୨ৎ Summary : Two people. One bar. One really, really bad night to be alone. Y/n just caught her fiancé of two years in bed with her best friend. Jungwon just found out his girlfriend of six years has been cheating for god knows how long. Neither of them planned on ending up in a hotel room with a stranger — they just both really, really didn't want to be alone that night. No names. No numbers. Just two broken people borrowing comfort from each other for one night, then going their separate ways like it never happened. Except a month later, y/n's staring at two pink lines on a bathroom floor, and there's only one person it could possibly be. She makes her choice fast, she's keeping the baby, and she's doing it alone. no ring, no husband, no one's permission required. So she books her first prenatal appointment at some random clinic near campus, ready to start this chapter solo like she planned—and her doctor walks in. It's him. Yang Jungwon.
୨ৎ Pairing : obgyn! Jungwon x college lecturer! reader
୨ৎ Wordcount : 6,5k
୨ৎ Warning : aged-up Jungwon (he's 28 here), stranger to.... (still figuring out), one night stand, unprotected sex, cheating (not Jungwon or y/n), unprotected sex (BIG NO NO, PLEASE WRAP YOUR WILLY), pregnancy.
PART II PARTIII
Tuesday was supposed to be ordinary.
The kind of day that disappeared as quickly as it arrived. You finished your morning lecture, replied to a few student emails, stopped by the grocery store on your way home because you'd promised to cook dinner. Nothing remarkable. Nothing that hinted your life was quietly approaching a fault line.
The apartment was supposed to be empty.
You remembered that detail clearly later. He'd told you that morning, half asleep, mumbling something about a meeting running until six. You had the whole afternoon to yourself, or so you'd thought, planning the pasta you'd make, the wine you'd open, the ordinary comfort of a Tuesday night at home.
You unlocked the front door as quietly as always, balancing a paper bag of groceries against your hip. Then you heard laughter. A woman's laugh, low and familiar, drifting down the hallway like something out of a memory you couldn't quite place. For one suspended heartbeat, your mind simply refused to process it
Then it did. Your best friend.
You took another step down the hallway. The bedroom door wasn't completely closed. It didn't need to be. Some truths don't ask to be witnessed completely. You already understood, before your conscious mind caught up, that whatever was happening in that apartment wasn't meant for your ears.
The quiet intimacy of two people who had forgotten the rest of the world existed. Neither of them heard it. Or maybe they did. You didn't stay long enough to find out. There were no questions. No tears. No dramatic confrontation worthy of a movie scene. Because what explanation could possibly undo what you'd already seen?. You turned around before they could notice you. The front door clicked shut behind you with barely a sound.
Two years of engagement, gone.
Two years of wedding plans scattered across your dining table. Two years of apartment hunting, shared grocery lists, lazy Sunday mornings, and conversations about children you thought you'd have someday.
You don’t remember the walk to your car. You remember sitting behind the steering wheel with the keys in your hand and staring blankly at the windshield as the city morphed into streaks of bright light. It was just a blur of street lamps, head lights, and everything moving around you while your world was standing still. For a brief moment, you noticed that your hands weren’t shaking. You thought that was strange too. The way that your body had just suddenly gone still and cold and you were just as motionless as your body, like a state of shock had frozen you just outside of the situation.
You couldn’t say how long it was, but what you knew was that you suddenly found yourself standing in front of your closet. Your eyes were drawn to what was at the very back and hidden from view, your black dress. You hadn’t seen it for years.
"It's a little too much," he'd once said with an easy laugh.
"Too short."
"Too noticeable."
You remembered smiling then, folding the dress away because it hadn't seemed important enough to argue about.
You pulled it from the closet and let it fall over your body, the fabric cool and unfamiliar against your skin, hugging you in ways you'd forgotten you were allowed to be seen. It felt like putting on a stranger. Someone who wasn't trying to be agreeable anymore. Someone who had nothing left to protect and nothing left to lose. You left the engagement ring where it was.
After leaving your phone in your purse, you grabbed your keys for the second time and stepped into the dark. You had no idea where you were headed but felt a certainty in your chest about leaving the life you had. You felt like you could not spend one more moment inside the life that no longer felt like it belonged to you.
.
.
.
Tuesday hadn't given him any warning either.
Jungwon's shift had ended late. A delivery that ran longer than expected, hours stretched thin by complications that weren't anyone's fault, just the unpredictable nature of the job. By the time he clocked out, his scrubs still smelled faintly of antiseptic, his feet aching in a way that had become so routine he barely registered it anymore. All he wanted was his own bed, maybe food he didn't have to think about.
He let himself into her apartment with the key she'd given him two years ago, the metal worn smooth from years in his pocket, attached to a keychain shaped like a tiny stethoscope. A joke gift from early in their relationship, something she'd laughed about giving him, something he'd kept clipped to his keys ever since without really thinking about why.
The shower was running. Her tablet was face up on the kitchen counter, screen still lit from a notification. He hadn't meant to look. He told himself that for weeks afterward, though it stopped mattering fairly quickly whether he'd meant to or not.
A name he recognized. A string of messages that didn't need much context. Photos that answered questions he hadn't known to ask. He stood there in his work clothes, badge still clipped to his coat pocket, and read enough to understand that ‘residency's exhausting’ had been covering for something else entirely for months, maybe longer.
He didn't move at all, actually, just stood there in the kitchen with his hands loose at his sides, feeling something inside his chest go very still and cold. He didn't throw the tablet.
She stepped out of the bathroom in a towel, damp hair pushed back, and stopped short in the doorway when she saw Jungwon standing there. Badge still clipped to his coat pocket, tablet lying face up on the counter exactly where she'd left it. Something in his stillness told her immediately that the evening wasn't going to go the way she'd planned.
"Jungwon?" Her voice came out careful, testing. "You're back early."
He didn't answer right away. He just looked at her, and she followed his gaze to the tablet, and whatever color was left in her face drained out of it in an instant.
"How long," he said. Not a question. A statement in the shape of a question.
"I—" She pulled the towel tighter around herself, a reflexive gesture, like modesty mattered now, of all moments. "Jungwon, it's not—"
"Don't." His voice remained quiet and level, the same tone he used when he had to tell a patient's family something they didn't want to hear. "Don't tell me it's not what it looks like. I read enough."
Her mouth opened, then closed. For a long moment, the only sound in the apartment was water still dripping somewhere in the bathroom behind her.
"How long," he said again.
She sat down slowly on the arm of the couch, like her legs had stopped being reliable. "Since spring," she said quietly. "Maybe a little before that."
"Spring." He turned the word over like he was checking it for a fracture. "Daeun, that's eight months."
"I didn't plan for it to happen." Her voice cracked slightly, and he almost hated how convincing it sounded, how rehearsed and unrehearsed all at once. "We were just–we started as friends, and then residency got so heavy, and you were always working, and he was just there, and I don't know, it just…"
"I was working," he repeated flatly. "Right. Because I have a job that saves lives, and that's the excuse."
"That's not what I meant."
"Then what did you mean?" His voice finally rose. "Because from where I'm standing, you've had eight months to tell me. Eight months of me asking if you were okay, if something was wrong, and you telling me it was just residency. Eight months of me believing you."
She didn't answer that. There wasn't an answer that would have helped her.
"Six years," he said, quieter now, almost to himself. "Six years, and I find out like this. Off a notification on your tablet."
"I was going to tell you." Her eyes were wet now, genuinely, and some old, tired part of him almost felt sorry for her, which made him angrier at himself than at her. "I've been trying to figure out how, for weeks, I swear—"
"Don't," he said again, softer this time, because he didn't have the energy left to argue about her intentions. "It doesn't matter anymore. You could've told me in June. You could've told me in September. You didn't." He stopped, pressed the heel of his hand briefly against his eyes, then dropped it. "That's the part that matters."
"Jungwon…"
"I have to go." He was already reaching for his coat.
"Can we at least talk about this properly? Please. Don't just walk out,"
He paused at the door, hand on the frame, and looked back at her. Tear streaked, still somehow looking for a version of this conversation that ended somewhere softer than where it actually was.
"There isn't a version of this where I stay, and we talk it through.”
"So that's it?" Her voice cracked properly now. "Six years, and you're just leaving? No fighting for it?"
He almost laughed, though nothing about it felt funny. "You didn't fight for it either," he said quietly. "Not for eight months."
He didn't wait for her response. The door closed behind him just shut, quiet and final, the same way the whole relationship seemed to be ending: without the drama it probably deserved, just a soft, ordinary sound marking something enormous coming apart.
He drove without any destination in mind, the radio off, the city sliding past in a blur of red lights, he stopped out of habit rather than attention. Six years. He kept circling back to the number like it might rearrange itself into something smaller, something easier to hold.
He ended up parking outside a bar he'd never been to. Not his usual place near the hospital, where someone always seemed to know his face even without the coat. Tonight, he didn't want to be recognized. He didn't want to be Dr. Yang, careful and composed, the boy faced physician everyone had to double take before trusting. He just wanted to sit somewhere dark and stop being anyone in particular for a while.
He loosened his tie in the car before he went in. Small, useless gesture. It didn't make him feel any less, as something had just been quietly taken from him.
.
.
.
The bar was louder than you expected for a Tuesday, but you didn't care. Noise was better than silence. Silence gave you room to think, and thinking was the last thing you wanted tonight.
By the time the bartender slid your fourth glass across the counter, the sharp edges of the evening had softened. The ache in your chest hadn't disappeared; it had simply become distant, like hearing thunder several miles away. You shifted on the barstool, crossing one leg over the other. The black dress rode a little higher against your thigh, and for the first time in years, you didn't bother tugging it back down.
He would've hated that. The thought came uninvited. You emptied the rest of your drink before it could linger.
That's when he sat down beside you. Close enough that you noticed before you even looked. He was handsome. That was your first thought. Your second was that he looked far too young to be sitting alone in a place like this. His white dress shirt was neatly pressed except for the loosened tie hanging around his neck, as though he'd started the evening trying to hold himself together and abandoned the effort somewhere along the way. His sleeves were rolled to his forearms, exposing tired hands wrapped loosely around a glass he barely touched.
His gaze remained fixed on the amber liquid, unfocused, like he expected answers to settle at the bottom if he waited long enough. There was something strangely familiar about the way sadness sat on him. You almost didn't say anything. Almost.
You looked away. It wasn't your business. You weren't here to notice strangers. You were here to forget yourself. A minute passed, or maybe two. The bartender asked if either of you wanted another round. Neither of you answered. Without thinking, you let out a quiet breath.
"You look like you got dumped."
The words escaped before you could decide whether to keep them. Your voice came out flatter than you'd intended, stripped of humor, carrying more exhaustion than wit.
He turned toward you. Not offended, just surprised. For a heartbeat, neither of you spoke. His eyes searched your face, lingering there with quiet curiosity, as though he couldn't decide if you were teasing him or speaking from experience. Then his gaze drifted lower to the diamond still resting on your left hand. A ring that caught the warm bar lights just enough to betray you. One corner of his mouth lifted into something that wasn't quite a smile.
"You still have your ring on," he said softly.
You followed his gaze, staring at the diamond as though you'd forgotten it was there. For a long moment, you simply twisted it around your finger.
"I forgot to take it off."
It wasn't entirely true. You hadn't forgotten. You just hadn't found the courage. His eyes met yours again.
"You look like you got dumped too."
A laugh escaped you before you could stop it.
"I did."
He gave a slow nod.
"So did I."
The words settled between you with the quiet understanding that only strangers could sometimes share. Neither of you asked for details or explanations. For tonight, it was enough to know that the person sitting beside you understood exactly what heartbreak looked like.
He glanced at your empty glass. "Another?"
You shook your head. "I think I've had enough of pretending a drink is going to fix anything."
Something about that made him almost smile, the first real one you'd seen from him all night, small and tired but genuine. "Yeah,me too."
The bartender came by again, and this time Jungwon was the one who waved him off, reaching instead for his wallet. You didn't argue when he paid for both of you. Some nights, you didn't have the energy left to insist on independence.
Outside, the air was cooler than you expected, sharp enough to cut through the haze just slightly. Neither of you moved toward a taxi right away. You just stood there for a moment under the bar's dim sign, the city noise a distant hum around you, both of you clearly aware that the night hadn't decided yet what it wanted to become.
"I don't usually do this," you said, not quite looking at him.
"Do what?"
"Any of this. Bars. Strangers. Standing outside at midnight, not knowing what I'm doing."
"Neither do I," he said. Then, after a pause, quieter, "I don't want to go home yet, though."
You understood exactly what he meant, because you felt the same thing sitting heavy in your chest. Home wasn't home anymore. Home was an apartment with echoes you couldn't bear to hear. Home meant seeing the engagement ring still circling your finger. Home meant admitting that tomorrow would arrive whether you wanted it to or not. For the first time that evening, you really looked at him.
He couldn't have been much younger than thirty, though his face carried an unmistakable softness that made him seem younger than he probably was. His tie still hung loose around his neck, his hair slightly disheveled, exhaustion written plainly across features that were almost unfairly handsome.
He looked as though someone had reached into his life that morning and quietly removed the future he'd expected. That may be why he looked familiar.
"There's a hotel two blocks from here," you said.
He didn't ask if you were sure. He just nodded, like he'd been waiting for someone to say it first.
Neither of you filled the silence with questions about names, jobs, or the people who had broken your hearts. Some things felt strangely unimportant. Inside the elevator, your shoulders brushed for the first time. Neither of you moved away.
The door had barely clicked shut before the tension that had been simmering between you in the elevator boiled over. There was no slow buildup, no romantic preamble; there was only a desperate, starving need to feel something other than the hollow ache in your chests.
Jungwon turned to you, his face flushed from the alcohol and the heat of the moment. He looked so young, almost innocent, but the look in his eyes was raw and hungry. He reached out, his hand cupping the back of your neck and pulling you into a kiss that tasted of whiskey and grief. It was a collision, teeth clashing, breaths hitching as you both clung to each other like survivors of a shipwreck.
You groaned into his mouth, your hands sliding up his chest to grip the fabric of his shirt, pulling him closer until there wasn't a sliver of air between your bodies. He backed you up against the door, the thud of your back hitting the wood echoing in the quiet room. His tongue pushed past your lips, claiming your mouth with an urgency that made your toes curl.
"Please," you whispered against his lips, though you weren't even sure what you were asking for.
He didn't answer with words. His hands slid down to your hips, lifting you effortlessly. You wrapped your legs around his waist, your skirt riding up to your hips as he carried you toward the bed. He dropped you onto the white linens, his body following immediately, pinning you down with a weight that felt grounding and necessary.
Jungwon’s hands were frantic, stripping away the barriers of clothing. He pulled your dress over your head and tossed it aside, his eyes scanning your naked body with a mixture of awe and desperation. When he stripped off his own clothes, you saw the lean, toned muscles of a man who didn't look his age, his cock already hard and pulsing, straining against the air.
He didn't waste time. He moved between your thighs, his fingers sliding down to find your pussy. You were already soaking, the friction of the night and the emotional turmoil making you ache for him. He slid two fingers inside you, stretching you open, while his thumb worked your clit in a rhythmic, punishing pace. You arched your back, a loud moan escaping you as you neared the edge.
"Look at me," he murmured.
You opened your eyes to see him watching you, his expression a mask of longing. He positioned the head of his cock at your entrance, pausing for a heartbeat before thrusting deep inside you in one heavy, seamless motion.
You gasped, your nails digging into his shoulders as he filled you completely. The sensation was overwhelming. The stretch, the heat, the sudden fullness that silenced the noise in your head. He began to move, his thrusts deep and rhythmic, driving into you with a primal intensity. Each hit of his pelvis against your ass sounded like a wet slap in the quiet room.
"Fuck," he groaned, burying his face in the crook of your neck, his breath hot against your skin. "You feel so good… shit, so tight…"
You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him down for another bruising kiss as he picked up the pace. He wasn't being gentle; he was fucking you with a desperation that mirrored your own, as if by driving himself into you, he could push out the memory of the woman who had betrayed him. You met every thrust, tilting your pelvis up to take him deeper, wanting to feel every inch of him.
The friction built, a coil of tension tightening in your lower belly. Jungwon’s movements became shorter, faster, his breath coming in ragged gasps. He shifted his grip, grabbing your thighs and pinning them back toward your chest to open you up even more. The angle allowed him to hit your cervix with every plunge, sending sparks of pleasure shooting through your spine.
"I'm close—" he choked out, his muscles straining.
You felt your own climax rushing toward you, a tidal wave of release. You gripped his biceps, your voice breaking into a series of high-pitched whimpers. As you peaked, your pussy walls clamping tight around him in rhythmic spasms, Jungwon let out a low, guttural growl. He gave one final, deep thrust, burying himself to the hilt, and shuddered violently as he came.
You felt the hot, thick jets of his cum pumping deep inside you, filling your womb with a warmth that felt almost spiritual in its intensity. He stayed buried inside you for a long time, his forehead resting against yours, both of you panting, your hearts beating in a synchronized, frantic rhythm.
As the adrenaline faded, the silence returned, but it was different now. The loneliness was still there, but it had been blunted. Jungwon slowly withdrew, the wet sound of his cock leaving your body echoing in the room. He didn't pull away completely; he rolled onto his side and pulled you into his arms, tucking your head under his chin.
Neither of you spoke. There were no names exchanged, no promises of a second meeting. You just lay there in the dim light of the hotel room, two broken strangers sharing a bed, clinging to the fleeting comfort of a night that neither of you would ever forget.
.
.
.
A month passed by.
Long enough for the memory of that night to start to blur at the edges. Sometimes you thought you invented some of it.
You remembered the warmth of whiskey better than you remembered his face. His tie, loosened. How he’d just listened, without asking questions. A pair of tired eyes that had looked at you as if they knew something that nobody else knew.
All else had blurred, melting into the sort of memory that belonged to another version of you. You never came back to the bar. If he did, you wouldn't know it. And if he hadn’t, you wouldn’t have known that either. That was maybe how it was always supposed to be. Life went on, as indifferent as ever.
Life had moved on, in its own stubborn manner. You got out of the apartment. You’d gone and blocked your ex-fiancée’s number. You weren't going to speak to your ex-bestfriend, and you hadn't. It was a mercy in itself. Your students didn't know that anything was different. They looked at you like you were just their lecturer. Untroubled. Unbreakable.
You could almost pretend your life hadn’t fallen apart. For three hours at a time. That was enough. Until it wasn’t. It began on a Thursday. Not with nausea or vertigo. Only a date.
You were standing in your kitchen, waiting on the coffee machine to finish brewing, when the thought came unbidden. Your monthly. Your brow wrinkled. You counted backwards, almost absentmindedly. Then you counted again. The answer was the same. It's late.
This was not normal.
Your body was always predictable, almost stubbornly so. Even in college, when your roommates complained about irregular cycles and surprise cramps, yours came like clockwork, and you didn’t bother tracking it anymore. You put your coffee mug down, untouched.
"It's the stress," you whispered to the empty apartment. It must have been.
It made sense, didn't it? The breakup, the move, months of your nervous system running on fumes. Bodies did strange things under pressure. You'd read that somewhere, or maybe you just wanted to have read it somewhere.
You gave it a few more days. Then a week. The coffee you'd started craving black suddenly turned your stomach. Smells you'd never noticed before. The neighbor's cooking, the detergent in your own laundry, sent you running for air that didn't feel like it was choking you.
One day a co-worker came into your office with take out. The smell alone would have you running for the nearest bathroom. You said it was the flu. Food poisoning. Anything. All of it. Except for that one possibility that’s silently trailing you from room to room.
By the time you found yourself standing in the pharmacy aisle staring at a shelf of boxes you never had reason to buy before, some quiet part of you, dreading, already knew.
You stood in front of the shelf longer than you needed to. So many different brands. Different promises. Different prices. As though any of them could deliver a different answer. You bought two.
As soon as you were home, you didn't wait long to do. Sat on the side of the bathtub, phone timer ticking away before you began to look at your hands and realise they weren't even yours.
Two lines. Then two more.
You sat there for a long time after that, the tile cold beneath you, your mind doing the math it didn't want to do. The date, the timeline, the one night that had blurred into something you'd tried hard to forget. There was only one night it could have been.
Your heartbeat stumbled.
"No..."
The word escaped before you realized you'd spoken aloud.
You remained there for what felt like hours, staring at the tests resting in your hands as though they belonged to someone else.
There was only one person. One night. One stranger, with tired eyes and a loosened tie and a sadness that had looked so much like your own it hadn't frightened you. You didn't even remember his name. You didn't know his address. What was his work. If you'd ever see him again. You pressed the heels of your hands against your eyes. A man who existed in your memory as nothing more than tired eyes and a loosened tie, and you look like you got dumped, too.
You didn't know how to find him even if you'd wanted to.
A baby.
The words refused to settle. They hovered somewhere just beyond understanding, too large to fit into the quiet routine you'd been stitching back together over the last month. You were thirty two. Recently single. Still learning how to sleep in an apartment that echoed because there was no one else in it.
You'd spent years building a career you loved, teaching future educators how to nurture children with patience, consistency, and kindness. Ironically, you'd never decided whether motherhood belonged in your own future. You always assumed there would be time to figure it out.
You thought you had more time to decide that. You thought, if it ever happened, it would happen with someone you trusted, someone who'd chosen it with you, not a stranger from a bar whose last name you didn't even know.
You thought about how easy it would be to end it before anyone had to know it happened at all. No one would ask questions. No one would even know there was something to ask about. You could keep moving forward exactly the way you'd planned, pick your life back up, untangled, unremarkable, the way it was supposed to look after a breakup like this. Clean. Simple.
You sat with that thought for a while, testing its weight, waiting to feel relief.
It didn't come.
Instead, you found yourself thinking about your own mother, who used to tell you that she'd never once regretted having you. Even though your father had left before you turned three. Hardest thing I ever did alone, she'd said once, and still the only decision I never doubted. You'd never fully understood what she meant by that until this exact moment, sitting on a bathroom floor with a truth in your hands you hadn't asked for.
You thought about the years you'd spent in classrooms full of small kids who trusted easily, loved easily, hadn't yet learned that people could hollow you out from the inside without warning. You'd built a career around believing children deserved good beginnings. You wondered, cruelly, whether you were about to fail that belief the moment it became personal.
Then you thought about the alternative. The quiet, empty version of your future you'd have to live with either way. A yes, you might regret, or a no, you were fairly sure you would.
You pressed a hand flat against your stomach, feeling nothing yet, nothing you could point to, and still somehow feeling everything.
A slow breath escaped you.
"I don't need him."
The words were barely louder than a whisper. You said them again.
"I don't."
You weren't trying to convince yourself. You already knew they were true. You didn't need a husband. You didn't need a wedding. You didn't need promises made by someone else to make this decision for you. If this child entered the world, it would be because you chose them. Not because of guilt.
You knew exactly what waited beyond this bathroom door. Questions, whispers and mostly it would be judgment. Forms with blank spaces labeled Father. A future that would be more difficult than the one you'd imagined for yourself. None of that disappeared simply because you'd made a decision. But neither did your resolve.
For the first time since walking into that apartment on Tuesday afternoon, you realized your future no longer felt defined by something that had been taken from you. It was being shaped by something you had chosen. You slowly pushed yourself to your feet and looked at your reflection in the mirror. You looked exhausted. Your eyes were swollen, your hair a mess, your expression still carrying traces of the woman who'd had her heart broken.
But beneath all of that, there was something new. Resolve. You rested your hand over your stomach once more.
"Okay," you whispered to the tiny life only you knew existed.
A faint smile tugged at your lips despite everything.
"It's you and me now."
The words sounded impossibly small in the quiet apartment. Yet, somehow, they were enough.
.
.
.
The dream came to him three nights in a row. Always the same, dissolving the moment he woke, leaving only fragments behind the way real dreams rarely do.
In it, he stood in a garden he didn't recognize, thick with fruit trees heavy enough that their branches bent low toward the ground. A woman he couldn't see clearly handed him a single peach, round and impossibly ripe, still warm like it had just been pulled from sunlight rather than a branch.
He always woke up right after that. Nothing more happened. It didn't need to.
He didn't think much of it, not really. After all, dreams rarely made sense, and he'd learned a long time ago not to chase meaning where there probably wasn't any. Still, on the fourth morning, he found himself mentioning it to Sunoo over coffee in the hospital break room, mostly out of the strange, itching need to say it out loud to someone.
"I keep having this dream," he said, staring into his cup. "Same one, a few nights now. There's a garden, and someone hands me a peach. That's it. That's the whole dream."
Sunoo lowered his own cup slowly, staring at him with an expression somewhere between disbelief and barely contained excitement. "A peach?"
"Yeah."
"Ripe? Whole? Someone handed it to you directly?"
Jungwon blinked at him. "Yes? Why does that matter?"
Sunoo set his coffee down entirely now, leaning forward like Jungwon had just handed him the best gossip of the year. "Do you seriously not know what that is?"
"It's a dream about fruit?"
Honestly, Sunoo never wanted to face palmed himself, but hearing the dumb answer Jungwon gave him got him a reason to.
"It's a taemong." When Jungwon only stared blankly back at him, Sunoo let out a groan of disbelief. "A conception dream. My grandmother used to talk about these constantly. Fruit, animals, sometimes fire or water, show up in a dream right before someone in the family finds out they're having a baby. Whole ripe fruit like that, handed directly to you? That's about as classic as it gets."
Jungwon huffed, unimpressed, turning his cup slowly between his hands. "You can't be serious."
"I'm completely serious. It's not just some old wives' thing. Half the moms I know still swear by it. My cousin dreamed about catching a fish barehanded, and two weeks later, she found out she was pregnant. My aunt dreamed about a dragon curling around her arm and had twins."
"That's confirmation bias," Jungwon said flatly. "People remember the dreams that match and forget the ones that don't."
"Sure, sure, very scientific of you, Dr. Yang." Sunoo waved a hand, entirely unbothered by the skepticism. "But you're not the one who usually has these dreams, that's the funny part. It's not always the mother. Sometimes it's the father, or a grandparent, sometimes even a close friend if the dream's strong enough. But if it's the father dreaming it..." He trailed off, grinning now, clearly enjoying himself far too much. "That usually means it's already happened. The universe is just running a little behind on paperwork."
Jungwon rolled his eyes, though something in his chest had gone strangely tight at the words, an unease he couldn't quite explain rationally. "I don't believe in that stuff."
"You don't have to believe in it for it to be true," Sunoo said, entirely too pleased with himself. "That's kind of the whole point of a folktale, isn’t it?"
Jungwon didn't have a response for that. He just sat there, turning his coffee cup slowly in his hands, telling himself it was nothing. Probably just stress, exhaustion, and an overactive mind conjuring strange images after too many back to back shifts. He didn't have a girlfriend anymore. There was no one in his life the dream could reasonably be about.
He didn't let himself finish that thought all the way through.
"It's nothing," he said again, mostly to convince himself. "Just a weird dream."
Sunoo shrugged, tossing his empty cup toward the trash with practiced ease, clearly unconvinced but willing to let it go. "Sure. Just a weird dream."
Jungwon didn't think much more of it after that. Not consciously, anyway. But the image stayed with him regardless, lingering somewhere quiet at the edges of his following days. A garden, a peach, and a stranger's hands offering him something he hadn't known, yet, that he was already holding.
.
.
.
The clinic wasn't one you'd been to before.
A coworker had recommended it months ago, so excited about the obstetrics department that you'd written the name down without a second thought. It was near campus, near enough to squeeze in an appointment between lectures without sacrificing half your day to traffic.
You wish. That was it. Comfort. Distance from your former life. A doctor who didn’t know your story. Somebody who would see one more first time patient. That's all.
You sat, one leg bouncing under your chair, fingertips tracing the edge of the bracelet wrapped loosely about your wrist. You'd practiced the appointment on the drive over. If they asked about the father, you would tell them as you have been rehearsing it in your mind.
We're not together.
If they pressed further, then—
I'd rather not discuss it.
Simple.
"Y/L/N?"
A nurse called your name, and you followed her down a hallway that smelled like antiseptic and lavender hand soap, into a small exam room with a poster of a fetal development chart on the wall that you deliberately didn't look at too long.
"Dr. Yang will be with you in just a moment," the nurse said, and left you there with your paper gown and your racing thoughts.
You didn't think anything of the name. Yang wasn't uncommon. You sat on the edge of the exam table, hands folded in your lap, running through the questions you wanted to ask — due dates, next steps, whether the exhaustion you'd been feeling was normal or something to worry about.
Then the door opened.
"Good afternoon, I'm Dr. Yang Jung—"
The sentence didn't finish. It just stopped, cut clean in half, the way a record scratches when the needle's yanked away too fast.
You looked up. And your whole body went cold.
He remained frozen in the doorway, one hand still curled around the handle like he'd forgotten how to let go of it. The patient chart in his other hand slipped slightly in his grip, not enough to fall, just enough that you noticed his fingers had momentarily stopped remembering their one job. Recognition moved across his face almost instantly, undisguised, unrehearsed, nothing like the practiced composure a doctor was supposed to walk into a room with.
The overhead lights were full on him now. Clinical, unfriendly, not like the dim gold haze of that bar a month ago. No booze to take the edge off. No shadows to hide the details And you couldn’t miss him. Same face. Same eyes that witnessed you break against a hotel room door. Quiet and searching, in a way that had seemed to him that night the only honest thing left in the world. Except the face was on a man in a white coat. A stethoscope draped around his neck. His name stitched in careful navy thread over his heart.
Yang Jungwon.
Neither of you said anything. The seconds stretched, thin and unbearable, the fluorescent hum of the room suddenly deafening in the silence. As if hoping he was mistaken. He wasn't.
"...You?"
It barely qualified as a word. More breath than voice. Your mouth had gone completely dry. The sentence never got a chance to finish. Neither of you needed it to.
You weren't doing much better. Your hands had grown cold, and sat in your lap, fingers pressed together hard enough to leave imprints. The paper gown crackled a little with each too-quick breath. You’d spent a month talking yourself into believing that night belonged to some other you, reckless and grieving and gone by morning. And here he was, a white coat, a stethoscope around his neck, his name stitched over his heart, undeniably real, undeniably the same man.
Neither of you said anything.
