning. However, his eyes are boring right at you, the pen in his hand freezing from writing letters as his pupils begin to slowly move down your body.

“Jaehyun,” you finally let out a breath, stammering as you slowly back away from the doorway. “Sorry, oh my gosh, I’m doing a shoot with Johnny right now and I was trying to find the bathroom… um, I got lost.” 

His jaw visibly clenches and you see his adam’s apple bob against his throat before standing up and lightly swipes his hands on his thighs. “Don’t worry about it, I just got taken aback.” he gulps, as he begins to walk towards you, adjusting the glasses that perch on his nose. “Why are you wearing my shirt?”

Your face immediately flushes, eyes, if not already at their widest, widen even more as you let out a gasp. You have never felt a fabric of clothing cause your stomach to explode in your life, yet, for some reason, that was the only feeling you could muster as you feel the fabric of Jaehyun’s shirt brush against your thighs. “I’m sorry,” you apologize once more, letting out a breathy laugh. “I didn’t know this was your shirt. Johnny said it was his.” 

He lets out an amused puff of air. “The nerve of that man, he still continues to steal my clothing for props,” he shakes his head, tsking. “Here, I can show you where the bathroom is - this house has so many unneeded rooms, it’s silly.” 

You follow him through the corridors; the sun had already set completely, the moon now shining above that casts into the hallways through the lined windows. The sound of Jaehyun’s shoes swiping against the floor and the dull sounds of the pads of your feet hitting the marble flooring is the only noise heard in the air between you both, your face still sprinkled with hues of red from the feeling of the hem of Jaehyun’s shirt brushing past your thighs. He walks you into the other hall across from where you had opened the door to his room, and stops right in front of a door similar to the ones around it. 

“Here you are,” he says, pivoting on his heel and pushing the door to the bathroom open, the door creaks as it slightly cracks ajar. You let out a sigh of relief, grinning at him. “You just turned the wrong way, but fortunately you found me, or else you’d probably still be lost in the hallways.” 

“Thank you, Jaehyun.” you tell him graciously, pulling the front of the shirt you are wearing to make sure that your sleeves don’t slip past your shoulders and show them bare. He gives you a silent nod before he begins to walk back to his study room, but you gasp and grab his hand, slightly pulling him back, to which he freezes, turning towards you. 

“What is it?” he asks you, eyebrows furrowed in concern. You are only thankful that the hallways are dim, you can practically feel the heat of your cheeks radiating off your skin. 

“S-Sorry,” you stammer; you seem to be apologizing to Jaehyun repeatedly that night.“I didn’t mean to touch you - that was really rude of me. It’s just… can you wait? Um, I don’t know how to get back to the studio and it’s… really dark, and the hallways are slightly creepy.” 

His worry sets on his face for only a second longer before his lips form into a small smile, eyes forming into slight crescents as he nods. “Of course,” he says. He rests his back against the wall beside the door to the bathroom. “I’ll be right here.” 

You give him a grateful smile before walking into the doors of the bathroom - you first catch yourself in the mirror, face a deep shade of red as you inwardly cringe at how fast the boy had taken you off guard. Slapping your hands on your cheeks in an attempt to calm your heartbeat panging against your ribcage, you let out a few gasps of air. Washing your hands before opening the door again, you only will yourself to keep your stance calm and cool around Jaehyun, but you know that will all crash to the floor the moment you turn the doorknob.

When you step out, you see that Jaehyun is still waiting beside the door, his back pressed against the wall as his thumbs swipe at the screen of his phone. At the crack of light that emitted from within the bathroom, he finally looks up at you with a smile, turning the screen of his phone off with a click and standing upright. You are unsure of what to say, words seem to be caught stuck in your throat every time you look at him. 

“I can walk you to Johnny’s studio,” he lets out a laugh as he shoves his phone into the pocket of his trousers before he runs his hands through his hair, ash blonde locks falling onto his forehead one by one. “I never thought you’d be the type to be afraid of the dark, (Y/N).”

Again, you are unsure of what to say, only letting a giggle fall past your lips in response. Fortuitously, your stomach seems to be dashing around in circles as you watch his eyes trained on yours, shadows of the corridor darkening the edges of his face and the pale moonlight from outside causing his cheekbones to come out even more angular. His eyes are darker than ever, as he watches you, and even though it is dim, you are almost sure the corner of his lips twitch upright. Your breath hitches in your throat and in blushing panic, and so you twirl around, hoping for him to simply catch on and lead you back towards the studio - but his booming, baritone voice, much like the first time you had heard him speak at Johnny’s exhibition in October, causes your step to falter.

“Are you going to do something with the way you look at me?” 

It’s ironic how the weight of a few words can change the entire dynamic of an established acquaintanceship; merely a pin dropping on the ground and detonating into flames to burn down the walls that had already been put up, built with blocks composed with intimidated hesitance and lethal attraction. The inflection of his voice weaved through the air like a ribbon made of silk before devouring your nerves, sending jolts through your body in ripples, breath becoming hitched in your throat as an all too familiar emotion that you’ve been forcing to push down, that you’ve coaxed yourself into feeling mystified about, begins to rise in the pit of your stomach. His words echo through the long, dark corridors before they come to a halt, silence seducing the air between your bodies, but you stay frozen, and your lips stay unmoving. You hear him step closer, the heel of his shoes slightly clicking against the marble flooring, and it sends waves through your body again.

“(Y/N).” his voice is low, stern, the same voice you had heard the night you had heard him speak at Johnny’s photography exhibition.

Your breath shakes when you finally part your lips. “Yes, Jaehyun?” you stammer. 

“Answer my question.” he whispers. He stands close, you can feel the heat of his body through the thin fabric that drapes your body. The tension that dances between the both of you is thick, emotions of both excitement and yearning burning in your chest. You feel his breath on the back of your neck, and it urges you to squeeze your thighs together to combat the aching need between your legs. 

“I should be the one asking you that, Jung Jaehyun, since you practically fuck me with your eyes every time we meet.” the tone of your voice is surprising to you when it falls past your lips, your hand snapping to your mouth as you widen your eyes - you hear him chuckle lightly behind you just seconds before you feel the pads of his fingers dance on the back of your neck, gently moving your hair onto one shoulder. 

“I didn’t know you were capable of speaking like that,” his voice juxtaposes his actions, laced with intent. He presses his warm hands against the white fabric on your collarbone before he slides it down to bare your shoulder, the cool air of the corridors causing your thin hairs to stand up. “Always so polite and careful, I wanna know what other noises fall past those pretty lips of yours.”

He roughly turns you around, as if a switch were flipped inside him - it’s only now when you have taken in how tall he was, even if he were slightly shorter than Johnny, his physique was large compared to yours, and that excites you. His umber eyes penetrated yours as he takes his glasses off and sets them on the top of his head before he uses his forefinger and thumb to force you to look at him, proud smirk playing on his lips. His domineering attitude, and your want for challenge - they both crash together like fire, flames licking at each other to create even larger chaos. As you gaze into his eyes, breath rattling your ribcage, you are finally able to discern the emotion that swam within his pupils, an emotion that had befuddled you since the first time your eyes landed on his. Desire. 

“You make me go so fucking crazy,” he whispers before his lips dart to your neck, peppering wet kisses along your jawline. You let out a gasp when he nips at the skin of your neck, the ache in your panties growing stronger every time his tongue flicks out to soothe a spot. He cradles your cheek in his hand as your lean your head back to give him more space, yearning for his touch. You feel the warmth of his hand he had used to cradle your cheek cascading down your body roughly, hovering over your breasts as he continues to lap at your neck.  “God, ever since the first time I saw you, the things I’ve been thinking about doing to you - and now here you are standing in one of my shirts, and, fuck.”

You buck your hips, cupping his cheeks as you push him away from your neck to force him to look back into your eyes - his eyes, sharp, cuts into yours, the meager sight causing an aching throb to pulsate through you once more. “Tell me the things you’ve thought about doing to me,” you whisper, tracing your thumb over the plumpness of his bottom lip, you bring him closer to your face - you feel his hot breath on your lips. “Tell me, and then do them to me.”

A sigh escaped his lips before they finally come to meet yours, enveloping yours against his own in a flurry of desperation - you hadn’t realized how much you hungered for this moment until the feeling of felicity settled within you, your longing moan dancing into his mouth. Perhaps it was his own desperation too that had been building up for months leading up to this moment, perhaps it was the sound that escaped from deep within your lungs that excited him, but his hands rush to cup your sopping panties causes a gasp to escape from your mouth. “I’ve imagined you like this,” his voice is a whisper when you pull away at the sensation of his fingers pressing against your clothed pussy. “Whimpering for me, begging for me, trying to keep yourself quiet.”

Short gasps escape from you as he continues to work against the thin fabric, adding more and more pressure as he moves his hands in circular motions. “J-Jaehyun,” you moan, trying your best to keep yourself quiet. You don’t want your whimpers to travel down the hallway and possibly lace into Johnny’s ears - the act would be mortifying to you. “What if Johnny sees us?”

“I don’t give a damn,” he grunts, hand roughly toying with your clothed clit. Your hips buck against his hand, and if it weren’t for how needy you felt, letting this man have his way with you, you’d be ashamed at how wet you’ve already become, soaking through your panties. Slowly, he moves them to the side before he glides a finger along your bare entrance; sensitive already, you shudder. “Fuck, look at you, so fucking wet and ready. You want me that bad, (Y/N)?” 

You sink your lips into your bottom lip, looking into his eyes through your eyelashes. Your face is hot, blushing as his tongue flicks out from between his lips to lick them. He continues to glide his long finger against you, eyes boring into yours as he does, watching as every expression of eagerness flashes across your features. His forefinger mockingly dips into your entrance for a fleeting moment, the sensation of him inside you one second and gone the next causing you to mewl out in frustration. He lets out a dark chuckle as you furrow your eyebrows, willing yourself to keep it together.

“I asked you a question, darling.” he mumbled darkly, dipping the tip of his forefinger inside of your sopping heat once again. “Answer my question and you’ll get your prize.”

“Yes, Jaehyun,” you bite back your moan when he dips his finger inside you again, taunting you. Your breathing becomes heavy with every dip he makes, aching for him to do something about the need inside of you, bucking your hips against his hand, soaked with your juices. “I want you so bad, I want you so fucking bad. Please, Jaehyun, fuck, please.” 

He lets out a dark chuckle beside your ear before he plunges the fullness of his forefinger inside of you, a gasp escaping you at the sudden entrance. He pumps the single finger in and out of you with ease, spreading your legs wider with his knee; he has large hands with long, slender fingers, the sensation of just one doesn’t meet your fancy, but it’s enough to relieve the itch that had begun to build inside of you. “Fuck!” 

“So fucking tight,” he grunts, watching your face contort into pleasured expressions, condescending smirk turning into an enchanted one, lips parting and eyebrows turning upward. He adds his middle finger, spreading your pussy wider as he begins to pick up the pace of his thrusting, arm flexing as the moonlight hits the veins that decorate along his forearms. “Shit, (Y/N), has your tight cunt been fucked before?” 

All you could muster out was a whine as he continued to fuck his fingers into you, your mind nothing but a fog of haze while he reaches deeper and deeper into your core, as if he were planning to leave his mark inside of you. You had been fucked before, by your last boyfriend, Mingyu, but not like this - never like this. Foreplay was never on his mind, giving you pleasure was something he had never thought of doing; you barely even remember a time he had given you a leg-shaking orgasm, which, if Jaehyun continued to reach inside of you like that, you’re sure you’ll have your first one by tonight. “So fucking tight, all for me, isn’t that right, darling?”

“Fuck, Jaehyun!” your voice is thin, still attempting to keep yourself hush, not wanting the immoral act to be known to your friend just a few doors down the hall, still waiting on your return from your break - but you’re almost sure that the lewd, wet noises of his palm slapping against your wet cunt that echoes against the pillars and golden framed paintings that line the corridors may prove your wish hopeless. Jaehyun’s fingers brush against the spot that causes your legs to shake, and with a knowing glint in his umber eyes, he continues to brush against it. “Jaehyun, shit, right there, fuck! Fuck, yeah, just like that!”

He heeds to your words, the tips of his fingers grazing against your g-spot repeatedly, and you feel yourself unravelling. It takes all for you to not let your eyes roll to the back of your head, screwing your eyes shut as you focus on his fingers stretching your walls out in a steady, rough motion; walls beginning to clench around him, you feel your desired orgasm coming. “You’re gonna cum, (Y/N)?” he questions you as your walls quiver around his digits. “You’re gonna cum just from the use of my fingers alone? Dirty girl, tell me who owns this cunt.” 

A hot sigh leaves your lips, barely focusing on his voice due to the yearning of your release. Whining, you open your eyes again to look into his, begging with your pupils to get him to continue, but his face is monotonous. “J-Jaehyun,” your voice is weak. “I’m gonna cum.” 

“Answer my fucking question, (Y/N), or else I won’t let you cum at all,” his tone is dark, which gives you all the more to whine as he picks up the pace of his fingers, sinful noises filling your ears. The act alone causes the knot in the pit of your stomach to unravel just a little more, and Jaehyun leans down to bite the skin of the crook of your neck. “Fucking tell me who owns this dirty little cunt, (Y/N).”

“You do,” you whimper, voice juddering with every thrust his fingers make. “You do, it’s yours, it’s all fucking yours! P-Please!” 

“It’s all mine?” he taunts you, he’s panting now as well, digits flashing in and out of you at a speed you weren’t even aware that a human can make. “What is? What’s all mine?”

“Fuck, Jaehyun!” you whine in aggravation. The aching need to orgasm causes the strain you’ve put on your words to escape, voice loud against the marble walls. “It’s yours! This cunt is all yours! It’s fucking yours! It’s yours to fuck and, and, it’s yours t-to… fuck! I’m coming!” 

It hits you in waves, the feeling of pleasure enveloping your body as you feel your pussy pulsate against his hand. You crane your neck back as he continues to lap at your neck, leaving memoirs of his presence in the form of soft-red markings across your skin. As the orgasm leaves your body, you are left with quivering legs, barely mustering the energy to hold yourself against the marble walls, much to the man’s amusement. It’s obvious what the two of you had done; his hand glistens with your juices against the light of the moon that travels through the planes of glass across the hall; the fabric of the shirt that he had adorned was wrinkled from your pulling and clenching of fists; your lips, that had been painted a deep shade of red prior, were now a lighter red, and Jaehyun seemed to have the same shade on, and the lingering fluid that escaped from your cunt during your orgasm lines across your inner thighs. 

As you come down from your orgasm, his lips find their way to pressing against yours once more, gentle in touch this time. Your hands find their way into his hair, pulling him close, closer than you had ever thought of him being. You feel pricklings traveling through your nerves as his tongue enters your mouth, and you find yourself yearning for more just before he pulls away, panting heavily. As he parts his lips to speak, you hear footsteps walking down the hall, and you gasp, pushing him off of you and adjusting your attire and hair, letting the hem of Jaehyun’s shirt fall past your thighs to cover the residue of what had just happened. Jaehyun watches you with an amused smile on his face, wiping his hands on the back of his trousers and grabbing the glasses that stayed atop his head and perching them back on his nose again, carelessly brushing his pure-white sleeve against his lips that causes the dark lipstick that you had stained his face with to rub off. 

“(Y/N)!” you hear Johnny’s familiar voice call just before he comes around the corner, the flashlight of his phone dashing around the corridor. He turns to the corridor you and Jaehyun both stood in, jumping in shock for only a second - possibly thinking he had come across ghosts - before visibly relaxing and walking towards you in his confident gait, his phone still flashing in the darkness. You squint, terrified that he might be able to deduce what happened between the both of you with the torchlight. “God! You were gone for so long! I heard yelling! What happened?” 

“She got lost trying to find the bathroom, and I scared her.” Jaehyun lies with ease, shoving his hands into the pockets of his trousers. You eyed him for a few seconds, gaze lingering his body - he seemed so casual, as if what had just happened sprung only in your mind, but you are still able to detect a trace of your MAC lipstick on the side of his lips and the messy waves of his hair that your hands were entangled in. Yet, you were still appalled at how easy the lies fell past his lips. “She started yelling at me, it was really funny.” 

“Jaehyun, you bastard,” Johnny sighs, sending him a sharp eye before turning around and patting your hair down. For a second, he squints towards your lip, and you fear that he found the first clue of what the two of you had been doing, but he seems to ignore it, eyes flashing back up to yours. “If you want me to beat my brother’s head in with my camera, I’ll be happy to do it.”

You open your mouth to answer but Jaehyun’s voice interrupts you. “Hey, if it weren’t for me, she would still be lost in your stupid winding corridors,” he gruffs, crossing his arms over his chest; the action highlights the muscles underneath the thin fabric of his shirt but you will yourself to look away. “She’ll just have to owe me. Isn’t that right, (Y/N)?” 

His voice has a hint of amusement in it, tone lighthearted as he sends you a smile with crescent-shaped eyes, and your heart jumps in not lust, but with something else you have yet to figure out - but you’re aware of the hidden connotations of his sentence, the feeling that Jaehyun had reached into your core slightly coming back at the thoughts that race around your mind of images of him. You only nod, throat going dry, before smiling simply.

“Yes, Jaehyun,” you heed his words, and for a fleeting second, an amused smile on his face shone with a lordly flame. “I owe you.”

-----

The night that you laid in bed trying to daze into slumber after your first encounter with Jung Jaehyun proved a sleepless one, one that kept you rolling over and over again in your plush bed, constantly flipping your pillows and kicking your duvet out of sheer frustration. The memories of Jaehyun’s sinful words and breathy grunts, recalling his fingers flashing in and out of you, brought back the itch inside of you like no other; you only fell asleep after finding solace in your own fingers, and even they couldn’t cause you to reach the heights Jaehyun had shown you.

You do not tell Irene; you couldn’t tell Irene, and you shouldn’t tell Irene, because you are certain that she will blow a gasket the moment the man in question’s name leaves your lips because you did not listen to her. You have never lied to your best friend before, nor have you ever kept a secret from her - but it is for the best for the situation. Besides, you and Jaehyun were only using each other for each other’s body, to let desires that shouldn’t be exhibited in public out - at least, that’s what you believed, and your best friend doesn’t have to know that. Yet, each time she walks to your side with an indication of concern in her brow, you find it hard to keep your secrets locked within your lips.

“Is everything alright, (Y/N)?” asks Irene, her voice muffled underneath the soft chatter of a high-end lounge she had invited you to. You stare down into the liquid of your tonic water, choosing something non-alcoholic in order to keep your honesty and deceit under control. “You’ve been really quiet lately. Is there something troubling you?”

“No worries, Irene,” you muster a small smile, genuine enough to see her body relax as you swish your water in your glass. It’s grating to know how effortless it was for you to lie to her. “Nothing is the matter. I’m just a little tired from my schedules lately, I’m really sorry if it’s been making you uncomfortable.” 

She pouts slightly, not quite believing your tale. “(Y/N),” she tells you, grabbing your hand. You felt guilt shake through your nerves at her touch - but you cannot tell her about you and Jaehyun, even if your life depended on it. “Don’t worry about me, okay? If something is the matter, tell me, okay? I’m your best friend - your sister - for a reason.” 

“Of course, Irene.” you say, the fib falling past your lips and disappearing into thin air. She nods once, a concerned gaze lingering on you for only one last second before she tears her eyes off of you to look back at the menu on the bar in front of her. Irene had invited you to accompany her at a new lounge that had opened up in Myeong-dong, apparently owned by a good friend of hers named Lee Taeyong. Seokjin was due to show up in a few minutes after a scheduled meeting, and according to Irene, may have in tow a friend of his that ‘you may be interested in.’

As she turns her attention towards the menu, you find yourself gazing back down at your tonic water, watching as the liquid swashes against the clear collins glass, soon becoming bored with it. Your eyes then find themselves exploring the sight of the lounge in front of you - you and Irene sat right in the middle of the lounge, at the bar, the sleek black marble table rounded as baristas around inside the circle juggle around alcoholic drinks and other platters to deliver to their patents. Outside of the circle, there are multiple seats with tables, occupied with several gentlemen in suits and ladies covered in Dior. The extravagance of it all was very familiar to you, for having grown up in an environment much like it, regardless; you would be lying if you were to say you hadn’t grown tired of it.

“Oh, they’re here!” Irene’s voice causes you to snap out of your daze and look towards the entrance in front of you, Seokjin’s familiar face coming into view as he hands one of the servers his Burberry coat; behind him is a man not much shorter than him, jet black tufts of hair and sharp observant eyes. For a second, you feel your heart race in your chest - whoever Seokjin had brought is definitely a beautiful man, and perhaps Irene was right about taking an interest in him, however, you shouldn’t jump before you had talked to him. 

“Hello, darling, hello (Y/N),” Seokjin embraces the two of you before he stands out of the way to pull in the man following idly behind him. Upon closer inspection, his facial features are some of the most sharpest you’ve ever seen - his eyes, obviously sharp from a distance, are cutting up close, jawline whetted and embracing against his sleek lips. You feel as if you’ve seen him before, but you can’t pinpoint where. “This is Kim Doyoung, he’s currently filming a movie under Kim Productions right now.”

The familiarity hits you like a train as you recall seeing his face on your screen many times - he’s a very celebrated actor in South Korea, especially so since he had broken into the Western film industry. You weren’t much of a big fan of movies, finding yourself falling asleep no matter the genre or amount of stars the movie acquired, but you know a famous face when you see one. After he greets Irene with a kind smile, you stretch your hand outwards to address him, a gracious simper on your face. “It’s very nice to meet you, Doyoung. I’m (Y/N) (Y/L/N).”

You and Doyoung are quick to become close, letting the engaged couple next to the two of you converse to themselves. As the night drones on and as people in identical Brunello suits and Dior dresses pile in and out of the lounge, you and Doyoung share stories of your childhood, finding out that he wasn’t born into the world of money like you were, instead having to find his way up and through the industry by making sacrifices. You discover that he has an estranged relationship with his parents, instead finding familial solace in his brother who is also an actor, named Gongmyung. You learn of his hobbies, that he enjoyed singing and reading, and find out that before he had pursued the world of acting, he had thought of heading into the direction of law and government. 

For an hour and a half, you find yourself delved into the person that is Kim Doyoung, realizing that this is discussion prevails information of most people you know other than your two closest friends. In the middle of a conversation on the topic of college, you begin to abandon the lingering memories that had been taking up your mind by the man who had left remnants of himself in it. Perhaps, you spoke too soon.

“Kim Doyoung,” the familiar voice sends jolts through your body as if it were an involuntary impulse. You tear your eyes from Doyoung’s sharp, yet friendly gaze and let them sink into Jung Jaehyun’s soft, but intense ones. He is dressed in a plain black button-up shirt, his sleeves rolled to his elbows as he cradles a glass of cheval blanc, arm adorned with his Daniel Wellington watch, hand deep in the pocket of his black trousers. His hair is slicked back but to the side, few strands swaying against his forehead. A smirk plays on his lip, and the sight of it makes your thighs clench in response. “It’s been a while since we’ve last met.” 

“Jung Jaehyun, long time no see,” Doyoung’s voice holds restraint when his eyes meet Jaehyun’s, a look of revolt flashing in them before he stands to his feet to bow. “I heard that Jung & Associates will be under your command soon. Congratulations.” 

“Yes,” he concurs, taking a sip of his champagne as he pulls up a chair next to Doyoung. He has not looked at you once since arriving into the conversation, but something about his tone of voice leads you to think he is blatantly aware of your presence, such as you are of his. “And I heard that you starred in a film that was nominated for an Academy award? How delightful. It was the one with the zombies, right?” 

Doyoung sets his glass of sauvignon blanc onto the bar, gulping down the liquid. “Yes.”

“Well, congratulations to you.” a haughty smirk guised as an amiable smile makes its way onto Jaehyun’s face before his eyes finally land on you, training on your face for a few seconds before they begin to slowly make their way down your form clad in a tulle minidress by Marchesa. “(Y/N), a pleasure to see you here.” 

“Jaehyun.” you nod once, tightening your fingers around the stem of your wine. “It’s nice to see you here too. The two of you know each other?”

Doyoung looks up from his glass, towards you. “The two of us were in multiple classes together during college, before I dropped out to pursue acting,” he explains. He seemed apprehensive, and you acknowledge why - the presence of Jaehyun is far too strong to bear. “We are very close friends. I see the both of you are close, as well.” 

Jaehyun opens his mouth to speak but you interrupt him before he says anything. “Actually,” you say, correcting him. “Jaehyun and I are just acquaintances - we know each other through his brother, Johnny.” 

“Ah, I see.” Doyoung nods, before he begins occupying himself with sips of his wine. Through the awkward silence, you turn your gaze to Jaehyun, whose eyes train on you with an emotion you can only decipher as need, a knowing glint in both of his pupils. Flashes of his fingers disappearing in and out of you play through your mind, and you cross your legs together to combat the growing feeling in the pit of your stomach.

“So what brings you here, Jaehyun?” you ask the man after he orders himself another glass of cheval blanc; Doyoung, in between the two of you, stays silent. 

“I just finished a meeting with Park & Kim Law, and was about to head to the exit when I saw you and an old friend conversing, and I thought, why not?” he says, leaning forward on both of his elbows to direct his gaze fully onto you without the diversion of Doyoung’s head. You quirk your eyebrow for a nanosecond at the fleeting thought of a law firm meeting taking place at a lounge, but you let it go. “And you, (Y/N), what brings you and Doyoung here? A date, perchance?” 

His voice is soft, but with the slightest inkling of venomous jealousy, quirking his eyebrows as the words leave his mouth. “No!” you find yourself saying far too quickly, an amused smile making its way onto Jaehyun’s face. “Doyoung and I actually just met, we’re here with Seokjin and Irene.” you turn around to face the engaged couple who were sat next to you, deep in conversation as if they were in their own world. You turn back towards Jaehyun, whose eyes were not looking at yours, but are now gazing at someplace lower. “Actually, I was just about to leave. I have a schedule tomorrow morning.”

“I see,” Jaehyun hums, his top teeth sinking down into his bottom lip as he listens to you. He turns to Doyoung, resting his jaw against his fist, almost taunting him. “Will you be accompanying her, Doyoung? Drop her off at home?” 

Doyoung lets out a sigh as he takes another swing of his wine, looking up towards you, the nervousness behind his eyes since Jaehyun had arrived replaced with a flame. “I’m afraid I still have business to discuss with Seokjin,” he says apologetically, straightening his back and turning his body fully around to ignore Jaehyun’s presence. “If I could, I would gladly drive you home - the streets aren’t safe this time of night.”

“It’s alright, Doyoung,” you let out a laugh, setting a hand down on his shoulder - as you do, you feel Jaehyun’s eyes burning through your hand. “I’ll just call my chauffeur, which, speaking of calling, may I ask for your number?” 

He complies, and you let out a shaky breath as you feel Jaehyun’s gaze lingering on your skin growing stronger and stronger; just as Doyoung hands you your phone back with his newly added contact, Jaehyun stands from his seat. “I can drive you home.” 

You raise your eyebrows in surprise before a slight smirk makes its way onto your lips. “You don’t have to, Jaehyun, really,” you tell him, letting out a breathy laugh. “I’ll just call my chauffeur - they are always on duty.”

“No, I insist,” Jaehyun speaks, far too quickly to save face. The tips of his ears are red, much to your pleasure; he’s jealous. “Doyoung is right, the streets aren’t safe this time of night, and I think it would be better for you to come with me considering that we already do have an established knowledge of each other - plus, it’s what Johnny would want for me to do. What’s your address?”

You simply quirk your eyebrow at him before standing up from your seat and collecting your things, reciting your address as Jaehyun puts it into a GPS app on his phone. As you turn towards your best friend, deep in conversation with her fiancé, you apprehensively tap her on her shoulder. Irene turns towards you in the middle of a sentence with a look of wonder on her face when she sees you ready to go. Searching for the will to lie to her face once again, you force your shaking breath to calm. “Hey, Irene, I have a really early schedule tomorrow - I’ll be leaving, alright?”