His gaze dropped. Not to the chart. To your left hand. The engagement ring was gone. Then, almost involuntarily, his eyes moved lower. To the file tucked beneath his arm. He looked at your name. Gestational age. Estimated conception date. The room became impossibly quiet. His jaw tightened. Not because he was calculating. Because he already had. He didn't need the dates. He remembered the night. The chart simply confirmed what he already knew.
you were used to matchmaking, after all you were the reason your sister found her boyfriend but truthfully you didn't think much about love for yourself, not until you found yourself feeling more than you should for the local rich boy.
pairing: roommate!jungwon 𝓍 roommate!femreader word count: 22.2K — one-shot ★⋆ content: fluff ⋆ angst ⋆ eventual smut soulmate au, kinda love at first sight, heavily based on xo kitty (but mature), loverboy!jungwon, matchmaker!reader, you don't have to have watched to read this!. SLOW BURN, a whole lot of yearning, jealousy, denial of feelings, introvert reader, refs to aot, refs to beautiful boy, characters from xo kitty, feat bsf!jake & enhypen!
★ | LISTEN ALONG! | PLAYLIST | LIBRARY
⚠︎ : alcohol, nightmares, cheating? (pls js wait) , toxic themes, at some point during this you're going to dislike jungwon but PLEASE let him land. jw loses his mind slightly.. making out, dry humping, spit play (ish), kinda mean!dom!won, fingering, nipple play, hair pulling, shower sex, oral (f receiving), unprotected sex, creampie.
— dreams are a form of communication for soulmates—a door into a life that could be. at the first meeting with their soulmate some become fortunate enough to develop dreams of them, it could be of anything, they could even be a background character, it'd be easy to mistake them for usual dreams but only few get blessed—cursed with these dreams.
being a match maker wasn't something you sought out, if anything it sought you out after all you didn't know sending out your sisters letters would land her, her soulmate. your sister and her boyfriend had gone through their fair share of tests but made it out each time, not unscathed but they made it out.
their relationship made it abundantly clear they chose each other every time—without fail and their determination to better their relationship was something you deeply admired, even being something you would strive for.
however you didn't bother yourself with something as trivial as boys, or anything of the sort. who needed love when you were always accidentally (and sometimes intentionally) matching people up.
this was a constant, even when you transferred to korea's international university of seoul (also known as kiss) into a dorm with your best friend jake who had graciously asked the board to let you room with him and his friend.
you melted into your desk chair sighing out in relief, decorating your new room had taken more out of you then you'd originally bargained, but at last the room was homey—comfortable and exactly how you liked it with the smell of your vanilla candle burning. you told jake you'd meet him at the welcome party, which really you said to have time to wind down before being overwhelmed with new people.
truthfully you were a little nervous to meet jake's roommate, mainly because you knew nothing about him—not even being able to point him out in one of jake's posts if asked.
you smoothed over the dress you picked out after a long internal debate, you paired it with your favourite necklace and a handbag. the mirror stared back at you whispering spells of confidence through you—you peeled your eyes away from the mirror with a satisfied hum.
before you could overthink going to the party any further you put on your favourite shoes and scrambled out the dorm with a little copy of a map of campus.
the air was light, a little cold but refreshing—this was about the time you regretted not bringing something to cover your arms.
thankfully for your goosebump ridden arms the hall wasn't far at all, you eyed the coloured sigh above the entry way "WELCOME PARTY!" feeling a little unease settle in your stomach.
the sound of laughter and music boomed through your body as you stepped through the room, on a plus you didn't have to graze against anyone to get through or else you would've turned around by now, especially with no alcohol in your system.
as if reading your mind a table packed with refreshments almost materialised in front of your eyes, it peeked through the swarm of people and a familiar brown fluffy haired man stood as he looked over the options.
[ NOW PLAYING > CON LA BRISA ]
a mischievous smile graced your lips as you placed a firm hand on his shoulder, making the taller boy stiffen with a subtle rise of his shoulders, he turned his head—eyebrows raised until they settled on you a familiar adoring boyish smile taking over his features.
"y/n!!" jake gasped pulling you into a hug "jake!" you returned against his shoulder, "you look amazing y/n!" he spoke over the music, you laughed complimenting his own outfit before you caught him up on the details of your journey, not noticing a certain blonde watching the exchange.
jungwon raised an eyebrow a smirk playing on his lips watching his friend talk to a girl he couldn't quite see behind him, he walked over as you got distracted with someone asking you about your dress, "i didn't know you had a girlfriend" he joked hush against his ear, eyes drifting over the back of your head, jake shook his head shooting him a eyeroll.
he snaked an arm around your shoulder as you finished your exchange pulling you so your shoulder bumped his, "this is our new roommate y/n" he beamed to jungwon.
your eyes fell him, his fell on you. for a split second you felt a tightness in your eyes—like they wanted to cry for you, like someone had wiped your memories of someone dear to you but your body still knew who he was—he felt so achingly familiar.
with your eyes full of wonder boring into each other you spoke together.
"have we met?".
you watched his lips curl, your own doing the same with no protest, his eyebrows furrowed looking over you as if he was trying to figure you out right there, or try to understand why his heart was beating faster, louder in his ears.
he looked like someone your eyes could fall to easily as your mind wandered into different realms, someone your eyes could find peace in as you thought of places you couldn't recall if asked.
the type of man you'd see on the front of a magazine wearing various designer pieces. only here he was sporting a black jacket with a white undershirt and grey baggy cargos. he knew how to dress, perfectly at that.
he didn't know what he expected when jake had asked him if you could move into their dorms, he just knows he did not expect you. not you with your eyes or your face that would leave people wondering who you were.
he smiled soft and polite "nice to meet you, i'm jungwon", you returned the smile, tilting your head "you too, i'm y/n".
he automatically repeated your name in his head over and over as if he was trying to ingrain your words into the corners of his mind—his brain short circuited when he realised what it was doing. you however didn't see any of this, just a stiffer smile than before and a little nod.
jake looked between the two of you trying to figure out why such a small exchange felt like it had an underlying secret under it. he grabbed a cup for each of you with some liquid sloshing around and pulled it around your shoulders in front of you.
you thanked him with a grin taking a long sip of the mystery substance, the taste of cherry and a liqueur you couldn't name sliding down your throat with a burn, you scrunched your nose giving your friend a nod of approval, your eyes flicked over to the pretty blonde watching his own reaction.
he also scrunched his nose in something between disgust and approval, approval not for the taste but for the alcohol. you all laughed together in uncertain familiarity, warmth seeped through your body, a comforting feeling—a hope for this feeling to continue.
after some time wandering around the room catching up with jake you caught the sight of a well dressed lady your age walking your way, "hii killer dress!, i'm yuri!" she spoke enthusiastically with an american accent eyeing you up and down.
"hi! you too, i'm y/n" you replied as she beamed proceeding to ask you the details of the dress, the discussion quickly switching to uni life "my mom is a professor here" she explained with a point towards the centre of the room towards a tall woman laughing comfortably into a taller man.
after a lot of getting to know your new friend and finding out she had mutual friends with yours, your social battery felt worn out and old wanting nothing more than to teleport home into comfy clothes and a cup of tea heating your palms, you bid your goodbyes to yuri and turned to let jake know you were going to turn in for the night. "we were just about to ask you if you wanted to go home" he replied as his eyes darted around looking for his friend around the hall.
you spotted him first next to the door with a tall black haired boy you'd later know as park sunghoon.
you nudged your friend and dragged your eyes back to where jungwon stood with a pointed look, he gave you a appreciative nod and motioned you to follow him through the wave of people who seemed to spawn in as you were leaving, you for one were thankful everyone came later.
"yo jungwon you coming?" jake asked as he dapped up the mystery man, "yeah" he replied eyes darting between you, the taller mans eyes followed jungwon's landing on you with a charming smile.
"hi, i'm sunghoon" he spoke clearly, you mimicked his smile feeling their eyes taking you in.
"hey, i'm y/n" you returned, he sent jake a look you had seen between friends many times, the slight eyebrow raise, the flick at the corner of his lips. jake raised an eyebrow as if to say don't even think about it.
jungwon unintentionally pulled you out of your thoughts with a cough, "alright we should get going" he spoke angling himself towards the door.
[ NOW PLAYING > NEW KIND OF LOVE ]
you let out a sigh you didn't realise you were holding in as you slipped off your shoes and placed them by the others. "tired?" jake sent a comforting smile placing his own by yours. "i have a couple hours left in me".
"good you should come watch a movie with us" he spoke as you led him through the dorm to your room "roommate bonding" he added with a laugh, you hummed placing your bag in it's new home—laying out your pyjamas for the night. "sure, why not" you smiled turning to face him, only to see both your roommates in front of your door frame.
their eyes gawked over the transformation of the once bare room, now filled with.. well you. "this is so comfy" jake exhaled sinking into a beanbag in the corner of your room. "i outdid myself" you replied playfully, jungwon also looked over your room taking in all your interests with slightly widened eyes before they landed on you. "movie in 30?" he asked you both leaning against your door, you both agreed before they dispersed into their own rooms to shower.
the hot water ran over your body like a blanket of comfort as your mind wandered to the first meeting with the blonde boy. you didn't mean it to, if anything you'd tried willing yourself to stop thinking about something you couldn't explain. after all the only explanation you could think of was temporary insanity.
he was a stranger not even 2 hours ago and now? he was your roommate, your pretty head fuck of a roommate and all he had done was look at you. you shook your head comically as a scoff left your lips at the invasive thought and with that you pushed it to the corners of your mind opting to forget about it completely.
unbeknownst to you jungwon's brain was fighting him about the same topic—a string of confusion clouding his usually clear mind, he too chose ignorance.
after drying yourself off and changing into your pyjamas—you opened your door and walked towards the kitchen. jungwon stood by the counter pouring hot water into a mug, his hair freshly washed—a slightly oversized black tee clinging to his body and grey sweats hanging off his hips.
you walked over and grabbed your own mug from the side before settling in step beside him. "hey" you said as you switched the kettle on, he looked over to you, almost like he'd forgotten you'd be here—or at least that's what you thought.
"hey, tea?" he said softly. "yeah how'd you know?" you replied before grabbing a tea-bag and sugar, "just a hunch" he slid closer to you—tilting his cup to show you the contents of the cup, the heat and scent tickling your nose.
"you have good taste" you smiled flicking the teabag into the bin, with his back to the counter he leant against it studying your movements. "so do you" his cat eyes still held the same familiarity you met him with now a curious arch to his brows.
you mirrored his movements leaning against the counter as the steam swirled into the air. "what movie do you want to watch?" he asked "hmm i'll let you and jake decide for today, see if you guys have what it takes" you playfully spoke, he let out an unguarded laugh and for a split second your mind tumbled into a eery silence—only that laugh spinning through you.
"i guess we can't fuck up then" he replied playfully checking the heat of his tea. "i guess not" your lips curled as your eyes met for a few more seconds than either of you intended, you looked deep into each other as if you expected the answers to reveal themselves to you.
you peeled them away first with a polite smile not catching his eyes lingering on you even after you turned.
jake slipped into the room with an exhale and a towel on his head, his eyes fell on you both "hey guys" he grinned lazily rubbing the towel into his damp hair.
he slid in next to you as you replied with your head knocking into his shoulder, "you and your tea obsessions" he scoffed with a ruffle to your hair, you slid away with a huff fixing the strands. jungwon watched in amusement but also something deeper, something he couldn't admit even to himself, a sense of longing—wanting to be closer, the thought was pushed away almost as quickly as it entered his mind.
you pushed yourself onto the counter and sipped on your tea as jake discussed movie options with jungwon. the blonde leaned over into jake's ear, you watched his expression taking a form of delight, his eyebrows lifting, "that might be perfect for her" jake said.
"alright can you fill me in" you looked between them, they nodded to each other, "the conjuring" jungwon looked at you with a corner of his lips twitching up.
you raised your eyebrows with pursed lips before cracking a smile, his lips mimicked your own, dimples peeking through.
you watched for a second, just enough time that it wasn't noticeable or so you thought, that dimple had the power to short circuit your brain, you just didn't know it yet. right now all you could think was that of a child, pretty blonde, pretty dimples, pretty eyes, pretty smile, pretty.
he watched your eyes do that thing he saw earlier, the split second of big wide eyes with thoughts running through them at a million miles per hour and then without warning it all stopped as though you were keeping yourself in check, what he didn't notice was himself doing the same.
"did he tell you it's one of my favourite?" you playfully interrogated looking between them "nope just a hunch" he replied with a tilt to his head and a smile as jake shook his head, "-also i saw your books" he added.
you turned your head as a laugh bubbled through you, not seeing how his eyes lit up, his mouth mirroring your own, his bubbly intoxicating laugh.
as your laughs died down jake's eyes caught jungwon's on you, the introvert laughing with girl he met a few hours, a knowing smile graced his lips.
[ NOW PLAYING > CHAMPAGNE COAST ]
you sat in between your two roommates with a shared blanket draped over your legs, your attention on the movie playing in front of you, you got through the movie feeling heaviness in your eyes.
he looked over to you for a split second, doing a double take when he saw your head drooping to the side before hitting jake's shoulder—jake lifted in shock from the sudden weight. he looked over to jungwon, stiffening afraid to wake you. he tried shuffling down so you could be comfier, only to be met with a groan and an arm flailing.
jungwon watched in amusement as jake huffed wrapping the blanket further on you, the movie finished with you breathing softly into jake's lap and legs brushing against jungwon's.
he looked over to jungwon with a small motion to help. jungwon gaped at the sight before him not knowing how to approach this, he teetered forward and blew some air through his nose.
his hand rested against your arm before carefully lifting your legs onto his lap, he pulled you further down as jake lifted your head, you stirred making them both freeze in their steps, as though searching for comfort with a little huff you ended up with your head in jungwon's neck.
he swallowed hard, wide eyes looking to jake as if he could help him, without a second thought he pulled himself to his feet with his arms wrapped safely around you, jake opened the door with a small laugh and peeled back your sheets. he placed you down gently and watched as your lips jutted out in a pout from the lack of warmth.
he couldn't decipher his thoughts—there were too many, for every thought he had about you, your softened features, your pretty lips, your huffs, also came a little voice telling him he's insane, to stop, he listened.
he draped the thick sheets over you before retreating to the safety of his room, mind spinning with ghost of you nestled in his neck.
you cracked the door open with rubs to the eye, a faint sting in your head loomed in the peaks of your head. the two men sat at the kitchen island with cups in front of them, they both looked up, small smiles gracing their lips. "morning" they both greeted.
you rubbed your head managing to give them a morning back, "i don't even remember getting to bed" you spoke as you made your tea, "yeah you were drooling on me" jake laughed loud. you set your cup on the table and groaned "i don't drool!" he laughed louder as you huffed.
"yeah no you didn't, if you did i would've thrown you to jungwon". you brain silenced you at the thought of such an intimate act, well it's normal with jake why not jungwon? you countered to yourself.
it's not the same.
"but jungwon got you to your room safe" he added as he chewed his food, you turned to him and mustered out apologies at that, saying they should've woken you up. he shook his head with a comforting laugh making your eyes meet his and with a rasp to his voice he said "i was glad to, really. besides you looked too peaceful".
you mustered a nod and a thank you not being able to meet his eyes.
"you guy's got classes today?" jake asked as you both sipped your tea. "i've got some induction meetings and then i'm freed" you spoke resting your chin on your hand.
"i've got to be there too" jungwon said finishing his tea. "your dad funded it?" jake asked.
"yeah he asked me to sit in since he can't be there" he spoke impassive. "jake do you have any today?" you asked looking over to him.
"nope gonna be a housewife today" you laughed feeling a little more awake now, the sting in your head now non-existent.
after finishing your tea you changed into some clothes and got ready for your class opting to go without your scarf since it was hiding from you, jungwon was going to your class today—you didn't quite know what to make of this, nothing wrong with getting closer to your roommate that your heart seems to come alive for.
without a word you both put on your shoes with a polite smile between you, he opened the door for you and locked it as you thanked him, you noticed his eyes still looking at you with that same curious gaze, except now it was like he was trying not to and failing.
you fell into step together walking towards the class, now out of the safety of the halls and onto the streets the air was fresh with the smell of rain, colder than yesterday. jungwon stopped in his tracks—his eyes on his phone, you stopped with him, "everything okay?" you asked, he glanced up "yeah, class got cancelled the stand in professor called in sick.. do you want to grab tea?".
"oh, yeah sure" you spoke with a chill running through you.
"are you cold?" jungwon spoke through the sound of birds and the odd car.
"just a little, i couldn't find my scarf" you spoke with a sigh as you looked over to him, his cheeks were tinted pink from the cold, a black backwards cap sat on his head, a red scarf wrapped neatly around his neck.
he immediately stopped walking, you turned to him with confusion written in your brows, he unwrapped the scarf walking over to you, you backed up "no, no i'll be okay" you spoke fast, firm.
"besides our dorm is on the way to the tea place".
"y/n come here" he raised an eyebrow leaving no room for debate, you stood still as he stepped forward, you thought he'd just give you the scarf, instead he looked at the scarf with concentration as he wrapped it neatly around your neck, as if this was the most important thing in the world in that moment.
"let's go home"
his deep red scarf sat comfortably around your neck, the clean scent of him happily invading your nose, you were picking up on his habits, if you lagged behind for even a second he'd slow down without a thought, always making sure doors don't fall on you without making a show of it.
"if you can't find it don't worry, just keep mine on" he spoke as you walked into the dorm, "no, i'd feel too bad" you looked up at him into his eyes for the first time that day, he faltered mouth opening and closing.
"will it make you feel better if i grab my turtleneck jacket" you made a faux thinking pout before nodding.
"that would make me feel better yes" he sent you a sweet smile, dimple hollowing, your heart flipped involuntarily.
you rummaged through your closet seeing no sign of your scarf—you turned back closing the door to your closet, where is it.
your eyes scanned over the room seeing nothing out of the ordinary, your bed with it's usual blankets folded lazily at the end. a slight annoyance tinged in you as you walked back to the kitchen.
"hey, back already?" jake greeted you, "yeah class got cancelled but we're going to a tea place if you wanna come?" you asked as you put your shoes back on.
"i'm feeling lazy but i'd looove if you could bring me grape-ade?" he asked with a cheeky grin and a head tilt, you rolled your eyes giving him a nod.
jungwon walked out from his room, now sporting an olive jacket, he grabbed his shoes and walked over to the sofa as you and jake conversed about something you wouldn't be able to remember if asked later on.
"you ready y/n?" he asked as you finished your conversation, "yeah i couldn't find it but i'm warm enou-".
"if you even try taking it off i'm gonna start wrestling you" he joked as he tied his laces into bows, "i could take you" you laughed with no thought behind the words, he rolled his eyes playfully before gesturing to the door for you to go ahead.
"bye jake!" you waved to the boy, jungwon joined before locking the door hearing a faint "don't forget the grape ade!" you both shared eye contact, giggles falling into the air with a warmth pooling in your stomach.
you'd settled into a comfortable talk of classes as you walked side by side, pushing all the nonsense from yesterday to the backrooms of your mind by force, because this was your roommate and you wanted to be friends with him... without your brain dangling a carrot etched with perfect man over your head.
you had a suspicion of what was happening, you'd had crushes before but quickly came to the realisation that crushes were nothing but a lack of information and you had a habit of falling for the thought of a person rather than who they actually were.
however this wasn't something you had dealt with since you were younger but for right now, that's all you could come up with.
you were brought back to reality when you'd finally reached the warmly lit cafe, jungwon pushed open the door, keeping it open for you as he had been. you thanked him as you both sat opposite each other at the front of the cafe, in front of the window.
he sunk back in the chair sighing under his breath as he pulled the cap from his head, he shook his head softly letting it fall to his forehead. his eye winked at the intrusion—he blew the hair away as he usually would.
you cursed in your head as you let your attention swerve back to the list of refreshments, as if you didn't already know what you wanted.
"what are you getting?" he asked with his eyes already on you, as though he'd been watching. "black tea, you?" you replied easily.
"me too" he tilted his head with a small smile. he watched as you averted your eyes to the window, a muscle in your jaw tightening as you turned your head towards it, his eyes softened as he watched you stuck in your own head—wondering what was going through your mind.
his scarf sat snug around your neck, only he knew who it belonged to. in shadows of his mind you were the water behind a dam, cracks deepened as you leaked through.
you ordered your drinks and talked as you looked out at the life outside the windows, through the background chatter of the others in the cafe jungwon's voice cut through.
"so.. jake tells me your a match-maker?" he started with a mischievous glint to his eyes. you groaned head tipping back, hands covering your face.
"he didn't.. oh my gosh" you spoke behind your hands. "don't worry he barely told me anything, he told me he was catching up with your sister and her boyfriend and about how you matched them up" he laughed softly as his fingers hovered over the cup.
"it wasn't intentional" you started, he encouraged you to go on with a pointed look, "she wrote some love letters and as the curious silly little sister, i sent them.. and they ended up dating for real after fake dating, they've been together about 6 years now" you added watching as his eyes widened slightly at your words.
"that sounds like the plot of a bad romcom" he spoke, eyes crinkling a laugh bursting out both of you at his words, "it really does".
"but since then it seems like i keep unintentionally matching people up, so i just did it when i saw something between people, even when they couldn't see it" you trailed off a small smile playing on your lips as your fingers skimmed the rim of the cup.
"how do you even notice things like that?" he asked with genuine wonder.
"sometimes all it takes is catching a look between people, other times it's been places i spend a lot of time at, like when i was at school i noticed my teachers yearning for each other like they were in a drama, so i put a rose on her desk from him, which got them talking and now they're married" you spoke happily, eyes lighting up at the memories of their wedding.
"wow, you are a modern day cupid" he spoke incredulously as you shook your head with a laugh.
"i'd rather not be, cupid's love story is complicated to say the least" you responded finishing your tea.
"aren't all love stories?" he countered.
"touché" you responded as you both finished up your tea. you ordered a go to grape-ade for jake and walked back to your dorm, sharing more details about your sister and her boyfriend.
you walked in laughing about one of your match-making stories as jake sat on the sofa scrolling on his phone, his ears perked at the noise. you sat next to him after taking off your shoes and coat and handed him his drink, he thanked you with a smile and a how was it. as you told him how cute the cafe was you felt a dip in the sofa next to you.
jungwon watched as you sat back and tilted your head back talking about the cafe, it wasn't much but he noticed it all, in the little time you'd spent together you were becoming a little more comfortable, bit by bit.
you caught his eye as you gestured to jake, he watched as your breath halt when you saw his feline eyes already on you, you pulled yourself together with a breath, his eyes glazed over your face—landing on your neck.
your own followed his and you unwrapped the scarf from your neck before holding it between your palms, "i'll wash it and get it back to you, is that okay?" he looked between your eyes slowly.
"no, it's okay i'll do it" before you could fight back, he read your mind and placed a hand on the scarf with a grin, you felt his hand graze yours, a light tingly feeling bloomed as you felt a flutter in the pits of your stomach.
you both pulled back in silence shifting back to your original position, jake sat sipping his grape-ade looking over with a side eye.
jungwon retreated into his room to freshen up, with his scarf. he hung it up, the scent of you causing him to stop in his tracks, with a shake to his head he left it hung on the hook by his wardobe, with no intention to wash it.
.⭑ˎˊ˗
you had the same encounters, the same shared looks that neither of you addressed or could even admit to yourselves and then you had your first class, with yuri sitting next to you, occasionally making conversation about clothes or class.
that evening you got home and had a shower as usual, washing away any stress from the day and getting changed into pyjamas—then proceeding to the kitchen to make your tea, only to find jungwon sat at the table with two steaming cups beside him.
he motioned you to sit, you raised an eyebrow in confusion as you sat beside him at the island—he slid the cup over while sipping his own.
you'd always been better at showing appreciation physically, with a thank you and a smile—a hug or a head on a shoulder.
so when you placed your cheek on his shoulder with a small thank you, you told yourself it was like how you would with jake, that it wasn't different.
he stiffened not having time to relax—you'd already pulled away, his body missed you when his mind couldn't understand why, he chased the feeling of your body on his without giving himself permission to.
"you didn't have to" was all you could muster with your voice coming out softer than you meant it to, quieter.
"i wanted to" he said back, with the same tone—that same tone that made it feel more intimate than either of you allowed it to be.
you took a testing sip, it tasted exactly as it would if you'd made it yourself—he watched over your expression.
"good?" he asked with a curious arch to his brow.
you turned to him "perfect... thank you".
his smile gleamed under the dim orange lamps scattered around the dorm, a small shy smile you only saw a handful of times but relishing in it each time.
[ PLAYING NOW > TAKE A BITE ]
he couldn't breathe feeling you against his neck, hot—heavy. your lips ghosting over his ear, he whispered incoherent words in your ear, his hands not touching you—not yet.
he was close enough that his presence maddened you, a slight pull could intertwine you but neither of you dared to cross that line.
"i wanted to see the world in colour, through your eyes and through your mind."
your eyes stung—cold sweat clung to your forehead, you were shaking, you groaned as you stumbled out of bed with your chest burning—eyes darting to the clock on your bedside table, lighting up a green 3:21AM.
you splashed cold water on your face and walked heavily through your door to the kitchen in the dark, without warning the under lights of the kitchen turned on—you gasped loud causing the other figure to jump with you, a startled jungwon stood before you.
his face was flushed, eyes wide, like he'd seen something he couldn't explain.
you let out a breath of relief sinking into the chair, his shoulders also slumped in something between relief and defeat.
neither of you spoke at first just breathing in the shared space, he also melted into the chair next to you.
"you look like you've seen a ghost" you finally spoke after minutes.
"so do you" he managed back.
he grabbed two water bottles from the fridge and slid back into his seat, you thanked him before guzzling down half the bottle.
you couldn't remember much from the dream, only that you were not you—you were watching yourself through someone else's eyes, you remembered they had made you look like you'd stepped out of a romcom, with the dreamy lens and the heart eyes.
you remembered the words.
and even so, you had no idea why it led to this reaction, why you were sat at your kitchen island with your roommate like you just had a life altering experience.
you weren't comforting each other for what you were going through, you were simply living through the same experience, unknowingly.
you were so focused on your thoughts you didn't notice jungwon's hand inching towards you, not until it held your arm—so light you'd think you were made of glass, only until then you didn't realise you were shaking.
you startled before dragging your eyes over to him, he tried inching closer to be able to hold you comfortably but the chair was stuck—he let go of his hold on you to grapple onto the bottom of your chair, dragging it closer so your shoulders touched.
you would've found it hot if you could think about anything other than whoever was with you in your head. his hand came back to that same spot, as if to ground you, he rubbed up and down, the sleeve of your shirt occasionally getting in the way.
without a word you turned, tilted your head and sighed falling onto his shoulder.
the last week scared you more than you could verbalise, you weren't scared of what was happening, more so of the uncertainty—the unknown.
the whys, hows, there was no real explanation to anything that had happened recently, it was all catching up to you after a week of pushing it all down and wishing it'd go away.
you felt him tense beneath you at the weight, he quickly relaxed—sighing into your touch, for a second you thought he was going to pull away, instead he pulled his hand from your arm and wrapped it around you, letting your weight fall on him.
he was telling you without words that you could lean on him, he could take it but all you could think was, who does he lean on?
after some time you tilted your head to take him in, his flushed cheeks, the curve of his nose, his eyes still sparkling despite the clear exhaustion—his eyes locked with yours.
"are you okay?" you asked as if you weren't the one shaking a couple minutes ago, not even realising you'd stopped.
he paused before laughing in fond disbelief "you're asking me that?"
you rolled your eyes, still so close to him, "you don't look too good yourself.. answer me".
"yes ma'am, i'm- well i'm fine—tired i just woke up after a dream" he spoke slow, careful.
"me too" you spoke under your breathe. he nodded finally looking away like he'd seen something he shouldn't have.
"good or bad dream?" he asked.
"i don't know yet".
.⭑ˎˊ˗
you spent most spare moments with those words in your head.
"i wanted to see the world in colour, through your eyes and through your mind."
after that night with jungwon you'd gone to bed with those words echoing in your mind like a prayer, you went to class as usual—one of them was with your roommates.
jake and jungwon had coerced you into sitting with their friends, sunghoon, ni-ki, yuri and her friend juliana, they welcomed you easily, as if you weren't new, they included you when they didn't have to.
after spending more time with them in classes sunghoon and ni-ki decided to come over more, you often found them on your sofa with a smile encouraging you to hang out with you, which you always did.
jungwon couldn't understand why this was happening to him, he went to class as usual, lived his life as usual. only now his heart raced when he heard your voice—he heard you everywhere, he heard you in the laughs of people he didn't know, always turning without fail to see if it was you behind it.
he hated it but he relished in your presence—he'd told himself you were roommates—friends, nothing more.
which is why he didn't know what he was thinking when he'd suggested studying in the library to his friends, of course you'd be invited.
it's not like he was avoiding you, but he'd made it a point to try not be in close proximity with you outside of the dorms. it seemed to have no logic behind it and he knew that but people do illogical things when they're going through a mental war.
so when he saw the flicker of hurt in your eyes when you realised he didn't mean to include you in the plans, he felt his heart squeeze—ache.
it did it again when you excused yourself with a poor lie about being tired—a lie no one else looked into but him.
the hurt sat low in your chest, you started wondering if you missed other signs from him indicating his lack of wanting you there. no matter how much you had tried, you couldn't stop the hurt from leaking into the cracks forming around your heart.
even when you'd told yourself it wasn't deep—that it didn't matter, you knew it wouldn't have mattered if it was anyone else but you found yourself asking yourself the same question of why.
so the second you realised what he had meant, you mumbled an excuse with the most convincing smile you could muster, avoiding his eyes and you walked to that tea cafe, because one thing you couldn't do, was be somewhere you weren't wanted.
that evening he couldn't focus, he slumped in his chair—absentmindedly chewing on his pencil. the odd flicker of pages, the muffled chatters acted as a playground for his mind.
his notebooks were long forgotten by now, jake sat besides him working on some physics equation, yuri on the other side chatting away with juliana as sunghoon and ni-ki sat in front, with all the people he held dear close by, all he wanted was to see you, was to tell you it wasn't that he didn't want you there, he just didn't trust his mind—or heart not to jump for you.
he turned to his friends, "i can't focus, i'm gonna work at home" he muttered to them.
he walked as fast as he could towards the dorms, he needed you to understand—you weren't unwanted, how could you be. the wind ran past his hair with a hiss, the knocking of his shoes loud against the concrete.
he opened the door and walked in, not bothering to take off his shoes, immediately looking for any sign of your presence with his heart in his throat.
no sign of you in the kitchen, living room—anyone's rooms.
so he did the next most logical thing, he messaged you—despite the fact that neither of you had messaged outside of the dorms group chat or the friends chat.
"hey, where are you?"
[ NOW PLAYING > CARDIGAN ]
you sat with your ear-phones in—trying to will the music to take over the noise in your head as you nursed a cup of black tea with a heavy heart.
the emotions you were trying so hard to deny were breaking through without permission but now you'd been let down for the first time, he'd rejected you without words—without even knowing what he was doing.
the stubborn flesh in your head called your brain took it as a deadline, the first pull—you'd unknowingly opened yourself to him without grasping what it would mean—that you had let yourself be hurt, you allowed the hurt by opening yourself.
you hated that more than you understood why. from now you wouldn't allow more, he was your roommate and a friend.
nothing more.
the second you came to this conclusion you felt a stinging in your heart, like it was fighting you—telling you to hold onto the hope in your heart for him to fix this.
your finger twirled around the rim of the cup as you stared off into the life beyond the windows, the lovesick couples, friends—all walked by, serving as a mocking reminder of your situation.
after what felt like hours you sipped the last remnants of the lukewarm tea and snapped the backwards cap closer towards your scalp before pulling open the door.
you walked without looking, not really—your eyes scanned over the cars to the right and the river to the left, which is why you didn't see the person in front of you until their hand was on your shoulder, snapping you out of your daydream.
jungwon stood in front of you, wide eyed—scanning every inch of your face like he was looking for signs of pain, hurt "y/n" he breathed out, letting go of your shoulder.
he watched as you looked at him before taking out your earphones, eyes holding a slight shock before melting into an emotion he couldn't understand, a thin lipped smile you held for a second.
"hey" you responded with a rock from the heels of your feet, dragging your eyes from your feet to the river—it glistened under the city lights.
"you didn't get my message?" he asked with a worried furrow to his eyebrows.
you pulled your phone from it's place in your bag and sighed through your nose, "it's silenced, sorry.. was it important?".
yes it was, it was so important but how could he do this without the dam breaking.
"yes y/n i'm.. i'm sorry about earlier, i didn't want to make you feel like-like i didn't want you there, i did—i do! i just.. i didn't want to make you feel like you had to be there" lie lie lie but the alternate was pouring his soul out about something he didn't understand and what would hurt more?
you stood shocked, shocked that he even addressed it—expecting this to be washed away with time as most conflicts between friends are.
"it's alright, i didn't feel like i had to be there..but it's fine. really" you watched his shoulders relax, the walls you'd put up that day slumped with them.
he turned so you were both now facing the river, his shoulder brushed against you, neither of you moved—his hand snaked onto your arm pulling you to face him.
"i don't want you to pull away.. okay?" he looked between your eyes, soft pleading.
the dam in your minds creaked heavy, the sting in your hearts vanished without further complaint.
"okay.. i won't" you spoke quiet, a dimple carved into his cheeks at your words.
you mimicked his smile unwillingly, eyes drifting back to the water.
his eyes followed your own to the mass of water in front of you, it was beautiful—with the dimmed orange lights glistening in the ripples, it was almost hypnotic—especially through your eyes.
"home?" his eyes didn't leave your face for a second, catching your immediate shyness.
"home" you smiled as he motioned for you to walk on the inside of the path, that night your mind grew weaker for him, never expecting him to take responsibility—but that small part of you that was afraid of letting him in, being hurt—wished he was ignorant, wished he didn't read you perfectly.
it would've made it easier to stay away but that was never in the cards for either of you.
[ NOW PLAYING > ROOMMATES ]
now comfy in some pyjamas after a warm shower you walked into the kitchen feeling content, comfortable compared to earlier—the discomfort in your stomach now gone.
jungwon had prepared a cup of tea for you alongside his own, always perfectly timed after you got ready for the late evening, you hummed as you slid in next to him on the sofa, sitting closer than you intended, he turned to you giving you a smile as you murmured a thank you.
he mimicked your way of accepting, leaning into your touch, shoulder pushing against you as he slumped further into the sofa—you sat flushed against each other as whatever documentary played in the background.
for the time you spent curled next to him, you thought about how the feelings you had earlier—the doubt had dissipated into nothing, you were so adamant on this changing things but how could it when he did everything you hadn't allowed yourself to think was possible.
"heyy!" jake slid in next to you with a cheeky grin, you both greeted him as he grabbed the remote from the table in front of you, "movie?" he spoke as he pulled a blanket from the side and passed it to jungwon.
you hummed in agreement placing the now empty cup in front of you "do you guys wanna carry on with the conjuring series?" you looked between them, they nodded enthusiastically.
with the lights now off and your drinks finished you started the movie with the blanket pulled up to your lap.
jungwon's attention wasn't all on the screen. he tried—he really tried to keep them fixed on the pixels but his eyes kept drifting, he didn't mean to—it's like they were magnetised to you.
the way your lips tilted every time you saw the couple have a moment, the way your eyes were lit with longing—he wondered in that moment if you'd ever been in love before, he choked on nothing realising his brain was no longer under his control—instantly coughing to try cover it up.
"you okay?" he paused feeling caught before looking over to you and nodding, mustering up a smile—even though he was malfunctioning.
you with your alluring eyes, your adoring smile, your laugh that he was hearing in places you weren't.
god he thought he was past this.
friend, roommate, friend, roommate. he repeated over and over.
you however felt clarity at the situation, because really this wasn't a situation at all, all the pulls and pushes in your head were just that—in your head, he didn't feel this.
friends. roommates.
you acted as though you would with any friend, pushing your legs on top of jake's lap and leaning your head on jungwon's shoulder. jake made a faux noise of annoyance just to pull the blanket over your legs comfortably.
and jungwon? his eyes hadn't left you, so when you had let yourself melt into his shoulder, he let his head fall against your own. he could smell your shampoo, barely but it was unmistakably you.
jungwon heard that people get sleepy when they're around people they're comfortable with, he thought that was ridiculous until he found himself drifting into dreamland, slumped against you.
you stiffened slightly as you heard his breathing slow down—his body growing heavier, he twitched every now and then with huffs at nothing in particular.
you felt his breath on your nape, his arm draped over your waist—in flashes you saw his dimple shining pretty as he kissed your cheek lovingly, he pulled your body close to his, whispering sweet nothings.
"i'm right here".
he woke up, breathing hard—a buzzing ache lingering behind his eyes. his surroundings became clearer with each blink, the hum of the tv, the warmth of your body. he looked around with wide eyes as you sat up looking over to him with concern written across your face.
"bad dream?" you asked softly. he turned and slumped lower so you were eye to eye, he took in your tired eyes, the stiff crease in your eyebrow—the way the tv light shone against your face.
"have you ever had a dream you couldn't explain?" he spoke quietly, flitting between your eyes.
"yeah actually.. pretty much every dream i have" you joked, his lips tilted in amusement—until you saw his eyes cloud over in real time by a deeper thought.
without warning you stood up and grabbed a water bottle, slumping back into that same position slowly—careful not to wake jake. he watched as you opened the bottle and passed it to him, he thanked you.
he didn't realise how thirsty he was until then, or how flushed he was. he guzzled down the water—sighing out from the lack of breath.
"do you know what a soulmate dream is?" he finally spoke.
"yeah of course, well not from experience but i've heard of them" you looked over to him—catching the way his eyebrows were knit in thought.
he gave you a look telling you to continue, "i've heard they can be pretty much anything, depends on the people.. my aunt found my uncle through the dreams when they were about our age, her dreams were from his eyes—she told me the first time she had the dream, she thought she was having a panic attack.. and she couldn't understand why something like a dream had caused so much stress..".
you trailed off as the cogs in your mind turned, clicking missing pieces into place with a flag waving that said "you are a fucking idiot."
surely not, you thought—mind flashing back to that dream, the words, looking through his eyes—your soulmates eyes.
you could be wrong.. but you if you were right then maybe you had somehow made contact with your soulmate, maybe it was someone in passing—maybe it was slight eye-contact with someone you had never even conversed with.
[ NOW PLAYING > BACK TO FRIENDS ]
"y/n?" jungwon waved a hand in front of your face—disrupting the mental war going on in your brain.
"sorry.. i just remembered something" you exhaled, head still dazed in the idea of having a soulmate, someone promised to you by the universe, to be destined to you.
you felt as though you should have been happier at this revelation, here was the possibility of having a soulmate and yet you couldn't stop thinking, what if it wasn't the blonde boy sat next to you. you pushed it away as you had been with any thought you didn't enjoy.
jungwon caught the whirl of thoughts in your head, he saw the conflict, although he had no ideas for what it could be for—who it could be for, his hand snaked around your back, settling on your bare arm, his thumb rubbed circles.
you looked over to him as the flutters in your stomach subsided, his eyes held the stars, they bored into yours—every twinkle in his eye had you falling deeper into his soul. his spare hand reached up settling on the base of your neck—he watched as your throat bobbed up and down.
your eyes flitted over his lips, to his eyes. he paused as a thought intruded, your lips were glistening—they looked soft, how would they mould against his, how would you taste?
you watched as his eyes dilated, closing in on your lips.
his hand shifted up, his thumb rested on your jaw.
in one swift movement you pushed your head into the crevice of his shoulder, his hands gravitated to your waist immediately.
your bodies moulded together, your chests flushed against each other, you felt his breath falter, loud. you wrapped your arms around his waist before pulling your body back slowly—his hands chased yours grazing against them.
you pulled your head back, your nose grazed his jaw—he faltered, he steadied himself with a hand on your thigh. for a moment neither of you dared to move, your breath grazing against his jaw.
and then as a cruel twist of fate, jake stirred.
neither of you knew why you felt like you had been caught, so when you both pulled away sitting back into your given places—you couldn't come up with a good enough explanation for why you both bolted like you'd been stung.
you didn't talk about that night again, not as you sauntered around the lingering touches—the yearning stares as the other remained oblivious, the strings of life pulled you together in ways you didn't want to allow.
he was everywhere, at home, at the cafe, at the library, in your mind. even when you'd found peace at the river alone, he was in your mind, if he wasn't there physically he was mentally.
you were in this perfect frenzy of close friends but not too close—both doing so well at maintaining this friendship, this perfectly curated back and forth.
but now the dam had a gushing—heavy leak and there was no fixing it.
[ NOW PLAYING > BLIND ]
your heart ached, your chest was pulsing with hurt—your throat burned as you were grasping for air, you didn't know what it felt like to be heartbroken—never felt the lack of hope, of knowing there's nothing left but here you were, on the floor of your bedroom.
you woke up screaming—sweating, you only knew it wasn't reality when you heard him.
"y/n, hey wake up"
you bolted up before you even knew where you were, the sound of your sobs quieting down as you gained consciousness.
jungwon stood over you with concern and sleep printed in his expression. "did..did i wake you? i'm so sorry" you breathed feeling tears run down your face, he shook his head—an amused huff left his lips as he sat himself on your bed.
he leaned in closer than you expected, a hand softly resting against your cheek and jaw—he held you for a moment before wiping away your tears. his eyes held an adoration only he could explain.
"bad dream?"
"the worst" you sighed.
you sat further up with a sniffle and a sigh as he pulled you into his arms, you squeaked in shock—his arm wrapped around your waist, the other cradling your head.
"you're okay" he whispered.
you both breathed each other in, he held you like this would be the last time, like he'd never get the chance again—as if this was the first meeting after a lifetime of waiting.
you felt as though you were in another dream, one with no consequences—but even comfort after a bad dream felt like an excuse to touch him, so hyperaware of the meaning.
you pulled away with murmurs of needing to freshen up and more apologies, you had thought yourself into overthinking.
it was all too much, you felt too much, his presence alone dampened the hurt you'd felt, no one else could do that—so you showered it all away and wrapped yourself in your towel before stepping back into your room and closing the door behind you.
you turned to see a flushed jungwon with his hand on the door handle covering his eyes. you jumped back as he whisper yelled apologies with his back turned.
"fuck i've been tryna get the door open since you left" he stuttered as you backed up to your closet, grabbing pyjamas.
"let me get changed and then i'll try help" you laughed at the sheer gravity of the situation as you pulled your clothes on and trudged over to him. he turned around and took you in, his eyes flit over you, a faint smirk on his lips.
you rolled your eyes as you tested the door yourself, it wasn't about strength—besides you'd seen jungwon's arms, that wouldn't have been a problem. the handle rattled, turning easily with no clicking, no confirmation of the cogs fitting into place, nothing.
you looked at him, he was already looking with a defeated expression. "what are the chances jake's awake?" you asked before bursting into laughter with him at his theatrical sigh.
"it's 2am, you need to sleep" he spoke as you both sat on the edge of your bed. "so do you" you countered, he hummed in agreement as you sat yourself under your covers, patting the space besides you.
this was fine, you told yourself as if you didn't run away from him for comforting you too well. you looked him over as he slid in besides you, his black tank-top clung to his figure perfectly, the shadows on his muscles perfectly lit under the fairy lights.
you slid down to get comfy, he mimicked your movements until you lay looking towards each other. how is it possible for someone to look so beautiful with no effort he thought as he scanned over your tired features.
"why are you looking at me like that?" you spoke into the comfortable silence of the room.
"like what?" he asked feeling his throat close up.
"like you've never seen me before"
he opened his mouth, closing it immediately—truthfully he looked at you like that every time he saw you.
"maybe i forget, so i take my time, make sure i can never forget again".
you rolled your eyes playfully, ignoring the way your heart soared at his words.
"save that for your soulmate" you joked.
the reality of your words sunk in too late—hurting your own feelings as the object of your desires lay in your bed with you.
you pulled the covers over your shoulders feeling the warmth seep through your body, his eyes never once left yours as you both talked yourself to sleep.
your eyes flickered open slowly, you yawned before blinking a few more times, adjusting to the golden rays peeking through. you tried to turn, only to be stuck—jungwon's arm was lazily splayed across your waist, his chest pressed to your back—his soft breaths against your nape.
you didn't dare move, didn't dare ruin this—for it wouldn't last.
you felt guilt for not waking him, for letting yourself live in this delusion while he slept—peaceful with no idea of where he was.
after minutes of laying there, your sleepiness wearing off—jungwon stirred, he groaned with his mouth closed as he pulled you by your waist further into his chest, you squeezed your eyes together and let yourself relax.
he twitched again a few minutes later, only now his eyes fluttered open—it was only evident he was awake when he yawned as quietly as he could as he took in his surrounding bit by bit, you half expected him to immediately let go of you and retreat into his space on your bed.
instead he let himself relax and closed his eyes with a faint smile.
you didn't know how much time it had been but by now you thought he was back to being asleep, until you heard a voice "yo y/n! i got the door open-" jake swung it open with a screw in one hand, his face morphed from glee to his jaw being dropped—and then a large toothy smile took over.
you shook your head with wide eyes motioning to the blonde boy being asleep, he hushed himself immediately not before raising his eyebrow and whispering "when did this happen?".
"nothing happened.. he was locked in here—so we slept" you shrugged your shoulders, praying your lips wouldn't betray you as your heartbeat already was.
you turned yourself slowly so you could face jake, only now jungwon huffed pulling you into his chest, his head was now in the crevice of your neck, his legs tangled over yours. jake laughed into his hand as you stared at him like a deer in headlights.
"fuck" you breathed as he doubled over in silent laughter. he whined as you pried yourself from his grasp with little apologies, his hands looked for you—a small pout forming on his pretty face.
you smiled as you pulled the covers over him before getting ready for the day. with your teeth brushed and your skincare on you skipped over to the kitchen, eyes catching on the pile of letters and cards.
a little pink card with the words "SYMPHONIA IX GALA" you'd heard about this gala from yuri, the gala where everyone goes all out with their dresses, dressing as princesses for the night—there was still a while until the night but tickets were already out and selling fast.
you had never been one to take initiative but last night with jungwon, that meant something—you were sure of it. it couldn't have been nothing, not with the way he looked at you—the way he held you.
maybe you could go together—as friends.. and see what happens.
half an hour later you walked back into your room with the pink card to see jungwon sat up rubbing his eyes, "morning" you smiled as you tucked the card under your alarm clock.
you sat yourself on the edge of the bed as he yawned with a stretch "morning y/n" he rasped leaning back on his arms.
"come on princess you should get up" you spoke pulling the covers down to his hips. he groaned as you jumped from the bed with a yelp, running from his swats.
"also your tits out!" you laughed turning the corner of your door.
[ NOW PLAYING > SYMPHONIA XI ]
that night you found the courage you needed to do it, after all you were only asking as a friend. that's what you told yourself, even if you wanted more—even if you knew you'd be hurt if nothing more was to happen.
you told yourself the next time you see him, you'll do it.
only you didn't expect to see him on your way to meeting your friends, he was sat on a bench with yuri—you walked over, telling yourself you can do this over and over.
"hey guys" you spoke watching as their heads snapped to you as if they were caught doing something they shouldn't.
"hey y/n" jungwon smiled, the smile not quite reaching his eyes.
yuri only smiled, "hey, did you hear about the gala? the tickets are out" you spoke to jungwon, feeling a chill of anxiety run through your body, it's too late to back out now.
"yeah, were you planning on going?" he nodded.
"yeah.. actually i was wondering if you wanted to go"
you watched a smile form, until he felt yuri grab his hand—his face dropped, his mouth opened as if to speak but before he could respond, yuri spoke "actually we're going together".
you looked between them, the hand she was so easily holding between her palms.
"oh that's cool, i'll ask jake" you nodded, ignoring the blooming envy in your heart, jungwon's face held conflict—like he wanted to speak but he couldn't bring himself to.
and to confirm the fact you were so badly trying to deny.
"we're dating" she added. you looked over at jungwon—he took one look at your face before avoiding it all together.
you breathed in, holding back any emotion and mustered a "congrats" yuri smiled sweetly, "i've got to meet sunghoon and ni-ki, i'll see you guys".
you walked as fast as you could but not to meet sunghoon and ni-ki, you pulled out your phone and messaged them a vague excuse and then you walked and walked.
not even a day ago he was in your bed, holding you as though he was used to the feeling. it burned, your heart—the sting turned into an aching you couldn't quite fathom, couldn't quite push down. the rain started slowly, you sat by the river feeling the drops run down your face along with your tears.
you were grateful for the rain, grateful it grew heavier, swallowing your sobs—somewhere along the way you opened your heart, despite your efforts to keep it hidden, you'd fallen for your roommate.
you hadn't been in the picture for long but you were observant, you had to be to be a match-maker. so how had you not caught this—caught a vibe, a look.. anything.
you knew it was late but your phone was dead and you couldn't bring yourself to care because along with the hurt of rejection, you hurt for the friendships you would lose—because you couldn't keep yourself from falling for him.
you mourned the memories you'd created, you knew nothing could be the same from now and anger at yourself for deluding yourself.
by the time you got back to the dorms you were soaked and freezing, it was late—so late that you got back to a furious jungwon and jake.
you closed the door behind you with the click of the key and kicked off your shoes, "where the hell were you?" jake jumped off the sofa walking to the hallway.
you turned to face him—he took in your state and gawked, "phone died" you sighed walking through to your room and shrugging off your coat, "where were you?" jungwon repeated as they followed you.
"river" you answered plainly as you shivered, they grabbed towels for you, walking to you slow—with distance, not being able to decipher your emotions. you turned to the door, jungwon stood in front of you, trying to drape the towel over you, "i'm fine" you sighed in annoyance pushing past him.
"you're out until 2am and you come back frozen but you're fine?" he gawked eyebrows— furrowed. "yes i am fine" a muscle in your jaw flexed as you looked away from him, you couldn't look at him.
it wasn't his fault he doesn't feel the same but you also couldn't pretend you could stand his touch anymore—his presence, you couldn't let him have this hold over your heart the way he did right now.
you sat down on your bed finally feeling the cold catch up to you, your breathing slowed as you sunk onto the bed.
jungwon slid over as you sunk, "stop, m-fine" you breathed pushing him with no force, jake ran over pulling the towels over your body. you felt weak, your eyes drooped until you felt yourself drifting, "no come on don't fall asleep" jungwon shook you as you groaned in annoyance.
they pulled you into the shower running hot water over you as you sat in your clothes, you managed to convince them you could change by yourself.
finally laying in bed with your covers pulled to your chin, jake sat by you as jungwon made tea, "what happened?" he slid in next to you rubbing your arms as you shivered.
"i just lost track of time.. that's all" you sighed as you wrapped yourself around him, your head in his shoulder.
"you lost track of time, sat in the rain?" he turned to you, speaking against your hair.
"yeah—it's therapeutic really" you spoke. he hummed—not believing you one bit.
by the time jungwon came back you had drifted off into sleep on jake, he looked over with a mixture of envy and relief but neither of those things could compete with the grief in his heart—the loss of your comfort around him, the annoyance in your expression at his mere presence.
jake watched over you—with an expression jungwon couldn't decipher, he sighed through his nose before speaking. "she looked happy this morning, she was even meant to meet the guys—they told me she cancelled, saying she's tired" they took in your peaceful expression with knit eyebrows.
jungwon couldn't think clearly, he wanted to believe that maybe you were thinking about him—maybe you were hurt, about him and yuri.
maybe you were just angry, that as his friend, you knew nothing, you were told on accident—with no prior knowledge or even inkling.
jake stayed through the night, telling jungwon to get some rest—which he reluctantly did after hours. he soothed you when you stirred, he rocked you when you groaned awake, he eventually drifted into sleep alongside you.
you stirred as jake slipped out and got ready for his classes, waking up a little while later to tea by your bedside, assuming it was from jake you didn't overthink it—opting to get ready, learning to live with the sting, instead of ignoring it this time.
this entire time you had pushed down your feelings, pushed them to the corners of your mind for you weren't used to feeling so much.
you told yourself you needed to feel to let go, to let go of him—to let go of the feelings you had harboured without allowing yourself to.
but that didn't mean you had to be around to witness him with his new girlfriend, which also meant distancing yourself from your friends, not because you wanted to but because they would be there and just by their presence the peace you seeked would dissipate.
you got through it alone, avoiding everyone—justifying it by telling yourself you needed time but they didn't make it easy and it didn't go without annoyance from jake, especially for staying out later than usual and avoiding the usual hang-outs.
the tea cafe had become somewhat of a sanctuary—it being open 24 hours was of great help for someone actively avoiding a roommate but you were surprised you hadn't seen him here, after all he had introduced you.
there were also a few times you weren't so lucky, in your shares classes yuri talked to you as usual, which to your surprise didn't come with talks of her new boyfriend.
as for jungwon, he didn't know what to expect—he just didn't expect silence—to be shut out like you hadn't spent the last couple months becoming closer, becoming friends, you didn't even come out for tea after your shower anymore.
you didn't walk to class with him—always walking earlier. every time he tried to talk to you but he was met with a brief cold response or bitter shut down, eventually even your silence turned into sour remarks.
he didn't push, because pushing meant the possibility of you pushing you away for good and he couldn't take that—but he could take this, he would take this over nothing.
you couldn't see it but jungwon's patience was wearing thin—each day he went without so much as a stray glance was undoing his resolve.
after another morning of solitude, you walked through the kitchen and out the door with no words to the blonde sat at the kitchen island, who unknown to you was waiting for you, he locked the door and walked a few paces behind you.
you sat in your usual seat a few minutes early to the lecture, consumed by your own thoughts—until you felt a presence besides you, sunghoon sat in his place besides you as he would. you settled into your usual conversations, until he talked about you helping him study after class,
"when did i agree to this?" you joked, "when yuri said we're all studying at your dorm later" he laughed with confusion, you opened your phone to the messages with a sigh, "i actually already have plans" you spoke, avoiding his eyes.
"what plans" he asked as you put your phone away, "i wanted to go to the cafe and juliana asked me to go out tonight".
he hummed, "i haven't seen this infamous cafe.. care for some company?".
you made a faux thinking face as he groaned "yeah sure, why not" you answered feeling eyes bore into the back of your head.
after your class you both walked to the cafe, narrowly avoiding an interaction with yuri on your way—you did however run into juliana who invited sunghoon to join you that night.
you didn't quite know why juliana had messaged you separately for your outing but you weren't complaining, if anything this was ideal. after the cafe you walked back to your dorms to get changed, with anxiety looming in your chest—knowing everyone would be there.
you clicked the door open and closed it after sunghoon scurried in, "you wanna wait here or come with?" you asked as you slid off your shoes, "i'll come with you" he replied.
you walked in to papers scattered over the coffee table and the kitchen island, jungwon and jake sat at the kitchen as yuri sat with ni-ki on the sofa.
you tried your best to walk through without seeming rude, "where have you guys been!" yuri asked with a smile as sunghoon stood behind you, "y/n showed me that tea cafe" sunghoon replied sensing your discomfort.
"aww you should take us some time" she spoke, you hummed as jake motioned you to come over, he pulled you in for a second. "you alright?" he whispered, you nodded with a ruffle to his hair—he swatted you away as you tried your best to avoid the blondes stares.
"i've got to get ready, but i'll talk to you later" you said to him as you moved to your door with sunghoon following.
"before you guys go, i wanted to just say while everyone's here that jungwon and i are dating!" juliana spoke enthusiastically not looking at anyone.
silence. dead ghostly silence.
for a split second you looked for jungwon's reaction, you couldn't help it. his eyes were already on you—you caught his discomfort, your face stayed straight—not so much as a grimace, you couldn't.
[ PLAYING NOW > MANEATER ]
the boys all looked at jungwon in disbelief, they had always sensed the vibes between you two, even when you didn't. you'd already turned around opting to head into your room with a goodbye.
"she's getting ready with sunghoon?" yuri raised a playful eyebrow and a nudge to ni-ki's shoulder, "they're friends" jungwon responded impassive, eyes still on the page.
"they'd be cute together" she hummed, jungwon looked up with a rise to his brow, before shaking his head—focusing on the click of his pen instead of the ugly green blooming deep within him.
you got changed in the bathroom, into a outfit you knew would turn heads for your first proper night out in a while.
you came out in a lowcut dress and your favourite going out shoes, sunghoon gawked shamelessly "are you trying to kill people?" you responded with a laugh and a "maybe" as you grabbed the chosen bottles of liqueur and walked through the door of your room to the kitchen.
you took two glasses pouring an equal amount of liquid in both—handing one to sunghoon, you hadn't noticed the pairs of eyes on you as you walked through.
"y/n you look hot as fuck" yuri spoke first, everyone hummed in agreement—except jungwon, who could only stare, the first genuine smile in a good second bloomed as you thanked them, you handed sunghoon the drink watching as he took a big mouthful.
you took a sip, testing the waters—when it was deemed safe you took a long swig, with only a sample of the drink left in the cup.
"steadyy" jake took the cup from you, drinking the remnants up.
"where we going n/n" he grinned all toothy, "we aren't going anywhere jakey" you smiled, he fake pouted—you turned your head with a groan laughing.
"we should probably get going" you made another drink, drinking half and leaving the rest for sunghoon who gladly chugged the rest. jungwon walked over pouring himself his own drink next to you, his eyes flit over you carefully, like he was absorbing you into his soul—or like he wanted to test you.
you decided to pay him no mind, instead securing your handbag and walking out the door.
you waltzed in to the sound of 2000's music blasting in your ears and thankfully you found juliana within the first couple minutes of being there. "hii guys" she squealed pulling you into a brief hug before pulling back and taking in your outfit.
"you look soo fucking hot!" she exclaimed—you complimented her own outfit with a giggle and a buzz running through your body. the three of you took shots as you all sat at the bar laughing and singing along to the music, until you felt arms around your waist and a head on your shoulder.
you were fully prepared to head-butt whoever was touching you, until you heard jake's laugh, "guess who!" he spoke over the music. you turned in happy shock "jake! what are you doing here?" you laughed.
"yuri forced us to come, something about juliana" he spoke hushed before ordering shots but unfortunately, where ever yuri was—so was he. you turned to see jungwon stood with his hands in his pockets, already looking at you—you rolled your eyes in annoyance before pushing yourself up and taking the shots.
"i'm gonna dance" you said to no one in particular already walking towards the dance floor—juliana opted to join you but not without daggers in her back.
throughout the week you felt your upset—sadness—hurt dissipate into anger, you knew it wasn't going to last, but for now angers always easier to navigate than hurt, especially when you're drinking.every time you caught him staring it fuelled the anger you so desperately craved to feel.
you swayed your hips with rhythm, each sway on beat. juliana stood in front of you mirroring your movements with a large smile, you noticed her also sneaking peeks at where the group would be, for why you didn't know—you didn't think much about it either.
especially when there was a cute guy eyeing you from the bar, "go talk to him!" she shouted over the music, you shook your head with a scrunch to your nose "i don't chase" she laughed at that, you watched as her mouth drop into a smirk.
you followed her gaze, said cute guy was now besides you with a drink in his hand "i couldn't help but notice you, you look beautiful" the mystery man said with a grin, "thank you! i'm y/n, this is my friend juliana" you smiled as he handed you the drink.
"i'm jay, nice to meet you both" he spoke over the music, you gravitated back to the bar with him after juliana whispered for you to go. you couldn't help but feel pricks on the back on your neck, feeling piercing jabs like someone was watching you, your conversation with jay was going well, he was beyond cute—well mannered.
everything you'd look for in a man.. if you were looking for a man.
the second the passing thought of him being a potential partner whizzed through you felt as though you were being hissed at by your heart and to make matters worse, you heard a familiar sweet voice.
"hey jay, been a while" jungwon spoke with a strained jaw, jay looked up with a genuine smile at his presence.
"yoo jungwon!" he exclaimed as he went in for a dap up, you however was stumped they knew each other.
"how do you-" you gestured between them speaking only to jay, "he's in most my classes" jungwon chimed in before the other man could speak, you hummed to jay as if he had replied.
"you wanna dance?" you asked jay, feeling a need to get out of this interaction but before he could respond jungwon edged closer to you, almost forcing you to look at him from the proximity, "actually jake asked for you" he spoke sweetly.
jake had not asked for you, he actually asked where you were. you apologised to jay and excused yourself as the blonde trailed dangerously close to you.
"hey jake" you smiled sitting by him at the bar, "y/n! where have you been!" he whined with a clear red tinge to his cheeks. "just was on the other side of the bar" you responded.
"you guys looked good together" yuri smiled, you reciprocated not seeing jungwon's daggers at his girlfriend.
"i'm getting so tired" jake whispered to you before dropping his head on your shoulder, you nodded already taking out your phone.