“Oh, is Doyoung taking you home?” asks Irene, eyes flashing to the jet-black haired man still seated on his stool, staring into his glass. You shake your head.

“No, Jaehyun will be taking me home,” your voice is nonchalant enough to not raise suspicion, but Irene’s eyebrows raise in disturbance the moment his name slips from your lips. She leans forward to spot Jung Jaehyun on the other side of Doyoung, already throwing on his tweed coat as he sends her his usual gracious, kilowatt smile. She leans back to you and parts her lips to ask why he had appeared seemingly out of nowhere, as well as why you were so casual in leaving with him, but you cut her off. “Don’t worry, Irene. If anything happens, Johnny will beat him up. It’s fine, don’t worry.” 

“Are you sure, (Y/N)?” Irene is wholly worried, grasping your forearm as she pulls you forward, closer to her, speaking in a hushed tone. “Seokjin and I can drop you off instead.”

“Irene, I’ll be fine, don’t worry. I don’t want to ruin your night, okay?” You let out a sigh, straightening your back again and giving her a radiant smile of deceit to tell her that you will be alright. She lets out a huff of air in defeat, nodding her head. As you pivot on your heel, you keep your head turned towards Irene as you begin to walk towards Jaehyun, hands already buried in the pockets of his coat. “I’ll see you soon, okay?”

“Of course.” Irene says with a tight lip. Your eyes flash towards Doyoung, who watches you with eyes filled with an emotion you cannot decipher, before you flash him a smile. 

“Doyoung,” you nod your head. “I hope to see you soon, as well.”

“Of course.”

The cool January air obnoxiously hits your exposed legs the moment you step out of the lounge, the VIP parking lot littered with snow as you trail behind Jaehyun’s large form. You hear the jingling of his keys and the tone of his car beeping not too far ahead; he was quiet, and it caused a tension to seduce the air between the two of you. He opens the passenger side of his sleek noir Mercedes to let you climb in before rounding to his side, slamming his door closed. The purr of the engine is smooth as it glides down the city streets, flashes of flight originating from the tall buildings above decorating the skin of your thighs. A few moments later, you’re the first to part your lips. 

“Jaehyun,“ you start, voice calm, but your intentions are clear; teasing lightly laces your words.. “Is something the matter?”

He takes a few seconds to answer, you see his jaw clenching before he opens his mouth. “No,” he simply says. “Why?”

“I don’t know,” you can’t bear to keep the growing smirk off your lips. You play with the hem of your Marchesa dress, the tulle thin between your thumb and forefinger. “It just seems as if you’re… angry. A little tense.” 

“I’m not,” Jaehyun’s voice is calm, harmonized by the low purr of his engine. “Just a little confused as to why you seem so interested in Kim Doyoung.” 

You quirk your eyebrow as you listen to his tensed words, as if he were keeping himself contained within his body. You let out a scoff. “I’m not interested in him,” you trail off, watching the city pass you by as Jaehyun begins to near your estate’s territory. “I’m just… a little curious.”

“I can promise you, (Y/N),” he mutters. “There is nothing about that man you should be curious about.”

“Really?” you challenge him, turning to look at him again. The lamp posts that litter the streets highlight his facial structures in a way you have never seen - sleek cheeks cut from his high cheekbones, warm brown eyes cast shades darker; you never really noticed how long his eyelashes are, kissing his under eyes. “The way you jumped to steal me from him leads me to believe that there is.”

You watch as his lips slowly curl into a wry smirk, letting out a huff of air as his grip on the steering wheel tightened. “Are you presuming that I’m jealous, darling?” he lets out a chuckle, eyes turning into crescents but his tone is sinister. You press your thighs together. “Is that why you were suddenly so pursuant in flirting with him in front of me? You want to make me jealous? Because I saw you moments before I arrived and you were merely chatting with him like a normal friend - it wasn’t until I sat on that stool when you began to feel his arms through his blazer.”

An amused smile plays on your lips as you look back out the windshield window, seeing that he has arrived to your gates. The guard that mans the metal doorways only wakes up from his slumber to press the button that opens it, Jaehyun slowly driving his Mercedes through your gateway. 

“The fact alone that you had been watching me and analyzing the touches I gave him says a lot, Jung Jaehyun,” you say in a hushed voice as he pulls up at the front of your house. The lights of your home were all turned off, signifying that your mother isn’t home, and neither are any of the maids - it is a Saturday after all. You turn to him, a teasing smile on your face, seeing that he had already been gazing at you. “But if you’re not jealous, then maybe, just maybe, I’ll let him fuck me until I can’t walk.”

When Jaehyun’s lips mesh into yours in a flurry of desperation, the words that you had let fall past your lips fly out the window, his hands on the back of your neck as he pulls you closer towards him over his console. He unbuckles his seat belt before he turns his entire body to you, lips parting as his tongue enters your mouth; you let out a moan as he does, combing your fingers through his ash brown locks. 

“Not here,” you whisper, pulling away, his eyes opening before he looks at you in worry. “I want you to fuck me in my bed.”

The seconds it took for you and Jaehyun to climb out of his car, walk up your marble stairs, fish for your keys inside your purse blindly as the two of you continued to kiss each other before finally unlocking the door proves worth it as the rashness of his actions heightened the moment you shut the door behind you; he presses you against the whitewood and attaches his lips to yours again, hands set on your hips as you ring yours around the back of his neck. He smells of saffron and jasmin, slightly quiet moans escaping from his throat. 

“Fuck,” he says, playing with the hem of your dress, trying to pull it down your body but the handmade strains deem too sturdy. “Get this shit off.” 

“It’s Marchesa.” you pout, his eyes lingering on your lips, plump from kissing his own. 

“I don’t give a shit what it is or isn’t,” Jaehyun grunts. “I want it off of you. Now.” 

You heed to his word, reaching for the zipper on the side of your waist as you connect your lips to his again, the neckline of your dress relaxes, and as his tongue dances with yours, he slowly begins to slide your dress down your form. He pulls away to look at your figure, wearing only a lace black bra with matching panties, and he lets out a grunt. 

“So fucking beautiful,” he whispers, hands travelling up your body to cup your breasts through the fabric of your bra. His lips are close to your ear before he begins to kiss spots on your neck, tongue moving languishly against your skin. “God, I can’t wait to fucking ruin you.”

His words cause you to suck in a breath as you tighten your thighs together, and he seems to notice, a deep chuckle forming from his throat. You lean your head to the side to allow him more space to your neck, your hands travelling from his broad back to the front of his chest, trailing down towards his jeans. When you feel how stiff he is through the denim material of his pants, you pull away from him. He looks at you with wonder, your hooded eyes and smirk ringing clear to him as you slowly begin to push him towards your staircase, having him sit down on one of the carpeted steps while your knees touch the cool marble flooring of your entrance hallway. 

“You said it yourself, I owe you, don’t I?” you whisper as you unbuckle his belt. He watches you as you do, enchanted with the way your fingers moved to free his cock from their strain. When you finally release his stiff shaft from his underneath his boxers, you practically salivate at the sight - he was long and thick, the tip of his head pink in desperation. When your lips wrapped around his cock, he sinks his upper teeth into his bottom lip to keep a moan from escaping his mouth, eyebrows furrowed as your tongue slicks around his throbbing tip. 

You keep your eyes trained on his face, taking in every sinful expression that makes way on his angelic features; it should be a sin to look as angelic as he is but have the most sinful sounds fall past his lips - but the thought excited you. Ever since you had first seen him, Jung Jaehyun had looked like nothing else but like an art piece from the Romantic era had come to life ; with his gentle yet captivating umber eyes, to the way his lips curl as if he was always hiding a secret - to see him in such a filthy, obscene circumstances caused you to yearn for more. Even as you begin pumping your mouth around his cock, you yearned for more; for him to bury himself deeper into your throat. 

“Fuck! Yes! Yes, fuck, that’s it, take my cock into your pretty little mouth,” Jaehyun grunts, raking his fingers through your hair to form a makeshift ponytail, holding your head steady against his crotch. He begins to slowly rock his hips up and down, his cock sliding in and out of your mouth, lewd noises emitting from the back of your throat; you look up at him through your eyelashes with pleading eyes. He fucks into your mouth slowly, making sure he doesn’t hurt you, but deeply, hissing at the feeling of your throat spasming every time the tip of his cock grazes against it. 

“That’s it, darling, fuck, your throat feels so good.” he grunts as he does one long thrust, feeling your mouth around the entirety of his cock, burying it deep in your throat for a few seconds. As he keeps it there, relishing in the spasming of your tongue and the swishing of your saliva, your gag reflex threatens you, and you clutch at the flesh of his thighs for support, screwing your eyes shut. He slides out, strings of saliva connecting your plump lips to the base of his cock as you cough out in strained breaths; your eye makeup has already began to run down your face. “Such a good girl aren’t you, letting me fuck your mouth?”

Your eyes are trained on his when he stands up from his seated position, keeping your position kneeled down on the marble floors; biting your lips stained with saliva and lingering droplets of Jaehyun’s pre-cum, you nod meekly which causes a smirk to spread on Jaehyun’s lips. Your eyes trail down to his cock again, wanting it back in your system, but he seemed to have other plans as he hauls you to stand up by your hair. His other free hand makes its way to your clothed pussy, pressing against the moistened fabric, taking in the way your eyebrows furrow in hunger. 

“Look at you, such an eager whore,” He chuckles, hot breath pressing against your ear as his middle finger slides against the thin fabric pressed against your sopping heat. Your hips buck against the teasing single digit, and he lets out an amused laugh at your desperation. “All this just from my fingers? All this because I fucked your throat? Who made you this wet, darling?” 

You only focus on his finger sliding against your clothed folds, your eyes hooded as you clutch your hand against Jaehyun’s forearm. It’s when he tugs on your scalp again, forcing you to look into his eyes, when you realized he had asked you a question, dark eyes burning into yours. You open your mouth, breath shaking at the little contact. “You did, Jaehyun.” 

“Shit,” he grunts. “Where’s your bedroom?”

“Upstairs, left, very last door.”

He wastes no time in sweeping you off your feet, letting out a light gasp as he effortlessly carries you up the stairs, following the directions that you had given him, your legs dangling while you wrap your hands around his neck, lips attaching to his skin. He kicks your bedroom door open, and throws you on top of your blankets. When your back hits against your familiar plush mattress, you spend no time in recognizing the comfort you had grown up in as Jaehyun quickly pulls your panties down your legs, getting onto his knees on your carpeted floors. 

The moment you feel his warm tongue glide through your wet folds, you gasp out his name, throwing your head back at the unfamiliar sensation. Your toes curl as Jaehyun’s tongue circles around your clit, nub sensitive causing you to buck your hips forward; your fingers make their way into his hair, grabbing at his ash blonde locks to bring him closer. Your ex-boyfriend, Mingyu, had never given you this type of pleasure before, your few times together only ever resulting in a quick blowjob and dull sex that would only last for a few minutes - you have never been on the receiving side of oral, nor have you ever felt your body ache with pleasure at the most bare minimum things. Every touch Jaehyun puts on your skin spreads through your body like fire, and you want it more and more.

“Fuck, baby, you taste so sweet,” Jaehyun peppers the inside of your thigh with memoirs of his lips in the form of deep red bruises, the tip of his middle finger slowly tracing over your slit, coating his digit with your juices and of his saliva. You shudder at the familiarity of his fingers against sliding through your folds, having yearned for them inside of you again since your own couldn’t reach as far as he could - and when he eagerly slipped two fingers inside of you, you couldn’t help but let out a gasp. He grins as he hears the sinful sound. “Jesus, so fucking tight.”

He leans forward once more, reattaching his lips to your pussy, his tongue sliding against your clit in circular motions while begins to move the digits in and out of your slit, already having found a certain spot that led you whimpering his name. “J-Jaehyun,” you breathe out in short gasps, furrowing your eyebrows together as the sensation of his long fingers spreading you out racks your mind. “Fuck, Jaehyun, right there.”

He continues to fuck you with his fingers, tongue flashing past your clit in lewd motions - his hand travels up your body, goosebumps adorning your skin with each touch before he pulls down your lace bra, your nipples hardened against the cool air. He rolls your nub with his free hand, eyes trained on your face and taking in your expressions as the pleasure overtakes your body. He continues to graze the pads of his fingers against your spot, and your back arches off your mattress, sucking in a sharp breath.

“Are you gonna cum, darling?” he pulls his mouth away from your pussy, but his fingers continue to fuck into you. He looks up at you with taunting eyes and the sight only brings you to the edge further. The sight is enough to take you over the edge, the pads of his fingers grazing over your spot just one last time before your orgasm rakes through your body, your hips bucking against his still moving fingers - you mewl at his presence in your sensitive core. “That’s right, cum all over my fingers, just like that.” 

Your breathing is faltering, but Jaehyun wastes no time before he kneels onto your bed, the mattress dipping as you attempt to catch your breath. He peers down at you with a soft smile on his face, juxtaposing the lingering remnants of your juices and his saliva that frames his plumped lips. You only find peace for a fleeting moment at his tranquil expression before you feel his throbbing tip slide against your slit, the expression on Jaehyun’s face transforming into a teasing one. 

“Look at you, you’re a mess,” he taunts you, sliding his tip against your pussy, coating his head in your juices. You shudder at how close he is to finally plunging deep inside of you, but still being so far away. You whimper as he continues to do it, and although you’ve already had your orgasm, the aching need that had occupied the pit of your stomach since you had left your first encounter forming in your stomach again. “Jesus Christ, what will become of you once I give you my cock?”

“Fucking hell, Jung Jaehyun, just fuck me already.” you let out a frustrated whimper, wrapping your hands around the back of his neck to pull him closer, his body falling on top of yours as your lips move against his. He chuckles against them, before he positions himself against your slit, slowly pushing in. You pull away from his lips when he enters you, a gasp falling from your slacked jaw as he stretches you open.

“Jesus fuck, (Y/N), you’re so fucking tight!” he grunts when the base of his cock hits the mound of your pussy. You can do all but speak, eyes screwed shut as you clutch onto his forearms on either side of you. You’ve observed that he’s large before, but he stretches you out so well - he slowly begins to move his hips, and the slight pain begins to subside, transforming into pleasure. As you relax your body, you let out short gasps every time he thrusts back into you again. “Shit, you feel so good around me.”

You hear Jaehyun’s baritone voice, but it seems as if it’s located a million miles away, you floating bliss as you relish in the sensation of his cock sliding against your walls repeatedly. Each time he thrusts all the way back before slams inside of you again, you let out sharp gasps; his cock reaches into your core even further than his fingers already had, and it feels so, so good. 

“Look at you,” Jaehyun breathes as he picks up the pace of his hips, rutting into you at a faster speed, his arms pinned on either side of you. Your hair, usually styled and perfectly placed around your face, is splayed out in messy fashion against your cream sheets; your face is flushed with excitement and lust, jaw slack as profane noises fall past your mouth and into the hot air between both of your bodies; your eyes, usually so focused and attentive, are glossed over with desire, hooded as your tits bounce with each thrust Jaehyun drives into you. “So fucked out already. Doyoung could never fuck you this good, right, darling?”

“J-Jaehyun.” is all you are able to whine as he continues to fuck into you, hard and deep; the sounds of skin slapping against skin harmonized with the sound of the both of you breathing heavily is what occupies the space between the two of you. He pulls your hips higher, throwing one of your legs over his shoulder, allowing him to fuck you even deeper - the sensation of the tip of his cock grazing against you sensitive spot causes your nails to sink into the skin of his forearms. 

“Tell me again, darling,” ask Jaehyun, his hand moving towards your throat and gently wrapping his fingers around your neck. As he continues to drive his cock into your tight pussy, his voice comes out in strained grunts. “What did you want Doyoung to do to you?”

“F-Fuck,” you could barely form a word, each thrust he gives you causes all your thoughts to melt into obscurity, sentences jumbled into whines and moans. His clutch on your throat tightens and you’re almost sure your eyes are about to roll to the back of your head in pure bliss. 

“I asked you a question,” he growls, slamming into you again and again. “I expect you to fucking answer me.”

“I-I wanted him to,” You manage to squeak out a few words. “Fuck m-me until I c-couldn’t walk.” 

“And tell me, darling, who’s the only one who can do that?” he ruts his hips even faster than before, your bed squeaking as your mattress moves with every push he makes into your pussy. At this new angle, his the tip of his cock hits your spot perfectly, over and over again, a sensation that induces you to scream his name as you arch your back off the bed. 

“Jaehyun! Fuck!” you yell, hearing your voice echo against the walls of your bedroom - he doesn’t stop though - as you scream his name, laced with foul words, repeatedly, his cock continues to drive deep inside of your pussy, making sure he leaves a mark inside of you that only he can give.

“Fucking tell me,” he pulls his hand away from your throat to grab onto your face, forcing you to look at him. Tears of pleasure have began to spring against your waterline, falling past your lower eyelids and staining your bedsheets; your face is streamed with marks of your mascara and eyeliner, your lips plump from biting into them to refrain yourself from screaming his name. “Tell me, (Y/N), who’s the only one who can fuck you? Who does your tight fucking cunt belong to?”

“Y-You-” you whimper out in a quiet voice only to scream again when Jaehyun moves your hips higher, his cock driving into your deeper and harder than before. His grip on your waist is tight as he moves his hips; you’re sure to have bruises the next morning but all you could focus on at that moment is your nearing second orgasm. “Fuck, Jaehyun! You! It’s yours! Only you can fuck me, shit!”

“That’s right,” he leans back, yet another angle racking over your body, his throbbing tip hitting your sensitive core rhythmically. Sweat begins to drip from his forehead, his face glistening in the dim lighting of your bedroom - even now, even through the indecent circumstances the two of you were in, he is beautiful. “Your pretty little cunt is mine, only mine.”

 “Y-Yes, Jaehyun, it’s yours,” you whimper, clutching at your bed sheets. What had started as a lonely night had quickly become one filled with the sound of slapping skin and a creaking bed, Jaehyun’s deep grunts music to your ears as you feel your walls spasm around his cock. A knot had formed in the pit of your stomach again, a sense that only Jaehyun had ever given you, and you feel your mind haze over. “J-Jaehyun, fuck! I’m cumming! I’m cumming!”

“Cum for me baby,” Jaehyun whispers, and your eyes to roll to the back of your head as the feeling rakes your body, sending goosebumps over your skin - you hear Jaehyun’s moans becoming louder as you cum but they are muffled with the stir of your pleasure, seeing stars in the darkness behind your eyelids. Your body goes numb, core sensitive, but Jaehyun continues to fuck into you through your orgasm. “Fuck, baby, are you on the pill? I need to cum inside you.” 

You only simply whisper out a yes, voice shaking and broken from the screaming you had done all night, still caught in a daze from your orgasm, before feeling Jaehyun’s hips falter as he lets out a low groan. His thrusting slows and his jaw becomes slack, eyes directed downwards, at his cock connected to your pussy, ash blonde hair sticking to his forehead and cheeks flushed with both lust and exhaustion. He fills you up with his cum with shaking breaths, it is when he pulls out when you feel the warm liquid slip out of you. 

He wastes no time in leaning down to kiss you again, lips molding together as if they were meant to be pressed against each other - his hands, now gentle, caressing your hair and your hands cupping his face. The two of you have left memoirs of each other on the other’s body, and although you aren’t sure what the two of you quite are, the tranquility that fills the air when you look into his eyes after he pulls away from your lips, a gentle smile making its way onto his face before he pulls himself beside you against the plush pillows if your bed, only brings you an emotion you haven’t felt in a very long time. 

“You’re so beautiful.”

That night, when you fell asleep in Jaehyun’s warm embrace, as his heaving breaths slowly transition into a soft, rhythmic snoring, you are happy.

-----

Jung Jaehyun, to put it simply, is like a drug to you. If his presence is elsewhere, your body aches for him, almost begging for company even without your knowledge, and he knows it. The haughty smirk that you had grown used to ever since the first time your eyes laid on him had grown wider now, even more when his name is all you’re able to say whenever he drives his cock into your core. You’re selfish; almost every single night is a night spent with him, with your bodies pressed together in a dance between the sheets of your bed, or his bed, or whatever environment the two of you occupy. 

There was one time, only a day after the first time he had fucked you, when he had picked you up from your home - your mother believed that you were leaving for Irene’s house to pay her a visit, but she was awfully incorrect. You and Jaehyun never made it to where he was planning to take you, having parked deep in a bundle of trees, somewhere far where no one could find the both of you, before fucking you in the backseat of his noir Mercedes. His windows were tinted and the steam that had accumulated on the glass would prove it difficult to look through if anyone were able to find his parked car, but the rocking motion of his automobile probably would have proved your theory wrong.

There was another time, a week after the first time he had fucked you, when you visited the Jung & Associates tower deep in the heart of the city during the evening, when almost all of their employees had left. That night, he bent you over his mahogany desk and drilled into you ruthlessly, his necktie disposed of, wrapping it around your neck to keep you on your knees on top of the table, your soaked panties shoved into your mouth to muffle your whines and screams in case a few employees loitered around the office on the other side of Jaehyun’s door. 

And another time, your favourite time, when you had a flight to Los Angeles to oversee a branch of Decoré’s boutiques and their dodgy revenue, when a knock reverberated on the door to your penthouse, and upon opening it, you were greeted with the familiarity of Jaehyun’s lips on yours. He promised to fuck you on every surface, eager to see you coming undone on top of each piece of furniture laid out in your penthouse. You could barely remember that night; having had innumerable orgasms, each memory is a blur of lust and pleasure - but you can recall being pressed against the panoramic window that blessed you the view of all of Hollywood as he fucked into you from behind, deep voice reminding you of your blasphemy while people went on about their day below the two of you.

Your life is filled with responsibilities and expectations - you are expected to have a beautiful posture, a graceful expression, careful movements, and wise words; never to have a cuss word fall past your lips, never to have a revolted expression grace on your face. If you were to make one wrong move, the future of Decoré may be in peril - but with Jaehyun, as obscene as your actions with him are, you feel as if you are truly yourself. With his throbbing cock pumping in and out of your core, all your thoughts of maintaining your prim and proper reputation are pushed out of your mind, instead focused on raking your fingernails down the skin of his back.

Today, your hands are occupied with tugging on your Hermés scarf that you had wrapped around your neck, concentrated on cloaking the marks forged on the skin of your neck that Jaehyun had left with his lips the night prior. Today, there was yet another gala that you were invited to, some politician that your mother is acquainted with. To be excited is nothing close to how you really feel, knowing of the dull and tediousness that the rest of the night will consist of - you’re only thankful that your stylists didn’t force you into a corset again. You aren’t even sure why you had to attend, having no connection to the point of the gala except for your mother - you would much rather be at home, perhaps reading a book, watching a movie, telling Irene to accompany you, or perhaps texting Jaehyun to come over once again.

Your prediction for the night proves correct when you find yourself sitting alone in the corner of the venue, against the royal blue crushed velvet chairs as you stare into the liquid of your wine glass. You are adorned in a pure white dress by Elie Saab, and you were far too afraid to drop any of the desserts on it in fear of a stain, so you settle for just a simple drink instead. Tchaikovsky drones from the weary looking orchestra at the top of the stairwell, and you’re almost sure you’ve memorized each flat or sharp were located in the flurry of notes. Your mother, the social bird, is off conversing with other people that she’d acquainted herself with, a large, yet fake, smile on her face - it seemed as if no one your age was present, so you were grateful at the fact that her matchmaking business for you will be closed for the night.

You let out a sigh as the night drones on, the conclusion for the evening seemingly never arriving. You are unsure as to how the people around you seem to be enjoying themselves - Do people enjoy boring things as they grow older?you think, but you would never say it out loud. 

“I like your scarf.” 

The tone of voice automatically causes you to sit up straight, turning your head towards the direction it originated from. The man in question pulls up a seat next to you, a kind smile on his lips before sitting down on the crushed velvet padded seat. You quirk your eyebrow in surprise at his presence - you’d assume that he’d be someplace else, enjoying his night, but as you thought more about it, the environment fit his field of expertise.

“Thank you - it was a last minute choice, considering the circumstances.” you quip, setting down your glass of wine to tug at the scarf wrapped around your neck, careful to not expose the hickeys that dance against your skin. You’re unsure on how to act around him in public, you’re so used to letting your desires with him known that acting in your usual grace is unnatural for you. “What are you doing here?”

“Actually,” Jaehyun cocks his head to the side as he smiles, a dimple forming in his cheek, quirking his eyebrow as he lifts his champagne glass to his lips to take a sip. “I have a reason to be here, darling; the man who constructed this gala is a client of Jung & Associates. I should be the one asking you that.”

“Really?” you ponder on his sentence for a few seconds as you twirl the stem of your wine glass between your fingers. “Hm, first time I’ve heard of someone’s lawyers attending an event that their client hosts.” 

“Well, he’s a very corrupt man,” Jaehyun says, turning his gaze towards you. Even just his stare causes you to feel a lustful desire - you cannot comprehend how much power he has over you. “You didn’t hear this from me, but he’s evidently guilty in a case of embezzling money and drugs underneath the guise of his campaign.” 

Your eyebrows slightly raise in shock, gasping lightly. “Oh my gosh, really?” you ask, before furrowing your eyebrows in wonder. “Why have you accepted him as a client knowing that he’s guilty?” 

“I was not the one who accepted him, darling,” he says, resting his cheek against his fist. His stance is relaxed, but his tone of voice seems to hold weight that you cannot pinpoint. “My father did - they were college buddies back in the day. Plus, you know what our kind desires - we all just want money, right?”

Your eyes slowly trail from his eyes to your drink, pondering on his words. “I guess you’re right.”

“Speaking of my father,” Jaehyun’s voice is hushed now, and uncharacteristically panicked. “Here he comes. Try to act casual, can you do that for me?”

“Of course.” you whisper back, getting ready to put your front on again, lifting your gaze just in time to spot the tall, broad-shouldered man walking towards your table. It’s a little jarring, really, seeing Jaehyun’s father for the first time; it’s as if Jaehyun had aged several years and had gone bald - the image in your head causes the corner of your lips to quiver humorously but you contain your laughter.

“Jaehyun, I’ve been looking for you since we entered this gala, there are people who would like to congratulate you.” his father’s voice is gruff, evident of experienced smoking. He barely pays attention to your presence, his eyes set on Jaehyun only, and the man beside you, whose gait is always dripping with confidence, seems to wane. You gulp as you look between Jaehyun and his father, the tension in the air appearing seemingly out of nowhere - bad tension.  

“I’m talking with a friend, father.” Jaehyun’s voice, all the stern that you have grown used to since hearing it for the first time, is softer. His father finally tears his glare at his son, his pupils snapping towards you, and suddenly, you understand why Jaehyun was acting menial. His father squints his eyes at you, observing you with scrutiny, and you let out a shaky breath before parting your lip.

“It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Jung.” you outstretch your hand over the table for him to shake, and the older man simply glances at it before setting his eyes on your face again. Your front almost falters, your hand retreating back into your lap as you burn with humility. 

“Who are you?” he asks you, voice imperious. 

“She’s (Y/N) (Y/L/N) of Decoré,” Jaehyun answers for you. His tone of voice recovered slight dominance but his stance stays humble beside yours. “I’ve told you about her, remember?” 

“Oh yes,” Mr. Jung answers, jaw square as he peers down at you, familiarity in his eyes. “That fashion brand. How is that going?”

You’re confused at his question, having never met him in the past, but you answer anyway. “It’s going alright, thank you.” 

He nods once, finally tearing his weightful glare from you and returning back to his son. “Come now, Jaehyun,” he says, turning his body as a way to signal his leaving, waiting for Jaehyun to follow him. “There are people I’d like you to meet before your birthday next week.” 

You turn your head to Jaehyun in surprise. “It’s your birthday next week?” 