[ NOW PLAYING > PARTY 4 U ]
"i'm gonna take jake home" you spoke to whoever was listening, already pulling jake up with you not without a wobble.
"i'll come" jungwon spoke quicker than you'd have expected, quick enough to show he was engaged before you even spoke. "stay here, we're good" you responded not looking at him.
"i'm coming" he finalised despite the protests from yuri in forms of whispering near his ear. the car ride was quiet, not awkward—just silent, the only noise being the hum of the engine.
you all sobered up as you wound down for the night—ending up laying on jake's bed as he rambled about physics—feeling more awake after a cold shower.
"about earlier.. jungwon and yuri, did you know?" he started—slowly, words laced with caution.
"well..yeah i did, i found out like a week ago" you replied looking up from your phone, he looked like he was ready for a bomb to go off.
"like.. the day you came home late?" he asked with an eyebrow raised. you raised your own eyebrow—challenging "you'll have to be specific, i've come home late a few nights" you feigned ignorance.
the night you felt your heart hurt in ways you hadn't thought was allowed.
"the night you came home almost hypothermic" he spoke as he sat by you on his bed, his eyes scanned over the mass of your face, peering for any reaction—any indication he was correct.
"yeah, found out earlier that day" you said unbothered, as if that wasn't the reason you were spiralling deep into a burn no one could soothe.
"it's unrelated" you spoke before he could, as if he asked.
"is it?"
you watched his own expression, the worry etched in his forehead, in his eyes—he just wanted you to learn to lean even if it wasn't something you were used to, leaning on someone with the rawest edges of your thoughts, handing over emotions that took weeks to be allowed to exist.
jake of all people knew this wasn't your strong suit, which is why he didn't push—he only encouraged, he let you lie because he knew how badly you needed the lie to be real.
"i don't know" you sighed, you tipped your head back onto his pillow—blowing air through your nose in the process.
he let you speak, only moving to sit closer to you.
"ever since we met, it's like my brain is pushing me towards him, like it wants—needs me to be close to him..i know how insane that sounds and i tried—i really tried to ignore it but after a while i just let it happen, maybe because i hoped it would be reciprocated, i don't know what i thought, i told myself i wouldn't care if it wasn't but as we got closer, so did whatever was pulling me towards him and that night we got stuck in my room.. i thought- just maybe there was—there could be something more but i was still so, scared? so i asked him if he wanted to go to the dance but yuri said they were going together.. and i said i'll ask you instead and then she told me they were dating and my brain just went into overdrive".
as you rambled you watched him go through a plethora of emotions—from earnest listening to shock he was trying to be subtle about and then something bordering on appalled confusion.
"so you think a cosmic force is pulling you together-" he started, you nodded with a swift scrunch to your nose at his wording.
"and you asked him to the gala as a friend even though you wanted more but you didn't wanna admit it" he added.
you nodded "i'm so glad i was too stubborn to ask properly, imagine i did that and she told me they were together, i think i would've blown up" he laughed at that with his usual gummy smile.
"i don't know, i don't think you're insane or looking into things too deeply, anyone can see he's insane about you" he spoke casually as if you weren't being presented with new information.
you gawked for a second "what is wrong with you—don't say shit like that" you spoke as you swatted at his chest.
"nah i'm serious, he looks at you like you personally give him life every day and since you started avoiding him he's been looking around like a lost kitten always looking in places you'd usually be".
"jake he has a girlfriend" you sighed pushing your head deeper into the pillow.
"that's true, but he didn't stop looking for you whether or not he has a girl" he retorted.
"well he can keep doing that, i'm not waiting up on anyone just because there's a possibility he could like me especially whilst he has a girlfriend, besides i still just need time away from him, when he's close i can't hear myself think—it's like all rational thinking goes out the window" you groaned as a hand wiped down your face.
it was all becoming a bit too infuriating, even when you did your best to put yourself in positions where you couldn't be interacted with, he found a way, when you'd walk to class—he'd be right next to you. when all you wanted was to drink tea and read, he'd be in the room— hovering.
when you were playing a game with jake, he made it a point to sit next to you—closer than you wanted, at least a knee brushing yours.
which didn't help when your emotions towards him were currently in a hurricane you didn't care to address.
you even decided you'd spend all night at your tea cafe to study, not wanting to be distracted by jungwon's constant hovering. only he showed up not even an hour in and sat in front of you like it was his given place.
you looked up from your work without moving your head and blew air through your nose in annoyance, he looked at you with his signature curious feline gaze, which if anything annoyed you further—because why was he looking at you like he wasn't the one who sat down without permission.
"hey" he spoke after seconds of silence, with the sound of the rustles of paper and the chatters of the workers hanging as its own white noise.
"hello?" you breathed eyes still stuck on your work sheets—only your mind wasn't focused on the pages, not anymore.
"are you staying here—all night?" he asked eyeing the empty cup of tea besides you.
"probably" you spoke stifling a comedically timed yawn.
"you want to walk back with me?" he said before he could over-think the words coming out his mouth.
"i'm fine right here" you finally look up—expecting him to back off, to take the hints you'd been so easily throwing at him.
instead he stayed in his seat—sinking further into it with a nod at your words. your eyes stayed on him—challenging, he held your gaze as if he waiting for you to do something.
"are you not leaving?"
"thought i'd keep you company" he smiled as he ordered his own black tea.
you narrowed your eyes in disbelief and took a breath to compose yourself, he couldn't be serious..
"i don't need company" you responded with a sweet venom-laced smile, he smiled with a tilt to his head.
"you have mine anyway" he said easily—as if those words wasn't something you would've dreamed of weeks ago.
[ NOW PLAYING > FALLEN STAR ]
he was trying to be your friend again but you knew your friendship was never just that—it strived on touches neither of you wanted to pull from—contact you so deeply craved after convincing yourself you wouldn't.
but you didn't feel guilty for wanting those things, because he was just jungwon—but now, he was her jungwon.
which is also why you couldn't fathom how he could be here—in this position, you knew your feelings were painfully obvious—your reaction to their relationship only made that clearer.
"how can you do this to her?" you said before you could stop yourself.
if he felt any forms of guilt—anger or defence he hid it well.
"what am i doing?" he responded slowly, it felt almost mocking—as if he had no clue at all.
"i'm not going to spell it out for you" you spoke with a clenched jaw as you shoved your things into your bag and swiftly left the cafe.
the clacks of both your shoes were the only noise in the other-wise clear air.
"speak to me y/n" his voice soft and warm, the kind that had the power to soften your roughened edges.
he trailed behind you as you walked with a mission, this was where he would finally leave, was what you thought as you reached the river—you took a definitive turn to walk towards your designated spot.
only he was still here, "what are you doing?" you finally turned with frustration bubbling through you.
"speak to me.. please" he repeated again, in that same voice.
"what do you want me to say? that i don't understand why you're still talking to me—as if we can be friends—we can't" you let out finally.
"why can't we be?" he asked.
"you have a fucking girlfriend jungwon" you spat.
"so?" he walked closer to you.
"what the fuck.." you scoffed turning away from him, he grabbed your arm pulling you closer to him—turning you to face him again.
"that doesn't mean we can't be friends" he said, peering into your eyes, before you could shake yourself out of his grasp.
"does she know?" you responded quickly, not letting any silence settle.
"yes, she does".
"does she know everything?" you emphasized.
any girlfriend surely wouldn't let her boyfriend be friends with someone they almost kissed.
"she knows everything" he reiterated—only now did you notice his hand still hanging onto your arm.
you nodded, beyond confused—still with that same raw ache that only presented itself to you in his presence, his arm on you still felt far too intimate.
"i'll prove it to you" he added after seeing your inner conflict.
even if she allowed this friendship—you couldn't, not when you knew you craved more than his friendship could ever offer.
but even with the cold exterior you had on for him, you didn't tell him you couldn't allow it.
"fine, we'll see"
because space is easier when only you're aware of it.
he gave you real unfiltered smile, of relief—the kind that was currently making you feel guilty. you once again expected his words to be forgotten—erased with time, what you didn't expect was yuri herself talking to you about this.
she showed up at your dorm with a polite knock to your door and a stomach churning.
"hey can we talk?"
you sat on your bed patting the space besides you as she closed the door behind her, "look i'm gonna cut the bullshit and get to the point, i'm really cool with you being friends with jungwon—i know you had feelings for him and i know you almost kissed"
you couldn't decipher the exact course your emotions took—one of them was a stinging, stuck in your throat—that he had told someone something either of you had failed to address with even each other.
"why would you let us be friends? i don't know if you're aware but all of that was still very fresh before you dated" you spoke not bothering to hide your perplex.
"i know, it's simply because i trust you both—you were both my friends before any of this" you stared at her almost waiting for something to break, a crack—but it never came.
"right.." you responded not quite knowing to say at this point.
"you guys can do whatever you did before i was in the picture i'm not just going to ask you to cut off your roommate" she scoffed.
but you were never truly friends, every action had an underplating of your longing for things to change—if he had a girlfriend on the first meeting those course of events wouldn't have even occurred.
"if we almost kissed as friends—roommates.. do you really want us to do whatever we did before?" you raised an eyebrow now your confusion only deepening with each sentence. her expression didn't change, not once.
"truly i'm not strict y/n just don't kiss obviously" she laughed as though this was all some funny inconvenience. you just gawked in pure disbelief as she switched the topic to some off-topic party she was inviting you to with no mention of the prior conversation again.
you realised as she talked about clothes and drinks that you had never once seen them so much as hold hands—not that you wanted to see that or that it mattered, you were by no means judging their relationship—but you couldn't help but make the observation.
not long after that you got changed for the party, only opting to go because jake had begged with his big eyes and pout—you sat in the centre of the sofa nursing a half full glass of an alcohol you couldn't name.
sunghoon and ni-ki were stood leant against the sofa debating some game you weren't engaged in enough to name—yuri and juliana were whispering intensely about something in the kitchen.
[ NOW PLAYING > HOUSE OF CARDS ]
and you were teasing jake about his inability to handle his liquor—already noticing the light tinge of red on the tips of his cheeks, as he groaned in annoyance you felt a dip in the sofa besides you and a leg flush against yours—you turned to see the culprit, jungwon with his head tilted looking over you with his pretty glistening eyes.
you averted your head after sending a corporate smile—immediately focusing on the drink in front of you, he looked with you before softly wrapping his hand around the glass—pulling it gently from your grasp and bringing it up to his plush lips—taking a sip.
"mmm" he hummed as his tongue darted out—licking the remnants from his lips—eyes still trained on yours.
something in your stomach flipped—harsh, you managed a tight lipped smile as you placed your hand over his on the cup, taking it back into your hold.
yeah.. this was not going to work.
you gave it a subtle couple minutes before excusing yourself from his overwhelming touch to top up your drink, you felt his eyes follow you with a slightly darkened gaze.
the party was a typical house party at the home of someone you couldn't name—with the bass of the music bouncing off the walls and the lights dimmed enough but not too much.
you grabbed a random cup of a drink to further the harsh buzz you already felt, this night was a night of letting go—a night to live without a plan or a designated time to get home.
you conversed with random women complimenting them on their outfits, danced with your friends—but never without that familiar prickle on your nape, the one that only presented itself when you felt as though you were being watched. you settled yourself onto the end of an empty sofa with a drink someone had brought to keep your high going.
"hi beautiful" you heard a voice settle besides you along with the momentary sink of the plush sofa.
"hey jay!" you responded with a tilt to your head and a look you only reserved for shameless flirting on nights you couldn't recall.
"i missed you" he smirked inching closer, whispering close to your ear.
"oh really?" you smiled leaning closer.
"how could i not?" his breath tickled your ear as he snaked an arm around the back of the sofa.
you looked around the room—looking over nothing at particular with hazed over lens as he whispered words you could only giggle at, until your eyes fell on jungwon, his jaw was tight—his eyes were dark, his cup was slightly indented as if he was fighting every urge not to crush it right there.
you held his eye contact as jay's hand drifted from the back of the sofa to your shoulder—your arm before settling on your waist, you averted your gaze looking back up to the man before you.
his eyes were shamelessly trained on your lips, waiting for you to give the greenlight—the second you looked at his own slightly pink lips he leant forward—with a hand on your jaw.
and then you felt it, the chorus of complaint your heart was pushing onto you—you ignored it as you had been. whether or not this man was your soulmate didn't concern you, for you were lost in anything but who he was in this moment.
you smelt the alcohol on his lips as you were sure he could too, his lips pushed against yours for barely a second when you felt a hand pull you up, ripping you from his hold.
you barely registered anything as you looked at the hand connecting you to whoever was furiously pulling you to the nearest room. he slammed the door, pushing you against it.
"what the fuck jungwon!?" you spat tilting your head up, he was close enough you could smell his cologne, his nose inches from yours.
"you're kissing random guys now?" he scoffed not moving from his current position, caging you in against the cold wood of the door.
"random? what do you care" you laughed attempting to push him back, he didn't move.
he almost growled at your words, his breathe now fanning your ear as he composed himself, breathing low.
he pulled back, enough to see his eyes hold onto your lips, contemplating—his tongue ran over the span of his bottom lip—angry. you pushed yourself forward, just enough his chest grazed yours—just enough that he could feel every word.
"what do you care" you repeated low, venomous.
his throat bobbed as he breathed heavy against your lips, his hand splayed against your waist—possessive.
"fucking pussy" you shook your head with a mocking scoff—just as you straightened to move out of his grasp—his hand held the back of your head and he pushed your head back by your chin—tilted against the door.
you both breathed heavy against each others lips—parted barely grazing, his hand was imprinting into your jaw.
"say that again" you felt him speak against your lips.
"fucking p-" he closed the space between your lips, hard—you whimpered against his mouth as he kissed you, open mouthed—messy, he groaned low as he tasted you—his tongue whirled against yours as his hand released your jaw, it ran along the curve of your back settling on your lower back, he pushed against your body into the imprint straining against his pants.
he whimpered loud and unrestrained into your mouth as a gasp left your lips without permission, you pulled back just enough to get a glimpse of him in this state—his tongue lolled out as he caught his breath.
your heart was still—not screaming or thrashing against it's restraints, instead beating hard—with a thrill it only craved further.
months of back and forths, of stolen touches led to this, to a single vulnerable moment neither of you could pull away from—you could blame it on the alcohol, just a drunken mistake but you knew better.
he watched as you looked up at him with a gleam of pure fevour—he felt himself slip in that moment, his mind reducing into a puddle.
"driving me fucking crazy" he groaned as he pulled you up against the door, you made a noise in-between that of a gasp and a whimper as you wrapped your legs around him—your dress hiking up giving him access to the plush of your ass against his hands, his lips attacked you, his tongue battled yours hungrily, the only sounds in the room being your sinful noises mixed with the sound of his tongue sucking yours—pulling away with a slick pop and a string of saliva connecting you both.
his hips ground up into you as his lips kissed your jaw—chin and then licking against your ear before gasping and grunting sweetly.
"baby i can feel how wet you are" he whispered low, you whined in response pulling his head back by his hair and suckling on his bottom lip making him mewl against you.
you could feel how big he was even against the layers—your panties were beyond flooded with your arousal, you felt your stomach tightening as his movements grew erratic, he huffed against your lips as your own hips rolled down—desperate.
one hand left your ass—moving to where your bodies met, he drew fast rhythmic circles over your panties where your clit sat—aching to be touched. "f-fuck—i'm so close" you breathed. broken sounds fell from your lips against his as the coil in your stomach threatened to snap
"yeah? fuck- c-cum with me baby" he breathed before a final roll of your hips undid you both, the coil snapped hard—his hips stuttered with a shuddering groan and your name on repeat as though it was all he knew.
he held you as you slumped in his hold—head falling to his shoulder as you both caught your breath.
you finally lifted your head after however long of breathing against each other—in his arms. he set you down and smoothed over your dress as you sighed against the back of the door, his hand came up and cupped your jaw—he held it—gentle almost loving.
his eyes held a softness and spark you'd only seen in the moments you believed there could be more, his lips curved up before he pressed a sweet kiss against your lips—you kissed back.
[ NOW PLAYING > NOPE YOUR TOO LATE I ALREADY DIED ]
for a time you had forgotten where you were, who you were—who he was, only in that kiss did it hit you, he wasn't yours—not really.
you were kissing a man who belonged to someone else. you felt your stomach lurch as you pushed him away, your head spun—partly because of the alcohol but mainly because you felt disgust creep into your body—chills.
"y/n?" jungwon watched as your eyes darted with furrowed eyebrows—your breathing was shaky. you shook your head attempting to push open the door, only for him to stop you.
"just speak to me-" you looked at him incredulously, the hatred spinning through your body was mainly directed at yourself—but as you looked at him you couldn't help but feel disgust at him—hatred at him for so easily cheating on his girlfriend, the same one who had trusted you both to keep to yourselves.
"i'm more than this—i'm more than a side bitch, and yuri- she deserves so much better.. from both of us" your eyes pricked with tears, he shook his head.
"that's not—just please hear me out, you're not a side anything i only want you-" you scoffed as your tears fell—not wanting to hear another word you ripped the door open and pushed yourself through a group of people—hidden from him.
you found a bathroom and let yourself calm down, the only thought in your mind right now was finding yuri, the guilt ate at your heart as the tears fell, your chest hammered with a pain no one could comfort.
you had never felt so lost, your tears were for the loss of your respect for yourself—the pain you were going to cause—the people you'd lose and for losing yourself, you wanted to believe this was far from who you were—but right now you weren't so sure.
because in that moment you hadn't thought of yuri once, your mind never once flipped to the person you were hurting most.
so you wiped your tears and cleaned yourself up and then you opened the door and went to find jake.
"where's yuri?" you spoke over the music, suddenly feeling the harsh sting of a head-ache behind your eyes, the noise of people, the light all becoming entirely too overwhelming. jake turned his head to you—taking in your glazed over reddened eyes—and something between pain—defeat and disassociation.
"she went back to ours—with juliana, said it was the closest place and she felt sick" he spoke. you nodded and turned towards the door, his hand grabbed yours before you could start walking.
"are you okay?" you paused, just long enough to send doubt to his head and then sent him a tight lipped smile and stiff nod before setting off, only he trailed behind with worry in his brows. you finally reached your apartment after much overthinking and a lot of anxiety, the alcohol was just a buzz in the form of that same head-ache.
you opened the door to loud music blasting in your ears and walked through the hall, looking around for any signs of life—except you found it faster than you thought.
yuri sat on the sofa with her lips on juliana's. you stood still with your jaw dropped to the ground, jake walked up next to you—catching your expression before seeing the reason for it, his eyes followed yours before matching your dropped jaw.
jake composed himself first and coughed—loud, their heads snapped up, you had no idea what to think at this point your prior guilt and self-loathing filtered into a state of utter confusion.
neither of them spoke, just gawking—looking between each other with fear written all over them.
"so.. i came here to tell you that jungwon and i..uhm well—we" you scrunched your nose in discomfort, becoming too aware of the amount of people in the vicinity.
"i know" yuri spoke first, she looked at juliana who only nodded.
"look i wanted to tell you earlier but i was so scared—i really didn't know how to do this and i know i fucked up—but jungwon and i aren't dating, it was fake..i love juliana, i asked him if we could fake it, only because our maid caught us and my mom would approve of me dating him...but she would never approve of me and juliana—i made sure he didn't tell anyone and i know how badly he wanted to... i'm so sorry" she spoke fast, with tears in her eyes—and a shake to her voice.
you let out a breath—you felt their eyes on you waiting for you to speak but you couldn't find the words, so you opted to nodding and locking yourself in your room—overwhelmed with emotions, stuck in a frenzy of all the events that occurred in the last couple hours.
you showered away the grime from that day and got changed into your favourite jumper and pyjama pants, deciding to get some fresh air.
you wrapped yourself in a coat and slipped out—ignoring the people scattered around the room because you were afraid of that confrontation—afraid of all the conclusions you had failed to come to.
as you walked you tried thinking it all over, yes he wanted to tell you—yes you understood why he couldn't, it wasn't his place.
but he could've left you alone—he could have let you push away instead of trying to pull you back with the knowledge of how complicated it all was, knowing he couldn't tell you but still playing with your feelings.
you also knew that you wouldn't have wanted him to let you push away.
your mind ached with confusion as you walked along the river, leaning forward against the railing. the water swayed back and forth—imperfect ripples dancing throughout. you looked into it for answers—to tell you how to navigate this without losing your mind completely.
you huffed into the air as you sat with an odd sense of calm, you felt a drop land on your head—and of course you had nothing to protect you from it.
[ NOW PLAYING > MA MEILLEURE ENNEMIE ]
with no attempt to move you felt a couple more drops and then a shadow, you looked up to see a clear umbrella hovering over your head.
jungwon stood beside you with a hat on and an unreadable expression—something along the lines of adoration, a slight worry and pure unadulterated pining.
for a moment you just looked at each other, trying to figure out how this would go—you noticed the furrow in his brow, not angry, not confused, a furrow that made him look at you as if he was scared you'd disappear if he stopped looking.
his eyes looked slightly glossed over, sparkly as though he was from a dream.
"thanks" you spoke under your breath—the patters of ran fell against the plastic as you felt a light tension that only presented itself in his presence, not the bad kind—just a clear shift.
"i saw you leave, guessed you'd come here" he spoke.
"why'd you come?" you looked over the railing again, not catching him wince.
"i know you must be confused right now, i wanted to be here—and i wanted to apologise.. for lying to you, for making this so much more complicated than it had to be—y/n i am so sorry" he turned to face you completely, eyes boring into yours with guilt.
you nodded, unable to think of a response "so much has happened..i'm mainly angry" you started.
"i'm angry at myself for letting anything happen with you.. while yuri-"—"we weren't together" he interrupted, you turned to him and shook your head—blowing air through your nose.
"that doesn't matter! i thought you were and i still let it happen.. and i don't know how i could do that, i believed you were together and i didn't think about yuri once" you sighed—frustrated.
"y/n i know why that happened" he said fast, as though he didn't know if he should say it.
"what are you talking about?" you asked. he looked at you with a mixture of fear and anticipation, he stepped closer—under the umbrella.
"i can't breathe when i'm around you—i was scared of losing you, which is why i didn't come here after that night" he breathed in, as if to compose himself.
"i couldn't bring myself to..-" he shook his head, tightening his lips together before breathing out—he stepped forward, close enough you could see the sheen over his eyes—close enough you could count his eyelashes.
"i love you.. if you could take all the words in the language—it still wouldn't describe how much i love you, if you could put all those words together, it still wouldn't describe what i feel for you.. what i feel for you, is everything, i love you more than everything".
"everything?" you felt a tear you hadn't anticipated running down your cheek.
he smiled, sweet and soft—with a curve to his dimples and cupped your face with his free hand, running his thumb over your tears.
"everything" he nodded, you let out a laugh full of relief—he returned the laugh with his own, you inched forwards—he tilted his head, eyes now focused on your lips. he leaned forward—pressing his lips to yours delicate—loving, he pressed harder against your lips, his hand sliding to your nape—pressing just enough so you could feel how long he'd been waiting for this.
you cupped his face pressing a final peck to his lips before pulling away with a shy smile, his face was still inches from yours, now sporting a pink flush.
"i love you jungwon" you whispered between you both, as a promise as much as a confession.
his smile widened, he looked off to the side as if to compose himself and then he giggled dropping his head to your shoulder.
[ NOW PLAYING > LOVERS ]
"i think we're soulmates" he whispered—clearly without thinking.
your breathing stopped as you remembered your previous revelation, the beginning of your soulmate dreams. he lifted his head up from your shoulder—slowly, looking over everything inch of your face as he heard your breath falter.
"we couldn't stay away from each other, because we're soulmates" he held your gaze.
"yeah, you didn't think about yuri, not because you're a bad or selfish person—but because that was the first time your heart beat with me—..the first time our hearts beat together" he placed his hand over your heart.
"you know, she even said she doesn't expect us to stay away from each other" he joked—but your mind was somewhere far from here.
"what if we're not" you blurted out. he only smiled, looking as though you'd said the most endearingly—stupid thing possible.
"baby, soulmate or not you're stuck with me, i choose you—every time" you stifled a giggle at his words, tears welling in the corners of your eyes.
"that night we found each other, in the kitchen—that wasn't coincidence, i refuse to believe any of this was" he spoke slowly.
"let's go home" he pulled you close—whispering into your hair.
as those words left his mouth, lips against your hair—you felt content, you felt the ache you'd be harbouring in your heart lift, at first the comfort scared you—because nothing was made to last.
but there was beauty in the fear, for every irrational thought, you felt him—like an orb of light—strung between you, wrapping you together—not noticeable, not claustrophobic—just a presence. you both felt it in the pats of the water—in the freshly rained air, it was devastatingly beautiful.
that night you walked home, hand in hand under the little clear umbrella—occasionally bumping shoulders and bickering after trying to force him under the plastic.
once you got home and heard that familiar click, you got ready for the night, before being pulled into jungwon's room with gentle hands. of course you'd been in here before—but only with jake. his perfectly clean room with grey sheets and a little plant on the desk next to the stack of books, you couldn't help but notice that red scarf hanging on a hook by his wardrobe.
"sleep here tonight?" he looked to you with pleading eyes, no one could say no to that face.
you had barely nodded before he was pulling you down to the bed, paired with a mischievous giggle your heart could only swell at. he pulled you so you were almost on top of him, the moonlight spilled through the window—carving a shadow over his face.
one hand on your cheek, the other splayed around your waist—he held you as though he wouldn't get the chance again, his lips pressed to each inch of your face, spilling sweets into your ears. you fell asleep in his arms, to the sound of his honey voice whispering words he'd only dreamt of speaking to you.
his arms wrapped around your middle, his chin on your shoulder—he felt you hum against him as he pressed a sweet kiss against your jaw, only now he saw you clearly—through his eyes.
you found me.
your eyes fluttered open to the feeling of a hand brushing over your cheek—as they adjusted to the light a sleepy jungwon came into view.
"sorry, your hair was in the way" he whispered with an apologetic pout.
you only smiled lazily, stretching as you nuzzled into his neck eliciting a comfortable hum from him. "how long have you been awake?" you spoke muffled.
"maybe 10 minutes, you're a pretty sleeper" he said with rasp, pressing a kiss to your temple. you nudged your nose against his neck in protest before remembering your dream, seconds before you woke up.
you believed jungwon when he told you he'd choose you, that didn't mean you weren't allowed to worry bringing up your dream.
"baby?" you whispered, tilting your head just enough so he could hear you clearly.
he tilted his head away with a hand over his face, cheeks clearly turning red even as he hid his face. "that's new" he choked as you laughed, he attempted to composed himself with a cough.
"yes y/n?" he turned to look down at you "did you happen to have a dream last night?" you spoke quietly between you, watching over his every expression, his face morphed from light confusion to recognition.
he turned to you completely and cupped your face between his hands.
"you found me"
he pulled you closer to him, as you breathed out in relief, all you could do was take in each and every detail of his face with a profound joy no one could describe, a feeling you didn't think you'd get the clarity to enjoy.
"there's no one i'd rather be destined to" he whispered as he stroked your jaw. in a way you thought you'd felt all this before—all in your dreams but in your dreams you'd wake up alone, wondering when you'd feel it all, really feel it—in the world and not in your head.
you leaned forward, pressing your lips to his slowly, he hummed pulling your body impossibly closer.
"thank you soulmate" you spoke between kisses, he giggled—sweet.
[ NOW PLAYING > LES ]
after a lot of cuddling and kisses you begrudgingly got up—out of jungwon's death grip, you tiptoed out of his room into your own and decided to do some cleaning—as you folded the last of your washing, you laid some clothes out on your bed, grabbing your towel for a shower.
you pulled your curtains back, letting the morning glow wash over your room—soft rays fanning over the room in a pattern against each surface. as you stood out watching the life outside your windows, you felt hands creep around your waist—yelping out at the foreign feeling.
"jungwon! you scared me" you gasped—"mm i'm sorry baby" he spoke before pulling you into a kiss, you hummed into it as he deepened it slowly—walking back, you made an unintentional gasp-whine as the back of your legs pressed into the bed.
he swallowed your noises, hands wandering up your waist—your own pulled onto the back of his head, raking through his hair. he whined into your mouth loud—unfiltered.
"you're addicting" he breathed in-between kisses, your tongues traced each others, both spurring each other on with each noise.
"baby i was gonna shower" you giggled after pulling away to breathe, he shook his head for a split second a light bulb practically appearing above his head, he took your hand and pulled you to the bathroom—with a clear problem in his pants..
"let's shower then" he tilted his head, pulling you back into a deep—messy kiss, pushing his hands into your hips, you laughed at his boldness as your hands reached behind you to lock the door.
you parted just for a second to start the shower before capturing his lips again, hands toying at the hem of his shirt—he pulled it over his head as you pulled your sleep shorts off, kicking them somewhere in the bathroom. you took in his toned—golden chest, letting out a breath. he smirked at your reaction, you leaned in pressing kisses to his cheeks "so pretty".
he pulled your top over your head—his lips parted as he pulled you closer towards him, pressing small kisses to your collarbones—shoulders.
"my beautiful girl" he spoke looking over the details on your face—the crease in your cheeks as you smiled at his words, the love swirled with desire in your eyes. you felt your stomach twist as you scanned over the large imprint over his joggers, he kicked them off as you stepped over the ledge into the shower.
you gasped at the chill of the water, as you turned to change it jungwon turned you back towards him.
"don't bother" he grinned, pushing his darkened blonde hair back—your back pressed against the cool wall as he pressed his length against you, you caught sight of his painfully hard dick, mouth watering.
"not yet" he whispered before shoving his tongue into your mouth—pressing his fingers over your slit, you gasped against his mouth. he hummed, teasing—rubbing over your leaking cunt.
"don't fucking tease" you whined, teeth grit. he only chuckled—dark and taunting. "or what?" he licked against your ear.
your words got caught in your throat as he shoved two fingers deep into you with no remorse, you moaned loud as the cold water soothed the heat surging through you.
"shh baby, wouldn't want jake to hear your pretty noises now would we?" he mocked as he curled his fingers perfectly—repeatedly against your gummy walls.
your lips formed a pout as you bit your bottom lip—shaking your head with a whine mouth closed. your hand shook as you held the wall with enough pressure to drain the colour from it, the other on his shoulder—holding on for dear life.
he bent his knees, tilting down with his fingers thrusting in and out—his lips captured the peak of your tit with a low groan tearing into the mixed echoes of the room. his groans and your whines mingled with the sound of water hitting the two of you—it was truly filthy.
his tongue twirled over your tits as he alternated, finally letting them rest as his thumb joined the torment, transfixing on your clit. he straightened his legs—pressing your cheeks together to lick into your mouth, kissing you open mouthed. a low mewl tore from your throat into his mouth. you felt your stomach threaten to snap, cunt tightening around his relentless fingers.
"don't you dare" he whispered against your lips, eyes black with desire. he pumped his fingers harder, faster.
"i-mmph' i can't" you gasped, he dropped down to his knees as your legs shook hard, replacing his thumb with his lips—he sucked and licked against your clit. his eyes locked onto yours as his lips worked on you alongside his fingers, sinful noises shook through the room as he undid whatever he said about being quiet, with his mouth.
"cum-on-my-tongue" he breathed in-between sucks, with one final simultaneous curl to his finger and flick of his tongue you came.
you came hard with a drawn out scream, jungwon ate up your arousal through your high with enthusiastic moans of his own, your legs buckled as the heat rose through your body. he finally came up as you started twitching—overstimulated.
he pressed his lips against yours with a groan as you tasted yourself—you traced your fingers over his stomach working down to his cock, he twitched violently as you wrapped your palm around it—applying pressure.
he hissed at the contact and then hiked your leg up, around his waist. he grabbed your hand placing it back on his shoulder before wrapping his own hand around himself—teasing his reddened tip against your entrance.
he pushed in an inch, slowly—watching your every expression with parted lips and groans. your breath stuttered as he inched further and further in, until he bottomed out with a sweet whine against your ear.
you gasped as you adjusted, head against the wall—he kissed your ear, jaw—finally nipping on your bottom lip.
"mmph' move please" you whined as his cock twitched inside you, he held eye contact as he experimentally thrust into you, you gasped loud—immediately silencing yourself with closed eyed.
"open your eyes" he spoke as he thrusted again—his free hand started pinching at your nipples as he bounced you rhythmically.
your noises loudened as he pumped faster—harder into you, with his darkened eyes trained on yours, his own resolve breaking as whines spilled out, his fingers left your nipples—working on your puffy clit.
you cried out just as you felt your stomach tightening, for your second orgasm.
"y/n! are you good i heard you scream?!"
your head snapped to the door in fear hearing jake through the door, you looked at jungwon's face—only to see his eyes darken further with each moment, his once parted lips now upturned into a sly grin. he immediately tightened his grip on you, fucking up into you at an animal pace—your jaw dropped as you clamped a hand over your mouth.
"can feel your pussy sucking me in, you fucking like this?" he chuckled low into your ear, you clenched harder at his words, his hips stuttered as he sighed through his nose—as if to compose himself.
"go on, answer-him" he spoke with grit teeth—you slowly released the hand over your mouth, teeth now sunk into your lip.
"m-i'm—fine, slipped!" you choked out as jungwon's cock slammed into you, your vision slipping as tears rolled out unknown to you.
"okay.. be careful!" he shouted and then you heard the door to your room close.
as if on cue the coil snapped, hard—you saw white as you came for the second time, jungwon's head fell to your shoulder as he rode out his own high with a violent stutter to his hips and a drawn out groan as he filled your cunt with his milky cum.
you both gasped for air, he pulled out with a grunt as you hissed at the sensitivity, the gasps slowly dying down into deep breaths as the cool water washed away the sin and heat.
you felt his lips press kisses from your collarbone to your lips, pecking a few times with a dazed lazy smile. you both stood under the showerhead—whispering i love you's between kisses.
you washed each other, taking your sweet time—that was until you felt wave of sleep attack your eyelids, which prompted jungwon to swiftly pull you out and wrap you in a towel—making you do your skincare as he pulled out pyjamas for you. you got changed as jungwon sprinted to his own room, he came back within minutes to join you, he sunk into the bed besides you with a drawn out sigh as he pulled you into him.
your relationship with jungwon didn't fill any void, it didn't make you feel more accomplished—it added to the joy you already felt, you didn't need him to better your life—he added betterment without it being a necessity.
as a soulmate jungwon fit into place with ease, the changes that came with your relationship wasn't overwhelming—he was attentive without being overbearing, your wish was his command even without wishing—always thoughtful, with your shared teas becoming more frequent, often waking to them waiting for you on the kitchen island.
he did however have a hard time keeping his hands off you, during movie night or in public, of course jake had noticed the shift—unbeknownst to you he saw it in the way jungwon no longer looked at you how he did, he used to look at you as though he'd have to savour it—looking away almost as quickly as his eyes landed on you.
now his eyes lingered—they watched over your figure, sometimes with a deep fulfilment, other times as a predatory up and down.
what jake didn't know, was the soulmate news. he had no idea you were destined for each other. which you weren't trying to keep a secret but you hadn't quite known the best time to bring it up.
and you certainly hadn't expected it to come out when you assumed jake wasn't home.
you stood with your back to the room, making a drink as the tv played some animal documentary into the otherwise silent room. you huffed in faux annoyance as jungwon slid in behind you—resting his head on the blade of your shoulder as an amused noise left his mouth.
his hands slid around your waist as he pressed a kiss to your cheek—you turned your head enough to meet his lips, humming into an all too sweet kiss.
"morning soulmate" he spoke as you turned yourself around, hands leaning on the counter behind you—his hands traced your waist as you turned pulling you into another kiss, as you pulled back from his lips your words got lost on your tongue—a shell-shocked jake stood at the island.
his jaw dropped with a shopping bag in hand, jungwon followed your shocked expression to jake's—his own face falling.
"soulmates?!" he gawked looking between you both, you walked over to him setting the bag on the island and propping yourself up on it.
"yeah, um we've only known for a couple days.." you started as he continued looking between you both.
"alright i knew you were together or-or something! but soulmates?" he stammered, jungwon had walked over at this point standing besides you as you talked.
"wait, pause—did we make it that obvious?" you responded.
"well yeah? he looks at you like he's allowed to now, also you did kinda hint something happened when we caught yuri and juliana.." he raised an eyebrow as jungwon choked looking around the room.
"we have a lot of catching up to do" you sighed as he punched jungwon's shoulder making him groan out who only nodded with his lips tightened into a line.
"i deserved that.."
.⭑ˎˊ˗
time moved as your relationship progressed, each day melting together in a comfortable rhythm—jungwon found a new way to show his devotion towards you each day. sometimes he'd show up after your classes with a paper cup of your favourite tea—other times he had pulled you to your river, talking about finding the stray cat he had ran into.
you fell into a unspoken routine, having sleepovers every so often—sometimes you'd fall asleep early and wake up to a sleepy jungwon nestled into your back. he insisted on walking you to your classes each morning—even if he didn't have any.
your friends hadn't questioned the change at all, they welcomed it with open arms—all of them had pretty much seen it coming, they even went so far as to give those couple months you'd spent pining a name, the yearning trials..
yuri had also apologised many times in her own way, often sending flowers before you stopped her, telling her you understood—it was a cycle of pain for everyone.
nothing changed with jake—if anything he took your relationship as an opportunity to tease jungwon when he'd inevitably be caught lacking, leaving jungwon a flushed mess trying to convince you both he wasn't embarrassed. however burying his head into your shoulder denied that.
he also often walked into interesting scenes at the dorms.
one time he walked in to you baking, with jungwon on washing up duty, quickly coming to the conclusion baking wasn't for him—he beat each substance into the dish with zero patience of his own, you had to take the bowl from him in the same manner you would taking a toy from a child.
the last couple days you had felt slight unease, everything flowed the same—your life was beyond magical, except there was a little tingle in your spine that suggested otherwise.
you noticed it in the way jungwon looked slightly worried anytime you went near his desk, also not letting you grab his glasses for him—mumbling a vague excuse about being comfy on you, except he had complained about having to get them.
after some particularly tiring classes you kicked off your shoes and shrugged off your jacket as you trudged into your room, walking in to a little pink paper sat on your pillow.
come to the roof
slightly ominous.. but you easily knew who it was from the writing. a smile graced your lips as you slipped on your shoes and ran up the stairs. you pushed open the door immediately being hit with a slight chill—and jungwon sat on a blanket, barely being able to contain his smile as you sauntered over.
"what's this?" you laughed as you slid in next to him, he pulled you close by your shoulder—pressing a kiss to your cheek.
"so you remember when you asked me to the gala" he wiggled his eyebrows as you rolled your eyes.
"unfortunately" you said with a dropped voice.
"would you like to go with me y/n?" he spoke between you, low and shy.
"baby tickets would be long gone by now" you smiled as you kissed his nose.
he pulled out two pink tickets between his fingers as if he was holding a card—mischief riddled in his wide eyes.
"how did you-" you gasped.
"i got them the day before you asked me.. because i wanted to ask you" he whispered between you, his eyes crossed over your face before landing on your own—staring so deeply, with his head slightly tilted.
"of course i'll go with you, thank you baby" you tilted your head forward—just enough so your nose was nudging his.
"everything?"
"everything."
had to reference the anime that broke my heart for the first time.
warnings: mdni! sexual content, toxic jungwon, sexual tension, jealousy, risky sex, rough sex, dubcon, coercion, dirty talk, teasing, p in v, unprotected sex (do not do it), fingering, multiple orgasms, strong language, creampie, light choking, a bit of yearning, reader can’t do casual, emotional manipulation
wc: 27k
note: i want to write shorter fics but i'm such a yapper bruh. hope you enjoy reading this ! i´ll start writing part two of top two next hehe < 3
taglist (you can comment!): @kristynaaah @hooniella @gentlestpour @heelvcr @heesvnqie @kazehee
⋆.˚˖࿔ ࣪
the sound of his laughter was always just a little too quiet to hear from across the floor, but you always knew exactly when it happened. you could tell by the way the girls in marketing would suddenly lean over their desk dividers, or how the receptionist would find a reason to walk all the way to the printer on your side of the building just to catch his eye as he passed.
yang jungwon had a way of distributing himself so thinly that everyone felt like they had a piece of him, yet nobody actually held anything at all.
it was a strange kind of currency he traded in. he didn’t have the loud, exhausting arrogance of the men you usually avoided. he didn’t smirk, he didn’t linger a second too long in a way that would make anyone uncomfortable. he was just... soft, incredibly attentive. he remembered how people took their tea, he noticed when someone looked a little tired, and he always had the right words to smooth over a mistake before the department head could even find out about it.
you had spent eight months watching the cycle repeat itself. a new girl would start in accounting or design, she would get overwhelmed by the workload, and jungwon would appear out of nowhere with a reassuring smile and a cup of coffee. and a few weeks later, she would be looking at him with that same dazed, mesmerized expression you saw on everyone else. he got his shifts covered, his spreadsheets double-checked, and an absolute shield of loyalty from the entire floor, all because he looked at people like they were the only thing that mattered in a room full of fluorescent lights.
you hated how clearly you saw the pattern. it made you feel detached, like a ghost lingering on the edges of a game everyone else was happily playing. loneliness did that to you — it made you hyper fixate on the details of other people’s lives because your own felt so hollow. and maybe, just maybe, it was also about the fact that you were the only person on this floor who he hadn't tried to use that gentle charm on yet. it felt spiteful, almost, like he knew you were watching and had decided you weren't worth the effort of the routine.
you bit the inside of your cheek, forcing your eyes back to your spreadsheet. do not look. do not care.
"you're going to get a headache if you keep staring at that screen without blinking, y/n." your pulse gave a stupid flutter before you could stop it. he was right there, his shadow leaning gently over the divider of your cubicle. he looked so terribly neat, the sleeves of his grey button down rolled up just to his forearms, his dark hair falling perfectly across his forehead. he didn’t look like someone who had just spent the last twenty minutes quietly convincing the senior supervisor to give him an extra week on his report. he just looked like a concerned coworker.
"i'm almost done." you whispered, your fingers staying frozen over the keyboard. you didn't want to look up. looking up meant acknowledging the way he was tilting his head, the way he was offering you that quiet, private space he seemed to create wherever he stood.
"you said that an hour ago when i walked past." he murmured, his voice slipping into that gentle register that always felt like a secret meant only for you. he set a small paper bag from the bakery downstairs on the edge of your desk, careful not to disturb your papers. "you skipped the team lunch. i brought you one of those lemon tarts you mentioned liking last month."
your heart ached a little, a sharp spike of anxiety hitting your chest. you hadn't even realized he had been listening when you said that to a completely different coworker in the breakroom weeks ago. that was his trick. he collected information like weights, saving them until he could wrap them up in sweet gestures, leaving you with no way to push him away without looking like the bad guy.
"jungwon, you shouldn't have." you said, trying to force your voice to sound flat, or at least indifferent. you finally met his eyes, searching for a slip, a hint of the calculation you knew was behind them. but there was nothing. just those wide eyes looking at you with a steady warmth that made you feel completely exposed.
"i wanted to." he said simply, a tiny crinkle forming at the corners of his eyes. "you look tired, y/n. let me do something nice for you for once. okay?" the way he said for once, as if he had been waiting for the opportunity to care about you, made a bitter knot form in your throat. he was opening the door to the routine, and the worst part was how badly a small, pathetic part of you wanted to step inside.
you looked down at the brown paper bag, the grease from the pastry already leaving a translucent circle on the paper. it felt heavy, like an anchor pulling you straight into the deep end of his world. if you reached for your purse right now, if you pulled out a crisp bill and insisted on paying him back, you would look incredibly cold. you would be the girl who couldn't just accept a simple favor from a coworker who was only trying to be thoughtful.
but you needed a barrier. you needed to prove to yourself that you weren't like that girl from accounting, or the receptionists, or any of the other people who let his probably fake kindness soften their edges until there was nothing left to protect themselves with.
"how much was it?" you asked, your fingers gripping the edge of your desk a little tighter as you kept your voice low, trying to maintain the flat, corporate boundary between you. "i can venmo you. i also think i have some cash in my bag."
jungwon didn't move. he didn't blink, either. he just kept staring down at you, his thumb slowly brushing against the seam of his trouser pocket. for a second, just a tiny fraction of a second, the soft crinkle around his eyes vanished, replaced by an expression that was entirely unreadable. it was the closest you had ever seen his mask come to slipping, and it made your stomach do a small anxious flip.
but then, as quickly as it had gone, the sweetness returned. it bloomed across his face like it belonged there, gentle and effortless. "don't do that, y/n.” he murmured, his voice dropping an octave, sounding almost disappointed. not angry, just gently hurt, like a friend whose genuine intentions had been misunderstood. he reached out, his fingers hovering just an inch above the paper bag, not quite touching it, but close enough that you could smell the faint scent of his laundry detergent mixed with the sweet scent of the lemon. "it's just a tart. you don't owe me anything for it."
you hated how good he was at this. he made your self-preservation look like paranoia. "i just don't like feeling like i owe people things." you whispered, finally looking away from his eyes because the intensity of his gaze was starting to make your chest feel tight. you focused on his collar instead, tracing the neat line of his grey button down. "especially at work."
"you don't owe me." he repeated softly. he leaned a little closer over the divider, his shadow completely enveloping your desk space now, cutting off the rest of the bustling floor. "i promise. consider it an apology for the project timeline being so messy this week. i know it's been stressful for you."
he hadn't even been the one who messed up the timeline, it had been the senior supervisor's fault. yet there he was, taking the blame, wrapping it up in a pastry, and handing it to you like a peace offering. it was perfect. it was completely unassailable.
before you could think of another way to push him back, another way to say no without sounding entirely irrational, he was already straightening up. he patted the top of the cubicle divider twice, the thud of his palms against the fabric signaling the end of your private pocket of time.
"eat it before the sugar melts." he said, giving you one last lingering smile that felt entirely too warm for a tuesday afternoon in a fluorescent lit office. "i'll see you in the meeting tomorrow, y/n."
you didn't answer. you just watched his back as he turned around and walked away, his stride easy and completely relaxed. and then, you watched the trap reset.
barely three steps away from your desk, he ran into the assistant manager. within two seconds, jungwon’s posture shifted, his head tilting in that familiar, attentive way as he listened to the older man complain about a client. he smiled, offered a reassuring nod, and effortlessly slid back into being the floor's favorite person. it was like his conversation with you hadn't even happened. it was just another stop on his daily rounds.
you sank back into your chair, feeling smaller than you had five minutes ago. the paper bag sat on the edge of your desk, a tiny, sweet monument to your own weakness. you hadn't won. you hadn't even fought back.
when you finally decided to pack your bag, the fourteenth floor was entirely dead. the quiet was suffocating, broken only by the distant hum of the building's ventilation system. you had stayed late on purpose, hiding behind the excuse of heavy workload just to avoid having to walk out the double doors at the same time as everyone else. you needed the air to clear.
you walked down the narrow hallway toward the back supply room to drop off a final stack of hard copy client files before heading to the elevators. the lights in the back corridor were completely out, the darkness only cut by the faint city lights bleeding through the floor to ceiling glass windows at the end of the hall.
as you neared the wooden door of the archive room, you realized it wasn’t fully latched. a thin sliver of light was slicing across the dark carpet. and then, you heard a sound that made your entire body freeze in place.
it wasn't a murmur about spreadsheets or a polite laugh. it was a breathy gasp, followed by the unmistakable friction of fabric rubbing against a hard desk surface.
"jungwon, please-"
it was sarah from design. her voice was completely unrecognizable, stripped of her usual corporate composure, thick with a desperate kind of heat.
"shhh." a voice quieted her. low, raspy and completely dripping with that gentle cadence. "someone might still be on the floor. stay quiet for me, yeah?"
your heart gave a sickening lurch against your ribs, your fingers locking onto the edge of the file folders so hard the cardboard bent. you shouldn't have looked. every piece of self-preservation you had left was screaming at you to turn around, to run to the elevators and pretend you hadn't heard a thing. but you were paralyzed. your eyes moved to the small gap in the doorframe, your breath catching in your throat. through the crack, the scene was explicit.
sarah was pushed back onto the edge of the wooden archive table, her knee length pencil skirt hitched all the way up past her thighs, her fingers tangled frantically in the dark hair of the boy pressing between her legs. jungwon’s shirt was completely unbuttoned, hanging loosely off his shoulders, exposing the sharp lines of his chest and back as he moved against her. he wasn't being rough. even like this, hidden in a dark room against company policy, his movements carried that same terrifyingly smooth rhythm. his head was buried in the crook of her neck, his lips leaving wet tracks along her collarbone, his hands gripping her hips to anchor her as he drove into her with a quiet deliberation. every roll of his hips elicited a muffled, shaking groan from the girl beneath him, her eyes completely blown out, utterly ruined by him.
"you're so good." jungwon whispered against her skin, his voice hitching slightly as his pace quickened, his thumbs digging into her skin. it was said with that same comforting warmth he used when he was handing someone a pastry or fixing a computer screen. "so sweet for me, sarah."
seeing him use that exact same tone — the soft sweetness he used to navigate the bullpen — while his body was violently taking someone against an office desk made a cold wave of humiliation wash over you.
he really was doing it. all of it. he wasn't just collecting favors, he was consuming them. and less than four hours ago, he had leaned over your cubicle divider, looked into your eyes with that exact same soft warmth, and told you he wanted to do something nice for you for once.
you backed away from the door. you had thought you were being smart by observing him, thought you were immune because you saw the matrix of his charm. but the truth was, you were just another potential name on the rotation of favors he hadn't gotten around to breaking yet.
inside the room, the sudden rustle of your folders against your coat cut through the quiet. the rhythmic sound of his movements stopped instantly. through the gap, you saw jungwon’s head lift, his dark eyes instantly cutting through the dim light straight toward the door frame, his chest heaving as he stared directly at the shadow you were casting on the floor.
you didn't wait for him to pull away. you turned and ran toward the elevators, your chest heavy with an indescribable, uncomfortable feeling as the doors finally closed.
⋆.˚˖࿔ ࣪
the next morning, the fourteenth floor swallowed you whole, completely unchanged. the office was just its usual, sterile self. you sat at your desk, eyes fixed on your monitors, trying to drown out the intrusive images from the night before. because the worst part — the thing you refused to admit to yourself as you stared at your spreadsheets — was how it had actually looked. the sharp lines of his bare back, the tight grip of his hands on sarah's hips, the low tone of his voice... it had been explicit. it had been dangerous. and god help you, it had been the most terrifyingly attractive thing you had ever seen.
you bit the inside of your cheek until it tasted like iron. do not think about it. do not fall for it. you weren't going to be another project he managed. you weren't going to let a few seconds of office floor smut shake the armor you had spent months building. besides, you were certain he would never try to win your favor like that anyway — he clearly wasn't interested. you had never had those kinds of interactions with him, which only made the fact that you were fixating so hard on the memory feel even creepier. you were acting like a voyeur, replaying a performance that wasn't meant for you, all because the raw control he had displayed had been so hot, if you were honest. you needed to go back to your normal self and not think about him ever again.
the conference room smelled of stale catering coffee and the chemical tang of dry erase markers. everyone was crammed inside, reducing themselves to a neat row of titles and deliverables. sarah sat three chairs down from you, her posture slightly rigid, her eyes tracking jungwon’s every move with a quiet devotion. but she wasn't special. you watched how he shifted his attention effortlessly — offering a quick, easy laugh to one of the guys from logistics, leaning in to whisper a reassuring note to the senior supervisor, making sure that everyone felt chosen. he didn't look like a man who had spent the previous evening ruining a coworker against an archive table. he looked immaculate. when the supervisor praised the recent turnaround on the quarterly reports, jungwon offered a modest smile, deferring the credit entirely to the rest of the team. he was a calculated machine, running on the fuel of everyone's compliance, using his charm interchangeably to keep the floor running exactly how he wanted it to.
you kept your gaze firmly fixed on your ipad, drawing a series of neat boxes in the margins. you were an observer. you just had to get through the remaining forty minutes of this meeting, go back to your cubicle, and bury yourself in data.
"y/n?" the supervisor’s voice snapped you out of your thoughts.
you blinked, pulling your shoulders back into a sharp corporate posture. "yes?"
"jungwon mentioned that the client files from the fourteenth floor archives were still showing a few discrepancies. did you manage to drop off the hard copies last night?"
your breath caught in your throat. your fingers tightened around your pen so hard the plastic clicked. reluctantly, your eyes shifted across the table.
jungwon was looking right at you. he didn't have his usual soft, accommodating expression. he was leaning back in his chair, his dark eyes locked onto yours with unblinking intensity. there was no warmth in them now. no sweet, harmless coworker charm.
it was a dare.
"i dropped them off." you said, your voice a fraction thinner than you wanted it to be. you forced yourself to maintain eye contact, refusing to let him see the frantic flutter of your pulse. "right before i left."
"perfect." jungwon said softly. he didn't break his gaze. his fingers stopped typing entirely, resting flat against the aluminum casing of his laptop. "i went back in there this morning to organize them. i noticed a few of the folders were a bit bent at the edges. like someone had been in a rush."
a suffocating wave of heat rushed up your neck. he knew. he knew exactly who had been standing outside that door.
"the archive room is quite dark at night." you countered, your voice dropping into a flat register that stood out sharply against the casual tone of the room. "it's easy to lose your footing when you're looking for something in the dark."
for a fraction of a second, the corner of jungwon’s mouth twitched upward. it wasn't his public smile. it was sharp, dark, and entirely private, like a glimpse of the calculating mind behind the mask. he liked this. he seemed to have realized that while the rest of the floor was blind to his games, you were watching every single move. and instead of pulling back, instead of playing it safe, he looked fully reenergized by it.
"you're right, y/n." he murmured, his voice dropping into that raspy cadence that made your skin prickle. "it is very dark back there. you really have to be careful what you stumble into." he laughed softly, slipping effortlessly back into his usual public persona. a few of your coworkers laughed along too, entirely unaware of the double meaning bleeding through his words. you felt like you were going insane, like one of those tragic characters in horror movies who are the only ones capable of seeing the ghosts.
the meeting adjourned, and the room dissolved into the usual chaos of scraping chairs and murmured small talk. you gathered your notebook and pen, eager to escape the stifling air, but a tall shadow stepped directly into your path before you could reach the door.
jungwon stood close, effectively blocking your exit. the expensive scent of his cologne hit you instantly, dragging your mind back to the image of his bare back and the frantic grip of his hands in the dark. your chest heaved, a sharp spike of anger and unwanted arousal hitting you all at once.
"you didn't eat the tart, right?" he said. his voice was quiet, obscured by the noise of the departing coworkers around you.
"i wasn't hungry." you replied, keeping your eyes trained on the top button of his shirt, refusing to look into his eyes. you weren't going to give him the satisfaction of a real reaction. he was just being fake nice, putting on the same calculated performance he used on everyone else to get his way. you were just a glitch in his perfect record of floor compliance, a loose thread he wanted to tuck back into his neat little tapestry because it bothered his meticulous nature that your edges wouldn't soften for him.
he leaned down slightly, his breath brushing against the shell of your ear as he spoke. "a shame. i spent a lot of time thinking about what you liked before i bought it."
you bit the inside of your cheek, gripping your notebook like a shield. you didn't call him out, you didn't mention what you saw. you just forced a professional, detached distance between your bodies, holding onto the corporate wall with everything you had left.
"i have work to do, jungwon. i’ll excuse myself now, see you." you stepped sideways, brushing past his shoulder without looking back. but as you walked down the hallway, you could feel his eyes burning into your back, a silent promise that he was only just getting started.
⋆.˚˖࿔ ࣪
by thursday afternoon, the tension had settled into the very carpet of your floor, heavy enough to make your lungs ache. you tried to perfect your routine. eyes on the monitor, fingers on the keys, headphones firmly over your ears even when there was nothing playing. you were determined to be the ghost he couldn't touch.
but jungwon was a master of using the space around you against you. he spent twenty minutes at the shared printer island just three feet away from your cubicle opening. he wasn't alone. he was with elle from legal, helping her sort through a massive stack of compliance contracts. you could hear the smooth rumble of his voice filtering through your headset. you didn't look. you swore to yourself you wouldn't look. but then you heard that quiet, private laugh — the one that always made people lean over their desks. against your own will, your eyes flicked up.
jungwon was leaning over the printer, his grey button-down stretched tight across his shoulders. his hand was resting on the small of elle’s back, his thumb making slow, casual circles against the fabric of her blazer. it was a gesture so effortlessly intimate, so completely unnecessary for printing contracts, that a bitter spike of heat flared in your chest. elle was looking up at him with that exact ruined expression you had seen on sarah, on the receptionists, on everyone.
and then, without missing a beat in his conversation with her, jungwon’s dark eyes shifted. he looked directly over elle’s shoulder, straight into your cubicle, locking his gaze onto yours. his thumb didn't stop moving against her back. his face didn't change its pleasant expression. but his eyes were full of a silent, mocking challenge.
look how easy it is, you imagined him saying. look at what everyone else gives me without a fight.
he was doing it on purpose. he knew you were hyper-fixated on his patterns, he knew you had seen what happened in the archive room, and instead of hiding it, he was putting his transactional nature on full display right in front of your face. he wanted you to feel the weight of your own isolation. he wanted the jealousy and the confusion to twist inside you until you finally snapped and gave him the compliance he wanted. you ripped your eyes away, your heart hammering against your ribs. you hated him. you hated how he could make you feel so exposed without even speaking to you. and worst of all, you hated the traitorous part of your brain that had watched his hand on elle’s back and wondered, just for a terrifying second, what it would feel like if those fingers were digging into your own skin instead.
you swallowed hard, the taste of iron lingering on your tongue. he doesn't want you, you reminded yourself, a cruel, internal mantra. he's just fake nice. he just wants to win the game.
the shadow fell over your desk before you could even register the sound of his footsteps. "the legal files are sorted." jungwon murmured. he wasn't leaning over the divider this time, he was standing right at the entrance of your cubicle, effectively blocking the view of the rest of the floor. he set a single blue folder on the corner of your desk, his fingers lingering on the plastic tab. "i put the updated compliance guidelines on top. i thought you might need them for your afternoon report."
you didn't look at his face. you focused strictly on his hands, on the neat skin of his wrists. "thanks."
"you seem quiet today, y/n." he said softly, his voice dropping into that low register meant only for the two of you. he leaned in just a fraction, his shadow completely swallowing your desk space. "even more than usual. did you get another headache?"
the artificial sweetness in his tone felt like a physical weight pressing against your chest. he was mocking your boundaries, testing the exact strength of the walls you were sweating to keep up.
"i'm fine, jungwon." you whispered, your voice tight, keeping the corporate distance as rigid as humanly possible. "just busy."
"mmh." a small, completely unreadable sound left his throat. he reached out, his index finger lightly tracing a slow line along the edge of your desk calendar, stopping just a millimeter away from where your hand was resting. the proximity made the skin on your arms prickle. "well... don't work too hard. it would be a shame if you got tired out before the week is even over."
he gave the desk a final quiet tap of his knuckles and walked away, leaving you drowning in the suffocating air of his departure.
⋆.˚˖࿔ ࣪
on friday evening, the office had emptied out with an incredible speed, everyone fleeing for the weekend the second the clock hit five. you had stayed behind on purpose again. it was safer this way. the quiet felt like a shield, a brief window where you didn't have to watch him hand out his attention like loose change to every person who crossed his path.
the only light left on was the overhead glow of your own cubicle row. you were just finishing up the last data entry for the week, the rhythmic click of your keyboard the only sound in the entire space. you let out a long breath, your shoulders finally dropping from the defensive posture you had kept up for days.
then, the printer island three feet away whirred to life. the sudden, mechanical groan made your heart drop straight into your stomach. a single sheet of paper began to slide into the tray, the sound incredibly loud in the dead quiet of the office.
"i thought i saw a light still on down here." his voice came from the darkness just outside your cubicle opening. it was completely devoid of the light cadence he used during the day. jungwon stepped into the glow of your monitor. he had already taken off his tie, the top two buttons of his grey shirt undone to reveal the sharp lines of his collarbone. his jacket was slung carelessly over one shoulder, held by a single finger. he looked messy in a way that felt intentional.
you froze, your fingers hovering over the keys. do not look at his neck. do not think about the archive room. "i'm just finishing up." you said, your voice tight, forcing that rigid wall between you even though the floor was completely dead. "i'm leaving in five minutes."