Jaehyun slowly stands from his chair, eyes slightly irate and training on his father, but his voice is gentle when he answers you. “Yes, on Valentines day.” He finally looks towards you, gaze softening when they land on your features, and you furrow your eyebrows in confusion - why is he acting like that? “I have to go now, (Y/N). I’ll talk to you soon, okay?” 

“Of course.” you nod once, lips pressed tightly together as you watch Jaehyun’s form walk towards his father around the table. He gives you one last glance, a look that you cannot decipher, once again, appearing in his irises, before he turns his entire body from you, leaving you to sit alone.

As you watch his retreating form, you think of the newfound information that you had uncovered about Jung Jaehyun, of his birthday, and you realize that, although you know of Jung Jaehyun, that you know of the rumours surrounding him, and know of his body and what he’s capable of from the nights you’ve spent with him for the past month, you don’t sincerely, truly, know him.

-----

Jung Jaehyun does not talk to you soon; after the gala reached its conclusion, your phone remained silent for the following week, aside from Irene’s text messages as well as your mother’s phone calls to ask you how the house is going while she’s on a brief New York visit to oversee one of Decoré’s branches. Even Johnny, who would usually spam your notifications with the latest of internet memes, has been silent. For the following week, you wake up every morning to see if Jaehyun had contacted you, met with disappointment when you’re unable to find his name in your notifications, and you head to bed every night, hoping that maybe, just maybe, he’d text you before you fall asleep. You are reluctant on whether you should worry or not - perhaps he’s busy, he is taking the clutches of his company from his father’s grasp, but it’s on his birthday, when you greet him with a text only to be met with a notification that he’s read your message, when dread begins to pool your stomach.

“Is there something the matter?” 

Irene’s voice causes you to snap out of your daze while you stare at the screen of your phone. It brings you a case of déja vu for only a second before you finally look up at her, a strained smile on your face. 

“Hm? No, nothing’s the matter,” you act nonchalant, setting your phone back down in your lap as you cross your legs over each other. The two of you are seated in your bedroom, Irene splayed out on your bed as she hugs one of your pillows, and you at the stool of your vanity. “I’m fine, Irene. Why?” 

“(Y/N),” Irene sighs as she sits up, putting the pillow she had been cuddling down against your plush mattress. “You’ve been acting different since your visit to Milan.” 

“Have I?” you continue your front. It’s disgusting how easy you lie to her. “I feel fine, though.” 

“Look, (Y/N),” Irene lets out a sigh, and you inwardly cringe - you know that she isn’t buying your words. “It’s fine that you don’t want to tell me, I don’t wanna pester it out of you because it’s your business. However, just know, no matter what it is, I’m here to talk to you, okay? If you told me you killed a man in Milan, I will back you up. I’m basically your sister, I’m here for you always. Please remember that.”

Her words eat at you with guilt, and you tear your eyes away from her, suddenly finding solace in your hands folded in your lap. “I know, Irene,” you whisper, voice shaking. “When the time comes, I’ll tell you. I promise.” 

“Okay, now put your phone down,” Irene hops off the bed, a grin on her face. “It’s Valentine's day; you’re single, and my fiancé is in New York. Let’s go eat ice cream and watch romance movies.” 

The rest of the night is spent lounging on the large couch in your sitting room with your best friend, nostalgic scenes of love confessions and innocent touches playing on the screen of your large television. Your mouths were filled with spoonfuls of ice cream, giggling and squealing at the scenes, as if both of you hadn’t already memorized every line from watching it repeatedly since your early teens. When the main character finally melts into the kiss of their love interest, Irene grabs the cushion next to her and doesn’t hesitate to hit you in the shoulder with it, whining at how romantic the setting was, and you giggle loudly as your spoon falls from your bucket of ice cream onto the floor, the metal clanging against the marble tiles. For a few moments, you forget about your lingering thoughts, phone abandoned in your room upstairs, sitting on the cold wood of your vanity’s table.

“Oh gosh,” Irene jumps to her feet when she looks out the window after the two of you finish your third movie. The rain pangs against your window pane harshly, coating the glass in thick rainwater. “It’s raining so hard, I should call my chauffeur.” 

“Just stay over,” you tell her, still seated on the couch. Your home is like her second home, and her home was your second home; the two of you grew up surrounded by each other’s childhood, so her sleeping over isn’t anything new. “You can call in your chauffeur tomorrow, it’s raining really hard.”

She lets out a sigh. “I know, but I have to get up super early tomorrow in time for my bridesmaid’s gown fittings,” she takes a hand through her hair as she fishes for her phone in her pocket, hitting the contact for her chauffeur on her screen. She holds it to her ear, and apologetically, asks for them to pick her up from your home. After apologizing profusely and thanking them through her phone, she ends the call and lets out another sigh, grabbing her coat that she had splayed over the arm of your couch. “They’ll be here in a few minutes.” 

You frown, but nod, standing up as you grab the empty buckets of ice cream on the coffee table and push your feet into your slippers. You head to the kitchen to dispose of the garbage and to wash the two spoons before putting them in the rack to dry. Your maids weren’t home, as it is a Saturday once again - you favoured cleaning your home though - although it was rather large, you find it relaxing. As the few minutes pass by, Irene’s ride has arrived at the front of your doors; she gives you a warm embrace before she takes her leave.

“Remember what I said, okay?” she reminds you of her words in your bedroom, to trust her with anything, and you nod once.

“Of course,” you tell her. “Have a safe drive home, alright?” 

When you close your door, you let out another sigh as the silence of your home overtakes your presence. The juxtaposition of the hustle and bustle of the nearby city, hearing honks of cars in the distance, is ironic to you as you head back to your kitchen; you felt as if you were isolated from the outside world. Having grown sheltered, with only a few close friends in order to protect your reputation, you’ve naturally become a homebody - when you’re not travelling for your own interests or for affairs pertaining to your job, you’re almost always found at home, sitting in silence. 

You sigh as you take out a nearly empty bottle of domaine de la romanée-cont from one of the cupboards in your kitchen, pouring just a little into a glass that you’ve found in another cupboard. Your mind flashes back to Jung Jaehyun once again, wondering if he’s enjoying his birthday, if he’s enjoying his Valentine’s day, pondering on why he hasn’t contacted you since you last met. You think, perhaps Irene’s words at the beginning were correct - he’s had his fun with you, and now he’s left you to pick up what he’s left behind; you quickly push the subject from your mind. After downing a sip of your wine, you dispose the glass into the sink, not bothering to wash it, opting to do it tomorrow, your mind occupied with getting ready for bed. Just as you turn into your entrance hallway to walk up the stairs towards your room, your doorbell rings. You let out a hum - Irene must have forgotten an item of hers before leaving. Your fuzzy slippers swish against the floor as you walk towards the white door, unlocking the latch before pulling the heavy door open. You part your lips to greet Irene, but what comes falling past your lips is a gasp instead, the sight of Jaehyun standing on your porch a shock to you.

His ash blonde hair is doused with rain water, droplets falling from the wet strands and kissing his shoulders, adorned in Saint Laurent that clings to his skin tautly. He’s panting, as if he had ran all the way to your house, and at the sight of his chest rising and falling rapidly, you believe that that’s exactly what he did. He steps into your home, his frigid, wet hands automatically cupping your face before he pulls you towards him, your lips crashing into his cold ones in desperation and ache. For only a fleeting moment, you melt into his kiss, but quickly regain your composure, pulling away from him. 

“What are you doing here?” you question him, pushing his wet hair away from his face. You look into his eyes, they seem red and swollen - like he’s been crying. 

“I came to see you.” he answers you, voice aberrantly frail - his breath is shaking with each inhale and exhale he takes. “I missed you.” 

“Jaehyun, what’s wrong?” you whisper, wondering why he’s acting this way - it’s his birthday, he should be happy, yet he seems so desolate, so crushed. “Have you been crying?” 

“Darling, please,” his voice is hushed, cold hands still cupping your cheeks as he searches your eyes. “I… I can’t tell you yet.” 

“Why?” you urge him on, desperate to know more about what he’s feeling, about what he’s thinking.

“I… I just can’t,” for the first time, he’s unable to come up with an answer to your questions - the doom in your stomach pools even deeper, but you hold onto the last lingering hope that burns in your heart. “Please, I just need you. I need you right now. I need you badly.”

It’s humiliating how simple words that slip past his lips could cause you to obey so quickly, pulling him in for a deeper kiss as he closes the door behind him. Your lips crash against each other in a flurry of teeth and tongue while he grabs your ass, urging you to jump, before wrapping your legs around him. In haste, he carries you up the stairs, memorizing where to go after having been in your home several times in the same circumstances, before throwing you onto your bed. 

“God, you’re so fucking beautiful,” he whispers against your skin, kissing down your neck while he undoes the lace that ties your silk robe adorning your body. He unclasps your bra quickly, and you let out a sigh when he uncovers your chest, his tongue kissing the valley between your breasts before slowly enveloping his tongue around one of your nipples. “So fucking beautiful, so fucking innocent, so fucking good to me.”

You run your fingers through his drenched locks, brushing them back away from his face as his tongue flicks over your sensitive nipple repeatedly, his other hand doing the same to the other one, rolling the nub with the pad of his thumb. The sight in front of you, Jaehyun’s dark eyes boring into yours while his lips are occupied with your breasts, is breathtaking; your thighs press together intuitively, but once his free hand lets go of your breast, he gently pushes them apart. 

“Jaehyun.” you whisper when you feel his hand slip past the waistband of your shorts and panties, middle finger toying with your clit. He continues to lap at your nipple in circular motions, the sensation of his touch against your nubs causing you to breathe heavily. Slick with your juices, he dips a finger into you, watching your face when his middle finger penetrates you core. You let out a whine, an aching desire for his girth not met by his single finger, but it grazes against your spot which causes your whine to break into a whimper.

“So sensitive, always so fucking tight,” he pulls away from your breast, taking off his drenched shirt before kneeling lower to position his face in front of your sopping heat, slowly beginning to pull your shorts and panties down. In just a few minutes, you had already become drenched with lust underneath Jaehyun’s touch, heat rising in your cheeks when you feel his lips peppering kisses along the inside of your thighs. “I’ll take care of you tonight, darling.”

You still haven’t grown used to the pleasurable sensation of his tongue against your folds, finding yourself gasping in shock every time you feel him lick a strip against your opening. Your hands automatically find their way enlaced in his wet locks, bucking your hips against his face when his tongue grazes your clit. He pushes your legs further apart, lewd noises emitting from his mouth and your sopping core, hushed by the heavy rain hammering against the walls of your home. 

“Jae!” you let out a sharp gasp when you feel his tongue dip inside you, your fist clenching his hair to bring him closer as a low chuckle emits from his throat. Usually, he’d pull away and taunt you for being so eager, and continue to tease you by barely paying attention to the spot you needed him the most, but tonight, he continues to fuck his tongue into you, grip on your thighs to spread your legs apart burning. “Shit, that feels so fucking good!”

He replaces his warm tongue with two of his fingers, coated in a thin sheen of saliva before he pushes into you, tongue lapping at your clit. He knows your body so well, he knows what to do to push you over the edge and now, in just a few minutes, he’s already got you on the brink of your first orgasm. 

“Jaehyun, fuck!” you scream as he rapidly fucks his fingers into you, tongue violent against your clit. You spasm around his fingers, tugging at his scalp as your hips begin to tremble. He continues to fuck you, eyes casted downwards towards your fucked cunt, focused on bringing you over the edge. He pumps his fingers in and out of you at a quick speed, his digits disappearing inside of you one last time before you scream once more. “Shit, I’m cumming!”

He slows his fingers down as you come apart around his digits, finger fucking you through your orgasm. As you let out one last sigh, he pulls his fingers out, wet with your lust, before climbing back up to your face to kiss you, lips wet with saliva and your juices. He moans into the kiss, hands needy as they knead your breasts, his tongue entering your mouth hotly. You flip your bodies over, you on top of him now, his hands moving down your waist to cup your ass. 

You lean back and he watches you with adoration - your heart flips in your chest for only a moment before lust fills your mind again when you feel his stiff cock against your thigh through his jeans. You move down, your turn to kneel on the floor in front of him as you begin to undo his pants. He watches you with his teeth buried in his bottom teeth, brushing your hair away from your face as you pull his cock from his boxers. You let out a breathy giggle at how pink his throbbing tip is before circling your tongue around it, earning a hiss from him before you fully engorge it into your mouth. 

“Fuck, yes,” he grunts, pushing himself up on his elbows to get a better view of you wrapping your lips around his cock, raking his hands through your hair. “Yes, just like that, suck my cock just like that.”

He goes crazy at the sight of your lips wrapped around him, the sight is enough to nearly push him over the edge - your innocent eyes, your hands that clutch at his every time you pump your mouth into him deeper, the way your eyebrows furrow when you gag on his tip. “So beautiful,” he whispers, his thumb caressing your cheek, a sweet act that juxtaposes the situation. “Just like that, your pretty mouth takes my cock so well.”

You continue to suck his cock, your hands pumping the parts you aren’t able to reach - you can almost feel how desperate he is every time his tip hits the back of your throat, the throbbing clear. You weren’t used to Jaehyun being needy like this, being so gentle, taking his time - but the thought made you excited. 

“Shit,” he grunts when you pull away from his cock with a pop, moving your head lower to pay attention to his balls before licking a strip up his shaft. Just as you are about to wrap your lips around his cock again, he sits up, cupping your face. “Fuck, I’ll cum if you keep doing that.”

His lips find yours once again and this time, he’s the one to flip the both of you over. He rids of his jeans that had pooled around his ankles before he climbs into your bed, hovering above you as you spread your legs open, aching for him to finally be inside of you. You had waited for him for a week, you yearned for his presence all those days - and now you were finally being filled by the man you wished for. 

He slides his cock deep inside of your cunt before he begins to move his hips slowly, leaning forward to attach his lips to yours. You could never get enough of his cock, it was as if he was made to fit inside you just right, his tip grazing against your g-spot repeatedly as his tongue dances with yours. You moan into each other’s mouths, your bedroom filled with obscene sounds of saliva and skin slapping against skin. 

“Mine,” he whispers against your neck when he pulls away, hips gently rocking against yours. His cock hits you in just the right places, whines emitting from your lips as he continues to speak. “I want you to be mine.” 

“I am,” you answer, wrapping your legs around his hips in an effort to get him to thrust deeper. He nips at the skin of your neck as he ruts into you. “I’m yours, Jaehyun. I’m all yours.”

Jaehyun doesn’t answer, only responding in deep groans, as he leans back to grab your legs, pulling them over his shoulder to find a better angle in fucking you. When he leans back, you’re almost certain you see tears formed in his eyes, but with you hips slightly lifted from your bed, the angle proving perfect as his cock hits your g-spot even more accurately, you find your thoughts slipping out of your mind when your muffled whines to turn into louder mewls. 

“Jaehyun!” you gasp loudly when he begins to pick up the pace, fingers gripping onto the skin of your thighs so hard that you’re sure they’ll leave marks the next day. You feel your walls begin to spasm around him, eyes rolling to the back of your head as your vision slowly begins to turn into a blur. “Jaehyun, I’m going to cum! Fuck!”

“Don’t cum yet, baby,” he says through strained grunts. “I want to cum together. You’re on the pill right?”

You let out a meek yes as you attempt to hold your orgasm under wraps, finding it hard to do so as the tip of Jaehyun’s cock hits your spot over and over again - your body felt numb and all you wanted to do was to let go, your blurry vision suddenly becoming decorated with stars. “J-Jaehyun, I-I can’t hold it.”

“Yes you can, darling,” he cooed, bringing a hand down to draw circles on your clit with the pad of his thumb. The action has your legs trembling, breath hitching in your throat at the overpowering sensation takes your body. “Hold it for me, you can hold it right? You’re so fucking good to me, that’s why.”

“Jaehyun!” you let out a ripping scream, loud enough to hear it reverberate out your opened bedroom door and down the hallway. Tears begin to form on your waterline at the frustration of your waning orgasm as well as the desperation to let go, letting out a sob as he continues to fuck into you savagely. He drives into your pussy with full force repeatedly, pulling all the way out and snapping back in, and you find it so hard to keep your orgasm under control. “Jaehyun, please!”

“Fuck, baby,” he moans loudly, feeling your walls spasming around him in a frenzy. “Fuck, I love you so fucking much, fuck, cum for me. Cum for me, darling.” 

And you do as he says, finally letting go of your built up orgasm, the sensation ripping through your nerves and causing you to see an entire galaxy behind the darkness of your eyes. The tips of your fingers and toes burnt as if flames kissed them and your body is both sore and numb but with the greatest pleasure. Through the fog, you feel Jaehyun continuing to thrust his cock into you before stalling deep inside your core, spurts of his cum shooting into you and filling you up before he pulls out, streaks of white pouring out after him. 

The both of you come to, panting heavily, before his lips fall onto yours once again, bringing you into a passionate kiss. His lips are familiar to you now, and you cannot even begin to think of a time where they didn’t belong to you. He wraps his arms around you to bring you closer, head resting against your plush pillows before he pulls away. There’s a stray tear that falls from his eye, and you are unsure why it is there.

“I love you, (Y/N),” he whispers, caressing your cheek with his thumb. “I love you so fucking much. I hope you know that.”

“I love you too, Jung Jaehyun,” you whisper, a smile forming on your face, kissing his forehead. The words feel right when they leave your lips, as if they were meant to be said by you and to be heard by him. “Happy birthday, my love.”

You press your lips against his for the final time that night, the electricity clear through the air when he relaxes into you. He smelled like roses, he felt like warmth, and he moved like honey. When you pull away with a gentle smile formed on your face, your thumb wipes away his stray tear, unknowing of the burning pain that had formed them in the first place. 

——-

Waking up to the absence of Jaehyun’s warmth, the bare sheets holding nothing  but the outline of his form, is nothing new to you to start the day with - often, after your affairs at night, the moment sunlight cracks through the night sky, Jaehyun would rise early to sneak back into his own estate in order to avoid a quarrelsome conversation with his father. Instead of waking up with his arms wrapped around your form and kisses against your forehead, you’d only be met with the kisses of sunlight that slips through your creme curtains grazing against your skin, and although you can’t deny the slight disappointment that brews in your stomach at the sight of his absence, you wholly feel a bit relieved every time you’d come to find a note that he’d left you just before taking his leave. 

Recalling your memories of the night prior isn’t an activity that you’re new to, either; you rejoice in the ghost touches left by their former presence as you reply the scenes of pleasure in your mind - Jaehyun’s lips against yours, tongues dancing together like wild flames, his hips rocking into you and fervent as if he wanted to become one with you. As your memories of the night before come to an end, your heart beat waned slightly upon remembering the way Jaehyun had acted. You recall the sight of tears lining his waterline, eyes red and movement filled with desperation and longing. You had fallen asleep before you were able to ask him about it, and he had left far too quickly for you to ask him after waking up.

When you tossed your legs over the edge of your plush mattress, the pads of your feet meeting the carpeted flooring, you had glanced towards your bedside table to see if Jaehyun had left you a note that morning, excitement bubbling in your stomach; the notes that he’d leave for you to read in the morning would range from the most romantic poetry, nothing but sweet nothings written on the page, to the most obscene, filthy string of words, degrading scenarios that he wishes to act upon the next time he sees you which would usually cause a throb to emit in your core early in the morning. Upon looking at your table that morning, though, your bedside table was empty; nothing but your usual reading lamp and phone resting atop the wood. You had furrowed your brows together in confusion at first before pushing the thought out of your mind, deciding not to ponder too much about it. Instead, you eyed your sleeping phone on the table, the device rousing awake with a text notification that had you reaching for it automatically. You had hoped it were the man in question that had occupied your mind since waking up, but you were met with a mere sigh when you see that it’s just your manager, reminding you of the day’s itinerary. 

Another day, another gala that you had to attend, and although this gala may prove to be important to your rise to the head seat of Decoré, you couldn’t help but feel tired of the constant jubilees you had to go to. Since returning back to Seoul from your short trip to California to overlook your boutique’s Los Angeles branch for your mother, you had delved into the planning and designing of your first few clothing pieces - you were excited, you truly were, since you had notebooks upon notebooks filled with your sketches and ideas for clothing pieces that ranged from gowns to the most simplest scarves. Yet, nervousness and apprehension is what eats at your stomach when you realize that your first ever piece, a gown the tone of lavender made entirely of tulle and lace, strewn with colourful flowers as if the sheer fabric had been dragged through a garden, is making its debut tonight. You were unsure what the event is for, only having heard from your mother that it reigns important for the history of Decoré; you knew what she really meant - it brings the company vast amounts of money. Even now, when you sit in a rounded table in the venue with Irene by your side, who had accompanied you for your own encouragement, you can’t seem to stop your fingers from twirling the glass stem that holds your wine.

“Irene,” you concur to your best friend, gulping down vast amounts the liquor Irene had fished for you. Your other hand was preoccupied from fisting at the Christian Dior dress that adorned your body, the strewn golden pendants that hung against the noir silk digging into the skin of your palms. Irene’s hands find their way to yours, snaking her fingers through yours for comfort as she looks at you worriedly. It isn’t that Irene’s presence doesn’t give you a sense of peace, because she’s been slightly successful at her attempts of giving you comfort since the night had started, but perhaps if your mother was here you’d feel a lot more at ease - but, evidently, the weather in New York seems to disregard your feelings, cancelling your mother’s flight back to Seoul that morning. “I don’t think I can do this.” 

“Yes you can, (Y/N),” Irene says in a hushed whisper, careful that other patrons that attended the jubilee won’t bear witness to a future chief executive going through a mild breakdown. She rubs the back of your palm with “You’ve dreamt of this all your life, and you worked so hard on creating this dress. Once the dress is revealed, your weariness will go away, I promise.”

You let out a deep breath at her words, genuinely thankful that she’s there by your side to help you. As you gulp, you nod at her. “Okay,” you huff. “You’re right… you’re right. I can do this.” 

The gala itself is nothing different from other galas you’ve been to - men dressed in their uniform fashion of black and white suit and ties, ladies dressed with the most expensive fabric that sweeps against the floor coupled with their moussed hair and glamorous eye makeup. Unlike most events that you’ve attended, the people that sit around different circular tables housing wine glasses in their palms are unfamiliar to you - you grew up in a social network underneath your mother’s doing, Irene is a part of it, Lucas, who you had met formally several months ago by virtue of your mother, is also a part of it; each and every gala you have been to were filled with people you or your mother knew of - so the unknown characters around you right now, coupled with the unrevealing of your first ever design, ultimately terrifies you. You can pick out a few faces; Irene, of course, your manager, who had been gracing the dessert table for the past hour, and two of your stylists who continuously kept an eye on your hand that had gone back to fisting at the fabric of your dress, weary at wrinkles. 

“(Y/N)?” a familiar voice rings which causes your ear to perk, turning your head to the direction of the tall jolly man who lugs his shorter husband around, and another boy, a much younger boy, follows behind the both of them. Johnny has a quizzical look on his face, as if he were pondering the reason on why you were present - you must have had the same expression too, because he lets out laughter. “It’s peculiar to see you at an event such as this.” 

“I should say the same to you, Johnny.” you say, hand relaxing in Irene’s clasp. She relaxes her fingers and lets your hand go, consequently wiping her hands with a napkin as she makes a teasing quip about how clammy your hands are. You let out a pout at her comment before turning back around towards Johnny - this doesn’t seem like an event he would usually attend as well; he’s more of a youthful socialite gathering type of man, even more peculiar that he’d bring his husband along as well. “Ten, nice to see you again!” 

Ten rings out a smile to you as he leans down to give you a hug, before taking a seat at your table. The younger man who follows behind the two of them is a little awkward in stance, but he doesn’t fail to give you a warm, dashing smile, a calming grin stretched out on his face.

“I’m Jaemin,” he introduces himself, reaching his hand out for a handshake. “You must be (Y/N) (Y/L/N) - Jaehyun and Johnny talk about you a lot.” 

“Is that so?” you let out a laugh, quirking your eyebrows at Johnny who gives you a deadpan look, causing you to giggle. “But it’s very nice to finally meet you, Jaemin!”

The five of you drown the droning sound of classical music through small-chatter, catching up with each other from the past few weeks. Jaemin is a kind boy - charming, but level-headed and mature, he seemed wise beyond his years, and his manners were prim and proper. For a fleeting moment, you had wondered where he had gotten his personality from, seeing as Johnny is a loud, silly man while Jaehyun was more enigmatically rambunctious, but you push the thought out of your head. You think about what he had said when introducing himself to you - Jaehyun talked about you to him?

“So, when is the wedding, Irene?” Ten asks as he sinks the teeth of his fork into a red velvet cheesecake, sliding the fragment it into his mouth before setting his fork back down on the plate. 

“You’ll find out through the invitation cards,” Irene gives him a kilowatt smile, her eyes softening at the mention of the future event. “But it will be next Spring - we have yet to decide where the venue shall be, but when we do, like I said before, you’ll find out through the invitation cards.” 

“Oh, to be married,” Johnny cooed teasingly, as if he weren’t sitting next to his husband. “What a wonderful thing to imagine - finally becoming one with the love of your life during a beautiful ceremony. One can only dream.”

“Johnny Suh,” Ten deadpans, causing you and Irene to let out giggles. “I will not hesitate to shove this entire cake down your mouth, if that’s what you’re trying to hint at.” 

Johnny lets out a loud laughing, bringing his husband close for a hug as the shorter man, pouting, takes another bite out of his cheesecake. “I’m just joking,” Johnny says. “Being married to you is like a dream for me every single day.”

You watch the couple with admiration as they slowly begin to begin to chatter into their own world, gentle smiles and soft gazes exchanged between them; you’ve grown used to seeing the people around you amorous with their partners, but you still cannot deny the feeling of envy that creeps up in your stomach every time you were faced with a happy couple. It’s not that you want them to break up, because you would never wish for a beautiful pairing to split, no matter who they are, but it’s because you’ve still yet to find the one who could bring you into your own little world. You tear your gaze away from them to let them have their own privacy, bringing your attention to your fingers decorated with rings that range from Daniel Villegas to Swarovski,  but an emptiness pools in your heart when you realize none of them truly holds a significant meaning to you.

For a fleeting moment, Jaehyun’s face flashes in your mind, but you push it out of your thoughts as quickly as it had arrived. 

You quickly come to when you hear the dull tapping of a mic blare throughout the grand hall, a hush falling over the attendees as they redirect their attention towards the front of the venue, towards the mini platform that had housed the mini orchestra. Two men stand atop the platform, each clad in a dark grey suits by Johnston; you squint your eyes just slightly in order to make out their faces against the harsh spotlight that had shone onto them. One man seemed familiar, his hair greying and thinning, wrinkles of age outstretching the skin of his face, and you identify him as Mr. Jung, whom you met at the politician’s event last week. You are quizzical as to why they are here, wondering if this was a gala hosted by the Jung family. As you wondered, your eyes turn to the man beside him, only to find his eyes already on you. 

You gasped slightly when you see Jung Jaehyun, the ash blonde tone of his hair long gone and replaced with jet black locks, slicked away from his forehead and styled much like the first time you had seen him - he stands tall, as he always does, hands firm at his side and facial features juxtaposing each other as if he were modern art, but his eyes, the eyes that you’ve grown used to seeing desire, confidence, and adoration, are instead filled with nothing but alarm. He stares at you with widened eyes, his jaw visibly tightening as he seems to stop breathing for a fleeting moment, and at his unusual gait, a sense of doom rises in your stomach. 

“I’d like to thank you all for coming tonight,” Mr. Jung’s gruff voice blares through the speakers while he holds the microphone close to his mouth. “Today is a very, very special night for Jung & Associates; a very special night for my beloved son, Jaehyun.”

Jaehyun finally tears his eyes from yours to look at his father, flashes the audience a kilowatt smile, as if he hadn’t looked at you with such alarm just mere seconds ago. 

“As we all know, my time as CEO of Jung & Associates has already come to an end, and I figured, with one last bang, why don’t I announce my son’s rise to the chair with a celebration?” he turns towards Jaehyun, whose lips are pressed tightly in a line. “I know that he’ll prove to be an amazing chief executive; he’s responsible, articulate, and intelligent - he is the son I have always dreamt of, and he is everything Jung & Associates has aimed for in our empire.”

You see Johnny‘s jaw clench from beside you against the dim lighting, and on the other side of the table, you see Jaemin gulp, and you couldn’t help but frown at how much pain their own father’s words must have caused the both of them. You reach out in an attempt to squeeze Johnny’s arm as a sense of comfort, as he is much closer to you physically, but a voice that causes your nerves to run wild inside of you blares through the speakers, causing you to pause mid-action and look back towards the platform. 

“Thank you, father,” Jaehyun says when the older man gives him the microphone, he toys with the wire before clearing his throat, looking back into the audience. “I’m very excited for the journey I’ll be taking with Jung & Associates; this has been my dream since I was a child, so I’m really happy to be here today.”

There is a pregnant pause in the air, and he takes a hitched breath. “As well for another announcement,” Jaehyun continues. “I’m very excited to announce a new era for Jung & Associates - we have merged with Kim & Park Law, an honour as we move into a bigger empire. Helping people is what both of our firm’s prioritize, so it only felt right.“

An applause breaks out in the crowd, and politely, you clap too, although you are unsure as to what was going on. You wondered how your design was going to be shown, when it will be revealed; you should have inquired your manager before arriving - this doesn’t seem like the correct environment for a revealing.

“That being said, I have one last announcement. I’m sure all of you are wondering just why I’m talking about the future of the merge between Jung & Associates Kim & Park Law, when we’ve merged with plenty other companies in the past. Well, it’s due to the fact that the worries of the future does not only pertain to the company, but to my personal life as well,” he pauses, and he looks around the room for a fleeting moment, but when his eyes land on yours, it seems as if the moment had lasted for years. A woman, a beautiful woman of tall stature with glowing blonde hair and skin kissed slightly by the sun walks up to the platform to stand next to Jaehyun, and adorned on her form is your design, with its lavender fabric that shines against the spotlight as if it were painted onto her skin, whose flowers decals swept against the floor in youthful, yet graceful, wonder. When Jaehyun finally tears his gaze from yours to look at her, she gives him a smile filled with love, and Jaehyun, with his dimples carved deep into the corners of his mouth, smiles back. 

“Chaeyoung Park, the beautiful daughter of one of the co-founder of Kim & Park Law, is to be my wife. Tonight, I am announcing our engagement.”

The doom that had been brewing in your stomach for the past few days had penetrated into your heart when the words absorb into your eardrums; the sinking feeling inside of you and the twisting pain that had erupted in your chest drowned out the applause and cheers of duress that had taken over the sound waves of the hall, your breath hitching in your throat as you wish only for the ground to swallow you whole. Johnny and Ten turn towards you, their eyes widened in horror as they open their mouths frantically, but you are unable to hear what they are saying. Irene, beside you, grabs your hand once more and rests her other one atop the back of your hand, and when you turn towards her, when you meet her heartbroken, pitiful gaze, when you realize that you and Jung Jaehyun, the man who had not only taken your opportunity of glory by taking away the attention from your first ever design, had also decided to tear your heart and soul apart in the most painful fashion.

The last thing you had remembered before your eyesight became a blur was forcefully standing up, the screeching of the legs of your chair hushed by the audience’s celebration, and walking out of the hall with Irene running after you as you will yourself to not let the tears spill past your waterline.

You come to when the moonlight that casts down into your dark bedroom causes your interior to glow ethereally; perhaps, if it were your usual day, you would stop to admire the setting - but even the most extravagant view is dust to you now as you wreak broken sobs of dismal into Irene’s comforting arms. 

“He’s not worth your tears, (Y/N),” Irene comforts you, motherly hand caressing your hair as she lets you sob. She hums soothingly as she does so, your body trembling in ache. “He’s just another ignorant, immature boy. He’ll bring the end of this stupid law firm while you’ll continue to reign with Decoré.”

“It hurts so much, Irene,” you sob into the fabric of her Elie Saab garment, guilty that you’re staining the silk with your heartbroken tears. “My heart hurts so much, he told me he loved me just last night and I told him I loved him back. I should have listened to you, how could I have trusted him? How could I be so thoughtless?”

“Shh,” Irene’s voice is soothing as she pushes you back to look at your face. “I will say, I did warn you. However, you can’t control your curiosity nor who you love, (Y/N). And yes, although you fell in love with a man of whom I want to do nothing else to but murder, you were not being thoughtless. You just did what you thought was right.”

“Nothing I did was right,” you wipe the tears that streamed down your face. “If I did what was right, then I would have never caught sight of him that first night, then I would have never met Johnny, then I would have never kept running into him in different countries, and I would have never fallen in love with him.”

She tucks a hair behind your ear before wiping your tears with her thumb, smearing some of your mascara and eyeliner underneath your red, swollen eyes. She smiles with a bittersweetness. “Everything happens for a reason, (Y/N).”

You change out of your dress, hem stained by grass and dirt marks from walking carelessly through the front garden towards the entrance when you were leaving the gala, and Irene stays outside your door as she informs Seokjin that she’ll be staying over at your home. She doesn’t tell her fiancé what had happened, deciding to keep it a secret between the two of you, and Johnny and Ten. You let out a sigh as you remember the two men’s shocked faces when they had turned to you, anger and denial clear in their faces; were you and Jaehyun not as discreet as you had thought? Your stomach twisted in pain when you think of more options; had Jaehyun lied to you about keeping it a secret?

“Irene?” your voice is meek when you reach out to her arm as the two of you lay beside each other in your plush bed hours after your sobbing had calmed down. She hums, flipping her sleeping mask away from her eyes as she looks at you. “How did you know about Jaehyun and I?” 

She waits for a few seconds, as if pondering on what to say. “The tension between the two of you was claustrophobic,” she says after a few seconds. “You also both held these... certain gazes towards each other. Gazes that I gave Seokjin when I pined for him, and gazes that I still give him now.” 

Your stomach twists once more as tears spring against your waterline. Perhaps asking wasn’t the correct decision. You sniff, in an attempt to calm your emotions. “Oh.”

“It’ll be okay, (Y/N),” Irene sighs, her hand on top of yours in an effort to comfort you, acknowledging your shaking voice. “It will be hard, but you can find a better man. A better man than Jaehyun had ever been.”

“Of course.” you whisper. “Goodnight, Irene.”

“Goodnight.”

Later that night, when Irene’s soft snoring emits from her form beside you, you reach for your phone that slept against your bedside table. When you rouse it awake, a dull pain seeps into your heart at the sight of the notifications that lined your screen; all of them were from Jaehyun. A tear escapes your eyes as you unlock your device, willing yourself to not read the countless messages he had sent you, almost enraged at his ignorance for even thinking of doing such a thing - was it his goal to mock you, to taunt you of how your body was under control of his lips? 

You think back on his actions towards you for the past year you’ve been aware of his existence, filled with aching eyes and desired touches, small exchanges of soft smiles and slight smirks. Had that all just been an act, for him? Had he looked at you with lust, only to go back home and give his girlfriend, his fiancée, the same ones - only this time, with authentic emotions? Had he spent the last year making it seem as if he were the one pining after you, when in reality, you were the one that had those feelings? Had he doused the three words he said on your last affair in a brew of lies before letting them absorb into your eardrums? Had wickedness glowed in his heart when you uttered the same three words back? 

Because, as you continue upon thinking more about the situation, late that night, you realize that his fiancée was not the one that hurt you - she probably had no clue about all of this, just as you had been. 

You were the other woman.

Your heart clenches in your chest sending a wreck of pain through your nerves, biting your lip to muffle back a broken sob as thoughts fly into your mind at a pace you had never encountered before.

Jung Jaehyun knew you; he knew all your secrets when you uttered them in his ear when you would lay next to him in bed, he knew of your quirks that would slip out when trying to keep your relations discreet in the public eye, he knew of the facade that you would put up after stepping past the gates of your house, he knew what your body liked and craved and how to get you to slip over the edge when he would fuck you, he knew of your goals, he knew of your wishes, he knew of your desire for love and marriage - but you knew nothing about Jung Jaehyun.

You swallow once in an attempt to calm the increasing regret that begins to fill your stomach before tapping your screen one final time that night, the block button that sits underneath his contact emitting a light blue before his number finally disappears from your device, deleting your text conversations, erasing every lingering retention of Jung Jaehyun.

-----

The plain taste of water fills your mouth and you think to yourself, perhaps you should have ordered a much more tasteful drink to accompany the savoury meal in front of you, of different breads, seasonings and pastas. Your shoulders are straight as you sit in the chair of crushed velvet, corset at a comfortable tightness as you keep a watchful gaze on the people around you. A sigh escapes your mouth when you spot a lovely couple seated a few seats away from you, hands outstretched and on top of each other against the wooden table, love full in their eyes as they gazed at each other in admiration.  

Perhaps coming here was the wrong idea. 

Three years ago, you were brought to the chair of Decoré after the sudden passing of your mother, a tragic event that graced headlines much to your grief in utter remembrance - the year of her death was an ache to you, every person you turned to would bring it up, which would only spark tears in your eyes and pain in your chest. Becoming used to the chair was not an easy task at all either, having to give up the modelling career that you had forged from a young age in order to focus fully on the company’s strings - and you didn’t have your mother to help you either. As the years went by, you formed into a different woman; long gone was the girl who put a mask in front of the public in order to keep her reputation spotless, long gone was the girl who calculated her movements in order to keep an outrage from sparking - however, sometimes, when all the lights in your lonesome penthouse are turned off and all you can hear is the distant buzz of the streets below, you would silently cry to yourself, wishing like a child that everything hadn’t changed so drastically. 

You and Irene are still in contact, as close as ever, and you had the will to have invited you on your trip - but due to her growing family and growing pregnant belly, she was most likely unable to accompany you on your planned rendezvous’ these recent days; Johnny, ever the positive man, also continued to contact you as well, albeit sparsely - but the incident that had happened caused a strain to form on your friendship - he treated you like a ticking time bomb, careful with his words in order to not let a memory spring in your mind. Last you heard, he had adopted two little twin girls with his husband. You, on the other hand, admittedly have had your nights of pleasure, hooking up with random men dressed in fancy custom suits that you’d meet at random lounges and events, but they were never serious. They would always leave right after your affair ends. Your ring finger bears no band, and you’re unsure if it ever will.

Presently, you sit at a lounge, someplace in Milan, celebrating the opening of a new boutique in your favoured city, lonesome. In due fairness, you were planning to ask your secretaries and closest employees to accompany you, but after the hard work they had put into opening the new branch in a foreign country, you opted to give them the rest of the day off instead. As crowds of people chatted amongst themselves in duress, all you can do is sip hesitantly at your water and pick at your food, regretting the idea of coming here alone. It seems as the universe is mocking you, as well, decorations of hearts and and cupids littered against the walls of the restaurant, as today is Valentine’s day - everyone around you is on a date, perhaps their first or one of many, and you are sitting there, alone, completely out of place. 

Yes, coming here was definitely the wrong idea.

Yet, you couldn’t bear to let the food you had ordered and had people put their backbone into making to go to waste, so instead of standing up to retrieve your tweed coat hung on the backrest of your chair, you continue to eat quietly, by yourself, underneath the guise of being distracted by your phone screen. As you ponder about the what-ifs, thinking about having ordering room service from the comfort of your hotel room instead, a waitress props a tall, skinny glass of a familiar liquid in front of you. 

“Domaine de la romanée-cont, Ms. (Y/L/N),” she greets you with a gracious smile, bowing her head slightly. “From the gentleman at the bar.”

You furrow your eyebrows together in bewilderment at the glass before thanking the waitress and sending her on her way. You study the flute intently, gazing at it’s red liquid that seemed to glow against the yellow lighting of the restaurant, before wrapping your fingers around it to take it towards your lips. The bitter taste of domaine de la romanée-cont graces your taste buds when the liquid engulfs your mouth and you think to yourself, perhaps the theory of a maturing palate is true, you do not favour the taste of the wine that you would eagerly look for at events when you were younger and in your old household - but it also brings another memory to you, a distant recalling, eyes that you have not looked into for the past few years embedding into your brain when the taste hits your tongue. 

Jung Jaehyun is a distant name to you now, the taste of his name slipping off your tongue becoming a foreign feeling as each day passes, fingerprints he left on your skin slowly eroding away through time. Often, you’d see his face on the screen of your television, read his name on front pages of magazines that they’d display at those corner stores you’d idly pass by, or hear his name in hushed chatter from people around you engrossed in their own conversation - but as quickly as he had nearly ingrained himself into your life once more, you’d change the channel, or flip the page, or tune out of the conversation. Although no parts of you hold no bearing of the memoirs of Jung Jaehyun, sometimes, you’d find yourself laying awake at night, wishing for the memories that still lay in the cavities of your brain to come to life once again, to feel his fingerprints burn into your skin much like they had five years ago - but as a chief executive at the age of twenty-seven, all you can do is tell yourself to grow up, and force yourself to do paperwork instead of wishing for something that will never come true. 

So when you spot Jung Jaehyun sat at the dark mahogany bar after looking for the man who had paid for this drink, with his umber eyes boring into yours, you are unsure on how to act.

He is as beautiful as the first time you laid eyes on him, his facial features a stunning juxtaposition as the dim overhead lighting of the bar accentuates his sleek cheeks and soft jawline, his sharp lips and soft, brown eyes. His hair, remaining a jet-black, much like the first time that you had seen him, is brushed over his forehead messily. He wears a simple white button up shirt, the first two buttons undone, tucked into a pair of black trousers adorned with a belt. On his wrist, as he cradles a glass of champagne as he watches you, is a golden watch from Louis Vuitton, His mouth is pulled into a straight line, and in his eyes, hold observe, as if he were waiting for how you would react. Even now, when he approaches you and sits in the chair opposite from yours, his eyes still hold a deep meaning. 

Upon meeting his eye, it seems as if all the memories you have buried deep into your brain becomes uncovered, images flashing before your eyes in montages like an old film movie; his eyes gazing into yours with desire, fingers pressing into your skin as to leave a crater of himself on your form, lips ghosting the crook of your neck when he used to roll his hips into you - the act alone is enough to make you gasp from both shock and hurt, tears slightly beginning to tease your waterline, but you take note of the environment around you and decide that you shouldn’t act out. 

“Jung Jaehyun,” you finally speak, keeping your tone unwavering. “It’s been a while.”

“It has.” he speaks, setting the bottom of his glass against the white cloth. Jet black strands fall past his eyes and he brushes them back, before meeting his eyes with you again. “I hope you have been well, (Y/N).”

“I have.” you answer him, switching your gaze back and forth between his eyes - what was his goal in speaking to you like this; you do not hold an inkling of care for him as you once did, was his plan to taunt you of your old affairs? You decide not to thank him on his greeting, nor return it, and continue to speak venomously. “Why are you here?”

He seems taken aback from your blunt answers, stilling for only a fleeting moment before parting his lips again. “I’m here to oversee the Milan branch,” he answers you in a strain. “I was just enjoying a night out when I saw you, and I wanted to greet you again.”

“Alright.” you simply give him a simper, setting your fork down before you push the avoided glass of domaine de la romanée-cont towards him. He watched your action with puzzled eyes. “I don’t like the taste of this wine anymore; you should have just kept your money in your pocket.”

“Oh,” is all he could say. “I’m sorry.”

You don’t say anything, instead, you begin to pack up your belongings into your purse, quickly arranging the utensils of the finished meal in front of you to help the waitresses clean your table easier for when you leave. You avoid his gaze when you finally stand up, taking your tweed coat hanging off the backrest of your seat and sliding it on, brushing your hair out from being tucked into it. 

“Goodbye, Mr. Jung.” you tell him, still not attempting to hold his watchful eye as you turn on your heel and walked towards the exit, not wanting to hear any words slip past his lips. You are appalled, could a man really be so ignorant, to attempt to mock you in front of your face, even years later? Perhaps he still held himself in high regard from the past, and though a small part of you wreaks with hurt, slight tears springing to your eyes when the February air kisses your cheeks as you walk past the doors, anger still continues to move through your nerves. 

“(Y/N),” you hear his voice following after you as you walk through the cobblestone walkways, the calm waters of the Navigli canal that was located right at the exit juxtaposing the emotions that stir inside of you at the sound of his voice. “Please, I just want to talk.”

You continue to walk away from him, hearing his fast footsteps a few meters behind yours. “You had the chance to talk to me years ago before that night.” you simply say, pushing your hands into the pockets of your coat from the cold air. “I’m afraid you’ve lost your chance.”

“(Y/N),” he sighs, and you hear him begin to jog to your side, and once he comes into view, all you can do is bump past him in a fit of aggravation. “Please, listen to me. Just let me talk.”

“I don’t have time to talk. I run a company. Don’t you?” you say in a hard tone. You hear his footsteps come to a stop and you let out a relieved sigh at the thought - you just wanted to leave past him and never see him again, just as he had done to you all those years ago; his voice causes you to halt, just seconds later. 

“I do not.” his voice is a few meters away from you but the tone of his voice causes your step to falter, and you widen your eyes at the discovery. 

You furrow your eyebrows together before pivoting on his heel to face him, finding his form closer to your body than you had anticipated. “What do you mean?”

“Jung & Associates isn’t under my command anymore. I gave up the position to my youngest brother, Jaemin, who was more ready than I ever was,” he tells you, eyes dark, voice genuine, but the wall that has built before your heart causes your form to stay rigid. “Have you not seen the articles going around, (Y/N)? I did this nearly two years ago. I want no responsibility of the sort - father nearly kicked me out of the family for my choices, but I’m just Jung Jaehyun now.”

You weigh the options of believing him and avoiding his words for a few seconds, opting for the latter as you let out a scoff. The calm waters beside the two of your forms stays moving in slow waves. “Don’t expect me to believe your lies, Jaehyun.”

“I’m not lying.” he says. “I have never lied to you.”

“Don’t give me that bullshit,” you spit, and a sense of hurt flashes in his eyes - you want to slap him, how dare he feel hurt at your words when he’s caused you greater hurt than you’ve ever felt. “How can you expect me to believe you when everything we’ve ever done together was based on false words?”

“Don’t say that, (Y/N),” he says, reaching out towards you but you slap his hand away - retracting his arm as more pain pools into his pupils. You feel the tears finally begin to tease your waterline the moment you had touched him, letting out a soft cry. “What we had was real, and you know that.”

“No, it wasn’t.” you tell him, attempting to keep your tone unwavering. “Don’t you dare fucking lie to me again, Jung Jaehyun. I was the other woman, and you never had the audacity to tell me. You never had the audacity to at least give me the chance to end whatever... we were.”

“(Y/N).” he says, simply, but you only tear your eyes off of him, letting out a sigh of annoyance as you look at the calm waters of the canal beside you. 

”Please, just leave me be. Don’t you have a wife to take care of?”

“I don’t,” he tells you, and his words cause you to look at him again with puzzled eyes. He parts his lips again to speak. “Me and Chaeyoung were engaged under business terms - it was never real between us, I couldn’t bare marrying a woman I didn’t love, nor could she, so I ended the merge and our engagement, which cut my ties to the chair.”

You let out a breath at listening to him, eyes falling downcast to the ground, attempting to keep the tears from slipping down your cheeks, but you fail, the streaks hot against your face against the cool air. 

“Why would you do that?” you ask him in a hushed tone. 

He whispers back. “Life is a risk, isn’t it?”

Silence seduces the air between the two of you for a few seconds, the only sounds heard is the distant soundtrack of cars moving past the roads and the slight sloshing of the bed of water beside the two of you. His shoulders rise as he takes a deep breath, and then he parts his lips open. 

“The first time I saw you,” he says, taking a step towards you before bringing a hand up to wipe your tears from your face, his presence so close to you. “It was at your mother’s gala, that one spring. I was there due to my father’s orders to coax your mother into having us buy Decoré. I knew who you were, after researching the revenue of your company - but when I saw you... I couldn’t bring myself to do it. I came home that night, my father was angry that I couldn’t go through one task he had asked me to do - and he gave me a choice. Buy your company, or merge with another company by marriage.”

You keep quiet, letting his words pour into your ears as you listen intently, every syllable hard hitting to your chest as you feel your stomach begin to pool with trust.

“I remember I kept bumping into you in different cities,” he lets out a soft chuckle, juxtaposing the tears that are welling up in his eyes. “Bordeaux, Cebu... I remember butterflies going wild in my stomach when I saw you at the resort in Cebu, but my mind was set. I needed to talk to you, and so I ordered you your wine, and I finally was able to.”

You let out a shaky breath as you continue to listen to him, your mind swirling with thoughts but becoming silenced when he cradles your cheek in his palm.

“And that night in Milan,” he pauses, his hands cupping your cheeks now, an action burning into your skin much like the first few times he had done it long ago. “When I saw you walking down the runway with that wedding dress, walking towards me at the end of the runway… it all just made sense.”

You gasp lightly, widening your eyes at the realization of his words, and it is at your reaction that causes his tears to finally fall from his own eyes, staining his red cheeks with wet streaks. It is an action that causes you to recall the last time you had been entangled with him, wiping his tears away as the both of you whisper the three words that you’ve become so scared of uttering.

“Do you want to know the reason why I held such detest for Johnny, all those years ago?” he asks you, and you do not answer, continuing to look at him in bewilderment. “It was because I was jealous that he could live a life freely while I could not. It was because I was jealous that he could start his own career from what he favoured to do, and I had to take on the responsibilities of the family. It was because I envied the fact that he could marry whomever he wanted,” he paused, only for a brief moment, but it felt like millennia when all you could feel at that moment was your nerves exploding at his words. 

“And that I could not marry you.”

His lips are like home to you, warm against yours and sending a frenzy through your nerves, and you realize, perhaps you never really did forget the way his lips meshed against yours, and how it felt to feel his presence burn into your skin. Even as tears streamed down both of your cheeks as your lips mold into each other with both yearning and passion. You are unsure of how many moments you stand like that, still, hearing the water move beside the both of you quietly, the stars above you twinkling in their delight much like the lamp posts that litter the street, lips dancing against each other. Your hands are tangled in his hair, each strand brushing against your fingers and palms in a familiar dance, as his hands cup against your mouth - and you realize why you have grown to dislike the taste of domaine de la romanée-cont, the wine you use to favour - it’s because you have found your favourite taste in Jaehyun’s lips.

You find your hands having a mind of their own when you pull him by the collar of his coat, bringing him closer to you, and within seconds you are hastily leading him through the walkways towards your hotel. Your lips are still molded together at the front of the hotel, at the entrance of the lobby, the warm yellow lights that emit from the chandeliers inside spilling out to your forms. Perhaps, years ago, you would never do such a brash act in public - but at present, you could care less for the possible paparazzi loitering around the area, you could care less of the stares that the both of you attract when you drag him through the lobby towards the elevator shafts, stepping in, never once moving away from each other. When you pull away with panting breaths, he presses his forehead to yours, his eyes closed as his tears calm. His hands are still placed on your waist, unwilling to let go, and the both of you relish in each other’s presence for a moment, letting silence overtake you; slowly letting the other settle back into their life, dwelling themselves in the space that they had used to take. 

“I want you,” he whispers, the ghost of his breath brushing against your nose as you let your hands fall from the strands of his hair and onto his cheeks. One of his hands make it on top of yours, warm against your skin. “I want you so fucking bad.”

“You have me now,” you whisper, hands trailing from his cheeks towards the hardening member underneath the fabric of his trousers. “So please ruin me.” 

Both of your bodies deem impatient when the bell sounds with a ding!, announcing that the two of you had arrived to the floor of your penthouse - you are only thankful that the immediate first step from exiting the elevator is already your lounge room, discarding your coat onto the ground as you swiftly push Jaehyun further into your penthouse. His hands have transitioned from gentle touches to rougher grips, arms wrapped around your waist now, letting you lead the way as his slick tongue slips past yours. He moans into the kiss as you push him down towards the suede black couch that decorates your lounge; your knees are on both sides of him, straddling him, never once breaking your kiss. You run your fingers through his hair as he leans back against the backrest of the couch, fingers tracing down your clothed spine and then cupping your ass through the fabric of your noir Dior dress. You pull away from his lips slightly to let out a moan that had been building up since you had last seen him - you hadn’t realized how much your body ached for his touch.

“So eager...” he whispers as you pant out, his lips attaching onto your neck, reminding your skin of what his tongue had felt like. He slowly moves his hands underneath your dress, rolling the tight fabric up over your bottom, your bare-skin now exposed to the cool temperature of your penthouse. His hands are warm against your flesh before he raises his hand to smack your pad of skin lightly, the contact causing a sound to ripple through the air as you let out a soft gasp. You feel him smirk against your skin. “You like that, darling?”

The nickname that slipped past his tongue causes your core to throb, having not heard those words from him in so long - it’s laughable really, how you were still underneath Jung Jaehyun’s five years later, even after you swore never to pine for him again. Your cheeks heat up as he continues to smack your ass, leaning back now to watch your facial expressions, a smug smirk on his face. “Look at you. You like being spanked, darling?” he taunts you, and your core throbs once more. 

You bite down on your lip to suppress a moan as you nod your head, his hits slowly begin to turn harder, pain burning into your skin - but you love it all; Jaehyun puts his mark onto you again, this time, they’ll never fade away. He spanks you sharply, and you let a yelp emit from your lips. “That’s it,” he grins when he hears your whine, his black hair brushing past his eyes. “Let it out, darling. Make the entire hotel know what I’m doing to you.”

You find yourself rocking your hips slowly after every spank, rutting your wet panties against the swelling hardness in Jaehyun’s trousers. You hadn’t realized what you had been doing until he lets out a low groan, craning his neck backwards at the sensation of your clothed heats grinding into each other. He grips his fingers into the flesh of your ass as you continue. 

“You’re so fucking hard already,” you whisper, the outline of his cock against your core causing shudders to rake through your nerves. He bites down on his lip as his eyes flutter shut, causing you to smirk; you rut your hips faster. “Don’t tell me you’ve gone sensitive, Jaehyun. It would be such a bummer if you cum so early in our affair.” 

He seems to snap back into reality at your sentence, eyes opening and craning his neck straight to look towards you, umber eyes turning a shade dark before one of his hands find their way against your clothed heat. “You’ve gotten brave,” he says in a hushed tone. “Just because I haven’t fucked you in a while doesn’t mean you can take control. That’s not how it works, darling.”

“I can take control over you whenever I wa-“ you start, but your sentence is cut short at the feeling of Jaehyun pushing your thin panties to the side before harshly pressing his long fingers into you, causing you to lean forward at the sensation that you have yearned for so long. In the corner of your eye, you see him smirk in arrogance, but you cannot say anything - not when he’s already began to fuck his finger into you. “Fuck, Jaehyun!”

“Finish your sentence.” he whispers calmly, as if his digits weren’t doing something so obscene. “You know how much I hate it when people don’t finish their sentences. You can take control of me? Is that what you were gonna say?”

“J-Jaehyun!” you mewl, legs buckling as you lose your balance on top of him, your hips having a mind of their own as you begin to rock your hips against his fingers. He moves you swiftly, so that your back is against his chest, legs spread with the help of his own, his fingers pushing in and out of you so deliciously. 

“Answer my fucking question, slut.” he says, baritone voice deep in your ear. 

The name causes you to gasp, sinful words and the sensation of his long, thick digits spreading you apart after so long already having you see stars in your eyes. “J-Jaehyun,” you whimper, voice wavering with every pump he fucks into you. “I was w-wrong. Y-You have control over me. I’m yours.”

You feel him smile against your ear. “Good.” he praises you, the pads of his fingers brushing against your sweet spot that causes your toes to curl and for you to let out a sweet mewl. “Now tell me how good of a whore you are and if I should let you cum or not. Did you let other people fuck your cunt while I was gone?”