"there's no rush." he murmured, stepping fully into your cubicle space. but he didn't stop at the edge this time. he walked right up to the side of your chair, dropping his jacket onto the empty desk divider next to you. "the building doesn't lock down until midnight, anyway."
you kept your eyes fixed on the screen, your heart hammering a stupid rhythm against your ribs. "i want to get home, though."
jungwon didn't answer. instead, he reached past your shoulder, his bare forearm brushing lightly against your sleeve as he picked up the single sheet of paper that had printed out. the brief friction of his skin against yours felt like an electric shock.
he leaned back against the edge of your desk, trapping you in your seat, his dark eyes looking down at the paper in his hands. "you made a mistake on the logistics section." he said softly.
"what?" your head snapped up before you could stop yourself, defense mechanism kicking in. "no, i didn't. i checked the numbers twice."
"look right here." he leaned down, his face suddenly too close to yours. you could see the tiny flecks of dark brown in his eyes and the immaculate line of his jaw. he pointed his long finger at a row of data on your monitor, his hand hovering right next to your mouse. "you put the shipping code under the wrong department head."
you looked at the screen, your mind blank, completely unable to process the numbers because his chest was practically brushing against your shoulder. "it's... it's a minor formatting issue. i can fix it on monday."
"why wait until monday?" jungwon whispered. his voice dropped into that private register that made your skin prickle. he didn't look at the screen anymore. he was looking directly at your mouth, his gaze heavy. "i'm right here. let me help you with it."
he placed his hand directly over yours on the mouse. his palm was warm, his large fingers covering your smaller ones. your pulse gave a sickening lurch. he wasn't being gentle. he wasn't doing that soft, attentive routine he did all the time. his grip was firm, holding your hand in place on the plastic casing, forcing you to feel the solid weight of him.
"jungwon." you breathed, a panicky sound escaping your throat. you tried to pull your hand back, but his fingers tightened just enough to keep you pinned.
"shhh." he murmured, using the exact same low tone he had used on sarah in the dark. "you're always trying to push me away, y/n. why is that? i'm just trying to be a good coworker."
the blatant lie made a suffocating knot form in your throat. he was mocking you. he knew you knew exactly what he was, and he was using his body to deliberately test how much you could take before you completely crumbled.
"let go of my hand." you whispered, your voice shaking, although you tried with everything you had to keep it cold.
jungwon didn't move. he leaned in even closer, his breath warm against your cheek, his eyes darkening into something ravenous as he watched the frantic pulse fluttering in your neck. "and if i don't?" he asked softly, a dangerous smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "what are you going to do, y/n? call the supervisor? tell them i'm being too nice to you?"
you couldn't breathe. the sheer weight of him was too much, trapping you between the hard edge of your desk and the solid heat of his chest. your fingers were frozen beneath his palm, your skin tingling everywhere it connected with his.
"i'll tell them exactly what you are." you whispered, the words slipping out before you could stop them. your voice was way too thinned out by the frantic beating of your heart, but you kept your eyes fixed on his chin, refusing to look up into the trap of his gaze. "i'll tell them you're a fraud, jungwon."
for a long second, the quiet of the fourteenth floor felt absolute. the earlier hum of the ventilation system seemed to fade into nothing. then, jungwon let out a low laugh. it wasn't his public laugh — the pleasant one that made people lean over their desk dividers. this one was raspy, almost dangerous. his hand didn't leave yours. instead, his fingers shifted, sliding down the sides of your hand to lock his fingers securely through yours, pinning your palm flat against the desk surface now.
"a fraud." he murmured, his voice dropping an octave, vibrating straight through the small space between your faces. he leaned down further, his lips so close to the shell of your ear that you could feel the slight brush of his dark hair against your temple. "and who do you think is going to believe you, y/n? the supervisors? the girls in marketing? they love me. i make their lives so easy."
he was right. it was the most humiliating part of the whole thing. if you went to anyone, you would look like the unhinged one. you would be the bitter, detached girl who couldn't handle a popular coworker offering to help her with a formatting error.
"they think you're nice." you breathed, your teeth biting down on the inside of your cheek until it throbbed. "but you're just... you just use everyone."
you expected him to pull back, expected him to get angry or play dumb. but as you finally forced your eyes up to meet his, your breath caught. jungwon was staring down at you with a look that made your entire stomach dissolve into chaos. his face wasn't sweet at all anymore. his jaw was set, his dark eyes wide and completely unblinking, tracking the frantic movement of your lips. his chest was heaving slightly, the top buttons of his shirt pulling apart just enough for your eyes to instinctively look down for a second.
he didn't look insulted, he looked fascinated. "you really do see right through it, don't you?" he whispered, his thumb slowly tracing a firm line across the back of your knuckles. his grip on your hand tightened, a sudden show of strength that made your pulse give a silly flutter. "everyone on this floor is so boring, to be honest. they just take whatever i give them. but you... you sit here and watch me, and you hate me so much." he leaned in until his nose almost brushed against yours, his gaze dropping to your mouth again with a hunger that felt too explicit for a fluorescent lit cubicle at work. "you think i'm just being fake nice to be convenient. but the truth is, y/n... i've been waiting for you to look at me like this for months."
he shifted his weight, his thigh pressing firmly against the side of your knee, anchoring you into the chair. the mask was entirely gone, shattered on the desk between you, and you were left staring at the calculating control underneath. and to be honest with yourself, it was the most terrifyingly attractive thing you had ever felt.
"now…" jungwon whispered, his thumb digging slightly into your wrist, right over the frantic jumping of your pulse. "are you going to fix this spreadsheet for me, or are we going to do something else?"
you refused to let him win. you refused to soften a single fraction. "i'm fixing the spreadsheet." you whispered, your voice tight, but you forced your eyes back to the monitor, desperately trying to focus on the green lines of the cells. you tried to pull your fingers out from beneath his palm, but jungwon’s grip remained firm, his fingers locked securely through yours, pinning your hand against the mouse. a breathy hum left his throat, the vibration of it traveling straight from his chest into your shoulder where his body was pressed against yours.
"then do it." he murmured, his voice dropping into that private register that made the skin on your arms prickle. "go ahead, y/n. fix it."
your left hand trembled as you reached for the keyboard, your mind racing to remember the correct shipping codes through the suffocating fog of his proximity. he was making it entirely impossible on purpose. he leaned down further, his head tilting until his lips were just a fraction of an inch away from the sensitive skin below your ear, his warm breath fanning across your neck with every shallow exhale.
"you're entering the wrong code." he whispered against your skin, his thumb shifting to press a slow, deliberate circle right over the pulse in your wrist. "look at the screen. you're messing up the formatting again because you're too busy trying to pretend i'm not here."
"i'm not pretending anything." you breathed, your teeth biting down on the inside of your cheek until you felt a sharp sting. you deleted the typo, your fingers hitting the keys with a defensive force. you weren't going to look at his collarbone. you weren't going to turn your head and let his mouth catch yours. you kept your gaze locked onto the data, your entire body stiff as iron against the solid warmth of his chest.
you clicked the save icon, the sharp sound of the mouse loud in the dead quiet of the fourteenth floor. "it's done. the data is clean. now let go of my hand, jungwon."
jungwon didn't move. he stayed exactly where he was for an agonizing second, his dark eyes wide as he tracked the line of your jaw. you hadn't leaned into him. you hadn't given him that ruined look he was so used to consuming from the rest of the floor.
and as you finally forced your head around to glare at him, refusing to back down, you saw the exact moment his expression shifted. the mocking smile completely vanished from his lips. his jaw tightened, his eyes clouding over with a ravenous frustration that made your stomach dissolve into absolute chaos. he looked fully consumed by the fact that you were still fighting him, his chest heaving slightly as his grip on your laced fingers tightened until it hurt. you were willing to choke on your own pride before you ever gave him the compliance he wanted.
"you really aren't going to give in, are you?" he whispered, his raspy voice shaking just enough to let the dark intensity underneath slip through. he leaned in until his nose brushed against yours, his gaze dropping to your parted lips with an explicit hunger that made your knees go weak in the chair. "you're going to sit here and look at me like you want to kill me, even when you're completely burning up underneath my hands."
"i told you, jungwon." you whispered back, your fingers tightening around his despite yourself, your armor cracking at the seams even as you held the wall up between you.
jungwon let out another ragged breath, his thumb digging hard into your wrist as a possessive heat bloomed across his beautiful face. "we have time anyway, y/n."
he slowly released his grip, his fingers sliding away from yours with agonizing slowness, leaving your skin tingling and too cold in the sudden absence of his warmth. he picked up his jacket from the divider, throwing it back over his shoulder with that effortless fluidness. he didn't say another word. he just gave you one last look — a silent promise wrapped in a calculated package — before turning on his heel and vanishing into the darkness of the elevator lobby. you sat there for a long time, the silence of the empty office pressing heavy against your ears.
⋆.˚˖࿔ ࣪
the weekend had been a blur of suffocating self-loathing. you had spent forty eight hours pacing your apartment, scrubbing at the wrist where his thumb had dug into your pulse, trying to wash away the phantom weight of his hand. you felt physically sickened by your own body’s betrayal. that silly flutter your heart had given when he leaned in — it felt like a stain. you had always prided yourself on being the independent one, the girl who didn't get sucked into office politics or fleeting infatuations. you were supposed to be safe because you were invisible. but jungwon had stripped that safety away in a matter of minutes, leaving you exposed and terrified of your own hidden vulnerabilities.
you knew exactly what he was doing. you kept repeating it like a prayer to keep yourself sane: he doesn't want you. he doesn't want you. he was just a predator who hated that one specific prey wouldn't run into his trap. he was a perfectionist, and your coldness was an ugly smudge on his immaculate record of floor wide adoration.
by monday morning, the internal friction had left you entirely exhausted, the dark circles under your eyes barely hidden by makeup. the bright lights of the office hit your eyes like a physical blow. it was already buzzing with the usual post weekend energy, typing and mindless small talk filling the air. you kept your head down, your shoulders hunched as you walked to your cubicle, feeling incredibly small.
and then, you saw him. he was standing by the central filing cabinets, completely surrounded. he was wearing a crisp dark navy shirt today, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows to reveal his pale forearms. he was currently leaning over to look at a folder held by jake from accounting, his hand resting on his shoulder, squeezing it in a gesture that looked supportive and friendly. but you watched the way jungwon’s eyes moved — sharp, analytical, tracking the supervisor who was walking past them. the second the supervisor glanced over, jungwon shifted his posture, offering a bright smile that made him look like the hardest working, most compliant employee on the entire payroll.
twenty minutes later, jungwon was at the reception desk. you watched, your heart hammering a painful rhythm against your ribs, as he leaned over the counter to speak to the new temp. his hand rested casually on the edge of her desk, his thumb making an absentminded circle against the wood — the exact same gesture he had used on your knuckles friday night. the temp was completely flushed, her eyes wide as she nodded along to whatever he was whispering. you watched how he helped her carry a heavy box of promotional materials, his body intentionally brushing against hers as they walked through the narrow aisle. it made your stomach turn over in a violent wave of disgust and profound anxiety. he was doing it right in front of you. he didn't even care about hiding his promiscuity or his transactional nature anymore. in fact, it felt like he was putting on a performance specifically for you. he was showing you how easily he could buy anyone on this floor, men and women alike, with a single smile or a well timed touch, using them up until they were empty and then moving on to the next.
you clutched your coffee mug so hard your knuckles turned white, a mixture of anger and panic rising in your throat. you felt like you were suffocating under the weight of your own awareness. you were the only one who saw the rot beneath the golden boy facade, and the sheer isolation of that knowledge was driving you insane. you were terrified that if you kept watching the casual ease with which he dismantled people’s boundaries, the gravity of his control would eventually pull you under too.
"y/n." his voice came from directly behind your chair, low and entirely smooth. your entire body went rigid as iron and your breath trapped itself in your lungs. the sudden rush of adrenaline made your ears ring. jungwon stepped around the edge of your cubicle, holding a stack of laminated division charts. he didn't touch you, he didn't even lean over your desk. he stood just far away enough to keep up appearances for the rest of the floor, but his presence felt massive, completely blocking out the light.
he looked down at you, his dark eyes wide and entirely hollow of the warmth he had just been flashing at the marketing team. his face was a mask of perfect, professional indifference, but the sharp line of his jaw was tight. "the department head requested the updated logistics flow by noon." he said softly, his public voice neat and polite. but then, he paused, his gaze slowly dropping to your hands, watching the tiny, uncontrollable tremor in your fingers as you tried to set your coffee mug down. the corner of his mouth twitched, almost imperceptibly, with a quiet satisfaction.
he leaned in just an inch, his voice dropping into that private register that belonged only to the dark corners of the office. "did you have trouble sleeping over the weekend, y/n?"
the question was a psychological knife, twisting right into the center of your internal turmoil. he knew. he knew he had occupied your thoughts for forty eight hours. he was taunting you with the fact that even when he wasn't there, he was still successfully invading your space, still slowly breaking down your mental walls from the inside out.
you swallowed the bitter taste of panic, forcing your eyes up to meet his chin, refusing to give him the satisfaction of looking into his eyes. you drew a sharp breath, pulling your corporate wall up with every ounce of strength you had left. "i'm fine, jungwon." you whispered, your voice thinned out but completely cold, completely detached. "the logistics flow will be in the system by eleven thirty. you can check it then."
jungwon stayed perfectly still for a second, his dark eyes burning into the side of your face, analyzing the rigid posture, the tight set of your mouth, the desperate pride you were clinging to. he didn't push, he didn't need to. he just tapped the laminated charts against the edge of your divider with a quiet, hollow click. "perfect." he murmured, his raspy tone thinning back into his polite, public persona. "i'll be looking forward to seeing your work."
as he turned and walked away, immediately falling into an easy conversation with a passing manager, you let out a trembling breath, your hands shaking so badly you had to press them flat against the desk to make them stop. you were safe for now, but the suffocating realization settled deep into your chest — the game was only getting heavier, and the cost of keeping your walls up was starting to tear you apart.
⋆.˚˖࿔ ࣪
by the time the mandatory department dinner rolled around on thursday night, the tension inside your chest had turned into a living, breathing thing.
the restaurant was loud, suffocatingly warm, and thick with the heavy scent of grilled pork and cheap soju. green bottles were already multiplying across the long wooden tables like a plague. everyone was shedding their corporate skin with a sloppy speed, the supervisors shouting over the sizzle of the meat, your colleagues giggling too loudly as they mixed beer and liquor.
you sat near the end of the table, actively trying to dissolve into the background. you were drinking faster than usual. it was a stupid, dangerous mistake, but the alcohol was the only thing capable of dulling the exhausting edge of your hyper-vigilance. you just wanted to numb the looping thoughts of him, but alcohol also made your walls sluggish. and across the grill, through the rising smoke and the chaotic haze of the room, yang jungwon was putting on a masterclass.
he looked disgusting in his perfection. he had stayed sober enough to maintain his position as the table's golden savior — expertly flipping the meat for the senior manager, laughing at the supervisor’s terrible jokes, pouring drinks with a practiced tilt of his wrist. he was the perfect employee, the perfect junior colleague, distributing his easy warmth so seamlessly that the entire top end of the table was practically vibrating under his influence.
but every time he leaned back to let a manager speak, his dark eyes would cut straight through the smoke, locking onto your face. his gaze was heavy, tracking the rhythmic movement of your glass as you emptied it again and again. there was no warmth in his face when he looked at you. just that quiet, analytical hunger.
"y/n, you're being way too quiet tonight." jay from project management slid into the empty space on your left. “seriously, you're always so locked away in your cubicle." he laughed, leaning in to bump his shoulder against yours. it was a clumsy, drunken gesture, but it felt normal. "you need to hang out with us more. let me pour you another one."
"maybe i should." you giggled, the sound light and loose even to your own ears. the alcohol made you sloppy, made you want to lean into the easy comfort of someone who didn't have a hidden agenda. you picked up your small glass and held it out with both hands, giving him a bright, genuine smile. "you're right. i work too hard."
jay beamed, his eyes crinkling as he filled your glass. he let his hand linger against yours for a second too long as he set the bottle down, his arm casually settling over the back of your wooden bench, his fingers lightly brushing the fabric of your blouse. you didn't pull away. instead, you tilted your head up, laughing at a stupid joke he made about the logistics manager, completely letting your guard drop. it felt intoxicating to be normal. to prove to yourself — and to the person sitting across the grill — that you weren't trapped in his little bubble.
but across the table, the atmosphere had silently shifted. jungwon was suddenly drinking too tonight. he wasn't perfectly sober anymore. his tie was long gone, the top three buttons of his navy shirt undone, and there was a faint flush spreading across his neck and the sharp lines of his collarbone.
it happened so fast you almost missed it. jungwon had been in the middle of nodding politely to a story the senior supervisor was telling. when you looked at him again, his entire posture was dead rigid. his jaw set so hard the muscle in his cheek twitched violently. for a terrifying second, the golden boy mask shattered completely, leaving a look of such icy malice on his face that your breath trapped itself in your throat.
he didn't make a scene. he was too smart for that. instead, he stood up smoothly, a polite, apologetic smile instantly snapping back onto his features as he addressed the supervisor. "i'll go grab a few more bottles of the premium plum wine from the front." jungwon murmured, his public voice light and accommodating. "the department head mentioned he wanted to try it."
you watched him walk away, your heart violently hammering against your ribs. you thought you were safe. you thought the distance would give you room to breathe.
but less than three minutes later, the chaotic seating arrangement of the table shifted as a group of managers left to use the restroom. when a space cleared out directly opposite you and jay, a shadow fell over the wood.
jungwon sat down. he placed three new bottles on the table with a quiet, hollow click. he didn't look at you. he focused entirely on jay, his face twisted into an expression of intense camaraderie that felt entirely too sharp to be real.
"jay." jungwon said, his voice smooth but dropping into a lower cadence that somehow cut through the noise of the restaurant. "you're taking care of our quietest team member? that's really responsible of you."
"jungwon! man, you're the best." jay cheered, completely oblivious to the danger sitting three feet away from him. he pulled his arm off your chair to reach for his glass. "i'm just telling y/n she needs to loosen up!"
"is that so?" jungwon murmured. he picked up a fresh bottle of soju, his long, pale fingers wrapping around the green glass with an unyielding grip. he leaned forward, his dark eyes locked onto jay’s face. "well, if you're going to keep her company, you have to keep up with her. let me pour you a proper drink."
what followed was a brutal, quiet execution. jungwon didn't let jay breathe. using his fake nice, attentive persona like a weapon, he continuously filled jay’s glass the exact second it touched the table, egging him on with soft compliments and subtle challenges that jay’s drunken pride couldn't refuse. jungwon was pouring double shots, mixing combinations, acting like the ultimate hype man while remaining entirely sober himself.
it was horrifyingly calculated. jungwon was weaponizing the floor compliance against jay, using his popularity to entirely dismantle the guy right in front of your face. and he was doing it with a terrifying, quiet ferocity.
within twenty minutes, jay’s head dropped heavily onto his folded arms on the table, his eyes rolling shut as he muttered an incoherent string of nonsense before completely passing out cold.
the noise of the restaurant seemed to swell around your ears, the shouting and laughter of the remaining coworkers forming a thick barrier of isolation around your corner of the table. jay was asleep on your left. the manager on your right was entirely engrossed in a loud argument about quarterly logistics.
you were left completely alone with him.
jungwon slowly set his empty glass down. the bright, helpful coworker expression vanished from his face like smoke, leaving his features cold, sharp, and ravenous. he leaned forward across the low wooden table, his chest almost touching the edge, his dark eyes wide as they pinned you to your seat.
"he touches everyone, you know?" jungwon whispered, his voice dropping into that raspy, private register that made your skin prickle. "jay. he does it in the hallways too. he's very careless with his hands."
you clutched your small soju glass, your fingers shaking so badly the clear liquid sloshed over the rim. the alcohol in your system was making your head spin, making your internal turmoil twist into something heavy and desperate. "he was just... he was just being friendly. unlike you."
jungwon let out a low laugh that didn't reach his eyes. "friendly."
before you could register his movement, his leg shifted beneath the low table. his thigh pressed firmly, violently against your knee, locking your legs together under the shadow of the thick tablecloth. the sudden heat of his body against yours sent a violent jolt of adrenaline straight down your spine. you tried to pull back, but he angled his leg, anchoring you into the wooden bench so tightly you couldn't move an inch without drawing the attention of the entire table.
"you let him touch your shoulder." jungwon murmured, his gaze dropping to your mouth, his jaw setting as his voice became thick with a suffocating jealousy. he reached his hand under the table, his long fingers wrapping firmly around your wrist, his thumb digging hard into the soft skin right over your jumping pulse. "you sat here and let a sloppy, useless drunk put his hands on you. but when i touch you, y/n... you look like you're about to lose your mind."
"let go." you breathed, a panicky whisper that was completely swallowed by the roar of the restaurant. your teeth bit into your lip, your eyes darting to the supervisor just three seats away, terrified of a scene, terrified of what would happen if anyone looked down. "jungwon, stop. someone will see."
"let them look." he whispered back, his grip on your wrist tightening until it was almost a bruise, his thumb rubbing a slow circle against your skin. his face was inches from yours now, his breath warm, smelling faintly of the plum wine. "they won't see anything. they only see what i want them to see. you know that better than anyone, y/n."
he leaned in just a fraction further, his eyes tracking the chaotic, terrified rise and fall of your chest. he was entirely consumed by his own control, entirely irritated that someone else had crossed the boundary he had marked for himself.
"i told you on friday night, y/n." he murmured, his raspy voice vibrating straight through your bones as his leg pressed harder against your knee. "we have time."
the words hung in the space between your faces, heavy with the sweet, stinging scent of plum wine and the absolute certainty of his control. your mind was screaming at you to pull away, to make a scene, to slap his hand away from your wrist. but the alcohol had turned your blood to lead, making your body feel too heavy, too responsive to the solid pressure of his thigh against your knee. you were trapped between the suffocating heat of his gaze and the hidden reality of his hands beneath the table.
"hey, jungwon! y/n! what are you two whispering about over there?" the sudden voice of the senior manager cut through the noise of the restaurant like a blunt axe. the spell didn't just break, it evaporated. before your heart could even finish its next frantic thud, the shift in jungwon was instantaneous. his fingers slid off your wrist with a terrifyingly casual slowness, his leg smoothly retracting from yours under the cover of the tablecloth. by the time you managed to look up, blinking past the dizzying fog of the soju, jungwon was already leaning back in his seat. his face had instantly transformed back into the picture of polite, boyish innocence — the dark hunger wiped clean from his eyes as if it had never been there at all.
"just making sure y/n is doing okay, sir." jungwon said, his public voice smooth, light, and perfectly pitched to carry over the chatter. he offered the manager a dimpled smile. "i think the logistics data has her a bit worn out this week. i was just offering to take over her morning reports tomorrow so she can catch her breath."
"ah, look at our jungwon! always taking care of the team." the manager cheered, raising his glass in a sloppy toast. "a true asset to the department!"
you sat there, your hand still trembling against the cold wood where his fingers had just been pinned. the unadulterated fraudulence of it made you feel physically sick. he had just systematically dismantled jay, pinned you to your seat with a terrifying display of drunken jealousy, and threatened you into absolute silence. and within three seconds, he had the entire top end of the table practically singing his praises.
to your delight, the dinner dissolved into the chaotic logistics of departure shortly after. managers were pouring into taxis, people were laughing loudly on the sidewalk, and jay was being thrown into the back of a coworker's car, still completely dead to the world.
you stood on the pavement, the cool night air hitting your flushed skin, making the alcohol hit your head in a dizzying wave. you felt completely hollowed out, your internal walls not just cracked, but entirely reduced to ash.
you're going to sit here and look at me like you want to kill me, even when you're completely burning up underneath my hands.
his words from the cubicle, mixed with the phantom weight of his hand on your knee tonight, looped through your mind like a toxic rhythm. the worst part — the absolute most humiliating, terrifying part of the entire night — was the realization that you had burned. when his hand had tightened on your wrist, when his thigh had locked yours into the bench, a hidden part of your chest had given a shameful lurch. you hated his fake nice routines, you hated how he ruined people for his own convenience, but the raw, unfiltered gravity of his attention when the mask came off was becoming completely addictive.
you were terrified of him. but you were starting to be much more terrified of yourself.
"your taxi is here, y/n." his voice came from the shadow right beside you. jungwon had his hands slid casually into his slacks pockets, his jacket slung over his shoulder. he stepped forward, opening the door of the yellow cab for you with the textbook gallantry of a good coworker. but as you moved past him, your shoulder brushing against his chest, he didn't back up. he stayed entirely too close, his eyes locking onto yours in the dim light of the street.
"get some rest tonight." he murmured, his raspy voice dropping low enough that the driver couldn't hear. his thumb slowly traced a firm line across the leather of the car door, right next to your hip. "i'll see you in the office early tomorrow. don't be late."
you slid into the backseat without a word, your fingers curling tightly into your palms as the door clicked shut between you. as the taxi pulled away into the traffic, you looked back through the rear window. jungwon was still standing on the curb, completely alone in the yellow glow of the streetlamp, watching your car disappear with a look of absolute, calculating patience.
⋆.˚˖࿔ ࣪
the hangover wasn’t just a physical ache, it was a psychological weight that made the 6:45 am sunlight feel like an interrogation. you had deliberately arrived a full hour before the rest of the department, desperate to find a moment of absolute isolation to gather the shattered pieces of your composure. the office floor was an eerie ghost town of dark computer screens and silent corridors. the only sound was the mechanical hum of the industrial printer in the copy room at the far end of the hall. you stood in front of it, watching the updated logistics charts slide smoothly into the tray, one by one.
eleven thirty? no. you were going to leave it on his desk before the clock even struck eight. you needed to reclaim some semblance of control.
the heavy glass door of the copy room clicked, making your heart skip a painful beat. you didn’t turn around immediately, your eyes freezing on the shifting reflection in the dark glass window of the courtyard outside.
jungwon stepped into the room. he didn't rush toward you. he closed the door with a slow, deliberate click, his dark eyes instantly locking onto the back of your neck. he had already shed his suit jacket, his white dress shirt crisp and immaculate, the sleeves rolled up to his forearms with casual neatness. he looked entirely rested, completely untouched by the poison of the night before.
"you're early." he murmured. his voice was already in that register. there was no marketing team here. no senior managers. just the heavy thrum of the printer and the suffocating gravity of his presence.
"i told you it would be ready." you said, your voice tighter than you intended. you reached out to grab the stack of papers from the tray, keeping your back turned to him, desperately using the documents as a shield.
you heard the slow, measured sound of his dress shoes against the linoleum. he stopped just a step behind you. he didn't touch you yet. instead, he leaned forward slightly, his shadow completely engulfing yours as he looked over your shoulder at the printer tray. the heat radiating from his chest was immense, close enough that you could feel the faint movement of his shirt fabric against your back every time he took a breath.
"the logistics flow." jungwon mused softly, his breath ghosting over the sensitive skin behind your ear, making the tiny hairs on your arms stand up. "always so efficient, y/n. always running away into your work the moment things get too heavy."
you swallowed hard, your fingers tightening around the edge of the paper tray until your knuckles turned white. "i'm just doing my job. you can take the files and go."
"is that what you want?" he asked. the question was low, quiet, and laced with a terrifying patience. he reached out, his long fingers slowly sliding into the tray right next to yours. he didn't grab the papers. instead, the side of his index finger brushed against yours, a light, almost imperceptible contact that sent an electric jolt straight down your spine.
you flinched, trying to pull your hand back, but jungwon was faster. his hand turned, his fingers trapping your wrist against the plastic edge of the tray. he didn't squeeze. he just held you there with the weight of his palm, his thumb resting directly over your pulse point, feeling the erratic thudding of your heart.
"you're still shaking." he whispered, his tone dropping into something dark and dangerously satisfied. "just like last night. did you think the morning air would make you forget how it felt?"
you refused to turn around, keeping your face fixed on the blinking light of the copy machine, but your breathing was already turning shallow. "jungwon, stop. someone will come in. the cleaning staff-"
"the cleaning staff finished thirty minutes ago." he interrupted smoothly, his voice a calm barrier that shut out the rest of the world. he took a half step closer, his chest fully pressing into your back now, the solid weight of his body anchoring you against the counter. "we have time. i told you that, didn't i?"
he slowly let go of your wrist, but before you could draw a breath of relief, his hand moved up to your shoulder. his long fingers settled over the fabric of your blouse, his thumb tracing the exact spot where jay's hand had lingered the night before. the pressure was firm, heavy, and intensely possessive, as if he were systematically erasing anyone else's touch from your skin.
"tell me, y/n." jungwon murmured, his jaw brushing against the side of your hair as he leaned in, his voice a raspy vibration that rattled through your bones. "when you were sitting across from me last night, letting him lean into your space... were you thinking about how much harder i would touch you when we were alone?"
the question hung in the warm, enclosed air of the copy room, heavy and explicit. your heart hitched, a fractured sound escaping your throat before you could stop it. you squeezed your eyes shut, hating how instantly your body reacted to the proximity, hating the dizzying rush of heat that flooded your veins despite the icy hangover. "i wasn't thinking about you." you lied, the whisper thin and trembling against the steady hum of the printer.
jungwon let out a low hum against your neck. it wasn't a laugh, it was a sound of pure, clinical amusement. he didn't call you a liar, he didn't need to. instead, his hand slid slowly down from your shoulder, his palm tracing the rigid line of your spine through the fabric of your blazer. the movement was agonizingly gradual, every millimeter of his touch deliberate, testing your resistance, feeling the way your muscles locked tight under his hands.
when his palm reached the small of your back, he paused. he leaned his weight into you just a fraction more, the solid plane of his chest flattening completely against your shoulder blades. the sheer heat of him seemed to melt straight through your corporate layers. "you're so tense." he whispered, his lips brushing the sensitive skin right below your earlobe. you shivered violently, your hands blindly gripping the edge of the printer counter behind you. "relax for me, y/n. we aren't at the table anymore. there's no senior manager to save you this time."
his other hand came up, his long fingers sliding under your chin. he didn't force you to turn around yet. he just tilted your head back slightly, exposing the vulnerable line of your throat. his thumb stroked the soft skin right over your jumping pulse, his touch agonizingly light, a stark contrast to the crushing weight of his body pressing you into the counter. "look at the glass." he murmured softly, a quiet command.
your eyes automatically opened, flickering to the dark reflection in the courtyard window directly ahead. through the dim glass, you could see the two of you — completely tangled together in the shadow of the industrial machine. your head was tilted back against his shoulder, your face flushed and eyes wide with a desperate panic. jungwon was looking at your reflection, his dark eyes hollowed of all his polite warmth, filled instead with that sharp satisfaction. he looked entirely in control. he looked like he owned the very air you were breathing.