You bite down on your lip as his digits pick up the pace, moving in and out of your hole with sopping sounds; the room is filled with a sinful soundtrack of Jaehyun’s dirty words, your breathy whimpers, and the sound of his palm slapping against your cunt. He brushes past your spot again, which causes you to buck your hips, letting out a louder mewl. He pushes your waist down with his free hand, wrapping his legs around yours to bring them wider, fully having you encompassed in his body. His fingers do not stop though, they ram against your sweet spot repeatedly, earning high-pitched moans to emit from your throat; all that you are able to say, is his name. “Don’t you fucking listen?” he growls into your ear, digits ruthless as they continue to fuck into you, stretching your walls out the way you like. “Tell me. Did other people fuck your cunt while I was gone?”

You bite onto your lip and weigh your options, whether you should tell him the truth, or not. Throughout the past five years of not wanting to face Jaehyun, you have accumulated quite a list of men that you had hooked up with for the enjoyment of one single night - many of them left you unsatisfied, but anything was better than you being left to your own devices. Tears begin to spring your eyes at the doubled speed Jaehyun was going now - you had forgotten how ruthless he is in bed, just the way you like it. 

“Yes.” you decide to tell him the truth, although, you come to regret it when Jaehyun pulls his wet fingers out of you and slaps your cunt, your sensitive clit hit with dull thud of pain before he plunges his fingers deep into you again.

“Dirty whore,” he spits, but you’re unable to answer at the amount of pleasure overtaking your core. “Who? Who fucked you while I was gone? Tell me all of them or else you won’t get to cum.”

You tighten your walls around his fingers when he brushes past your spot for the nth time but he pulls his fingers out of you before you are able to be pushed to the edge, the built up high slowly fading just slightly before he plunges them back in again, a mewl emitting from your lips when realizing that your orgasm has to be built once again. “Jaehyun!” you whine, bucking your hips in aggravation against his ruthless hand, but he tightens his grip on you. 

“I fucking said, tell me who fucked you,” he says through grit teeth. “Or else you won’t be able to cum at all.”

“N-Nakamoto Yuta,” you whisper. Your walls spasm around his fingers again, when he brushes the pads of his digits against your spot. You let out a moan as the pleasure rakes through your body, but you continue to power through, aching for your orgasm to rip through your limbs. “Kim Taehyung, L-Lee Minhyuk,” his fingers seem to bear no ending as they continue to fuck in and out of you while you recite each name that you are able to recall under the circumstance, but all that comes to and end when you utter the last name. “Kim Doyoung.”

He pulls his fingers out of you and hastily grabs your hair, forming it into a makeshift ponytail as he pulls your head closer to him. His grip on your scalp is tight and you let out a cry of pain as well as annoyance at your ruined orgasm - yet, you wanted more. He slowly moves you to the side, standing up from the couch and setting his feet in front of you, towering over your form, and you feel your heart sink in both fear and excitement. 

“Kim Doyoung?” he chuckles lowly, slightly tugging on your hair harshly before redirecting your gaze to his belt, and your breath hitches in your throat at the realization of what he wants you to do. “So tell me, darling. Did he fuck you until you couldn’t walk, just like you wanted?”

Out of all the men that you had found yourself in bed with, often random strangers who believed it would be a stepping stone towards achieving your empire by your side, Kim Doyoung was one that you were not expecting. After running into him in a jazz lounge in New York City; the both of you caught up on what the other had missed, apologized for not staying in contact - and as each glass of liquor passed by the both of you in blurs, you quickly come to when both of your forms were barely able to make it to his bed, having bent you over the kitchen counter of his penthouse as he drilled into you from behind. 

Just like Jaehyun, Doyoung was ruthless - he left marks on your skin that you had to cover for almost a week before you were certain they weren’t to be seen by the media, and for the entire day after the ordeal, you had deemed too sore to walk, having to call into your headquarters to inform them that you would be working from home that day. However, unlike Jaehyun, you held no connection with Doyoung - his gaze, though filled with lust and desire, held no longing and yearning for who you really are; his touch, though pleasurable and able to bring you to the edge, did not light fires against your skin. 

As you pull Jaehyun’s pants down, his throbbing cock slapping against his stomach, the memories of that night are pushed out of your mind at the expense of your desire. You quickly wrap your hands around his shaft, thick and large - your core twitching at the thought of his cock stretching you out again. You part your lips before you swirl your tongue on his pink tip, the sensation of your slick tongue slathering around him letting a low groan emit from his throat. “Shit, baby,” he groans, relaxing his grip on your hair, pushing stray strands away from your face to get a better view. 

“Fuck, I missed your pretty little mouth so much.”

You had forgotten how big he was when you attempt to take all of him into your throat, a gagging sound reverberating off the walls of your penthouse, which causes him to groan louder. “Shit,” he hisses, and he begins to rock his hips slowly. “Yeah, that’s right, choke on my cock like the dirty little whore you are.”

His throbbing tip hits the back of your throat in repeated beats, tears springing into your eyes as your gagging causes more saliva to flow out your mouth. He slowly begins to thrust faster, craning his head back at how good your throat feels around him; the grip he held in your hair tightens once again, keeping your head in place as he fucks your mouth. “Mmm, shit,” he grunts. “So fucking good. Such a whore, letting me fuck your throat, hm? Fuck! I missed you so fucking much.”

Obscenities fall from his lips as he continued to rut into your mouth, lewd noises of saliva against flesh emitting throughout the room; tears stained with mascara line down your face but you keep your hands trained on his hips as support - you’re almost sure that your sopping heat has begun to stain the fabric of the couch you sat atop. He thrusts once more, slowly this time, a guttural grunt sounding from his chest as he stuff your mouth - the tip of your nose tickles the base of his cock, and you screw your eyes shut to combat your gagging reflex, before he pulls out, strings of saliva connecting your lips to his cock. 

“Please fuck me,” you beg him, leaning back into the couch as you desperately spread your legs apart, inviting him to your wet pussy. You pout at him through teary eyes, not bothering to wipe the saliva that lines your mouth, not bothered at the saliva that had stained your expensive dress, wanting nothing more than to be fucked already. “Please fuck me, I need you so bad. Please, Jaehyun.”

“Such an eager whore,” he chuckles as he moves in closer, positioning his cock against your pussy before he reaches to the top of your dress. He uncovers your chest roughly, you’re almost sure you can hear the slight ripping of fabric when he does, but you don’t care - not when his cock slides between your folds like that, barely attempting to plunge in. “I thought you were busy running a business? Looks like you have plenty of time to fuck.”

“Jaehyun, please...” you whine each time his tip passes by your entrance, but he continues to slather your lingering saliva and his pre-cum all over your pussy. “Please just fuck me, Jaehyun. Please.”

He smirks in arrogance before he drives into you with no warning, knocking the air out of you as you barely have time to readjust to his size before he begins to slam into you repeatedly, causing your voice ripping through the air as you scream his name repeatedly. “Jaehyun! Jaehyun!”

“You’ve become such a slut while I was gone, darling,” he grunts as he grabs onto your legs for balance as he stretches out your cunt, spreading your legs further. You are certain your body will never forget this sensation now, just as delicious as the first time he had done it, your eyes nearly rolling to the back of your head. “Did you forget who your cunt belongs to?”

You are unable to form a sentence as each push into you just continues to knock the air out of your lungs, mewling in pleasure at his cock sliding against your slick walls. His hands gripped at your waist roughly, watching you bounce underneath him in your glory; your hair splayed around your face as if handpicked like fresh daisies. You feel your orgasm nearing, but Jaehyun seems to have no qualms for stopping, continuing to pull out of you entirely before snapping back in even as he feels your walls quivering. “Cumming already?” he growls, voice strained as he rocks his core wildly. “What a fucking slut.”

Gripping at the sheets is all you could do in that moment to keep your sense of self occupied, your orgasm finally ripping through your body, arching your back as his name emits through the air that you’re sure the hotel’s inhabitants would hear from the first floor. “Jaehyun, I’m cumming! I’m fucking cumming!”

He doesn’t stop though, if anything, his hips move faster and rougher against yours, the only sound accentuating your screaming are his hips slapping against your cunt - even as you come down from your orgasm, your body numb as you settle, he continues to fuck into you, face contorted into pleasure. Your legs tremble with each time he brushes against your spot, hips bucking wildly each rut he pushes into you. “Fuck, you’re still so, so, fucking tight,” he grunts, voice deep and filled with need. “I missed you so fucking much. Are you on the pill, babyl?”

“No,” you moan into his ear when he pushes into you deep and rough. “I don’t care. I want your cum inside me, please. I want it so bad.”

He groans at your words, his hips beginning to roll faster, holding you in his arms and burying your face in your neck as he does. “F-Fuck,” the vibrations of his voice tickles the skin of your neck. “You want my cum, baby? You want me to fuck a baby into you? Hm? Is that what you want? Get you pregnant to prove to you who your cunt really belongs to?”

“Yes!” you practically beg, hungering for your second orgasm. At this point, you are unable to even comprehend what slips past your mouth, your voice a montage of lewd noises and gibberish as his hips snap against you. Your sight has darkened, all your senses have gone numb, all you are able to focus on is his cock driving further and further into you over and over again, and his voice that seemed miles away even while he whispers the most sinful things into your ear. 

“Mmm, fuck! I’m gonna c-cum, baby, fuck!” he groans loudly, reverberating off the marble walls as he leans back; his hips begin to stutter against yours, feeling him twitch inside you as he fills you up, moans of your name and other crude words slipping past his tongue. You let out breathy pants as he slowly pulls out of you, his cock coming out of your cunt as his cum follows soon after, the fluid warm against your abused skin - he takes his long fingers and swipes up some of the drip before plunging his fingers deep into your cunt again, causing another moan to rip through your throat.

“Oh my fucking god, Jaehyun,” you squeal, reaching down to grab his arm to keep his fingers from pounding into you again, but the overriding sensation has already taken over you nerves, your pleads of mercy turning into moans of pleasure. Your toes curl as the lewd sounds of his fingers pumping his cum back into you reaches your ears. 

“Take it,” he grunts, watching your red face, hot with gratifaction. “Take all my cum, baby. So, so pretty carrying my baby. You’ll be glowing, so fucking precious and beautiful. And everyone will know that I’m the one who got you like that, yeah? Right, baby?” 

“Y-Yes, Jaehyun,” Your eyes roll to the back of your head when you feel your third orgasm of the night approaching, his fingers relentless against your cunt, making sure none of him leaks out. He brushes past your spot one last time, sensitive and numb, before you throw your head back into the cushions of your couch, final orgasm ripping through your nerves, unable to do anything else but moan quietly at both the plain and pleasure. “O-Oh my god.”

When your orgasm finally settles, he slowly pulls his fingers out of you, grinning from ear to ear as his eyes progress from the darkest you have ever seen them back to their normal, soft umber tone, leaning up to kiss you softly. You have tears in your eyes from what your body endured, and you’re far too sore to move your limbs, but you kiss back, relishing in the feeling that you have missed for so long - he picks you up from the couch, your legs hanging in the air as he holds you close as he successfully finds your bedroom. He lays you down on the plush mattress and reaches to the bedside table where a box of tissues laid, wiping your body down, his actions mellow and calm, as he utters sweet nothings to you. “You’re so, so beautiful. You’re so good to me. You’re my entire world.” 

When he finally finishes cleaning the both of you up, he wastes no time in getting into the other side of the bed, holding you close against him. Your breathing had finally calmed, your chest rising and falling in tranquil beats. You lay your cheek against his chest, relishing in the still environment that occupied the space around you. 

“Jaehyun,” you utter, after a few moments of silence. “You won’t leave, this time, right?”

“Never,” Jaehyun assures you, his hand running through your hair. “I have never left in the first place.” 

A soft smile makes its way onto your lips as you close your eyes, delighting in the thudding beat of his heart in his chest. His fingers continue to play with the strands of your hair, his breathing calming to your ears, lulling you as if it were a lullaby.

“Please talk to me,” you whisper, just a few seconds before sleep overtakes you. “Tell me about yourself. I want to hear your voice.”

He takes a few moments of pause, before you hear him breathe in. “My name is Jung Jaehyun,” he starts. “I am twenty-seven years old, I am the son of Jaejin and Shinae Jung, I have three brothers, my favourite colour is white, I love spring, I like to sing,” he pauses again, and you feel him press a tender kiss against the hair on the crown of your head.

“And I am in love with you.”

-----

The rising sun is warm against your face as you gaze at the gradient sky above you, hues of purples turning into deep oranges before coming together into a light blue. The clouds move laggardly against the beautiful sky; in the distance, you can hear the ocean waves crashing against the shores of the Amalfi coast, the scent of salt-water calming to your nerves as you take in a deep breath. The sky drenches you in an orange hue as you wrap your satin chiffon robe around you tighter, the slight breeze that blows against your form causing the foliage decorated on your balcony to dance in groups. You hear the sound of the door that separates your balcony landing from your hotel room, and a smile teases your lips when you feel strong arms wrap around you from behind.

“You’re up early,” his breath his warm against you ear as he holds you tightly, eyes gazing at the view alongside you. “What are you doing out here?” 

“Just enjoying the view.” you reply, resting your head against his as he slowly begins to sway you back and forth. Your hands snake around his arms wrapped around your waist, his fingers ghosting over the wedding ring wrapped around your finger. “Are the kids still asleep?”

“Yes,” he whispers, his arms secured around your form. He chuckles lightly against your ear. “The two of them were snoring before I walked out here. It was adorable, actually.”

“How cute,” you coo, smiling fondly. “Maybe we should take them to the beach today! It’s been a long time since I’ve swam in the ocean.”

“We should; for now though...” he answers, voice turning low. “The kids won’t be up until a few hours.”

“Oh shush, you pervert,” a giggle passes your lips as you lightly hit his arm, which only causes him to chucke once more before tightening his hold on you slightly. “Let’s just enjoy this beautiful view for now.”

“This view is nothing compared to you.” he teases you, amusement clear in his voice as you feel his smile against your ear. 

“Goodness, Jung Jaehyun,” you tsk. “You’ve gotten so corny.” 

To wake up every day to the sight of Jung Jaehyun’s face is something that you would have only thought of as a dream years ago; to feel his hands wrapped around you in safety as sunlight pours in every single morning is a sensation you would have never thought to have. Gone were the early mornings of his absence, acknowledgements and memoirs only left behind with a crude or romantic note, traded with the blessing that adorned both of your ring fingers. 

The wedding was held at a small, humble chapel, held only a month after the both of you had found each other again. Guests of those who are important to the both of you attended with their valour and blessings - Irene, at first, was shocked with what had turned out, but after conversing with your now-husband and realizing that all that she had heard was nothing but false words, only tears of happiness lined her eyes when she saw you walk down the aisle. Johnny and Ten were there as well, joy clear in their demeanours as they congratulated the both of you - you had also discovered that both Johnny and Jaehyun had mended their brotherly relationship, laughs and kind gestures traded between them at the following reception. You had wished for your mother to be there as well, perhaps to show her that you really were able to find love that isn’t fake, as she had believed, or perhaps to see her bear tears for your happiness. 

And although your wedding was rushed and deftly planned, a few quirks showing up throughout the ceremony and reception, you couldn’t ask for anything more. Especially the moment when you finally sealed your love with a kiss at the front of the altar, the sensation enough to drown the sounds of your guest’s cheering in front of you. 

And as the years passed, you only found yourself falling more and more for Jaehyun, the same excitement gracing your nerves every day you were to hold his gaze, to point a smile at him, and to press your lips against his. Even now, after becoming parents to two of the most beautiful children, another one on the way; even now, when the slightest of crow’s feet line the sides of your eyes, and the first inklings of gray hair are beginning to grow from his scalp; even now, when you’re so used to waking up to his calm face in the early mornings - you still find yourself falling ever the more in love with him.

Jaehyun chuckles slightly, the vibrations of his voice tickling the skin of your neck as he presses tender kisses against it, his hands slowly ghosting over the slight bump that began to protrude from your stomach’s form. 

“Only for you, Mrs. Jung.”

And as you stand there, relishing in the view of the beautiful golden sky whose ocean underneath casts a reflection that is enough to make your jaw drop as well as the warmth of the man whom you love and loves you just as dearly back, you feel an emotion that you haven’t felt in years; an emotion that you know will stay with you for a long time.

You are happy.

FIN.

[quikyu]

gift for the super creative and awesome @emositecc !!

a bunch of happy halves!

[virtualsoup]

Based upon the Heart/Sister AU by @emositecc but humanized because humans :)

Also Emosite if you see this, get a tiktok because it would be absolutely amazing

[heartau]

Unknown Number | C.HW

Genre: college!au - explicit smut/angst/fluff Word count: 16.8k Comments: this is a revision of an au that i wrote from when i was in a different fandom!! Warnings: graphic depictions of sex: fingering, oral (male and female), insertion, dirty talk, public sex, dom/sub themes.

In which two anonymous people sext each other, neither one aware that the other is their sworn enemy.

Commonly, at the ages of the early twenties, partying becomes an event that is scheduled almost every single week. Crammed bodies that emit heat, slick with sweat, sticking against each other on dance floors packed like sardines and in secret affairs tucked away in random quarters; the turbulent howling of frat boys who have found the beer keg and are attempting to sacrifice their weakest link to down it all in one gulp; almosts and maybes and hindered exchanges that stay sputtering in the stomachs of those who leave early filled with regret. A party is everything aggravating that stirs up irritation put into one area under the façade of something whimsical, and it is all worth it – until the morning after.

The dull, throbbing pain that bangs against your skull causes your eyelids to flutter open, the harsh sunlight that flows into your bedroom through the drawn curtains triggering the torment to grow worse as it fries your retinas, screwing your eyes shut as you let out a groan of agony, sore arms flying up to rest your hands against your forehead and to massage your temples.

“My head,” you hiss in pain, gulping the urge to curse loudly at yourself for deciding to drink so much the night before down your throat. A low chuckle emits from the side of your room which causes your body to jolt in surprise, turning your head and barely peeking out from underneath your eyelids at the origin of the sound, seeing your roommate leaning against the doorframe, trying to suppress his laughter. “Jesus, Kihyun. Knock next time.”

“You’ve been asleep for fifteen hours, I came to check if you were still alive.” Kihyun explains, walking towards you and holding out what you’ve made out to be a single pill of tylenol and a glass of water. “I told you to be careful with your drinks last night, you know.”

You slowly sit up, rolling your eyes as you leans against your headboard, graciously accepting the pill and water and downing it in one gulp. Your esophagus feels less dry and you relish in the fleeting moment of peace before another strike of pain emits in your skull and sends jolts of agony down your bones and nerves. You wince once more, closing your eyes.

“What happened last night?” you ask your roommate, attempting to recollect your memories of the night before in the darkness behind your eyelids but coming up blank.

“You got drunk,” Kihyun answers you, hands shoved into his pockets as if he were looking for something. “Then, after your 5th shot or whatever, you told me you were going to the bathroom. You were gone for, like, 50 minutes, so I tried phoning you to see where you were, but my phone was gone! Luckily, I found you on the floor next to the ladies bathroom,” he pauses and then lifts up his phone - his shattered phone - to your face. “Next to this.”

His eyes are sharp, pointed directly at you as you gulp and shrink down in confused guilt before an apologetic smile attempts to stretch on your face. “I’m sorry?”

“You should say that to the people you texted,” Kihyun shrugs, shoving his phone back into his pocket and crossing his arms. “You messaged every single person off of my contacts list. Your phone’s been going off for the past fifteen hours while you’ve been asleep.”

Your eyes widen. “Oh shit.”

“Oh shit, indeed.”

You reach for your phone on your nightstand and press the circular button rousing the device awake, and sure enough, your lockscreen is decorated with rows and rows of text notifications, each one coming from a different combination of numbers. An array of Who is this?, Wrong number., and If this is some sort of prank, please stop. It’s not funny’s causes your face to redden, putting your phone down onto your lap and covering your face in embarrassment.

“Please don’t tell anyone it was me,” you look back up at Kihyun, unlocking your phone and tapping on your text app, already conjuring apologies to the strangers.

“Your secret is safe with me. Have fun!” he reassures you, before pivoting on his heel and walking out your room, closing the door behind him.

Gulping, your eyes skim the texts that you decided to send from the night before, harsh and erratic words meeting your eyes. You groan in despair as you read each reply, tones of anger and confusion aimed at you - you had a lot to work with, and thankfully, you had the entire rest of the day to contemplate remorseful apologies. But deep within your notifications lies a reply different from the rest, rich words that hold sentiment and persona, lined in several sentences. The reply was from an unknown number, of course it was, but you can’t deny the peculiarity of the message.

And thus, almost apologetically, you leave it unanswered for the time being.

 ----

  “No, dude, I swear on my life, I got the freakiest text message last night.”

Kihyun opens the dorm room to the sound of dispute, Jooheon’s voice being the loudest of all of them. Groans emit from around the corner and Kihyun could practically envision eyes rolling at the boys statement.

“I read the text,” Minhyuk says after a pause. “It wasn’t freaky at all.”

“Yes it was!” Jooheon argues, scrambling to grab his phone from underneath the mountain of review sheets and textbooks, hands practically shaking as he unlocks it, tapping his text app. He holds his phone to his friend’s faces, who lean in to inspect the text, before they all stare at him, deadpan.

“I told you so.” Minhyuk quips, shrugging his shoulders.

“Okay, so you tell me. If you got a text that just said 5 days. and nothing else - absolutely zilch - you wouldn’t be afraid?” Jooheon narrows his eyes at Minhyuk, but before Minhyuk could even begin to open his mouth to answer back in dripping sarcasm, Kihyun sits down on the floor and slams his books against the carpet, looking at them in curiosity.

“What’s going on?” asks Kihyun as he shuffles his papers around, looking for the review sheet he had been analyzing for the past few days.

“This random number texted us in the middle of the night,” Minhyuk answers Kihyun, before pointing towards Jooheon, who stares directly at his phone. “He’s afraid because the same number texted him 5 days.”

“A random number?” asks Kihyun, brain reeling as he realizes that it must have been (Y/N), but his face stays static at the apparent discovery. “Hm. That’s weird. What else did you guys get?”

“They copy and pasted an entire WikiHow article on how to bake banana bread for me.” Wonho pipes up from beside Jooheon. “It was kinda helpful. I think I might do it later.”

“I got a whole paragraph on how I’m obstructing their education by being loud in our shared class. Like, what does that even mean?” Minhyuk is obviously irritated at this message, furrowing his brows together. “I’m not even that loud. And what shared class?”

A sigh emits from Hyungwon, who has been silent for the past few minutes. He stares at his textbook, flipping through the pages as he talks. “I don’t know why you guys are over analyzing this. It’s just some person pranking us, it’s not that big of a deal.”

Kihyun almost freezes at the new insight, turning his head towards the lanky boy who he knows shares a venomous and strained relationship with (Y/N), internally yelling at the girl for acting so brash through her drunken actions.

“You got a text?” Kihyun asks him, voice surprisingly calm, however, behind the facade lies an expression almost synonymous to hellfire. Hyungwon’s mouth remains closed, eyes tearing away from the printed words of his textbook and towards his older friend. His expression is still, and his eyes are calm, but it is everything Kihyun needs to confirm that he is one of the receivers.

“Really?” Minhyuk questions. “What did it say?”

“What the text said isn’t important,” Hyungwon glances at Minhyuk quickly before looking back to his textbook. “Can we please just get on with studying? That’s what I came here for.”

“Hey man,” Jooheon pouts, practically sending Hyungwon a pleading expression. “You can’t just say you got a text and not tell us!”

“Yeah, he’s right!” Wonho points at Jooheon. “We’re your friends. You’re like… legally obligated to tell us.”

Hyungwon lets out a huff, biting the inside of his cheeks before looking back up at his circle of friends. “They sent me a long, long essay on why they hate me.”

Silence fills the air and Kihyun can sense tension following just behind as they all stare at Hyungwon. It’s only a fleeting moment before they all burst out into roaring laughter, tears threatening to fall from their brightened eyes as they double over on top of each other. Kihyun and Hyungwon watch the two in confusion before Kihyun decides to let out a couple of strained, awkward chuckles.

“Hey,” Kihyun clears his throat and pats Hyungwon on the back as the rest of the boys’ laughter dies down. “Like you said, it’s most likely just a prank, right?”

Hyungwon doesn’t even look at Kihyun in the eye, shrugging as he mumbles out a silent ‘yes.’ Minhyuk takes notice of this, pointing at Hyungwon in shock.

“Oh my god, he’s offended by the text,” Minhyuk says. “It must’ve been personal then, huh? They probably know you in real life. Oh my god, how funny would that be?”

Hyungwon rolls his eyes before looking back at his textbook, letting out a huff of air as he attempts to drown out the sounds of his friends.

Kihyun turns to Minhyuk, racking his brain for excuses. “There’s a low chance they know each other in real life,” Kihyun says. “I mean, that would be impossible.”

“Wait, but Minhyuk has a point,” Jooheon adds. “I mean, whoever this was, they texted all of us, right? They must know who we are. It just comes down to figuring out who it is.”

“Why are we still talking about this?” Hyungwon shuts his book, the plop of the hardcovers interrupting Minhyuk and Jooheon. “I came here to study, not analyze and dissect some girl’s cryptic text messages.”

Minhyuk raises an eyebrow. “Girl?”

Hyungwon freezes and Kihyun is almost about to crack, but luckily, Hyungwon opens his mouth before Kihyun could do anything. “She said something about how she hates the ‘girls can’t beat up boys’ stereotype because she claims that she could take me down easy.”

“Well,” Minhyuk says. “She’s got a point.”

“Shut up, Minhyuk.” Hyungwon glares at him, patience already begin to waver thin.

“I’m kidding, I’m kidding,” Minhyuk throws his hands up in defense. “But hey. This is strong evidence. Whoever this masked texter is, they know us and they’re a girl. We’re a few steps closer to figuring out who the culprit is.”

Kihyun scratches the back of his neck as he remains silent, searching for a coherent sentence in his brain. “Well. Let’s stu-”

“Hey, Minhyuk,” Wonho looks up towards his friend from his position on the ground, laying on his stomach. “You said that you guys shared a class right? They could be in any one of your classes.”

“Oh my god… you’re right,” Minhyuk agrees. “I’ll question ever-”

Hyungwon interrupts him by noisily grabbing his papers and books, standing up and earning confused looks from his friends. He pivots on his heel and walks towards the door, turning the doorknob and opening it just a crack before looking over his shoulder. “I’m glad all of you have unanimously agreed to fail our finals. Since we aren’t studying, I’ll be taking my leave.”

The door slams shut, leaving the four boys in his wake.

“Geez.” Minhyuk scoffs, before continuing with his sentence prior to Hyungwon leaving.

As Hyungwon walks out the apartment lobby, the crisp cool autumn breeze dancing across the skin of his cheeks after he opens the door, his teeth clench in annoyance as the memories of the text messages he had received flash in his mind. He closes his eyes momentarily, before opening them again, hiking back to his own apartment complex, attempting to push the situation out of his mind.

Yet, no matter how much he seeks to overlook his feelings of irritation, he can still detect the weight of his phone in the pocket of his sweater, where the messages filled of anger and tirancy of an unknown woman linger on the screen the same way they linger in his memory.

He will delete them. After one more message.

 ----

 Your phone emits a loud tone, causing your eyes to widen as heads in the library turn to look towards you. You quickly grab it to silence it, sending everyone apologetic smiles and glances before looking down at your screen at the text notification, raising your eyebrow once you realized whom it had originated from. That morning, while you had been apologizing to a series of confusion and states of anger, you had come across one reply a lot different than the rest; a paragraph filled with words of true irritation, personal anger, and you, in your hungover galore, decided to leave it be, finding entertainment in their message.

From - Unknown Number: so u texted my friends too. who are u?

You furrowed your eyebrows together as you scroll up to find your original text to try and figure out who this person could be - obviously, you must have some sort of connection with them or a similarity for his emotional outburst prior his recent message - but as you scroll up you are only given a dead end when you realized you must have deleted your first text while you was still drunk.

You sent: first of all thx for texting me while im in the library im p sure the librarian is on my ass now. second, i was drunk so it was probably nonsense. third of all thats for me to know and for u to never find out.

You put your phone down and pick up your pencil, finding the paragraph you were last reading, but before your pencil could even reach the lined paper of your notebook, your phone buzzes again. You look at the screen, seeing that the unknown man has replied to your message.

From - Unknown Number: whatever. just dont text me anymore. if u got smth personal to say then say it to my face and stop hiding behind a screen like a coward.

You sigh, setting your pencil down and picking your phone up.

You sent: mister u were the one who texted me today first. also arent u basically doing the same thing? if u’ve got something to say then come say it to my face.

From - Unknown Number: i dont even know who u are. just apologize.

You sent: no. goodbye.

From - Unknown Number: whatever. just lay off. i already got enough things to stress about.

You sent: i said goodbye.

You stare at your phone for what seems like an eternity, waiting for him to reply, but he doesn’t. You close your eyes almost thankfully, sighing before you delete the entire text conversation and shove your phone into your bag and dismiss everything before you continue to study. You had believed, foolishly, that this man never contacts you again.

You were wrong.

From - Unknown Number: hey should i buy pizza

You hold a spatula in your other hand, the sound of eggs frying filling the kitchen. It’s only the next morning and this unknown man had apparently not forgotten about your number and decided to ignore your farewell. You sigh, the inkling of regret that you had after discovering that you had texted multitudes of strangers becoming even bigger.

You sent: didn’t i say goodbye to u already

From - Unknown Number: yeah but like … im hungry

You roll your eyes as you flip an egg over in the steaming pan.

You sent: then text ur friends

From - Unknown Number: u see…. i got into a fight with them

You sent: wow. im so surprised.

From - Unknown Number: so should i buy pizza or not hurry up i got class in like 30 mins n if im late my teachers gonna bite my ass

You sent: dont buy pizza its still morning … buy a bagel or smth

From - Unknown Number: good idea. k thx.. good bye

You sigh before you dismiss him again, putting your phone face down on the counter as you slide your eggs off the pan onto a plate before stepping into the dining room to eat with Kihyun. You hadn’t seen him since he had left to go to Wonho’s apartment, a burly, intimidating looking man whom he had befriended in his psychology class. He looked down at his plate, taking few, sparse bites out of his bacon before he jumps at the sound of your chair scraping against the hardwood floors, sitting down across from him.

“You seem a bit jumpy today,” you quirk an eyebrow at your best friend. “Is something wrong?”

“No!” he says, far too quickly. “Not at all!”

“Kihyun,” you question after a beat, furrowing your eyebrows. “What’s wrong?”

Kihyun gulps, staring at his plate of bacon and rice before letting out a short sigh, setting his spoon and fork down and putting his hands in his lap.

“Remember when you texted a bunch off people off my contacts list?” his voice is low.

“Yeah? It just happened yesterday.”

“Well, um,” he sputters. “You texted Wonho, Jooheon, Minhyuk, and-” his voice lowers even more, becoming hushed as if he’s afraid to see your reacton. “Hyungwon.”

You automatically stand up, wide-eyed, jaw slack as you watch your friend’s face turn from fear to worry, waving at you as if to tell you to keep your temper in check and pulling you back to sit down.

It isn’t that you are afraid of Hyungwon, because it’s the direct opposite. The simple sound of his name causes a specific type of vexation to rise up in your bloodstream, and the two of you being in the same area brings concern to other people. It’s known all over campus that the two of you share hostile feelings towards each other, ever since you had caught him so blatantly cheating off your first pop quiz during the beginning of the semester - you weren’t the only person to catch him too, as your teacher called the two of you up to the front, believing you were allowing him copy off of you, and much to your demise, gave the two of you the automatic grades of zero. He never even apologized to you, the blatant difference in your statistics class’ grade so drastic from your other classes thanks to him.

“And what did I send him?” you ask Kihyun.

“He said that you sent him a long paragraph on why you hated him.”

You find yourself letting out dark chuckles, hands wrapping around your spoon and fork as you begin to work on your plate of eggs.

“Maybe drunk me had a point.” you say to a stunned Kihyun.

Soon, you find yourself forgetting about those text messages you shared that morning with the unknown man as well as your conversation with Kihyun, instead directing your focus on a word problem as you sit in your statistics class. The environment is quiet, much to your bliss, as you find that a perfect work setting to analyze problems in. But as they say, the universe only brings you the opposite of what you want, and on the other side of the closed door, someone knocks fervently and loudly, earning gasps of shock from other students are you.

“Mr. Chae,” your professor sighs. “You’re late. Again.”

You look up to see Hyungwon marching into class, a coffee in one hand and a small paper bag in the other. He meets eyes with you and you find yours rolling at the direct contact before looking back down to focus on your word problem. Minutes pass by and you’re on your next question, a much more difficult one, and you find yourself stumped as you rack your brain for an answer.

You hear a loud crackling a few desks away, but you ignore it.

You hear it again, this time a bit longer, but before you could turn around to see who it was, it stopped.

Just as your brain figured out a way to solve the question, the crackling continues once more, even louder and even longer. You turn around to find the culprit the sound originates from, and you find Hyungwon, just a few seats behind you, halfway into sinking his teeth into a bagel, the crinkly bag of paper he used to carry it to class now disposed of in a tiny ball on top of his textbook. He notices you turn around to look at him, sending you sharp eyes lined with venom before continuing to bite down into his bagel and chewing rather loudly. You turn back around, attempting to ignore the camel-like sounds from behind you letting out a huff of annoyance, every trace of the answer that was in your mind long gone. How he hasn’t been kicked out of this class yet is beyond you.

You sent: i need an idea for an essay

It’s currently 9:45 in the evening, and you sit at your desk chair with your laptop open on Google docs, and it seems as if you’ve been static since the clock hit nine. Kihyun was out volunteering at an overnight camp for troubled teenagers (“I have to go or else I’ll fail psychology,” he had said before leaving with a small gym bag packed with his clothes. “I don’t even know why I have to take psychology. I’m in the culinary field for christ’s sake!”), thus you were alone in your small two bedroom apartment, the only thing accompanying you is the ticking of the clock in the kitchen and the gentle thrum of the heater.

From - Unknown Number: i thought we weren’t gonna text each other anymore

His reply came rather quickly, you were a bit surprised - but nonetheless, you were desperate. You cursed yourself for leaving your criminology assignment until last minute - it’s due the next day, 8:00 AM sharp.

You sent: i know but its due in like 11 hours and i dont have a prompt so i dont have any idea how to start this and if i dont get it in then im done for

From - Unknown Number: what course??

You sent: criminology

From - Unknown Number: hmm……. prompt?

You sent: theres no prompt my professor said to just write anything. like literally anything that has to do with crim and im having the biggest brainfart

From - Unknown Number: how about police misconduct? or u could write abt the rights of defendants. or like… the concepts of conduct and causation.

You sent: omg………………….ur a life saver

From - Unknown Number: i know

You end up finishing your essay in only four hours, submitting it to your professor and closing your laptop and climbing into bed, stretching out your limbs and letting out a large yawn. You stare at your ceiling for what seems like hours before you sit up, grabbing your phone and unlocking it, your conversation with the unknown man appearing on your screen. You deliberate whether or not you should or shouldn’t, the blinking line next to the body of words almost mocking you, and you think, why the hell not?, before you hit send.

You sent: i just finished. thank you again. good night.

His reply came only seconds later.

From - Unknown Number: of course. sleep well.

You smile at the text for only a second before you quickly wipe it off your face, remembering that this man is a stranger, and no matter how nice he was being to you, he was still unknown. You let out a sigh as you delete the conversation, clicking your phone off and plugging it in to charge it, setting it face down on your bedside table. You stare at the ceiling, sleepiness beginning to coat your eyes, your last thoughts before drifting off are to never text him again.

You find it hard though, because the next morning, he texted you a hearty good morning!, and before you could even stop yourself, you texted him a good morning back. You find yourself replying to every text message he sends you, and even though you remind yourself to never text him again, that this message will be the last one, you still come up with a reply, hitting send before you could stop your thumbs from hitting the cold screen.

By and by, the heated debates that the two of you had started from had evolved into friendlier conversations filled with more personal details. You ask him heaps of questions; whether you should use the last of your paycheck to buy a book or to get more clothes, thus beginning a long conversation on the quality of clothing and store brands. He tells you to treat yourself to a high-end brand, which you found yourself scoffing at - but you find yourself walking to school just a few days later with a new knit cardigan, the designer label almost shining off the collar.

He asks you what your favourite television show is, leading to hours and hours of lists of recommendations and reviews of series and movies both on and off Netflix, conversing over plots, genres and pairings. He tells you that he loves comedy sitcoms, and reality shows, and you tell him your favourite genre, much to his akin. You tell him your favourite genre of music, and he tells you that his is EDM and R&B. He tells you his favourite shade is black, and you tell him the colour that you are most fond of. You learn that he has a deathly fear of spiders, and he learns of what lurks in your brain when your bedroom is dark and silent. He learns that you’ve never gone travelling, and you learn that he’s been to almost all of the continents of the Earth. You tell him your favourite time of day, and he tells you his; nine in the evening, when the sun has gone to rest and the stars decorate the sky in glimmering valour.

You joke, you bond, you laugh for what seemed like only days, to the point where the two of you hadn’t realized how long it had been since you both actually started talking. He’s the first one to text you in the morning, and the last to text you at night. He’s the first you text when you’ve got a problem, and the first to text when you’ve got nothing else to do. And even though he’s never asked for your name, he knows you; what you like, what you don’t like, what you aspire to be, and what you fear.

“Ms. (Y/L/N),” your professor speaks loudly, earning glances towards your way as you tear your eyes from your phone screen and back towards the front of the class. Your professor stands with her hands on her hips. “If you have something better to do, then I advise you to leave my class.”

“I’m sorry,” you apologize, setting your phone down. “It won’t happen again.”

You hear a snicker not too far away from you, and you already know who it’s originated from, your face already beginning to heat up rage as you push down the urge to turn around, hop over the desks and deck Hyungwon in the face.

“Please answer word problem number four for the class, miss (Y/L/N).” your teacher tells you, looking at you expectantly over the top of her glasses. You gulp, looking down at your workbook as you read the said question, cursing to yourself in your head for not knowing what it means and for not focusing in class. Minutes of awkward silence passes by quickly, but to you it feels like eons before you hear Hyungwon’s arrogant voice cut through the air.

“I can answer it for her, professor!” he says, gleefully. You can almost see his haughty smile lingering in his words. “Of the given data set, the median is 75, the first quartile is 69, the third quartile is 81, and the interquartile range is 81, which you subtract 69 from, which gives us 12.”  

“Very good, Mr. Chae,” your professor nods and you ball your hands into fists. “Perhaps you should not only teach Miss (Y/L/N) the foundation of statistics, but also to focus during class.”

And with that, she turns back around on her heel and flips a page, continuing with her lecture. You turn around to find where Hyungwon is sitting a few seats back, a smug smirk on his face before he looks back at his notebook, jotting down notes. You tell yourself to calm down, to not let this situation take over your temper - and you do such as, but your fists stay clenched.

From - Unknown Number: so how was ur day?

You read the message as you unlock your front door, using your foot to kick it open.

You sent: terrible. how was urs?

You hang your keys on the keyholder beside the door and kick off your shoes, walking into the living room and finding it empty - Kihyun must still be working at the cafeteria. You set your bag down on the floor and look through the fridge, letting out a soft sigh of relief after finding a wrapped plate of food your best friend had left you before leaving. You put it into the microwave and punch out the numbers before leaning on your counter as you wait, pulling out your phone and seeing that the unknown man has replied.

From - Unknown Number: oh im so sorry… ah my day was fine! i finally got to prove myself to this girl i detest… i felt super cool

You furrow your brow as you read it, the first thing you think of was of what happened during statistics with Hyungwon. Your stomach drops for a second - what if you were texting Hyungwon? The beeping of the microwave snaps you out of your thoughts, and you shake your head as you click the microwave open, grabbing your plate. That would be impossible - this man is far too coherent, smart, funny and kind to be Hyungwon.

No, it can’t be Hyungwon at all. That would be absolutely impossible.

It was as if he had heard your thoughts though, because your phone buzzed again.

From - Unknown Number: by the way… am i ever going to know your name?

You read the message over a few times, dread setting in your stomach. You had already shared far too much information about yourself to this unknown man, he knows more about you than Kihyun does - you had been using him as a way to vent. You felt terrible thinking about it, but you were far too afraid to take things to the next level, even if it just meant knowing each other’s names; you loathed feeling vulnerable, and it feels much better to do it anonymously.

You sent: hm… i kinda like it better this way. us being anonymous.

From - Unknown Number: good. because i do too.

You smile as you read his answer, grabbing your fork and stabbing the pieces of lasagna off your plate and scooping them into your mouth. You were glad he felt the same way - perhaps he felt the same way because he thought the same way as you did.

You sent: oh yeah btw what was the first thing i sent u? i deleted everything while i was drunk so now i cant read any of the msgs i sent u that first night

From - Unknown Number: like. the very FIRST thing or… the very first few things

You sent: the very FIRST thing.

From - Unknown Number: you sent me “what are you wearing?” were u trying to like.. find me somewhere or smth?

Your scan the message that you had apparently sent before widening your eyes at the sudden realization, your face heating up in humiliation. Quickly, you type a reply.

You sent: oh my god……. i think i was trying to sext u

There was a brief pause before you saw the three dots pop up again.

From - Unknown Number: oh

You inwardly cringe.

You sent: PLEASE IM SO SORRY I WAS DRUNK it wont happen again i promise pls dont be mad at me

From - Unknown Number: omg no!!! im not mad at u.. im just …. beating myself up for being stupid

You sent: you’re not stupid at all omg ! i can see where u thought it sounded like i was looking for u…

From - Unknown Number: BUT THATS NOT A NICE WAY TO PRANK SOMEONE YOU KNOW

You sent: who said it was a prank?

You weren’t thinking when you sent it, but the millisecond after you hit send a wave of panic courses through you. This was it, this is the end of your new-found friendship with this anonymous man; he was going to track your number down and then figure out who you are and show the entirety of the internet about your texts and then humiliate you. You sit there, thinking of the worst, but your vibrating phone brings you back to clarity.

From - Unknown Number: what do u mean?

You blink at his response. But then again, you hadn’t been pleasured in that field for a very long time, and this man is anonymous - he won’t have anything to use against you. You think of having your own fun while he texts you, and plus, if anything goes wrong, you could always just block his number. Plus, sex is a safe-ground; no feelings, no emotions, no ties - just strict, pure physical lust.

Right?

Fuck it.

You sent: what are you wearing?

 ----

 He is half certain that this is a joke, and, the other half is him hoping it isn’t. He wonders just how he got this unknown woman, whom three weeks ago he was just arguing against, to break through his skin defences to make him feel this way. He thinks about lying, telling the woman that he isn’t interested, that he wants emotional ties - but the last time he’s been with someone more than a year ago, and he’s already growing tired of handling things by himself, plus, his roommate, Changkyun, is out babysitting, leaving the house all to himself for the night.

Hyungwon gulps.

Fuck it.

Hyungwon sent: my pajamas

Hyungwon cringes to himself. He’s not the best at sexting, he doesn’t have much experience in it. There is a beat that hangs in the air for a second before three dots appear indicating that the woman has thought of a response.

From - Angry Girl: ………………. is that all?

Hyungwon sent: well…. yeah? u asked me what im wearing n i told u what im wearing… what do u want me to say

From - Angry Girl: dude have u never sexted before????

Hyungwon sent: i mean ….. its straightforward right ??? like …… i mean how else do u describe what ur doin .

From - Angry Girl: no !!!!! jesus … i should have expected this considering u thought i was looking for u when i asked u what u were wearing . the entire point of sexting is to get the other person aroused ….. how do u expect me to get aroused when u just sent me the most unarousing sext in history?????

Hyungwon scoffs at his phone, a bit insulted, fingers moving fast to type a reply, but before he could finish his phone buzzes with another message.

From - Angry Girl: get me to imagine what u look like w like …. extremities here n there. if i told u i was sitting here in shirt stained with lasagna would tht turn u on?

Hyungwon sent: well……………….no

From - Angry Girl: but if i told u i’m wearing a matching set of lacy black lingerie underneath my shirt with panties slowly getting soaked at the thought of you?

Hyungwon sent: oh

Hyungwon is far too busy staring at his phone, jaw slacked and eyes widened, for a few long seconds, that he forgets to sext her back. His phone buzzes, jolting him back into reality.

From - Angry Girl: hey.. we dont have to do this if u dont want to. i dont wanna make u uncomfy.

Hyungwon rushes to type in a reply.

Hyungwon sent: nooonooo!!

Hyungwon sent: no noo… !!!!

Hyungwon sent: its . just … like

Hyungwon sent: r u actually wet?

Her reply comes instantaneously.

From - Angry Girl: yes

Hyungwon sucks in a breath as he reads the text over and over again. He thinks of the fact that somewhere out there is a woman, who he has never met, and how she’s wet for him. The first thing Hyungwon does is screw his eyes closed in attempt to recollect his thoughts, which turns out to be horrible pain, because the moment his eyes shut, he thinks of her - see-through top clinging against her curves, her thighs squeezing together, her eyes filled with lust and her plump lips slightly parted - he thinks of (Y/N).

He quickly opens his eyes, cursing at himself for even conjuring up an image like that in his head, but the soft strain in his crotch area begs him to differ.

From - Angry Girl: so... what r u wearing

Hyungwon sent: white tee, black sweats and black boxers

From - Angry Girl: hmmm...

Hyungwon sent: are u touching urself?

From - Angry Girl: damn u learn fast

Hyungwon sent: are u touching urself?, he repeats, upper teeth pressed into his bottom lip harshly as the strain in his sweats begins to tighten.

From - Angry Girl: i have been ever since u told me u were in ur pajamas

Hyungwon grins, shifting positions on his bed.

Hyungwon sent: i thought tht was unarousing???

From - Angry Girl: it was. i just havent gotten fucked in a year

He licks his bottom lip as he types out a reply, his other hand fumbling with the waistband if his boxers before pulling them down. He double checks if his bedroom door is locked before he rests his back against the headboard, hands finding their way towards his cock.

Hyungwon sent: good. save urself for me then.

He begins to pump his hand up and down his shaft, slowly at first, as he waits for her to reply.

From - Angry Girl: jesus 

From - Angry Girl: ur touching urself rn arent u? thinking abt how wet i am for yuo hmm??? do u wnat me as mcuh as i want you?

The typos in her sentence only brings more excitement to Hyungwon, picking up the speed of his hand wrapped around his length, biting down on his lip as he thinks of her, with her hands buried into her panties, back arched off of her bed, her other hand finding it just as important to write a reply.

Hyungwon sent: yes ido. i want you so bad

From - Angry Girl: are u gna cum soon? i want ur cum sobad. i want allof it inside me, i want u fillme up until its drippign out of me

That was enough to send Hyungwon over the edge, the straining knot that formed in his stomach untying itself as he releases, his groans reverberating against the walls of his room as his hips jerk against his hand. He closes his eyes, leaning his head against his headboard, reeling from his orgasm before he reaches over to his nightstand and cleans up the mess. Hurriedly, he types his reply, wanting to make things amazing for her as she did for him.

And as he does so, he thinks of her.

Hyungwon sent: god i wanna kiss ur neck and ur jaw and litter it with marks to show everyone that ur mine. i wanna move ur hands away from u and replace ur fingers w mine and have u ride them, hitting the right spot as i kiss u all over ur body and tell u how good u are to me. i want my name to be the only thing coming out of ur mouth. i want u to cum.

He sets his phone down, biting into his cheeks as anxiousness begins to roll over him. He isn’t sure if that sentence was good enough - this is his first time sexting. In addition, he hadn’t realized until now that he had been imagining (Y/N) doing all of this, and what shocked him the most was that he liked what he imagined. Like it a little too much, in fact.

His phone buzzes against his thigh.

From - Angry Girl: holy fuck

From - Angry Girl: shit i literally think i saw god when i came

He chuckles lightly, typing his reply.

Hyungwon sent: im glad to be of service to u!

He sits in silence for a few seconds, unsure of what to say, but then begins to type another message.

Hyungwon sent: what does this make us?

He wasn’t up for a relationship with a person he’s never met, even if they know almost everything about each other. He doesn’t even know what she looks like, or her name - but he does know that he wants emotion. He craves for it, no matter what form it’s given in, and this is the closet he has gotten to any type of emotion in almost a year.

From - Angry Girl: hmmm friends w benefits? but thru text... ?

Hyungwon sent: i like the sound of tht. you wanna do this again sometime?

From - Angry Girl: yes please

Hyungwon sent: good.. me too.

Just as he sends it, Hyungwon hears the front door begin to jiggle, announcing that Changkyun is just now arriving home. Hurriedly, he unlocks his door in case he were to come in and turns off his night lamp, jumping into bed just as he hears the door open and the sound of Changkyun kicking off his shoes. God knows how fast the younger boy would put together what Hyungwon had been doing prior.

Hyungwon: good night. try not to dream of me

Hyungwon sets his phone on the nightstand and quickly pretends to be asleep just as he hears Changkyun’s footsteps bounding towards his door, turning the doorknob and peeking in to check if he was still awake. When the door closes and when Hyungwon is sure that his roommate has fled to the kitchen, he turns over in his bed, staring at the ceiling.

Before sleep takes hold of him, he thinks one last thing.

How the fuck is he going to face (Y/N) now?

 ----

 You did dream of him.

Chae Hyungwon, to be exact.

Since putting your phone down the night before, to waking up from a sinful dream and showering and cooking your breakfast, you have been red in the face. You hadn’t realized you were fantasizing about him until the unknown man’s last text was sent, when you arched your back from your bed as you came undone between your legs and whined out Hyungwon’s name. You had avoided eye contact with Kihyun, aware that he knows you far too well and fearing for him to realize what you have done.

“Your class doesn’t start for another h-“ Kihyun’s voice rings from the living room but is interrupted with the click of your front door.

The air is cool, the chilled breeze kisses your cheeks as you walk to campus, hands shoved inside your pockets, playing with the edge of your phone case that was situated inside of them. Last night’s events were amazing - it was the best orgasm you’ve ever had in a long time - yet the fact that he had been in your mind the entire time made your stomach twist in an emotion you can’t quite pinpoint.

You make it to your class, only to be met with a closed door. Of course, it wasn’t starting for another half hour. You let out a tired sigh, taking your backpack off and sitting down in the hallway, back against the wall as you fish your phone from your pocket.

You text him first today.

You sent: good morning

His reply comes quickly.

From - Unknown Number: good morning!! ur up early

You sent: i guess i still have adrenaline from what happened last night hehe

You sent: so what are u up to?

From - Unknown Number: im in the line at starbucks on my uni campus rn ... i might get a red velvet cookie. the class im heading to is like the perfect environment to eat

You sent: i didnt know environments counted in a good eating experience

From - Unknown Number: of course it does!!!! a good environment makes ur food even more savoury.

From - Unknown Number: i have acquired the cookie. im on my way to class now ... absolute dread

You sent: man .... u and me both

He doesn’t answer for a few seconds and you figure it’s because he’s walking or he bumped into a friend or something, so you use this time to get some extra sleep, laying your head against the wall and closing your eyes. Just as you are about to drift off, you hear the sound of someone clearing their throat down the hall, and you open your eyes, hoping it was your professor.

Oh god.

Hyungwon walks towards you in his usual gait, full of arrogance, holding a cup of iced coffee in one hand and a paper bag in the other. This time though, when you look at him, you don’t feel the same irritation that you have always felt - and suddenly your eyes catch sight of his fingers, and your mind flashes to the images that your brain had thought of just the night before. Your face turns red, looking away from him and closing your eyes. You hope to god he doesn’t notice your red face, which he doesn’t, because he barely spares a glance at you.

“Are you kidding me,” he curses upon arriving to the door. “The day I come in early, the door isn’t even open yet.”

Grumbling, he sits down against the wall a few meters away from you, putting his iced coffee and paper bag on the ground beside him as he fishes for his phone from the pocket of his jeans.

You feel your phone buzz.

From - Unknown Number: quick i might have enough time bc the professor isnt here yet...... should i go back to starbucks and buy a muffin

You let out a laugh, earning a glance from Hyungwon to which your face turns flat again, rolling your eyes at him.

You sent: no!!! what if ur running to starbucks n u pass by ur professor?

From - Unknown Number: you’re right you’re right.....ill jus get it later then

You sit like that for what seems like a good half-hour, texting this unknown man back and forth and learning even more about each other. You learn that he loves baked goods, and that recently, ever since you had told him to buy himself a bagel, his love for them had come back. He learns that you cook your own breakfast everyday, taking the time to eat and rest in the morning before the rest of the day ensues.

“Hyungwon!” a loud voice sounds from the end of the hallway. You turn your head, as does Hyungwon, and you find the man the voice originated from, dashing down the hallway.

Lee Minhyuk was in your criminology class, you knew him well because he in front of you, but not well enough to contact him at any time, or to say hi to him outside of class. He was a nice guy, he was friends with almost everybody in your university no matter what year they were in, but he was loud and distracted you from your work - you aren’t sure if you’re thankful for that or if you detest that fact.

“Minhyuk.” Hyungwon’s voice is calm, rivalling Minhyuk’s shout.

Minhyuk comes to a stop in front of Hyungwon, doubled over and his hands on his knees as be gasps for breath - you are unsure as to why, the length of hall he had just ran doesn’t even stretch on for that long.

“Where have you been?” Minhyuk asks between gasps. “I haven’t seen you since our last study session.”

“Oh you know,” Hyungwon replies, “Just studying.”

“Well come back, our study group needs y-“ his voice cuts off the moment his head turns and meets eyes with you, eyes widening and mouth forming a large grin. “Hi (Y/N)!”

You give him a smile back, letting out a gentle laugh. “Hello, Minhyuk.”

He decides to ditch Hyungwon, walking over to you instead as his taller friend watches on in a mix of confusion and shock, and finally, for the first time since you’ve seen him today, his eyes catches yours. You suck in a quick breath before looking back at Minhyuk.

“How’d you do on your paper?” Minhyuk asks, standing in front of you, hands shoved into his pockets. “I feel like I barely made the passing mark.”

“Oh! It was good, I finished it really fast the night before it was due,” you let out a chuckle. “I wrote it on police misconduct.”

“Oh gosh,” Minhyuk says. “You’re gonna get a good grade, lord knows how many times our professor rants about that topic.”

“One can only hope.” you joke, face falling and hand touching your heart before you break out into a smile. You could almost feel Hyungwon’s eyes burning holes into your body.

“Oh, hey, by the way,” Minhyuk pipes up after both of your laughter died down. “I have a question that I’ve been meaning to ask for a few weeks.”

You raise an eyebrow, curious. “Yeah? What is it?”

“Around three weeks ago, did you happen to get a strange te-“

“Mr. Chae, and Miss (Y/L/N)! You’re here early!”

The three of you turn your heads and find your professor striding down the hallway, fishing out the keys to the locked door in her purse. You turn to Minhyuk with a quirked eyebrow as to ask him to continue his sentence, but he just shakes his head.

“It’s alright, I’ll just ask you the next time I see you, alright?” Minhyuk shoots two thumbs-up at you, before pivoting on his heel and patting Hyungwon on the shoulder, narrowing his eyes at him teasingly. “And you. Stop ignoring us.”

Hyungwon nods, a small smile on his face before the two of you turn and walk inside your class. The only people present were the of you as well as the professor, who had also decided to go get something from the staff room, leaving you and Hyungwon alone, once again, in her wake. You almost curse to yourself outloud when flashes of the night before comes forward in your mind, biting down on your lip as you try to focus on doodling on the margins of your notebook. A crinkling sounds from behind you, and you turn to see Hyungwon, teeth half sunk into a red velvet cookie, realizing that you were looking at him. There is a pause in the air, silence filling the air between the two of you for a few milliseconds. The two of you simply stare at each other,  something very out of the ordinary, before he glares at you.