"see that?" jungwon whispered, his thumb moving up to trace the trembling outline of your lower lip. "this is exactly how you looked in my head all weekend. desperate. trapped. completely at my mercy." he slowly turned your face toward him, forcing you to break eye contact with the reflection and look directly at his actual features. up close, the golden boy mask was entirely gone. his jaw was set, a heavy intensity clouding his eyes as his gaze dropped to your mouth. he didn't kiss you. he just hovered there, his breath hot and shallow against your lips, letting the tension build until it felt like a physical wire snapping between you.
"jungwon." you breathed, your voice a desperate plea, though even you didn't know if you were begging him to stop or begging him to finally end the torture.
"i'm listening." he murmured, his raspy voice dropping into an even lower register as his hand slid from your chin down to the collar of your blouse, his fingers lightly brushing the exposed skin of your collarbone. "tell me what you want, y/n. tell me to stop. let me hear you say it."
“c-can’t.” you said between pants, feeling too overwhelmed by his presence to remember how to breathe properly.
“you can’t or you won’t? come on, we both know you can. this is a safe space, y/n.” jungwon spoke in a mocking tone, his fingers trailing lower until they hooked into the top edge of your camisole, pulling the silk taut against your skin. “it’s just you and me. no one is going to walk through that door and catch you admitting it.”
the condescending arrogance in his voice hit you like a bucket of ice water. he wasn't just trying to touch you, he was trying to break you. he wanted the satisfaction of hearing you completely dismantle your own walls for his ego.
you swallowed down the panic, forcing your hands flat against his chest. you didn't lean into him. instead, you locked your elbows, pushing back against the solid weight of his frame with every ounce of strength you had left. "i can't because it's pathetic." you said, your voice cracking slightly but carrying a sudden coldness. you forced your eyes up to meet his, refusing to let him see you blink. "you're pathetic, jungwon."
the mocking smile vanished from his face instantly. his dark eyes went wide, then narrowed into two dangerous, icy slits. the absolute stillness that came over him was terrifying. "what did you say?" he murmured, his voice dropping so low it was almost entirely swallowed by the hum of the printer.
"y-you heard me." you breathed, your chest heaving against his palms, your fingers curling into the crisp cotton of his shirt as you fought to keep the distance between your faces. "you spend all week playing the perfect, golden boy coworker, but you're so deeply insecure that the second someone else touches my shoulder, you have to lock me in a room just to force yourself into my head. you didn't lock this door because you're in control. you locked it because you're terrified i'll walk right past your cubicle and not play your little game."
the silence that followed was suffocating. the air in the copy room turned completely hostile. you could feel the violent thudding of his heart beneath your palms — rapid, uneven, and entirely unmasked. you had ripped the skin right off his pride, and for a split second, you saw a flash of genuine fury in his eyes.
his hand at your collar didn't loosen. it tightened, his knuckles digging hard against your collarbone as he slammed his other hand flat on the counter directly over your papers, the heavy bang echoing off the concrete walls. he leaned his entire weight forward, completely crushing your attempt to hold him back, his chest pinning your hands right against his own sternum.
"you think you know me?" jungwon rasped, his face inches from yours, his breath ragged and hot against your mouth. the polite cadence of his voice was completely gone, replaced by a gravelly edge that made your spine freeze. "you think i'm doing this because i'm insecure?"
"let go of me." you demanded, your voice rising, your thighs straining against the solid line of his legs as he anchored you into the machine. you twisted your wrist, trying to tear yourself out of his space, but he didn't give you a single inch of air.
"i told you to say the word 'stop', y/n." he whispered, his jaw setting so hard the muscle in his cheek violently pulsed. his lips brushed against yours with a bruising friction as he spoke, his grip on your waist beneath your shirt turning tight enough to leave marks. "but you didn't say it. you used your mouth to bite at me instead, because you know exactly what happens to those neat little walls of yours the second you actually let me touch you."
your breath caught, the bruising friction of his lips leaving a stinging, electric heat behind. you wanted to spit another insult directly into his face, wanted to tear at the pristine cotton of his shirt just to force his heavy frame off yours, but the sheer physical mass of him was completely overwhelming. he was breathing heavily, his chest expanding and compressing violently against your pinned hands, forcing you to feel every single furious heartbeat.
"i don't want you touching me." you choked out, your voice dropping to a whisper as you tried to wrench your waist out of his grip. you twisted your hips, a sharp effort to break his hold, but his fingers only dug deeper into your skin. his palm slid completely beneath the hem of your shirt, his bare, burning skin making direct contact with the small of your back. the unmediated warmth made you flinch, your spine arching instinctively into his touch even as your mind screamed at you to pull away. he anchored you so firmly against the metal counter that you could feel the hard line of his thigh locking your knees together.
jungwon let out a low, rough sound from the back of his throat. the territorial anger in his eyes didn't vanish, but it shifted, darkening until his pupils practically swallowed the brown of his irises. he liked the fight. he liked that you were clawing for control, because it meant you were entirely consumed by him. "then tell me to stop." he murmured, his voice dropping into that breathless cadence that sent a terrifying ache straight down your lower stomach. he leaned his head down, his lips dragging slowly along the tense line of your jaw, down to the sensitive skin right beneath your ear. "say the word, y/n. tell me you hate this. tell me you want me to let go and go back to my desk."
you bit your lip so hard the iron taste of copper flared on your tongue again. you couldn't say it. the word was physically stuck in your throat, choking you, because deep beneath the suffocating layers of your panic and your rage, the leaden weight in your veins was turning into a pulsing heat. the absolute restriction of your corporate clothes — the tight pencil skirt restricting your movement, the stiff fabric of your blouse pinned against his chest — only made the raw reality of his bare hand on your waist feel a thousand times more scandalous.
"see?" jungwon whispered, his hot breath blooming against your skin as his teeth agonizingly grazed the soft lobe of your ear.
a violent shudder racked your entire frame, and he caught it instantly. his grip on your hip shifted, his palm sliding slowly up the curve of your ribcage, his thumb tracing the spaces between your ribs with a slow pressure that made your breathing fail completely.
"your mouth says one thing," he rasped, his nose dragging across your cheek as he pulled back just enough to look at you. "but your body is begging me not to listen to you."
"i'm not... begging you for anything." you gasped out, your hands finally curling into his shirt, using the grip to try and violently shove him back. when he didn't budge, you tried to bring your knee up, a clumsy attempt to force some space between your lower bodies.
jungwon anticipated it instantly. he shifted his weight, his heavy thigh sliding higher, crowding directly between yours under the cover of your skirt and pinning your legs completely against the lower panel of the printer. the sudden, deep pressure of his leg against the most sensitive part of you sent a violent shockwave straight up your spine.
your eyes flew open, a broken gasp tearing from your throat before you could stop it, your fingers tightening into the cotton of his shirt so hard the seams strained.
jungwon froze. his dark eyes snapped back up to yours, wide and completely wild, his own breath hitching loudly in the quiet room. the mocking arrogance was entirely dead, replaced by a raw, desperate hunger that made his features look sharper, darker, and completely undone. he looked down at your parted lips, his jaw clenching so hard the muscle violently throbbed.
"y/n." he rasped, his voice breaking on your name, the sound so private and broken it made your chest ache. his hand on your ribs slid higher, his thumb lightly brushing the underside of your breast through the silk, his touch no longer calculated, but shaking with the exact same tremor he had mocked you for just minutes ago. "look what you do to me. look at what you're making me do."
your eyes past his shoulder, completely freezing on the frosted glass pane of the door. the sheer terror of a shadow appearing out there made your entire chest lock up, your lungs refusing to expand. "jungwon, the elevator." you breathed, the words a frantic stutter against his chin. "i-i heard the chime. early shifts start at seven. someone is on the floor. let go, please, someone is going to-"
he didn’t even flinch at the mention of the corridor outside. if anything, the risk only seemed to strip away the very last of his restraint. his hand beneath your shirt slid lower, his long fingers hooking directly into the waistband of your skirt. with a slow pressure, his palm slipped completely underneath the fabric, his bare skin making direct contact with the sensitive curve of your hip. you let out a strangled gasp at the sudden touch, the sound instantly muffled as he crowded his chest harder against yours, burying his face in the crook of your neck. "let them walk in." he whispered, his voice a dark vibration that rolled straight through your skin.
his lips dragged heavily along your throat, sucking lightly at the soft skin right over your pulse point until you shivered so violently your fingers lost their grip on his shirt. your knees completely gave out, your lower body turning to lead. but you didn’t fall as the solid mass of his thigh wedged deeply between yours, riding high against your crotch under the cover of your tangled skirts. he shifted his weight, the blunt, agonizingly slow friction of his leg pressing directly into the aching center of your heat.
and then, through the heavy thrum of the printer, you heard it. the distant, rhythmic click of dress shoes on the floor down the hall. someone was walking toward the supply wing. panic flared white-hot in your stomach, a chaotic rush of adrenaline that made you violently struggle against him. you shoved your palms against his hard chest, twisting your hips in a desperate effort to tear yourself away from his leg before the footsteps could get closer. "jungwon, they're coming down the corridor.” you whimpered, your voice cracking with a very real, suffocating terror. "stop, please, the lights are on, they'll see our shadows through the glass-"
instead of pulling back, jungwon grabbed both of your wrists in a single, iron grip, forcing your hands down and pinning them flat against the cold metal counter behind your hips. you were completely exposed, your back arched over the machine, your chest heaving past your open blouse as he looked down at you with ravenous eyes. his free hand slid down from your hip, his fingers disappearing entirely beneath the hem of your skirt. the fabric hitched up past your thighs as his palm moved upward, tracing the bare skin of your inner thigh with a terrifyingly deliberate speed. you tried to lock your legs together, to bite down on the heat, but his knee pushed harder between yours, forcing you open, anchoring you so tightly against the counter that you couldn’t move a single inch.
the footsteps outside grew louder, pausing just a few meters away near the central cubicles. "jungwon, please." you cried out in a breathless plea, tears of sheer panic pricking the corners of your eyes as you stared at the door, expecting the handle to turn at any second.
he leaned down until his lips were hovering a millimeter away from yours, catching the frantic, terrified pants breaking from your mouth. his long fingers slid past the lace edge of your underwear, his knuckles brushing against your damp skin, finding the slick, embarrassingly hot reality of how ruined you already were for him. "then don't make a sound." he murmured, his jaw clenching as his fingers slowly slid inside you, making you give a helpless lurch against his hand. his dark eyes burned into yours, completely unhinged, as he whispered into your lips. "if you breathe too loud, y/n, they're going to hear you."
the words died in your throat, instantly choked out by the agonizingly deep, slow stretch of his fingers moving inside you. a sharp tremor racked your lower body, your hips lifting off the counter in a desperate reflex to escape the overwhelming intrusion. but jungwon wouldn't let you move. his iron grip on your wrists clamped down harder against the metal, the cold surface biting into your skin while his thigh pinned your knees wide apart, keeping you utterly trapped against his hand.
outside, the distinct sound of a drawer opening cut through the heavy silence of the floor. a binder was pulled out, the plastic rings clicking open, just on the other side of the thin wall. tears of sheer panic spilled over your lashes, blurring your vision as you stared at the door. your mouth parted to let out a ragged sob of fear, but jungwon immediately leaned down, sealing his lips over yours to capture the sound before it could even form. the kiss was bruising and desperate, an unyielding barrier that completely swallowed your frantic pants.
beneath your skirt, his hand began to move with an agonizingly slow, rhythmic friction. each stroke was a deliberate torture, his fingers sliding deeply into your aching heat before curling slightly, deliberately targeting the sensitive walls within you. your core clenched violently around his touch, a shameful wetness coating his knuckles as your body betrayed your terror, adapting instantly to his rhythm.
jungwon let out a shuddering breath through his nose, his forehead pressing hard against yours as he kept his mouth locked over yours. you could taste the faint hint of mint and the raw heat of his desire, his jaw working against yours as his thumb found the swollen bundle of nerves at the apex of your thighs. he pressed down firmly, moving in a tight circle that sent a devastating jolt of pure pleasure straight up your spine.
you buckled against him, your fingers spasming within his tight grip, trying to claw at the counter to find some anchor. a muffled, high pitched whimper leaked into his mouth, your chest heaving violently against his sternum as the edge of an inevitable climax began to tighten in your lower stomach. you twisted your face away from his, trying to breathe, trying to beg him to stop before you lost control entirely.
"please." you mouthed against his jaw, your voice nothing more than a silent puff of air. "jungwon, they'll hear."
the rustle of papers outside paused again. the heavy sound of a sigh carried through the quiet corridor, followed by the slow, turning scrape of dress shoes. they were moving again, their footsteps pacing closer to the copy room door this time, the shadow growing larger against the frosted glass pane.
jungwon's eyes snapped open, dark and completely wild with the illicit thrill of the risk. he didn't pull his hand back. instead, his fingers drove deeper, hooking into you with a possessive speed that made your hips violently jerk against his thigh. his mouth came right back to your ear, his teeth grazing the sensitive lobe as he whispered in a ragged tone.
"hold it in." he breathed, the words a cutting command against your wet skin. "if you make a sound right now, they're going to open this door."
the shadow on the frosted glass stopped directly in front of the entrance. the silhouette was sharp, the distinct outline of a hand reaching out toward the silver handle visible through the pane. panic turned into absolute, paralyzing ice in your veins. your eyes stretched wide, staring at the shifting metal of the handle, waiting for the distinct click of the lock to draw their attention. you wanted to vanish into the floor, wanted to claw your way out of his grip, but your body was entirely failing you.
beneath your skirt, jungwon didn't give you a single second to process the terror. his thumb pressed down with a heavy force against your core, while his fingers drove into your slick heat with a sudden, relentless pace. the friction was overwhelming, a wave of pleasure fracturing your mind completely and turning the fear into something dangerously volatile.
a suffocating sob rose from your chest, your mouth opening in a silent, desperate scream for him to stop, to let you breathe, to save you from the imminent ruin. but jungwon caught your face with his free hand, his palm clamping hard over your mouth to stifle the sound before it could leave your lips. his long fingers dug into your cheeks, forcing your head back against his shoulder as he buried his face in the crook of your neck.
you buckled violently against his palm, your hips jerking upward as the intense contraction of a climax slammed into your lower stomach. it was an agonizing, silent explosion. your core clamped down ruthlessly around his moving fingers, pulsing in tight waves that had you trembling from head to toe. the sheer intensity of it made your vision go dark at the edges, your body shaking helplessly against the hard metal counter while every single muffled gasp was completely crushed into the skin of his hand.
outside, the door handle gave a sharp, sudden rattle. someone was trying to push it open, but jungwon didn't pull back. he let out a ragged groan against your collarbone, his jaw clenching so hard the bone looked sharp as his fingers curled deeply inside you, absorbing the violent spasms of your release. his dark eyes flickered to the rattling handle, a dangerous, completely unhinged intensity clouding his features as he listened to the muffled voice outside mutter an annoyed curse about the door being jammed.
the footsteps finally turned away, the heavy sound of dress shoes retreating back down the long corridor toward the main elevators.
only when the silence of the office floor returned did jungwon slowly slide his wet fingers out from beneath your skirt. his palm remained firmly over your mouth for a few seconds longer, catching the broken pants that tore from your throat as your legs turned to water. you collapsed heavily against his chest, completely ruined, with nothing but the mechanical hum of the printer to fill the space between you.
he slowly lowered his hand from your mouth, his fingers brushing lightly against your wet lips. you immediately turned your head away, drawing in a ragged breath that trembled in your chest. the silence of the copy room returned, thick and suffocating.
you tried to smooth down your skirt with shaking hands, your fingers catching on the wrinkled fabric. the reality of what had just happened — and how close you had come to being caught — settled heavily in your stomach. a sharp knot of anxiety and resentment tightened in your throat.
"let me go." you whispered, refusing to look at him as you pushed weakly against his chest. "someone else will be here soon. the department starts filling up in ten minutes."
jungwon didn't move. he stood perfectly still, his chest expanding slowly against your palms as he looked down at you. the sharp, mocking arrogance was gone, replaced by a quiet, heavy intensity that felt far more dangerous. he looked at your flushed cheeks, your swollen lips, and the way your chest was still heaving. he was breathing heavily too, his usual immaculate composure slightly frayed, his tie shifted slightly to the side.
"you're still burning up." he murmured softly, his voice dropping into that low, raspy register. he reached out, his long fingers catching your jaw and gently but firmly turning your face back toward him. "and you're still looking at the door."
"because this is insane!" you gritted out, a tear of frustration finally slipping down your cheek. "you locked me in a copy room. anyone could have walked in. you could have ruined everything."
he didn't answer right away. he just stared at you, his dark eyes tracking the tear down your cheek before his gaze dropped back to your mouth. the silence stretched between you, heavy with everything left unsaid. there was a quiet weight to his presence, an undeniable gravity that made it impossible to truly step away even though his grip on your wrists had loosened.
slowly, his hand slid from your jaw down to the open collar of your blouse. his knuckles brushed against your collarbone, making you flinch, but you didn't pull away. your body was still humming from the release, completely sensitized, and the cool air of the room against your damp skin only made his touch feel warmer.
"i didn't ruin it." he whispered, his thumb lightly tracing the center of your lower lip. his other hand settled on your hip, his fingers digging into the fabric of your skirt, pulling your lower body back flush against his thigh. "and we aren't finished."
the quiet certainty in his voice made your heart skip a beat. you glanced at the frosted glass of the door again, the terror of being seen mixing with the pulsing ache that was already rebuilding in your lower stomach.
jungwon reached down, his fingers working efficiently at the buckle of his belt. the metallic click sounded incredibly loud in the small room. he didn't make a scene, he just looked at you with a calm, dark focus that made your knees feel weak all over again. he unzipped his slacks, his rigid length freeing itself against your thigh. he hooked his hand under your knee, lifting your leg slightly to anchor it against his hip, his eyes never leaving yours as he guided himself directly against your wet opening.
"quiet, y/n." he murmured, his breath hot against your face as he leaned his weight forward. "keep your eyes on me."
he sank into you slowly, a deliberate pressure that made your eyes stretch wide as he filled you completely. a choked gasp caught in your throat, your fingers instantly digging into the hard fabric of his shoulders to keep from crying out. the stretch was immense, a burning ache that immediately sent a trembling wave of heat straight to your core.
jungwon let out a shaky exhale against your lips, his jaw tight as he paused, letting your tight walls adjust to the thick length of his cock. he didn't move for a long moment, simply holding you pinned against the printer, his gaze locked ruthlessly onto yours. you could see the subtle fracture in his calm facade — the way his pupils were completely dilated, the rapid pulse jumping in his neck, the sheer heat radiating from his skin.
"look at me." he whispered again, his voice a gravelly thread.
you forced yourself to keep eye contact, even as a distant telephone began to ring out in the main bullpen, a stark reminder that the office was slowly coming to life. every second he stayed inside you felt like a countdown to absolute disaster.
slowly, jungwon began to move. he pulled back just far enough to tease, before driving back in with a deep thrust that tilted your hips back against the counter. the friction was agonizingly perfect, hitting the exact spot his fingers had ruined just minutes before. your back arched instinctively, a desperate, muffled whimper escaping your lips before you could stop it.
instantly, jungwon’s hand came up, his palm pressing firmly over your mouth to stifle the sound. he didn't stop his rhythm. he kept the pace slow and bruising, his hips grinding into yours with a steady desperation that left you entirely breathless. under the cover of your hitched up skirt, the wet, sliding sound of his entry felt dangerously loud in the quiet room.
“shhhh. see how easy it was? mmh?” the vibration of his low voice hummed right against your ear, the condescending edge returning but wrapped in a breathless desperation that betrayed how deeply he was actually unraveling. you shook your head against his palm, a muffled protest dying against his skin as he drove into you again, harder this time. the blunt force of his hips bottoming out against yours made your vision blur, the intense internal friction striking a cord of pure pleasure that threatened to snap your remaining restraint.
he liked the resistance, but he liked your body's compliance even more. his fingers shifted slightly on your face, his thumb digging into the soft flesh of your cheek to keep you looking directly at him while his lower body maintained that punishing rhythm. the slick friction between your thighs was getting louder with every thrust, a scandalous sound that made your face burn with a fresh wave of shame.
outside, the distinct whine of the main printer network warming up echoed through the wall. someone had just logged into their computer at a nearby cubicle. the floor was officially waking up.
jungwon noticed it too. his eyes narrowed, a dangerous thrill flashing through his gaze as he leaned in even closer, his chest completely crushing your pinned hands against his sternum. he pulled out almost completely, a cruel, agonizingly slow withdrawal that left you feeling hollow and aching, before he slammed back in all the way to the hilt.
a loud, broken gasp was completely smothered by his hand, your hips jerking helplessly against his heavy thigh as a sudden wave of heat coiled tightly in your lower stomach.
"you're shaking." he murmured against his own palm, his breath hot and damp over your mouth as his pace finally began to quicken, losing its calculated restraint. his jaw was set so hard the muscle violently pulsed, his own breathing breaking into uneven pants against your neck. "look at you. you're so tight around me. tell me how pathetic i am now, y/n."
he didn't wait for an answer, nor did he give you the room to form one. he lifted your leg a fraction higher, anchoring you ruthlessly against his hip as his thrusts became faster, deeper, and entirely unmasked. every heavy push drove you closer to another ruinous collapse, your fingers clawing uselessly at his shoulders as you fought to keep from making a single sound that would bring the office crashing down around you.
your teeth sank directly into the meat of his palm, a desperate, vicious bite to keep from screaming as another brutal thrust hit your core. jungwon let out a gravelly hiss against your ear, but he didn't pull his hand away. if anything, the sharp pain only made his grip on your face tighten, his fingers digging into your jaw with a bruising force that kept your head pinned back against the metal machine. his hips didn't slow down for a fraction of a second, they slammed into yours with an unhinged speed that had the heavy industrial printer rattling faintly beneath your lower back.
the sticky friction between your thighs was unbearable, a visual and physical ruin that made your mind spin with a sickening blend of terror and intense pleasure. outside, the click of a ceramic mug hitting a desk sounded just feet away from the copy room door.
"jungwon... mmmph." you tried to speak against his skin, your words muffled into an unidentifiable whine as your hips violently buckled. you were getting too close, the coiled heat in your stomach tightening into a knot so sharp it made your knees completely lose their strength. you were going to fall apart right there, right into his hands, with half the marketing team just beyond the frosted glass.
he pulled his hand down from your mouth just a millimeter, his eyes wild and dark, entirely consumed by the sight of your ruined, weeping expression. "say it." he rasped, his voice an unraveled mess as he drove himself into you to the absolute hilt, over and over. "tell me what you want me to do before someone opens this door, y/n. tell me."
"please." you choked out, your voice a pathetic whisper, your fingers tearing at the crisp fabric of his shirt as the impending wave crashed over you. "hurry... jungwon, please, they're right outside."
a low, triumphant growl tore from the back of his throat. he didn't play the mocking gentleman anymore, he just grabbed your other thigh, completely lifting you off the counter as his thrusts became deep, blind, and ruthlessly heavy. your core clenched around him in violent contractions, a silent climax shattering your posture as you buried your face into his neck, biting his collarbone to swallow the ragged scream tearing from your lungs.
jungwon gave two more desperate shoves into your pulsing heat, his whole body locking up as a low groan escaped his lips. he buried his face in your hair, his length twitching deeply inside you as he filled you completely, his chest heaving against your crushed ribs.
the silence that followed was deafening, save for the frantic synchronicity of your breathing. he kept you lifted against him for a long moment, his body trembling slightly from the sheer force of his release as his weight anchored you firmly to the edge of the metal counter. outside, the murmur of two coworkers talking about their weekend plans drifted through the drywall, their voices casual, entirely unaware of the absolute ruin taking place just inches away.
slowly, the tension began to drain from jungwon’s rigid frame. he let out a shuddering exhale against your temple, his forehead resting heavily against yours as his grip on your thighs loosened just enough to let your heels touch the floor again. your knees immediately buckled, your legs feeling like jelly, and you had to clutch the front of his shirt just to keep your balance.
"stay still." he murmured, his voice incredibly low and rough, stripped entirely of its usual smooth cadence.
he didn't pull out of you immediately. instead, his hands slid up from your thighs to your waist, his thumbs tracing the small of your back beneath your shirt as he waited for the aftershocks of your climax to finally subside. every involuntary twitch of your inner muscles made his jaw clench, a lingering heat still humming between your lower bodies.
the internal turmoil in your chest was suffocating. you felt exposed, completely unraveled, and the sharp sting of shame was already beginning to fight its way through the fading haze of pleasure. you had begged him. you had completely dismantled your own walls and given him exactly what he wanted just because you were terrified of being caught.
"let me down." you whispered, your voice raw and completely spent, your eyes fixed strictly on the silver buttons of his vest. you couldn't bring yourself to look at his face, not with the sticky reality of what you had just done settling between your thighs.
jungwon didn't argue. with a careful shift of his weight, he slid out of you. the sudden absence of his heat made you shiver, a cold drop of moisture tracing its way down your inner thigh as the fabric of your underwear snapped back into place, damp and ruined.
he stepped back just half an inch, his fingers lingering on your hips for a split second before he reached down to fix his trousers. the click of his belt buckle sounded agonizingly permanent, signaling the immediate return of the corporate world you had both just violently stepped out of. jungwon reached around you without a word, his long fingers smoothly pressing the button on the top console of the copier. the machine came alive with a loud whir, instantly printing the remaining pages of your presentation, the rhythmic thumping of the paper tray filling the tense silence between you.
it was a clean transition back to reality. you immediately smoothed down your pencil skirt, your hands still trembling so violently that you could barely straighten the hem over your knees. you tucked your blouse back into the waistband with clumsy movements, your heart still hammering against your ribs from the sheer panic of the hallway voices. the dampness between your thighs was a humiliating reminder of what had just happened, but you forced yourself to ignore it, turning your back to him to gather the freshly printed documents from the tray.
behind you, the rustle of fabric signaled jungwon fixing his tie. when you finally turned around, the wild animal from moments ago was completely gone.
he was standing by the door, adjusting the cuffs of his pristine white shirt, his expression perfectly unreadable. his jaw was no longer clenched, his breathing had completely evened out, and the immaculate, polite golden boy facade was back in place as if it had never left. if it weren't for the slight flush lingering on his neck and the faint scent of your shared heat in the small room, you could have easily convinced yourself you imagined the whole thing. he reached for the silver handle, unlocking the door with a practiced click that felt devastatingly casual.
"the quarterly reports for the marketing team are on your desk, right?" he asked, his voice returning to that smooth, pleasant tone he used during morning meetings. there was no trace of the gravelly whisper that had just ruined you against the counter.
you swallowed the thick lump of shame in your throat, clutching the stack of papers against your chest like a shield. "yes. i'll review them before the noon briefing."
"perfect. let's make sure the formatting is correct before we present to the board." he replied, giving you a polite, professional nod.
he opened the door, stepping out into the bright corridor without a single backward glance, immediately greeting a passing manager with his charming smile. you stood alone in the dim room for a second longer, your legs still shaking, forced to step right out behind him and pretend the neat little walls of your corporate life hadn't just been completely shattered.
the transition was so seamless it made your stomach turn. you stepped out into the hallway a few paces behind him, the fluorescent lights of the main floor hitting your eyes with a punishing brightness. the office was alive now. the low hum of chatter, the sharp clacking of keyboards, and the scent of freshly brewed coffee filled the air as if the world hadn't completely shifted on its axis over the last twenty minutes.
you walked past the central cubicles, your thigh muscles tightening painfully with every step, a constant physical reminder of his weight pinning you down. it was terrifying how normal everything looked. you could feel the damp silk of your underwear clinging to your skin, a secret weight, while jungwon walked a few meters ahead of you with a perfectly straight spine, smoothly dropping off a folder at the reception desk.
he didn't look back at you. not once.
when you reached your desk, you sat down a little too quickly, a small gasp catching in your throat as your sensitized skin made contact with the cold chair. you immediately pulled the stack of warm printer papers in front of you, staring blindly at the columns of numbers. your mind was a chaotic, spinning mess of internal noise. how is he doing that? you thought, your fingers trembling as you gripped your pen. how is he just sitting there?
across the small divider, you could see the top of his dark head as he settled into his own desk. he adjusted his monitor, clicked his mouse, and reached for his pen with the exact same calm precision he displayed every single morning.
⋆.˚˖࿔ ࣪
in the weeks that followed, the absolute silence between you became a far more brutal punishment than any of his condescending words in the copy room.
the facade didn't break. not that day, not the next, and not during the endless string of standard departmental meetings that dragged on through the middle of the month. jungwon went back to being the perfect golden boy of the floor. he passed you files with a polite nod. he answered your emails with professional efficiency. if your fingers accidentally brushed over a shared document during a briefing, his hand would retract instantly, his expression remaining so utterly detached you started to wonder if you had hallucinated the entire thing again.
but the physical memory of him refused to fade. every time you walked past that specific frosted glass door in the morning, your stomach would drop, a phantom warmth blooming low in your belly. you hated how your eyes automatically tracked him through the glass partition of his cubicle, how you caught yourself memorizing the slight roll of his sleeves or the sharp line of his jaw when he leaned over his desk.
you were drowning in the quiet space he had put between you, constantly waiting for the other shoe to drop, but jungwon simply refused to acknowledge it. your biggest fear had actually come true and you couldn’t do much about it.
until a rainy tuesday three weeks later. the rest of the team had already left for a corporate dinner you had skipped, leaving the floor dark and empty save for the steady hum of the fluorescent lights above your desk. you were typing a final report, your shoulders tense, when a shadow suddenly fell across your papers.
you snapped your head up. jungwon was standing on the other side of your partition, his trench coat slung over his arm, his briefcase already in hand. he looked exactly like he did every evening — immaculate, composed, completely out of reach.