You roll your eyes.

Maybe your thoughts last night were just a one time thing.

But they weren’t.

As the nights go by, and as text conversations come and go, you find yourself thinking about Hyungwon more and more, an activity that you would usually always push out of your mind every time he comes close to nearing your thoughts, but your attempts are futile. It’s even more easier for you to think of the tall boy because this unknown man was faceless, and every single text lined with lust only pushes you to moan out Hyungwon’s name.

There was this one time you managed to get the unknown man to describe the item of clothing he’d use to tie you to the bed, which was an expensive silk black button up with white pinstripes, and you went crazy at the thought. Then, just a few days later, when conversing with your desk mate during class, Hyungwon walked in with the exact replica of the shirt, and then suddenly it was more than hot; it was unbearably arousing, and you had to act like everything was fine, tearing your eyes away from Hyungwon and squeezing your legs together.

And then the unknown man decides that sending you paragraphs upon paragraphs about what he wants to do to you during class is a good idea. And now you’ll never be able look at Hyungwon wearing neckties or belts the same anymore. And now you can’t even say Hyungwon’s name in annoyance, nor look at him at all, not when he’s wearing that heavenly smelling cologne that he always sprays on himself every single day, making it even harder for you to not just shove all of the papers and books off of his desk and start riding him right there.

Then there’s the fact that Kihyun has begun to realize how much time you spend on your phone, asking you about who you’re texting all the time, asking if it’s someone he knows, to which you always reply with a quick no. It worked at first, but the more you say it, the more curiosity glints in Kihyun’s eyes, gleaming of mischievousness and knowledge that he actually does know what you’re up to on your phone. He’d continue to pester you to get more information out, but you’d just roll your eyes and push him away.

It’s nothing serious.

It’s not.

It is a half a year later and you had just come home from a third date with one of Kihyun’s friends from work - Shownu, his name was. He was a kind man; soft-spoken, intelligent, awkwardly endearing, and a gentleman. He took you out to an expensive restaurant, one with the most incredible view of all the city, and handed you a large bouquet of your favorite flowers. The dinner went smoothly, splendidly, even, and after a few exchanged jokes and laughs, he drove you home. He offered to walk you up to the front doors of your apartment building, which you accepted, and before you could push open your door, he leans in for a kiss, and as did you.

But you felt nothing.

No spark, no ignition of excitement, no eruption of butterflies, and no urge for you to ask him to come inside with you. Zero. Zilch. Nada. You had pulled back, giving him an awkward, but soft smile, but he had seemed to understand the underlying message, and he just smiles at you back, telling you that it’s alright and that he wishes you a good night before walking back to his car. You watched him drive away before pushing into the lobby, hitting the up button on the elevator, your spirits low as you wait for the doors to open.

As they did, you stumble into the elevator, cursing at yourself for thinking so stupidly. You had just rejected a handsome, kind gentleman, who was obviously interested in you, who probably wanted to fuck with strings attached, and who would have given you the entire world if you had just asked for it. Yet here you are, leaning against the wall of the elevator, watching the floor numbers go past one by one, not one ounce of regret. You wonder what the fuck is wrong with yourself, since it’s nearly been two whole years since you’ve gotten laid. Of course, only if you aren’t counting texting Hyungwon.

Your thoughts are interrupted when your phone beeps in your purse, and, almost agonizingly, it seemed as if all the excitement that you had been anticipating with your date prior suddenly comes out of its hiding place.

From - Unknown Number: i was helping my friend out w their crim assignment. thought of u the entire time.

Your stomach sinks. He thought of you. How disgustingly domestic. He doesn’t even know who you are, nor do you know who he is, yet he thought of you, and you hated it. Doesn’t he know how much those words mean to you?

He thought of you, the young woman who acts as if you’re tough shit but is too much of a coward to reveal your true identity and ruin the bond they’ve created. He thought of you, the girl who always makes it your job to leave a space between you and other people in your life, until this unknown man came around. He thought of you, making space in his life to talk to you, shifted things to give you a permanent space, and now you’re embedded so deeply into his system that it’s almost like it’s his job to see something and be reminded of you.

He thought of you, not because he needed to, but because he wanted to.

You finds yourself leaning against the door of your bedroom, locking yourself inside before lifting your phone up to type a reply.

You sent: what- but you freeze momentarily, thumbs lifting from the keyboard. How in the world are you going to finish this sentence?

What are you thinking? You’re starting a deep relationship with someone you’ve never even met! You don’t even know my name! I don’t even know your name!

What am I feeling? Why do I get excited whenever my phone buzzes? Why are you making me feel this way? I shouldn’t feel this way.

What are we doing? This isn’t right. I’m scared.

Your breathing is shallow and shaking, staring at the blinking line that seemed to mock you for your loss of words, and then your thumbs begin to move, falling on the reflex answer.

You sent: what are you wearing?

There is a pause in the air before the three dots show up again.

From - Unknown Number: black tee, black skinny jeans, black boxers.

You sent: thats hot

From - Unknown Number: you find everything hot

You sent: that’s bc everything u tell me is hot

Of course, your first thought is of Hyungwon, sitting on his bed, head to toe in black, forking his long fingers through his blonde hair. You gulp and your thighs squeeze together.

From - Unknown Number: what are u wearing?

You sent: a short red dress and black pumps, red lipstick, my hair is up.

From - Unknown Number: shit

From - Unknown Number: are you wet?

You sent: sooo fucking wet

From - Unknown Number: touch urself for me

You suck in a breath, staring at your screen. The two of you have been doing this for months now, yet, every time he orders you what to do, you’re surprised yet humiliated at how eager you are to listen to him. Obediently, you part your legs open, sliding your hands along the skin on inside of your thighs until you reach your clothed pussy. Letting out a sigh at how wet the cloth is, you circle your clothed clit with the tip of your finger.

You sent: im doing it through my panties

From - Unknown Number: push them to the side darling and once you do, push a finger inside yourself.

Fuck, you love it when he calls you that. Your face flushes as this unknown man takes control, and you loves it when he does; god it makes you go crazy. So you do as he says, pushing a finger inside of you, pumping it in and out, bringing a hand up to your mouth to stop yourself from whimpering too loud, knowing Kihyun’s just on the other side of your bedroom wall, sleeping.

From - Unknown Number: are you doing it?

You sent: yes

From - Unknown Number: good girl. now add another finger for me and fuck urself slowly. can u do that for me?

You sent: yes

From - Unknown Number: now, palm your breasts. tug at your nipples slowly, and i want you to keep finger fucking yourself while you do. keep your fingers sliding in and out of you, ok?

You sent: ok

You are obedient, your breath hitching in your throat as you open your legs wider, pumping your own fingers in and out of your body. You imagine him right beside you, imagining his low voice whispering the words at you, hot breath fanning your body, smooth and commanding, and you begin to feel a knot forming at the bottom of your stomach.

From - Unknown Number: move your fingers faster for me, curl them inside of you and rub the way just you like. i bet ur clit is throbbing and aching, isn’t it? it feels good to press on it while you fuck yourself hm? you’re such a good girl, you do thingsi tell you to do becuase you like it whn i tell u to fuck yourself.

You attempt to mute your whimpers by biting the inside of your cheeks, but your endeavours fall futile as you gently whine Hyungwon’s name far too loudly. Your trembling legs are apart, feet on both sides of your body as lewd sounds of your fingers fill the room. You’re almost sure Kihyun can hear you now, but you don’t care.

From - Unknown Number: ur not answeing me anymore. ur too busy fucking urself hm? ur too busy imagining that its me fucking u. that it’s MY fingers inside of you, pumping in and out of your body, that its my teeth tugging at ur nipples. how close are you to coming for me now? i bet it won’t even take you long to respond, fuck, i can just imagine u now. your hands between ur tremblign legs, biting down on ur tongue so u dont scream. but i dont want that. i want u to scream my name.

Your back arches off the wood of your bedroom door, and you know you’re close.

From - Unknown Number: scream my name when u cum. cum baby. cum for me.

And you do as he says, shaking as a choked back moan escapes from your mouth, barely managing to keep it silent. When you come down from your high, you rest your back against your door once more, trembling legs dropping to the floor. You barely attempts cleans yourself before lifting your phone to reply, fingers quivering against the cold screen.

You sent: fuck that was so hot

From - Unknown Number: did you cum?

You sent: cum is an understatement.

From - Unknown Number: good girl.

You sent: its your turn…

From - Unknown Number: oh no its all good. i already came haha

You sent: aw rly.. without my help?

From - Unknown Number: i imagined everything you were doing to yourself and it was hot… so, i guess u did help me in a way.

You freeze.

You sent: wait. you know what i look like?

From - Unknown Number: no but …. i have this … fantasy of what you look like.

You sent: and what does it look like?

From - Unknown Number: (y/hair/colour), (y/skin/colour), (y/height)....

From - Unknown Number: guiltily i think about this girl i detest. i’ve told u about her before. how funny would it be if you were her?

Your heart sinks into your stomach. This is the first time the two of you had ever talked about appearance, and this unknown man hit everything about you spot on. Dread pools around your heart in your stomach as you type out a reply.

You sent: haha who knows

You sent: im sorry i have to go now

You sent: ill text u tmr. good bye

Your phone buzzes one last time but you don’t look at his message, throwing it into your backpack as you finally get up to clean yourself, walking into your bathroom and changing out of your dress, assuring yourself that you aren’t running away but knowing full well that that’s the only thing you’re doing.

 ----

  You don’t text him tomorrow, you don’t text him the next day, the day after that, the next week, or the next month.

You haven’t texted him in five months, but all he did in those five months was think of you, your phone vibrating constantly due to messages from him. Dozens of them. They came in groups at first, but as the months go by, they come through sparser and sparser. At first, he hadn’t realized that you had stopped texting him, but when the first month passed, he grew worried, then they spiralled to apologetic, accusatory, and then he began to blame himself, and once again, spiralled back to apologetic.

From - Unknown Number: good morning!!!

From - Unknown Number: good mornin!

From - Unknown Number: u havent responded to my texts lately.. i hope everythings ok

From - Unknown Number: hello?

From - Unknown Number: if this is about the appearance thing i genuinely apologize. i dont wanna make things uncomfortable for u.

From - Unknown Number: u dont owe me anything

From - Unknown Number: can you please just respond to me one last time. im worried… i just need to know if you’re okay.

From - Unknown Number: my friend jus finished their crim course today. i thought of u.

From - Unknown Number: its been four months and a half… i graduate in a few weeks. i dont know why im sending this to u… i just thought i should tell u...

From - Unknown Number: i miss you.

From - Unknown Number: i wish i never met you. i guess it’s a good thing i never actually did.

It’s for the best, you would tell yourself, before swiping left to get rid of the messages he’s sent you. Still, you can’t ignore the dull pain each message sent to you cuts your skin and strikes you to the bone, even now, during the graduation afterparty, through the valour and cheers of the graduates knowing you’re about to turn a new page in your life, you cannot seem to let go of the words ingrained in your mind.

“Hey,” you feel somebody nudge your arm. “Is everything ok?”

Turning your head, you see Minhyuk, looking at you in worry. You give him a small smile, shoving your phone into the pocket of your short dress before folding your hands in your lap.

“Yeah, I’m okay,” you reassure him. “I’m just kinda nervous. We graduated, after all.”

“Yeah, yeah, I understand completely.” Minhyuk pouts, nodding his head, but something hidden behind his pupils seem to tell as if he didn’t quite believe you. There is a beat before he begins to talk again. “Oh yeah, I completely forgot to ask you,” Minhyuk starts. “This happened like, a year ago, but it’s always been in the back of my mind.”

You quirk an eyebrow. “Yeah? What is it?”

“There was a random number that texted me, Wonho, Jooheon, and Hyungwon around a year back. They said something about being in the same class with me…” he starts, and your eyes begin to widen, but you force yourself into keeping a calm expression. “I’ve asked almost everyone in all my classes if it was them but they all said no. The only one left was you.”

You look away from Minhyuk, almost cursing to your drunk self for giving him such an obvious clue, and then thinking, why not? It is the end of your college career. After this party ends, you’ll most likely never see any of these people anymore, for the rest of your life. Plus, you were almost absolutely sure he wasn’t the unknown man you were texting the past year, right?

You bite the inside of your cheek before replying.

“Yes, it was me.” you confess to him, feeling as if a big weight had just been lifted off your shoulders. “I was drunk, and I don’t know what I was saying. I’m really sorry, Minhyuk. I apologize for any trouble I caused…”

Minhyuk’s eyebrows lift, his jaw slacking a bit. “Really?” he questions you, before grinning. “Oh my gosh, don’t be sorry! That’s so funny. I mean, I would have never thought it’d be you, at all!”

“Really?” you ask him. “What did I send you?”

“You told me that I annoyed you during class,” he pouts, before throwing an arm around you. “But that’s ok! You still put up with me anyways so that’s all that matters.”

You heave out a sigh of relief before letting out a giggle, throwing your own arm around him as the two of you playfully sway to the edm music coursing through the house, for the first time in the past year, almost feeling free.

But it was as if the universe timed it as a way to mock you, because when you opened your eyes to look at the lounge floor, the graduates dancing against each other in strained duress, almost laughably dividing into two for the tall man standing in between, your eyes meet Hyungwon’s.

“Hyungwon!” Minhyuk calls his friend, whose eyes flash from you to Minhyuk. “Come over here!”

You feel your stomach drop at the sight of him and at the sound of his name, seeing him walk over towards the two of you, holding a drink in his hand. He looks absolutely beautiful; his hair flutters over his face in loose waves, and although his roots are beginning to grow in, you can’t help but become slack jaw at how good he manages to pull the look off. His eyes are still trained on you, not one ounce of drunken stupor in his irises. He’s dressed in just a plain white dress shirt and a loosened tie, ditching the black blazer he had sported that morning during the graduation ceremony. As you look him up and down, you begin to remember the messages that the unknown man had sent you, and memories of your fantasies of Hyungwon cloud your mind.

Quickly, you look away.

“(Y/N).” his voice is low. “Congratulations.”

You are hesitant to look up at him but you do so anyways, meeting eyes with him again, his pupils laced with intent, but you cower from him for the first time in the years that you’ve known him, heat rushing to your cheeks.

“Hyungwon,” you say, the taste of his name rolling off your tongue begrudgingly identifiable. “Thank you. Congratulations to you too.”

Silence seduces the air between the both of you, unbeknownst to Minhyuk, who still continued to sway back and forth to the future bass music pumping through the speakers. Your eyes are now trained on your hands folded in your lap, and you could feel Hyungwon’s gaze burning into your skin.

“I’m gonna go get a drink.” you excuse yourself, standing up from the couch. “Congratulations again, you guys. I’ll see you around.”

You keep your head ducked as you make a beeline for the liquor table, ignoring the feeling of Hyungwon’s eyes on you. Hastily, you grab a can of beer, hissing at the sudden contact of coldness of the metal can, before you begin to chug it down. You don’t know why you’re so nervous around Hyungwon all of a sudden, as he doesn’t know you’ve been whining his name nor does he know of your fantasies, yet, ever since you had stopped replying to the unknown man, Hyungwon’s presence in your life grew more intense, even as you attempted to avoid him at all costs.

You are on your second beer now and you think about looking for Kihyun for him to watch your intake. You had lost him on your way into the party to the lounge floor which housed almost all of the recent graduates grinding next to each other, you don’t want to know what Kihyun is up to in that sweaty crowd, nor do you want to spoil his fun, so instead, you settle to sit in another seat, opposite side and far from where Hyungwon is.

You aren’t sure if it’s because of the alcohol, but you’re almost sure you can still feel his eyes still trained on you.

“(Y/N),” you hear Kihyun call, and you almost let out a sigh of relief at the appearance of your best friend, sliding into the empty spot next to you. “Come dance with me on the dance floor!”

“I’m good,” you smile at him. “I’m fine just sitting here. My feet hurt from wearing heels all day.”

“Are you sure?” he quirked an eyebrow, and you nod your head. He frowns.

“I know when something is bothering you because you act different,” he says, sighing. “And frankly, you’ve been acting different for the past few months. What is it?”

“Huh?” You look at him, panic setting in. “No, no! I’m not upset or bothered by anything at all. Don’t worry about me, Kihyun, go enjoy yourself.”

“I can’t enjoy myself when I know my best friend is wallowing around,” he pushes you playfully. “Come on. Is it Hyungwon?”

You freeze.

“Hyungwon?” your voice is quiet. “Why would it be Hyungwon?”

“(Y/N), me and him are pretty close, and I’ve known you since, like, grade school,” he tells you. “I know when you’re hiding a secret, and I know when you’re lying. It’s fairly obvious that the two of you were a thing, plus… you weren’t really discreet some nights.” He snickers and you punch his arm.

“Kihyun,” you look at him. “Me and Hyungwon were never a thing. We literally hate each other.”

“He looks at you as if you stole all the stars in the night sky for him and you practically look at him like a love-drunk puppy,” he tells you. “People that hate each other don’t look at each other that way,”

“Kihyun, I’m being serious,” you tell him, grabbing his hands and looking him intently in the eyes. “I’m not with Hyungwon. I’ve never been with Hyungwon. And never, in my life, have I ever wanted to be with Hy-”

Your buzzing phone indicating a call cuts your sentence off, and you thank the heavens for a way out of this conversation. You excuse yourself from Kihyun, who only nods and takes a sip from his red cup as you walk to a much more secluded area, away from the bounding music. You don’t read the caller id, swiping right to accept it.

“Hello?” you breath into your phone.

It’s absolute silence for a few seconds, and you think that it may have been a misdial and that they had hung up, turning around to return to the party, but you bump into something warm and tall. Looking up, your heart drops into your stomach.

Hyungwon stands in front of you, his own phone pressed against his ear.

The horribly familiar words roll off his tongue so easily.

“What are you wearing?”

Dropping your phone, you do the only thing you know how to do.

You run.

You run quickly, the sound of your heartbeat in your ears drowning out the sounds of the party, drowning out Hyungwon’s voice as he calls after you. It’s ironic, how many times you manage to find yourself running away from anything that has to deal with him, but you want nothing else than to never show your face in front of Hyungwon ever again. How could you, when the months you’ve texted that unknown man, the months you’ve texted Hyungwon himself, were filled with revelations of secrets and desires, something you haven’t ever told your own best friend.

The night is cold when you open the door, and you shiver momentarily before warmth surrounds you. You feel the worsted wool cloak around you, smelling Hyungwon’s rich cologne as he walks past you, searching for his keys deep in his pockets. You hear his car beep, signalling that it’s been unlocked, and a dread pools your stomach.

“Get in the car.” his voice is calm, but it sets humiliation aflame in the back of your throat.

“No.” you say, ridding of his blazer and letting it fall on the concrete ground.

Hyungwon pivots on his heel, looking at you with eyes filled with emotions you cannot decipher. He walks closer to you, grabbing his crumpled blazer, before standing up straight and towering before you.

“Get in the car.” he repeats, his calm demeanour less relaxed, voice strained against grit teeth. You listen this time, getting into his car and sitting on the passenger’s seat before he slams the door closed, heading over to the driver’s seat and doing the same. The time it took for him to turn on the engine and speed off into the empty streets is silent, you only wish for the rest of the car ride to be the same, but of course, it wasn’t.

“Why did you do it?” he asks you after a few minutes, his voice hush against the smooth purr of the engine, focused on the road in front of him. His grip on the steering wheel was tight. You gulp. “Did you think it was funny?”

“No.”

“No?” he turns his head towards you momentarily before snapping his attention back on the road. “After a year of making me go crazy, after a year of making me feel something and then tearing me apart, no is all you have to say?”

“N-No.” you answer again. You can see his fingers tense against the steering wheel.

“Evidently, you have a vocabulary,” his tone is venomous. “So use it.”

“Please stop.” your face is red with embarrassment, recalling some of the messages you have sent him, remembering the feeling that washed over you when you whined his name to an empty room accompanied with lewd noises. “Stop.”

“Stop what?” he asks you, voice still dangerously calm. “Stop talking? So I can pull something like what you did and cut all contact we have with each other? Is that what you want? Because I fucking know that that wasn’t what you fucking wanted. Because, hell, you begged me to keep going, you begged me to keep talking, you begged me to stay. Bullshit. You didn’t even stay with me, you didn’t even tell me if you were okay.”

You bite down on your lip, eyeing your fists in your lap. Your heartbeat is beating out of your chest at this point, but you can’t tell of what.

“I know you thought of me, (Y/N),” he says, after a few seconds. “You began to avoid me, and as I did you. I thought I was doing a carnal sin, I was supposed to hate you. I’m supposed to hate you. So why did I keep thinking of you?”

It takes all for Hyungwon to not scream then and there, the frustration finally getting to him, stepping on the breaks as his car screeches to a halting stop on the side of the road, next to a mass of trees. He pushes open his side of the car and gets out, running his hands through his hair, almost stressed, before kicking the tire of his car in frustration. You watch him go through a great deal of emotions before you decide to step out of the car yourself.

“I just wanna hear one thing,” he tells you, turning around, eyes pleading. “One thing. One single thing. An apology. A confession. A proper goodbye. It doesn’t matter. Just one thing, one more thing from you, please, (Y/N).”

“Why do you care?” you ask him, voice hush. “You aren’t supposed to care.”

He pivots on his heel, grabbing the top of his car as he looks at you, boring his eyes into yours, as if he were searching for something in your pupils. He bites his lip before opening his mouth.

“Is it not obvious, enough, (Y/N)?” he whispers.

“What?” you stammer.

“I care, fuck, I’ve always pushed it to the back of my mind but what happened between us just made it all the clearer for me that I do care for you,” he pauses. “I care for you because I’m in love with you.”

Your eyes widen at that confession, freezing in time.

“You can’t just say that to me like it’s nothing.” you whisper, and that’s when the tears begin to tease your waterline.

“I’m not saying it like it’s nothing.” Hyungwon’s voice grows louder. “I love you. I’m in love with you. Fuck, (Y/N), I’m in love with you, and I’ve acted like an idiot all these years trying to get your attention. I’m not saying this like it’s nothing. I’m in love w-”

He doesn’t finish his sentence due to your lips pressed against his, and if it were anything like the movies, you were almost sure you saw electric sparks flying between the both of you. He kisses you, his arm snaked around the small of your back and his other hand pressed against the back of your head, and you kiss him back, arms wrapped around his neck as you pull him closer. Your tongue finds its way into his mouth, hungry for him, pressing his body against yours, the same way the both of you had been imagining for a year.

He backs you up towards the hood of the car and slams you down, lips disconnecting from yours before re-attaching them to your neck, littering your skin with memoirs of him in the form of purple lesions.

“My name,” he whispers in between kisses. “Say my name.”

“H-Hyungwon,” you moan, used to his name slipping from between your lips, but the unfamiliarity of his body against yours causing you more excitement. He sucks on a certain spot on your neck, before licking it to soothe the soft pain. “Hyungwon, please.”

“What is it?” he coaxes you with his words just as much as he is with his lips, hand snaking up your body as he begins to knead your breasts through your red dress. Moans and whimpers fall from your lips at his simple touch, and he smirks to himself. “Tell me what you want, darling.”

“I want you,” you tell him, bucking your hips when you feel his hand sliding up your thighs. “I want you, Hyungwon, please.”

“Out here?” he challenges you. “On the hood of my car? If someone were to drive by, they’d see us.”

“I don’t fucking care,” the ache between your thighs and Hyungwon’s touch is the only thing on your mind. “Please just fuck me. Please.”

Hyungwon chuckles, letting his hand cup you through your panties, the wet material causing a strain to build up in Hyungwon’s crotch. He curses under his breath, lips coming back into contact with yours, swallowing your moans as his tongue dances with yours.

“You’re such a good girl, asking so nicely,” he whispers after pulling away, moving your panties to the side, fingers finding your clit, brushing past it as you curse out loud. It was humiliating how wet you’ve become just from his simple touch and his words, an arrogant smirk making its way onto his face. “So wet for me already, and I haven’t even been inside you yet.”

His fingers find their way back to your clit, softly running over your bundle of nerves, too soft for your liking as you whine, bucking your hips. He pulls his fingers away from your pussy, pushing your hips back onto the cold metal of the hood of his car.

His voice is low. “Be quiet or else I won’t fuck you at all.”

You retract your impatience at his words, biting down on your lips as he circles your clit with his middle finger, adding a bit more pressure this time. His eyes are on you, watching your face intently as you try to force back a moan. His free hand finds its way to your face, tracing your bottom lip with your thumb, before pulling his other hand away from your pussy. Gently, he tugs at your chin, signalling for you to open your mouth.

“Wet your fingers for me, darling.”

You oblige, opening your lips, letting his long fingers roam your mouth. Hyungwon watches as you suck on his fingers, tongue dancing across the two digits, eyes boring into his. The strain in his pants becomes tighter, but he wants to focus on you, instead imagining that it was his cock your tongue dances around. He pulls his hand away from your mouth, bringing you closer for a kiss. You groan into it as your spread your legs wider, wordlessly begging him to do something, to which he does, slipping his wet fingers inside of you.

The sensation shocked you at first, his long fingers filling you out well, but as they begin to move inside you all you can do is let out a moan against his lips, the sinful sound is music to his ears. His fingers are slick inside of you, moving in and out of you painfully slow at first, but as your kiss begins to become a little more sloppy, he quickens the pace of his fingers.

“You like that, hm? You like my fingers fucking you like this?” he mumbles against your lips, grinning as he hears you moan loudly. “Shit, look at you. You’re such a mess already, what will you become once my cock is inside you?”

You aren’t even able form words, the pleasure overtaking you and his words the only thing echoing in your ears. It was as if your hand sprung to life on its own, making its way towards his crotch, palming him through the fabric of his jeans. You felt his bulge, how hard he was for you, and knowing you were so close to it yet so far due to the layers of clothing, it drove you crazy.

“I want it, Hyungwon.” you whine, adding pressure to your hand as you pet him. He suppresses a moan, and obliging to your words, he undoes his jeans, pulling his cock free from underneath his boxers. You grab hold of him, already so stiff in your hands as you begin to jerk him off slowly, pumping your hand back and forth around his cock as he continues to fuck you with his fingers. He buries his head into your neck as he begins to buck his hips against your hand, moaning into your neck as he does.

“Fuck, this is s-so hot.” you whisper in his ear, beginning to feel the knot forming in your abdomen as his fingers pick up the pace. It is when the tips of his fingers brush against the certain spot inside of you when you let out a gasp, your hips bucking into his hand, feeling him smile into your neck. “S-Shit, I’m gonna cum.” A chain of curses fall out of your mouth, words you aren’t able to comprehend rolling off your tongue much as you come undone with just his fingers. You whine, legs trembling as he kisses your neck, chuckling lightly before pressing his lips to yours.

“It’s your turn,” you mumble against his lips, his cock still stiff in your hand. Precum had already began to leak out of his tip, coating him and your hand in a sheen of liquid. You pull away, looking into his eyes through your eyelashes. “I want to taste you.”

Wordlessly, he pulls you off the hood of his car and towards the passenger’s side, standing behind his car for protection in case anyone were to drive by and see. He lets his pants and boxers pool at his feet, before kissing you once more, hands busy grabbing your ass.

“Get on your knees,” he tells you, and you’re obedient, listening to him as you press your knees down into the concrete, hissing at the pain of your knees but thirsting for him to be in your mouth. You lick your lips as you look up at him, waiting for his neck order, and he nudges the corner of your mouth the the tip of his cock. “Open your mouth for me, darling.”

He enters your mouth, letting out a gruff moan as he does, the feeling of your tongue on his cock driving him crazy. He’s waited for this moment for so long, seeing you on your knees in front of him, listening to every word he says is so vastly different from the image he’s used to seeing from you - annoyed at him, nagging at him, telling him off. That thought alone is enough to send him over the edge, but he wants to savour this; he wants to savour you. You start off with a few kitten licks, feeling his cock twitch and rest against your face, smiling as you watch his, normally indifferent facial expression, turn into something sinful.

“You look so beautiful like this,” his voice is hushed, breathy. “With your lips around me.”

He cranes his neck back at the feeling of your mouth around his cock, bobbing your head up and down his shaft. He’s holding onto the roof of the car, using his other hand to comb your hair out of your face to get a better look at you, a mix of adoration and lust in his irises. You grab onto his thighs for balance, your knees already beginning to give out, and just as you do, you hear tires and the hum of an engine just a few meters away.

You widen your eyes, realizing that someone is about to drive past, pulling away from his cock.

“Did I say you could stop?” asks Hyungwon, reaching down and grabbing your chin, looking into your eyes.

“Hyungwon, what if they s-”

“Did I say you could stop?” he asks again, and you bite your bottom lip, a course of excitement running through you, feeling yourself throb at the thought of getting caught, and with that, you take him back into his mouth, licking strips from his base to his head before wrapping your lips around him, taking him to the back of your mouth, ignoring the hum of the engine and headlights passing you by. They had no doubt seen Hyungwon, he towers over his car with his height, but you didn’t care.

“Shit, shit, stop,” Hyungwon grunts as your swirl your tongue around his head, pulling you up, much to your confusion. “I wanna cum while I fuck you.”

And with that, he presses you against the side of the hood of his car, pushing the hem of your dress up to your waist. He bites down on his bottom lip as he teases your slit with the head of his cock, hearing you mewl his name and different variations of begging, wasting no time to find a good pace before slamming into you. The contact causes you mewl to break into a pleasured scream, his cock pumping in and out of you, stretching you out and making you grab onto Hyungwon’s white button up shirt, wrinkling the fabric, loud gasps and pleading escaping your mouth.

“Hyungwon!” his name escapes from behind your lips like honey as he slams into you again and again, lewd sounds of skin slapping against skin, grunts and gasping filling the air.

This isn’t anything Hyungwon has ever done before, fucking on the hood of his car like something less of a human, but he doesn’t give a damn. If someone were to drive by and witness the two of you fucking like animals, he wouldn’t give a shit; his thoughts are clouded with pleasure and all that he hears and sees at that moment is you. Your voice, your parted lips, the feeling your fingernails sink into the fabric of his shirt on his forearms, your walls spasming around him. He’s too needy and too desperate for you to care about anything else.

He brushes past your certain spot again, causing you to scream his name once more, widening your legs as he hits it again and again.

“I’m gonna c-cum. H-Hyungwon, I’m g-gonna cum, fuck, please.” you stammer out in broken sobs, the familiar knot appearing in your abdomen once again. You’re almost certain that you’re beginning to see stars lining your vision, words unfamiliar to one-another slipping out of your mouth in strings of pleasure.

“If you cum, I’ll never fuck you again.”

His tone causes you to whimper, trying to keep your high to yourself as best as you can, your breath already beginning to falter. You can’t stop your walls from spasming around him, clenching the muscles in your thighs to try and help yourself from going against Hyungwon’s word, but your attempts fall flat as his cock sliding in and out of you at that speed and at that strength only causes your desire to grow bigger and bigger.

“H-Hyungwon, please, I can’t hold it,” you mewl, letting out short gasps of breath as he continues to rut against you. Your cheeks are red with both embarrassment and agony, your knees already beginning to buckle. He leans over, kissing your neck as his hips move into yours rhy “P-Please, please, please, I want to cum. Please let me cum.”

“I said hold it.” Hyungwon’s breath is warm against the skin of your neck, his hands pulling down the front of your dress, exposing your chest. He moves his face, enveloping your nipple into his mouth, plump lips sucking onto you as his hand kneads your other breast. The feeling of his tongue circling around your nub drove you crazy, his eyes boring into yours. You can’t stand to keep your orgasm under wraps, your entire body trembles now.

“H-Hyungwon, p-please!” you cry out, your hands flying towards his hair, pulling onto his blonde strands as you feel tears tease your waterline. Your grip on his hair tightens with each thrust he pushes into you, as if he were leaving remnants of himself inside of you, a growing smirk teasing his lips as he watches your failing attempts to hold yourself back. You arch your back from the hood of the car, letting out gasps of shock every time you feel the knot in your stomach slowly untying, clenching all the muscles you know of to try and stop yourself.

“Such a good girl,” Hyungwon’s whispers, his eyebrows beginning to furrow together and his eyes glazing over, signalling that he is close to his orgasm as well. “You’re so good… Fuck! I’m almost there, fuck.”

Hyungwon bites down on his bottom lip, leaning back again as he grabs your hips, fucking into your even harder than he was before. At this point, you’ve lost all awareness of your surroundings, you couldn’t care less if someone were to drive by and see the two of you fucking on top of Hyungwon’s car, all you cared about was your release, one that you kept pushing back so many times you’re almost sure it’ll take a toll on your body once you let go. His hand snakes from your breast and back to your pussy, his thumb adding pressure onto your clit, a sensation that makes your eyes roll to the back of your head as your jaw turns slack, letting out a moan of pleasure.

“I-I can’t take it anymore, Hyungwon,” you whimper, trying to push away his hand when you know all you want is to bring it closer. “Hyungwon. I can’t hold it, I-I’m gonna cum.”

“Then cum,” he whispers, looking down at you through his hooded eyelids. “Cum for me, darling.”

And you waste no time obliging to his word, the feeling of pleasure ripping through your body as you screw your eyes shut, stars behind your eyelids as you moan, Hyungwon’s name mixed with different curses and other lewd sounds. He still continued to fuck you through your orgasm, already sensitive from the amount of pressure that you’ve received throughout the night, and it causes your entire body to tremble and convulse.

“Fuck, fuck, (Y/N), I’m cumming,” Hyungwon grunts, before pulling out of you. He holds onto the side of his car as he pumps himself onto you, staining your pretty red dress and your trembling thighs, your name laced around sinful words and immoral moans rolling off his tongue.

You watch him as you come down from your orgasm, the juxtaposition in the setting almost laughable as you take in his beauty; his blonde hair stuck to his face with sweat, framing his features so nicely; his already plump lips even plumper now from all the body praise, kissing and licking every surface of you he encountered, his top teeth sinking into his bottom lip. You sit up from the hood of his car, a grin on your face before you grab him by the front of his shirt and pull him in for another kiss, he still grunts from sensitivity but still pushes his lips against yours, soft as you snake your hands around his neck.

And the night continued on like that, limbs entangled in one another in the backseat of his car now; the two of you are almost thankful that no one ever really drives on this road. He kissed you everywhere and as did you, making sure you savoured every part of him for all the years that you’ve missed, connecting your body with his - the only thing that divided the both of you was the thin layer of sweat on your bodies that accumulated as the night went on. You’ve lost count of the amount of orgasms he had given you that night, but it didn’t matter; the two of you have waited for this for far too long.

Dawn nearly breaks the night sky when quiet finally takes place in his car, the windows fogged up and chests slowly rising and falling now instead of rapidly panting. You lay your head on top of his chest, listening to his heartbeat. You think back on when he was simply just an unknown number to you, the feelings that you had formed for the unknown man and Hyungwon, and you suppress a giggle when you realize how many times the answer was right in front of your eyes.

“What’s so funny?” he asks amusedly, hands busy entangled in your hair, twirling strands around his fingers. He smelt of rich vanilla, a smell that you could not stand, once upon a time, but found yourself drowning in rapture now.

“Nothing,” you say, nuzzling your face into his naked chest. Your clothes had been discarded long ago, littering the floor of Hyungwon’s car. “I’m just thinking of all the times I could’ve figured out you were the unknown number. The answers were right in front of me the entire time.”

You think back on it; the first time he had texted you kindly, asking what he should buy for breakfast, and heeding to your word of buying a bagel, and how you ended up glaring at Hyungwon across your classroom that day for being so obnoxious with his bagel, the one you had advised him to buy in the first place. The day after the two of you started sexting, how he announced that he was going to buy a red velvet cookie, and thus, glaring at him again for being obnoxious with it. His friend from criminology had to be your mutual friend, Minhyuk, as well. It was almost embarrassing how many clues you had missed.

“We were literally texting each other even when we were a few feet away,” he laughs, petting your hair down. “We’re both dumb. We’re perfect for each other.”

You pout at him playfully. “Hey, I’m not dumb!” you tell him, to which he smiles at you with eyes that could compete against crescent moons. “You’re mean, I like you better through text.”

He chuckles. “So you wanna go back to just texting huh?” Hyungwon questions you, quirking an eyebrow. “Then I won’t be able to do this.” He leans down and presses his lips against yours for a few seconds, feeling your body ultimately melting into the kiss. He pulls away, grinning from ear to ear as you lay there, heat rising in your cheeks.

“Actually, never mind. I like you a lot better in person.” you say, after a few seconds of silence, to which he lets out a soft chuckle. He stares at you for a moment, eyes softening at your sight as a easeful smile graces his lips. Leaning down, he kisses your forehead.

“I like you a lot better in person too.”

Kihyun was right, Hyungwon really does look at you as if you stole all the stars in the night sky for him.

FIN.

[heartau]

My Queen | S.HS

Genre: royal!au - angst/slight smut Word count: 2.8k Comments: i have not read through this for typos/grammar mistakes yet!! Warnings: side character death, slight mentions of explicit sex (short descriptions), this is full angst.

He called you his queen, when you were anything but.

It was a balmy summer day on your first encounter. You were not styled like a royal, that day, the raging sun beat down on your supple skin, maids hesitant in putting you inside a dress that ended above your ankles, they opted for a lighter fabric. In your hair rested no decals, plain hair pulled back into a tight bun, grimacing in pain as the oldest maid brushes bumps out as your father’s messenger knocks on your quarter’s door to tell you that he is waiting down the grand hall. Your stubby legs and short stature could only bring you forthwith so fast; at a young age, you were already aware of your father’s intolerance for time and patience, the King’s face already grew sour by the time you had arrived, your maids rushing behind you.

“Is there reason for her dress?” your father had spit on your maids, you hung your head low in shame with them. “This is not something a princess should be wearing, it looks far too penurious.”

“My king,” your voice is still small as you had only been brought to the world eight years ago. Your father disliked being called anything else that didn’t refer to his royal title; it caused you great pain whenever you’d hear different variations of the word father each time you would go on an outing. “Please, excuse them, it’s a very warm day, they were looking out for me in case I faint from the heat.”

Your father eyes you when he studies your sentence, before nodding once and turning on his heel. “Okay, your maids may be dismissed. (Y/N), there is someone that I want you to meet. He’ll prove to be of importance to you, one day.”

He was a small boy, two years older than you were, but still shorter than you in height. His eyes sparkled in wonder when you had left the palace to walk into the royal garden, his cheeks lifting into mounds of flesh as he grinned widely, baring a grin with two missing teeth at you. An older gentleman, whom you assume is his father, stands behind him and bows eagerly towards the both of you, nudging the little boy on the shoulder to do the same.

“Your majesty, your highness,” the older man says, voice gentle yet mighty. “It is of great honour to be of service to you.”

“Of course,” your father smiles proudly, eyes dashing towards the little boy, whose eyes flash back and forth between the two of you in amazement. “And who might you be?”

“Your majesty, your highness,” he speaks with a lisp, causing the corners of your lips to quirk into a small smile, using all your energy to stop yourself from giggling. “My name is Wonho!”

It was a cool winter evening, months later, when you first realize how you and Wonho had grown to become best friends. As a princess, it’s not only difficult, but dangerous for you to accumulate a circle of friends of your age in case one of them acts out in treason or decides to attack you with you unknowing. Up until you had met the boy, you spent your time in your quarters playing tea party with your old maids and plush toys, but your father had allowed you to grow close with Wonho, a blessing and freedom that was rare for you to have.

“Last one around the corner is a rotten egg!” Wonho had yelled before bounding down the marble floors of the grand hallway. You giggle loudly, lifting the hem of your dress past your knees, hearing the pads of your feet slap against the cold floors as you follow him. He reaches the corner first, and you finish second, grabbing onto the wall as the two you heave and break into a round of giggles.

“You’re a rotten egg, Princess!” he laughs in sing-song, pointing at you.

You only stuck your tongue out at him before you hear your maids shout that you are gone from your quarters. You feel Wonho’s hands grab yours before he hauls you behind the table.

“Shh.” he whispers, toothless grin smiling back at you. You mirror his grin and nod, clamping your own hand over your mouth.

It was a crisp spring day when you had realized how you and Wonho now stood at the same height, a revelation so shocking to you that you had called him to your quarters to let one of your maids measure the both of you.

“He is five centimetres taller than you, Princess,” your maid confirms, and you widen your eyes in shock.

“How on earth have you grown taller than me!” you question him. “You were minuscule when we first met!”

It had been four years since the both of you had met on that balmy summer day; you were at the age of twelve and Wonho stood at the age of fourteen. His missing baby teeth had all grown in, his adult pearly whites straight and almost dazzling whenever he threw you a playful smile. He had also begun to dabble in combat, woefully rejecting your requests to spend time due to his interest in watching the royal guard practice, his father being one of them. You were afraid of this, though, because you were aware of the dangers of being a royal guard - the death toll is inescapable once it came to your father.

“Who knows, Princess,” he laughs, putting his hands on his hips. “I’m large enough to be your human shield now, aren’t I?”

You roll your eyes and punch him in the arm, not noticing how Wonho, the stringy little boy you had grown up with, who would always yelp in pain at your packed punches, barely even nudges when your fist meets his shoulder.

You will come to regret overlooking that, later that week, when you find out he had left the palace to join the training force.

It was a windy autumn morning, six years later. You had grown into a fine young woman, formed with flesh and curves, holding brains and wit, a woman ready to take on the throne if need be, especially due to your father’s declining health.

“Princess,” your maid’s voice is hush as she knocks against the wood of the library’s door gently. Looking up from your book, you nod at her to signal for her to continue. “There is someone in the grand hall, they want to meet you.”

Setting your book on the side table, you stand up from your chair and rake through your mind on who it could be. Perhaps it is that frail old man whose family you generously gave money to in order to aid their father, perhaps it was that young boy named Jaemin who worked at the towns bakery who you had offered a spot in your palace’s kitchen, perhaps it was the school of children who you had told to visit the palace anytime they wished. As you walked through the doors of the grand hall, a familiar voice causes your thoughts to silence.

“Princess.”

Wonho is inches taller than you now, evidently, standing broad and square shouldered as he is adorned in iron, holding a helmet close to his chest. His muscles are apparent, body wide as he bends over to bow towards you. His face still holds the innocence that you had grown accustomed to when you were young, you do not notice that his eyes aren’t holding the same twinkling wonder that they once had.

“Wonho,” you gasp, freezing the moment you see him. He looks up at you from his bow, widening his eyes as he freezes as well, eyes taking you in - you had grown into a beautiful woman. He opens his mouth to say something, but you interrupt him by running towards him, engulfing him into a crushing hug, tumbling backwards onto the ground. “I thought you left forever.”

He holds you close, memorizing the feeling of your body against his own.

“I would never leave you, my Princess,” his tone his hushed. “I’ll be by your side. Always.”

It was one month later, on a cool autumn morning, when your maids rushed into your quarters with tears in their eyes and mournful words falling from their lips, when your father, the King, had passed on. Your heart was heavy in your chest as you rushed down the halls to your father’s quarters, the doors that were usually closed with apathy now open with staff with tearful eyes piling in and out of the room. You were unsure on how to feel; you were never close to your father, you’ve never called him a father in your entire life, yet the soul crushing weight that had settled on your shoulders at that very moment, the cold realization that the throne is now yours, that this kingdom is now under your ruling, causing a tear to spring up in your eye.

“Princess,” Wonho whispered in a hush tone later that night as you sob into his chest. The balcony of your quarters has always been your meeting place; the two of you loved to stargaze. His hand rubs circles on your back as you cough out wrecked weeps. “Princess, I’m so sorry.”

“I’m not ready, Wonho,” you gasp, clenching the fabric of his shirt into your fists. “I can’t rule over this kingdom yet, I’m not ready. I can’t be the queen yet. There’s too much pressure.”

He grows silent, pressing a kiss on your hair, where the coronation crown would be placed that following morning. “You can do it, I know you can,” Wonho whispers, pulling away from you, using his fingers to lift your chin up towards him, forcing you to look into his eyes. “You were made to be queen, princess. You’ve always proved, since you were young, that you would be a far better ruler than your father had been. You are these people’s queen.” The electricity in the air is apparent when you feel his breath against your lips. “You are my queen.”

That same night, you find yourself entangled in the sheets with Wonho. Moonlight slipping through your satin curtains as your skin meets each others, lips attached, never pulling away for breath. That night, he ceases in calling your princess, hushed sentences of praise, worship and love entangled around the title of queen; his queen.

It was one year of happiness, of pure unadulterated joy, with Wonho. Sneaky glances exchanged at each other as you sit in the grand hall, your subjects piling in to covet, or to offer gifts. Giggles of mischief, much like the ones that fell past your lips when the two of you were children, before pulling each other into closed crevices or empty quarters to fool around like young teenagers. He paid close attention to you, everytime he pulled your dress over the swell of your bottom, an action damning to the kingdom, before fucking you against any structure he could find. There was one time, when your maids had panicked that you were gone from your quarters, when he pulled you into a room filled with historical artifacts from past rulers, fucking you over a glass display case of jewels that dated back hundred years - but you could care less about sparkling mounds of topaz and emeralds when his cock hit you in just the right spot, over, and over, again.

You already had your mind set on making him your king, prepared to rule an entire kingdom with him, your lover, the only man you had ever had eyes for throughout your entire life. You could already imagine the mantle on his shoulders, as you bless him as a royal; imagine the feeling of contentment as you slide the ring onto his finger, as he does yours; envisioning your children, bounding towards him with their stubby little feet and toothless grins, calling him their father.

It is the morning after your last encounter with Wonho, a night filled with lewd words and gripping hands, when you find out that maids have uncovered your father’s secret will, hidden in his folders deep in his desk. You felt your entire life fall apart inside of you, your envisage of living the rest of your life on Wonho cracking and smashing into pieces, welling up with tears, falling onto the marble floor in nothing but your satin robes and sobbing into the empty room.

“I am Queen,” you had tried arguing against the court upon finding out what your father had written. “I am Queen, this land is under my rule. I refuse to follow the words of a man who did nothing for this kingdom, I refuse to follow the words of a man who has passed more than a year ago, I refuse to follow the words of a man who wouldn’t even allow me to call him my own father. I rule over you, my word should be taken as the end all be all.”

“It is law,” the judge’s roaring voice overpowered your own. “Your bloodline has been connected to the church for more than five centuries - your title holds no bearing against the rule that had been written down. Your father has said his word, and though he has passed, bless the King, you are to follow it no matter who you are.”

Your shaking body doesn’t cease in sobbing as you lift the torn up will that the maids have uncovered in your father’s old study.

“My Queen,” Wonho’s stepped into your room, hesitantly, worry laced in his voice as he watches you sob on the floor. “Please tell me what’s wrong.”

“Don’t call me that,” your voice is quiet. “I am no queen. How am I queen when I have no word in any of this, I am still just a chess piece, much like I was when I hadn’t been crowned. I am not your queen, Wonho. I am nobody’s queen.”

“M-” Wonho starts, but stops. “(Y/N), please tell me what’s wrong.”

You clench your teeth, not bearing to look him in the eye. Instead, you point towards your door.

“Please leave,” you tell him, voice wavering. “Please leave, and never come back.”

It was a chilly spring evening when the frigid gold slides itself onto your ring finger, a golden ring from a man whom you hardly even knew. He was the prince of the Kingdom that dabbled in combat, a war-stricken Kingdom, his father had struck a deal with your own to merge your kingdoms together when you came to the throne. His eyes were empty, just as yours, when the man lifts your veil and bores his eyes deep into yours. But even when he leans in to kiss you, frigid lips pressing against your own, you will yourself not to weep but tears still pool against your waterline. The church, and the entirety of the kingdom outside the sacred ground, erupts into cheers of celebration for their newfound king and queen.

You are only thankful that the tears that stream down your face could be easily mistaken for tears of joy.

Your subjects came to you to bear their wishes and congrats, kissing your hand and feeling your dress in desperate attempts to obtain luck - but you held nothing but pure anguish behind your joyful face. As the palace begins to clear out, you feel yourself breaking more and more as the seconds go by; you felt pitiful, both for yourself, and for the unknown man you now call your husband.

“Your majesty,” you hear, and if it weren’t for the familiarity of the voice, you would have thought it would be a stranger from his peculiar choice in addressing your title. It sounded odd when it fell from his lips, and that’s when you feel the tears welling against your waterline again; you were no longer his queen. His face had sunken in, the sparkle in his eyes that you had seen throughout your years have diminished, even the pink that rested on his plump lips has gone dull, but nevertheless, he bows. “Congratulations.”

You out stretch your hand, desperate for one more chance in contact, cupping the side of his face. Electricity appears in the air once more, much like the first time he had kissed you, but you bite back the urge to bring him to your lips - if you were to do so, you were to be punished by guillotine. So instead, you muster up a gentle smile, and for a second, his eyes captured the essence of wonder, the same look he had when you had first met him when he was a young boy, with a toothless grin. This is the last time you’ll ever have a glimpse of that wonder.

“Thank you,” you pause, steadying your wavering voice. “Royal knight.”

It is on that same chilly spring evening, when the moonlight glints against the wedding ring that adorned your hand, when you quietly sob into your wet pillow beside your unknowing husband, when you last see Wonho.

[heartau]

request: i've literally been listening to changkyun's "horizon" all week and it's really got me all up in my feels. do you think you'd be able to take some inspiration from the song for a fic?

thank u guys for 300 followers!!! <33 i’m in a really bad bout of writers block right now so i wrote this short lil thing to try and get out of it. hope u enjoy! also i didn’t know who you wanted me to write for so i just wrote for kyun!! 

warnings: infidelity, slight smut.

work title: horizon

—

I might have to call again. Never thinking about the other things, oh baby don’t waste it. I’ve been waiting all night long we can take it slow. Ain’t got mind, let me grab you more deeper.

“What are you doing here?” the question rolls off your tongue so easily despite the clear intention that he brings forth. You’re aware of the purpose of your question though; the denial burns deep in the ingrains of your abdomen, a feeling that has never gone away since he’d began showing up on your doorstep months ago. 

“I’ve been calling you all night,” his voice is hushed, a familiar emotion burning deep in his pupils, an emotion that you’re acclimated to extinguishing. He wets his lips for only a second before parting them again. “Are you the only one home?”

“Changkyun,” your voice falters, hand gripping the side of your door as your lips turn into a frown - the pain in your stomach grows harsher, licking at your heart. “We can’t just keep doing this, you know.”

“I can’t stop myself, I can’t let you go.” he whispers, taking a step into your home, his hands already finding their way to your waist, the feeling of your curves familiar to his palms. You breath shudders for only a moment, tingles running up your nerves at his touch. “And I know you can’t either, so please, I’ve been waiting for you all night.”

It kills you, how easily you are coaxed by his words, for you were certain that the same event wouldn’t take place that night, much like every other night, but you find yourself coming to only minutes later when your back comes in contact with your mattress, staring at your textured ceiling with a crestfallen gaze, your brain in torment and your heart beating wildly in your chest as you feel Changkyun’s wet lips roam your neck. 

When you first met Changkyun, you were assured that you would end up regretting it the moment you had found yourself at the tips of his fingers by the first night, but you would have never thought that you’d willingly continue the silent, obscene agreement between the both of you - you had morals that you doubtlessly followed, yet it all seemed to disintegrate into the hot air that would surround the both of your bodies. 

“What are you thinking about?” Changkyun mutters against your thighs as he slowly opens them. Your gaze remains on the ceiling.

“Does she know?” 

There’s a silent conversation between the both of you for the next few seconds, before you feel his lips pull away from the skin on the inside of your thigh. “She doesn’t. I’m sure she doesn’t.” a beat, and you feel his warm lips come into contact again, nipping at your flesh. “Does he?”

Your eyes flash towards your bedside table, your gaze becoming much more dismal at the sight of the smiling man, adorned in an expensive suit that he had rented for the day, with you between his warm arms, adorned in a wedding dress. You gulp when you feel his lips inching closer to the hem of your panties, willing yourself to tear your gaze away from your wedding picture, not willing to have your husband’s happy, smiling face grace your view, knowing full well you’re doing something that would tear the happiness out of his heart. 

“No.” 

“Good,” he whispers, slowly sliding your panties off of your frame. “Because I love what we have.”

And just like that, all your looming thoughts disintegrate into gasps that leave your throat at the sensation of Changkyun’s lips against your core, your desolate views quickly turning into stars behind the darkness of your eyes. And even though the slightest of your brain continues to shout at you through your actions, you can’t help but yearn for the feeling of him bringing you over the horizon once again.

[heartau]

nct johnny + act of revenge au?

work title: come back

As you hear the shrill mews of another woman leaking through the wooden door of the room you share with your beloved husband, you study the shoddy heels and clothes made of cheap fabric strewn all over the living room and hallway. It was offensive, you thought, the taste of sauvignon blanc fresh on your tongue as you swirl the clear wine in a glass, that your husband would much rather find a downgrade to fuck and leave dissatisfied, than to use his own wife that has already grown accustomed to his selfish ways. 

You sit comfortably on the leather love seat as the pad of your thumb slides against your phone screen, scrolling through each picture that you took of the two lovebirds, ensuring that both of their faces were clear in the shot. Johnny’s jaw slacked in pleasure, hands gripping at the hips of a woman that clearly wasn’t you. 

Not the comeback I was expecting, honestly :/ you typed without a second thought before hitting post. Your notifications quickly begin piling up with quotes and comments of both stupor and loathe, finding yourself smiling at the dissatisfaction from the general public. You hear Johnny’s usual sound when he releases, and the pathetic whimper of the disappointed woman, and you click your phone off as you wait for them to leave the room.

Your husband and a bare woman step out of your bedroom, and your smile turns into a cheshire grin. “Aw,” you mock them. “You aren’t gonna stay over? At least for one night?”

“(Y/N).” Johnny’s voice seems to be stuck in his throat, but you pay this no mind, finding the sight of your wine swirling in your glass much more interesting. “What are you doing here?”

“I live here, Johnny,” you let out a sigh, your grin never leaving your lips. “You must have forgotten that we share everything in this house. Including the bed you fucked this woman in.” 

Your eyes trail for your wine glass, to the woman, who continues to stand there in her naked glory, evidently alarmed by you. “Is there something I can help you with?” you question, and she wastes no time slipping on her tacky dress and grabbing her junky heels off the floor before sprinting out the door. 

“Are you mad?” Johnny gulps.

“I’m not mad, I’m very happy, actually,” you say, and you see him visibly relax. How repulsive. “I’m happy because I can finally have this house all to myself again.”

He stiffens once more, eyes practically bulging out his sockets. “W-What?” Johnny stammers. “But… (Y/N), I live here, we live here.”

“You should have remembered that when you stuck your feeble dick in another woman,” you say, setting your glass down on the coffee table. You stand up and head for your room, slipping your wedding ring off and letting it fall to the ground by Johnny’s feet. “Here, why don’t you use this to buy her a good set of heels and clothes that weren’t made for fast fashion.”

He turns around, pleading with his eyes. “(Y/N), please,” he begs. “I can explain.”

You click your phone on again, grin growing wider at the ascending numbers your tweet has gotten. “Alright,” you tell him, barely sparing him a glance. “You can explain it to thirty three thousand, eight hundred and forty two people. Personally, I don’t really give a shit.” 

And with that, you slam the door to your bedroom closed, ignoring the solicits for mercy in the form of sobs that leak through the wooden door.

request | mlist