"i'm locking up the main floor." he said, his voice carrying that pleasant cadence that had kept you at a distance for twenty one days. "are you finishing up soon, y/n?"
you swallowed hard, your fingers freezing over the keys as the sheer, suffocating weight of his presence hit you all at once. the weeks of forced indifference, the stolen glances, and the burning shame of that morning in the supply closet flared hot in your chest. "i have ten minutes left." you managed to say, forcing your voice to stay even, refusing to let him see how much his simple proximity was making your pulse race. "you don't have to wait for me."
jungwon didn't move. he stood perfectly still in the dim aisle, his dark eyes fixed on your face. for a long second, the silence stretched between you, thick with the unspoken reality of what you had done against that counter.
then, very slowly, his gaze dropped to your mouth. it was the first real break in his mask in a month. his jaw clenched, the muscle in his cheek giving a sharp pulse, and the familiar intensity flooded his eyes, clouding the brown until they looked almost entirely black. he wasn't looking at a coworker anymore. he was looking at you the exact same way he had right before he pinned your wrists to the metal.
"ten minutes." he murmured, his voice dropping into that low register that made your spine instantly freeze. he didn't step closer, and he didn't touch you, but the territorial grip of his eyes felt heavy against your skin. "i'll be by the elevators." he turned and walked away before you could breathe, his dress shoes clicking sharply against the floor, leaving you trembling in the empty office with the terrifying realization that the walls you had spent weeks building hadn't actually kept anything out.
after those agonizing ten minutes quickly passed, the elevator doors slid shut with a synchronized click, leaving the two of you entirely alone in the descending steel box.
the silence was thick, pressing heavily against your eardrums as the floor numbers ticked downward. you stood in the corner, clutching the strap of your bag with white-knuckled intensity, your eyes glued to the polished metal doors. you could feel the suffocating friction of his presence just two feet away. your mind was a chaotic, spinning mess of internal noise, replaying the dark look he had just given you across your desk. did he mean it? is he going to do something? you glanced at him from beneath your lashes, your heart hammering against your ribs.
jungwon was leaning casually against the handrail, one hand slid carelessly into his trouser pocket while the other held his briefcase. his eyes were fixed on the digital display above the door, his expression completely blank, perfectly smooth, and utterly nonchalant. the raspy voice from three minutes ago might as well have belonged to a ghost. his jaw was loose, his breathing perfectly rhythmic.
a sickening knot of realization twisted sharply in your stomach. he doesn't care. the thought hit you like a physical blow, draining the residual heat from your veins and replacing it with a hollow ache. the fierce, territorial grip of his eyes back at your cubicle hadn't been a confession or a break in his mask — it was just a reflex. a passing thought. he was just playing with you, testing to see if he still had that terrifying gravity over your body, and you had shown him your absolute ruin in a single second. you had let him see how easily he could freeze you when you had vehemently swore it could never happen, while he didn't even have the decency to let his composure slip for more than a heartbeat.
the elevator chimed, the doors sliding open to reveal the dim, echoing expanse of the underground parking garage. jungwon straightened up smoothly, stepping out onto the concrete without waiting for you. his easy strides carried him toward his sleek sedan, his coat swinging slightly with the movement. he looked so effortlessly out of your reach, a pristine corporate entity who hadn't spent the last three weeks drowning in the memory of your slick heat coating his knuckles. to him, it was just another day. it was just an empty office floor.
"drive safe, y/n." he called out over his shoulder, his voice carrying that entirely detached cadence as he unlocked his car with a distant beep. he didn't look back to see your expression. he just slid into the driver's seat, closing the door with a definitive thud that echoed through the empty garage, leaving you standing under the flickering lights, completely hollowed out by his indifference.
you didn’t move until the taillights of his car disappeared up the concrete ramp, leaving the garage in a darker quiet. the bite of the underground air finally pierced through the numbness in your chest, forcing a shaky breath from your throat. you hated him. you hated him so deeply in that moment, but more than anything, you hated the pathetic way your skin still felt too tight, still humming with a desperate, unearned adrenaline just because he had looked at your mouth.
it was a game, you reminded yourself as you unlocked your own car, your fingers stiff against the steering wheel. just a power trip. you had spent three weeks thinking you were sharing a suffocating secret, drowning in the memory of his fingers, while he had probably forgotten the exact color of the underwear he had pushed aside.
the next morning, you arrived early, your spine perfectly straight, your eyes cold. you had spent the entire night rebuilding your own walls, cementing them with the raw humiliation of his easy departure.
and jungwon made it incredibly easy for you to believe the lie.
over the next two weeks, you watched him play his part with a terrifying, flawless precision. he still was the department's golden boy, the immaculate genius every higher-up adored and every intern whispered about. you sat at your desk and watched him smile charmingly at the new girl from hr, leaning just close enough to make her blush while he explained the expense report system. you heard the rumors through the office grapevine — how he had been seen leaving a lounge downtown with a senior designer from product development last friday, his jacket slung over his arm, looking effortlessly smooth.
he still was methodical. he still was calculated. he picked them apart, charmed them, used them, and then returned to his desk on monday morning without a single hair out of place. you were nothing special to him. you were just a checkbox in his sick need for control, a momentary lapse where he wanted to see if he could break the one person who didn't look at him like he hung the moon.
so you needed to stop looking. you treated him like a piece of office furniture — functional, necessary, and completely uninteresting. when he passed you files, you didn't look at his eyes. when he emailed you, you replied with one word confirmations. you forced yourself to believe you were completely over it.
but because you were the only one who actually saw past the perfect golden armor, you were the only one who noticed the tiny, almost invisible cracks.
it started with his posture. jungwon always sat perfectly straight, but lately, whenever jay came over to your desk to laugh and linger a little too long, jungwon’s broad shoulders would turn entirely rigid behind his partition. his keyboard would go dead silent. he wouldn't turn around, he wouldn't break his perfect facade, but his pen would stop clicking, hovering over his paperwork until jay finally walked away.
then came the morning briefings. he would sit at the head of the conference table, smoothly delivering metrics to the team with his usual pleasant, charming tone. everyone was captivated. but your eyes were fixed on his hands. while his voice was perfectly steady, his thumb was repeatedly tracing the silver band of his watch — a restless motion he only did when he was deeply unsettled. and once, just once, when you leaned forward to grab a printout, his eyes flickered down to your collarbone, his jaw tightening so hard the muscle violently pulsed before he smoothly transitioned to the next slide.
on friday afternoon, right before clock out, the office was buzzing with the energy of the weekend, people packing up their bags and making loud plans. jungwon was surrounded by three girls from marketing, holding court near the elevators, offering them that effortless, dimpled smile that always made them giggle. from your desk, he looked completely unbothered, entirely back to his usual routine of being the untouchable favorite.
you quietly zipped your bag, sliding your chair back to leave through the side exit, wanting to avoid the elevator crowd entirely.
as you walked past the main copy room — the very room that still made your stomach drop every time you glanced at the frosted glass — the door suddenly clicked open a fraction of an inch.
you paused, your heart skipping a beat. jungwon was inside, dropping off a stack of recycled papers. he hadn't seen you yet. he was completely alone, away from his audience, and for a split second, the charming golden boy was entirely dead. his head was down, his chest heaving in a slow breath that looked incredibly heavy. his fingers were gripping the edge of the counter so hard his knuckles were stark white. the exact spot where he had pinned your wrists.
you took a step back, your shoes scuffing lightly against the floor. jungwon’s head snapped up. through the gap in the door, his dark eyes locked onto yours. the pleasant, fake sweet mask he had been wearing at the elevators just two minutes ago was completely shattered, replaced by a hollowed out frustration that made your breath hitch. he didn't move, and he didn't say a word. you both just stood there, the heavy silence of the copy room bleeding out into the hallway, cutting straight through the distant chatter of the office.
his eyes didn't leave yours. the unhinged intensity you thought you had imagined was right there, clouding the brown of his pupils until they looked almost black. his knuckles remained white against the counter, his broad shoulders rising and falling with that same heavy breath. it was a silent confession he couldn't take back, a glaring proof that while he was out there playing the untouchable prince, he was secretly rotting in the exact same memory that had been torturing you for weeks.
he’s losing, the realization hit your chest with a dizzying jolt. he’s pretending just as hard as i am. but then, almost as quickly as it had shattered, his mask began to piece itself back together. you could see the exact moment his calculating mind took over. his fingers slowly uncurled from the edge of the counter, his spine straightening into that familiar, impeccable posture. he let out a dismissive breath through his nose, his jaw tightening into a smooth, even line as he adjusted the cuffs of his shirt.
by the time he took a step toward the doorway, it all was gone, replaced once again by the flawless colleague. "going home?" he asked, his voice sliding effortlessly back into that casual tone that made your stomach turn. he didn't lean in, and he didn't look at your mouth. he just stepped out into the hallway, pulling the copy room door shut behind him with a definitive click.
"yes." you managed to say, your voice flat, your fingers tightening around the strap of your bag. you hated how your heart was still hammering against your ribs, how your body still reacted to his proximity even when his eyes were completely blank again.
"good. enjoy the weekend, y/n." he replied, giving you an entirely standard nod that you would see him give any other staff member.
he turned on his heel and walked right back toward the elevators, smoothly slipping back into the crowd of marketing girls who were still waiting for him. as you walked away through the side exit, your chest ached with a burning confusion. he was still that same fake, dangerous boy, completely unreachable, but you were pretty sure of what you saw. the immaculate armor had a leak, and for the first time in a month, you didn’t seem to be the only one suffocating.
⋆.˚˖࿔ ࣪
you spent the entire weekend trapped in the memory of those three seconds. no matter how hard you tried to push it away — whether you were cleaning your apartment or staring blindly at the television — all you could see was the unraveled frustration in his eyes before his mask snapped back into place. it changed everything. you had spent weeks drowning in shame, convinced you were the only one broken by what had happened, while he just smoothly moved on to the next person. but now it seemed like his nonchalance was just as fake as his charming, dimpled smile.
by monday morning, the office atmosphere felt different, charged with a quiet, invisible current that only the two of you could feel. you sat at your desk, keeping your head down, but you didn't feel like a victim anymore. the dynamic had subtly shifted. when jungwon arrived, he was back to his usual routine — laughing politely at a manager's bad joke, offering a sweet, effortless greeting to the receptionist. but as he walked past your partition to get to his desk, you didn't look away this time. you kept your eyes fixed on your screen, perfectly still, letting your deliberate indifference hang in the air like a wall.
you heard the distinct slide of his briefcase hitting his desk, followed by a sudden silence. he didn't sit down right away.
for a long, tense minute, the only sound between your cubicles was the low hum of the air conditioner. you could feel his gaze burning through the small gap in the divider, heavy and demanding, practically begging you to look up and give him the validation he always took from you. but you didn't give him a single inch. you casually reached for your ceramic mug, took a slow sip of your coffee, and clicked on your email spreadsheet. the keys of his keyboard suddenly rattled under his fingers with a force that was just a fraction too aggressive for his usual methodical rhythm.
around eleven, jay strolled over to your desk, leaning his hip against the edge of your partition with a lazy grin. "hey, y/n. a few of us are grabbing lunch down at that new bistro by the plaza later. you should come. i'll even cover your dessert if you help me look over the Q2 projections afterwards."
you offered jay a genuine smile, leaning back in your chair. "sure, jay. that sounds really nice, actually. let me just finish up this report."
"perfect. it's a date, then." jay joked, giving you a playful wink before turning to leave.
the exact second jay's footsteps faded down the hall, the quiet clicking of jungwon's keyboard completely stopped. the silence from his cubicle was suffocating, thick with a sudden, icy hostility that made the hairs on your arms stand up.
a moment later, your inbox chimed with a new notification:
From: Yang Jungwon
To: Y/N
Subject: Q2 Presentation Formatting
Please bring the physical drafts of the marketing presentation to the main archive room on B1. There are inconsistencies in the data layout that need to be corrected immediately before the afternoon briefing.
your heart gave a violent thud against your ribs. the archive room. that windowless, isolated space in the basement where almost no one went during the day. you stared at the text on your screen, your fingers freezing over your mouse as the internal turmoil flared white-hot in your chest all over again. he was pulling the strings, falling back on his authority because his perfect, fake sweet persona wasn't working on you. he was desperate to get you behind a closed door, desperate to find out if he still held that volatile gravity over your body.
you slowly printed out the sheets, the rhythmic thumping of the machine sounding like a countdown. you gathered the warm papers against your chest, your knees feeling slightly weak as you stood up, forced to walk toward the elevators and find out exactly how much further his flawless armor was going to crack.
the basement air hit you first — cool, damp, and smelling faintly of dust and old paper.
the heavy steel door of the archive room clicked shut behind you with an echoing thud that made your chest tighten. it was completely isolated down there, rows of high metal shelves stretching out under the harsh buzz of fluorescent tubes. you walked down the center aisle, the physical drafts clutched tightly against your chest like a shield, your heels clicking softly on the smooth concrete.
jungwon was already there. he was standing by a long metal sorting table at the back of the room, casually flipping through a thick folder. his suit jacket was off, draped neatly over the back of a nearby chair, and the sleeves of his crisp white shirt were rolled up to his elbows with that effortless precision.
"you said there were inconsistencies." you said, your voice cutting through the silence. you kept it flat, professional, and entirely devoid of the breathy panic you knew he was used to extracting from you. you stepped up to the opposite side of the wide metal table, sliding the stack of papers across the cold surface between you.
jungwon didn't look up immediately. he slowly finished the line he was reading, tapped his pen against the table twice, and then finally raised his eyes.
the forced nonchalance in his gaze was breathtakingly thin, but he held it together. the pleasant, fake nice colleague was perfectly intact. "slide four." he murmured, his voice smooth, though it carried a quiet weight that felt incredibly heavy in the small room. "the formatting doesn't match the logistics ledger. we can't present sloppy work to the board."
"it's not sloppy." you replied smoothly, leaning your palms against the edge of the table, deliberately matching his unbothered posture. "jay reviewed the data layout with me last week. he said it was perfect."
the mention of his name hit the air like a live wire. jungwon’s fingers tightened around his pen for a fraction of a second, his knuckles turning pale before he relaxed his grip. he didn't snap, and he didn't raise his voice. instead, he leaned forward slightly, resting his forearms on the metal table, looking at you with a calm, analytical focus that made the hairs on the back of your neck stand up.
"jay doesn't sign off on your department's metrics." jungwon said, his tone dropping into a slightly lower register that sent a phantom shiver down your spine. "i do. if he wants to audit your work, he can do it through the proper channels. until then, i need you to align these numbers."
"i'll fix it at my desk, then." you said, reaching out to pull the papers back toward yourself, desperate to break the suffocating gravity of his presence.
but jungwon didn't let go of his side of the papers. his hand clamped down flat on the top sheet, trapping the documents against the metal. his dark eyes locked onto yours. the silence stretched between you and you could see the faint pulse jumping in his neck, the slight tightness in his jaw.
"we have an hour before the briefing, y/n." he murmured, his voice losing just a bit of its polished edge. "do it here. i need to verify it in real time."
you swallowed hard, your internal turmoil flaring white hot. you wanted to push back, wanted to call him out on his transparent power play, but the sheer, addictive thrill of having his unmasked attention kept you rooted to the spot. without breaking eye contact, you slowly pulled your laptop out of your bag, setting it on the cold metal table.
for the next ten minutes, the only sound in the archive room was the rhythmic clicking of your keyboard. you sat on a metal stool, keeping your posture rigid. jungwon remained directly across from you, ostensibly reviewing his ledger, but you could feel his eyes tracking every minor movement of your fingers, the way your collarbone shifted when you breathed, the tension in your shoulders. it was an agonizing tug of war, a silent battle of attrition to see who would fold first.
"done." you finally said, your voice sounding a little too thin in the quiet room. you pushed the laptop an inch forward. "the metrics are aligned."
jungwon closed his folder. instead of leaning over the table to look at the screen, he walked around it. every step he took felt impossibly loud. he didn't stop until he was standing right beside your stool, so close that his thigh brushed against your shoulder. his expensive scent entirely crowded out the musty smell of the basement, sending a treacherous wave of heat straight to your lower stomach. you froze, your hands resting rigidly in your lap, refusing to look up at him.
he leaned down, planting one hand on the metal table right next to your laptop, the other resting on the back of your stool, entirely caging you in. "is this what jay taught you?" jungwon murmured, his voice a mocking rasp right next to your ear. he wasn't even looking at the screen. his gaze was fixed on the side of your neck. "because the margins are still off."
"the margins are standard." you gritted out, your fingers curling into fists in your lap to keep them from trembling. the forced proximity was destroying your composure. "he actually knows how to work with the team, jungwon. unlike some people, he doesn't just use everyone around him for a power trip."
the air in the room completely stalled. jungwon let out a slow, sharp breath that fanned across your cheek. he didn't pull away. instead, he leaned in a fraction closer, the polished golden boy facade finally cracking.
"you're trying so hard, y/n." he whispered, his voice dark and utterly devoid of his usual corporate charm. "ignoring me in the hallways. sending one word emails. letting jay buy you coffee just to see if i'll react."
"i'm not trying to do anything." you shot back, finally turning your head to glare at him. it was a mistake. his face was mere inches from yours, his dark eyes completely consumed by that familiar intensity. the memory of his hand over your mouth, his hips crushing yours against the counter, suddenly screamed in the silence between you. "i just don't care about you anymore."
"liar." the word was a soft, cruel accusation. his eyes dropped to your lips, tracking the way they parted on a shaky intake of breath. his hand shifted from the back of your stool, his long fingers lightly grazing the sensitive skin at the nape of your neck beneath your hair. "you care so much it's eating you alive.”
you wanted to shove him away. you wanted to slap him. but as his thumb brushed over your pulse point, feeling the hammering rhythm of your heart, a humiliating ache bloomed in your chest. the fight drained out of you, replaced by a suffocating yearning that you had spent an entire month trying to kill.
"then stop playing games." you whispered, your voice cracking, a raw confession slipping out before you could stop it. "stop looking at me like that if you're just going to go back upstairs and pretend i don't exist. or are you just doing all this to humiliate me and keep your ego intact?"
jungwon’s jaw locked. the muscle jumped violently beneath his skin, his eyes darkening into an absolute void as he stared down at you, the agonizing space between your lips separated by nothing but a few inches of cold basement air. the silence stretched for a long second, the harsh buzz of the lights above ringing in your ears like a warning.
"my ego." he repeated, the words tearing out of his throat in a harsh whisper. "you think my ego is intact."
his hand slid from the nape of your neck, his fingers tangling violently into the roots of your hair as he forced your head back. the movement was sharp, possessive, snapping the very last thread of your composure. he stepped right between your parted knees, the metal legs of your stool scraping loudly against the concrete as he dragged you inches closer to the edge of the table.
the solid warmth of his body pressed flush against your inner thighs, sending a blinding wave of heat straight to your center. you let out a choked gasp, your hands flying up to grip the lapels of his shirt, entirely unsure if you were trying to push him away or pull him closer.
"i haven't slept a full night in a month." he breathed against your mouth, his chest heaving against yours. the immaculate, calculating golden boy was completely gone, dissolving into someone desperate, unraveled, and entirely out of control. "i sit at my desk and watch you look right through me, and it takes every single ounce of my self control not to drag you under it and remind you exactly what you sounded like choking on my fingers."
your heart was hammering so violently it physically hurt. you stared up into his dark, ruined eyes, the resentment that had protected you for weeks crumbling into dust under the sheer weight of his confession.
"you want to know why i pretend, y/n? you want to know why i walk away?" jungwon continued, his voice dropping into a venomous growl, his thumb digging bruisingly into your jawline.
a hot tear of sheer, overwhelming frustration finally broke free, tracing down your cheek. "why?" you whispered pathetically, your walls completely dismantled.
"because if i let myself drop the act," he rasped, his gaze dropping to your mouth before flickering back up, pitch black and starving. "if i let myself actually think about how slick and ruined you were for me... how perfectly you clamped down on my cock while you begged me to hurry... i wouldn't just lock you in a copy room. i would bend you over every single desk on that floor and fuck that cold attitude right out of you until you couldn't drive home."
he didn't give you a chance to breathe, let alone answer. his mouth crashed down onto yours with a devastating force. it wasn't the teasing, mocking kiss from before. it was messy, filthy, and completely starved. his lips parted yours violently, his tongue driving deep into your mouth to swallow the broken sound that tore from your throat. he tasted like black coffee and unadulterated need.
the fight instantly drained out of your muscles. your hands, which had been clenched against his chest, completely surrendered, your fingers sliding up to fist into the crisp fabric at his shoulders. you kissed him back just as desperately, your body arching into his heat, chasing the exact friction that had been torturing your memory for weeks.
a low groan vibrated deep in his chest. he let go of your hair, wrapping both of his arms tightly around your waist and physically lifting you off the stool. the papers on the table scattered onto the concrete floor as he slammed your back down onto the cold metal surface, his heavy frame immediately settling right between your legs.
"open for me." he growled against your lips, his hand already sliding ruthlessly up your thigh, pushing your skirt out of the way. "let me see if you've been aching for it as badly as i have."
his hand didn't bother with being gentle. his long fingers dragged up your inner thigh, snagging on the lace of your underwear. he hooked two fingers under the damp fabric and shoved it aside with an almost violent tug. the cool basement air hit your exposed core for a fraction of a second before his blunt fingers pressed directly against your slick heat.
a shuddering breath tore from his lungs. he let his forehead drop against your shoulder, his chest heaving as he felt exactly how ready you were for him. "fuck." he rasped, his voice vibrating against your collarbone. he slid one thick finger deep inside you, the obscene sound echoing loudly in the quiet room. "you're completely soaked. you were sitting at your desk acting like i didn't exist while you were dripping wet for me, mmh?"
"jungwon-" you whimpered, your hips jerking instinctively upward to chase his hand. the humiliation of being so easily exposed was entirely drowned out by the blinding relief of finally having him touch you again.
"we have twenty minutes until the briefing." he muttered, his dark eyes snapping back up to yours, feral and unyielding. "i'm going to ruin you so badly you won't be able to look at that projector screen without shaking." he didn't waste another second. his free hand dropped to his waist, the sharp clink of his belt buckle sounding like a starting gun. he tore his zipper down, freeing his erect cock before gripping your hips with bruising force. he dragged you to the very edge of the sorting table, your lower half completely suspended off the metal as you instinctively wrapped your legs around his waist to anchor yourself.
he didn't tease. he just lined himself up, gripped your thighs tightly, and sank into you with one deep, ruthless thrust that buried him to the absolute hilt. a broken scream tore from your throat, but he swallowed it instantly, his mouth crashing back down onto yours. the stretch was agonizingly perfect. the contrast of the freezing metal table biting into your shoulder blades and the burning heat of him completely filling you made your mind entirely short circuit.
he broke the kiss just to catch his breath, his jaw clenched so tight the bone looked sharp enough to cut. "fuck, y/n." he groaned, his head falling back as his hips locked against yours for a second, absorbing the suffocating grip of your inner walls. "you're so tight."
and then he started to move. there was no methodical pacing, no calculated restraint. he fucked you with a frantic, punishing desperation, his hips pulling back only to slam into you with a wet slap that echoed obscenely off the metal shelves. the heavy sorting table actually rattled under his weight, every brutal thrust driving you backward, forcing your hands to claw helplessly at the ruined fabric of his shirt.
"jungwon, p-please. it's too fast." you choked out, your vision blurring with white hot tears as the friction immediately dialed up to an unbearable intensity. your core was already so sensitized from weeks of yearning that every time he bottomed out inside of you, a violent tremor shot straight through your stomach.
"it's not fast enough." he growled, his hand sliding up to grip your throat — not hard enough to hurt, but firm enough to assert his absolute control, his thumb resting heavily over your racing pulse. he stared down at you, his immaculate hair falling messily over his forehead, his dark eyes tracking every single expression that crossed your ruined face. "let go for me. fall apart right here, before we have to go back upstairs and pretend."
you couldn't hold on even if you tried. the ticking clock, the danger of the basement door, and the overwhelming reality of him finally taking what you both wanted completely shattered your restraint. your nails dug into his forearms, a high, desperate whine leaving your lips as your internal walls began to violently contract.
"that's it." he rasped, his pace turning blind and relentless as he felt your climax begin to milk him. "take it. take all of it."
you completely broke, a ragged sob tearing from your chest as the climax rippled through you, your core clamping down on his rigid length in relentless waves. jungwon let out a deep, guttural groan, his control instantly snapping as he gave one final brutal shove before burying his face in your neck, spilling hotly deep inside you as his entire body locked up against yours.
the absolute silence of the basement returned with a deafening weight, broken only by the frantic synch of your breathing.
he stayed buried deep inside you for a heavy moment, his chest heaving against you, his pulse hammering a violent rhythm against your neck where his face was still buried. the heat radiating from his skin was staggering, a stark contrast to the freezing metal table biting into your spine. inside you, the last of his frantic twitches subsided, leaving behind a pulsing warmth that made your head spin with a sickening cocktail of euphoria and crashing panic.
ten minutes. your mind violently jolted back to the clock. we have ten minutes.
slowly, the rigid tension began to bleed out of jungwon’s frame. he let out a shuddering exhale against your skin, his forehead coming to rest heavily against your shoulder. when he finally pulled back, the physical separation felt brutal. he slid out of you with a wet friction that made your inner muscles helplessly twitch, a drop of moisture immediately coming down your inner thigh just like the first time.
the transition back to reality was instant, cold, and utterly terrifying again.
jungwon didn't say a word. he stepped back just half an inch, his long fingers lingering on your hip for a fraction of a second before he reached down to fix his clothes. you watched him through blurred vision as he pulled his sleeves back down, buttoning his cuffs with steady movements. his hair was messy, a few dark strands falling over his eyes, and a telltale flush covered his cheeks, but his expression was already shutting down. the feral man who had just pinned you to a metal table was being buried alive once again, brick by brick, right before your eyes.
"fix your skirt." he murmured, his voice incredibly low, still carrying a rough edge that he was clearly trying to smooth over. he didn't look at your face. he was looking at his watch. "we have less than ten minutes to get to the conference room."
the casual nonchalance of his tone made your stomach turn. you scrambled off the table, your legs shaking so violently that your heels nearly buckled the moment they hit the concrete floor. you immediately turned your back to him, your hands trembling as you tucked your blouse back into your waistband, smoothing down the wrinkled fabric of your skirt with silly, panicked movements. the sticky reality of what he had just left inside you was a burning weight between your thighs, but you obliged yourself to not think about it, desperately trying to swallow the thick lump of shame and yearning clogging your throat.
he's doing it again, you thought, your chest aching with raw turmoil. he just used me to vent a month of frustration, and now he's putting the mask back on.
when you forced yourself to turn around, the illusion was almost perfect. jungwon had donned his jacket, straightened his collar, and run a hand through his hair to guide it back into its immaculate style. once more, you could have convinced yourself it all had been a hallucination.
he picked up the scattered presentation slides from the floor, tapping the edge of the papers against the table to align them perfectly. "the data layout looks completely standard now." he said, his voice sliding effortlessly back into that tone he used for the board of directors. he extended the stack of papers toward you, his hand perfectly steady. "make sure you hand these to the department head as soon as we walk in."
you took the papers, your fingers brushing against his for a fraction of a second. you expected him to pull away, expected the ice — but his fingers tightened subtly over yours, pinning the pages between you for one agonizing heartbeat.
his eyes locked onto yours, pitch black and harboring a quiet promise that completely contradicted his polite posture. i'm not finished with you, his gaze whispered, loud and clear, before he smoothly let go.
"let's go." jungwon said, offering you a polite nod as he turned toward the door. "we can't be late for the briefing."
he pushed the door open, stepping out into the hallway without a single backward glance. you stood alone in the archive room for one second longer, trying to steady your breath, before you stepped right out behind him — forced to walk into a crowded elevator and pretend your entire world hadn't just been ruined in the basement.
⋆.˚˖࿔ ࣪
the briefing passed in a blinding blur. you sat three chairs down from him at the long mahogany table, your knees locked tightly together, trying to focus on the projector screen while the slow warmth of what he had left inside you cooled against your thighs. jungwon was flawless. he pointed at the data slides with his silver pen, spoke in that bright, capable way the executives loved, and didn't look at you a single time.
that afternoon was the first brick laid in a structure that would systematically hollow you out over the next four weeks. the basement hadn't been a momentary break in his mask. instead, it became the blueprint for a toxic routine that established itself entirely through the company’s internal server. neither of you ever spoke a word about it out loud. there were no late night texts, no lingering looks, and absolutely no acknowledgment of the ruin you shared. jungwon kept the boundary line thick and visible, and you, out of a desperate need to save your own pride, matched his stride.
you learned to read the language of his casual invitations. it always started with a generic email notification flashing on your monitor. the subject lines were always pristine, completely invisible to anyone else — archival cross-reference, logistics ledger review, updated q3 formatting. but the timing was calculated with a terrifying precision. it was always 7:15 am, before the front desk receptionist clocked in, or 8:30 pm, when the main floor lights auto dimmed and the cleaning crew was still three levels above.
the locations shifted, but the suffocating friction remained the same. a vacant corporate lounge on the 14th floor, a narrow supply vault behind the server racks, the deep corner of a private office after the blinds were twisted shut against the city.
and every single time, the pattern was a torturous loop. you would walk into the designated room with your jaw clenched, your heart hammering an angry rhythm against your ribs, determined to prove you were just as detached as he was. jungwon would be waiting, looking immaculate, his expression completely blank as he gave you some casual instruction. you would pretend you didn't care. he would pretend he didn't care.
then, the air would stall. the forced nonchalance would burn away into that unhinged intensity, and he would drag you against a desk or pin you against a wall. he was filthy in the dark, using a venomous rasp to whisper things that made your blood boil with a sickening mix of shame and desperate desire. he would take everything your body pathetically yearned for, running the clock down to the absolute last second.
and the exact heartbeat his release was over, the ice returned.
he would slide out of you, fix his trousers, and adjust his silk tie without saying a single word. by the time you stepped back out into the hallway, he would already be five paces ahead of you, his hands slid carelessly into his pockets, ready to greet a manager with a charming nod.
that was the part that was slowly driving you insane — the terrifying precision of his dual reality, and the rotting hurt it left in your chest.
during the day, you had to sit at your desk and watch him play the department's golden boy. you watched him lean over the reception desk, giving the new girls that fake sweet look that made them stammer. you heard all the gossip about who he did or did not fuck. to the rest of the world, he was pristine. you were nothing special to him, just a hidden variable in his daily schedule, a convenient way to vent his corporate frustration because you were the only one who didn't look at him like that.
you wanted to scream at him. you wanted to slap the casual, empty smile right off his face in the morning briefings. you wanted to ask him if you were just a tool, if he even remembered your name when he wasn't burying his face in your neck. but the rules of the game you had both entered meant you couldn't say a single word. to voice the hurt would mean admitting that his effortless shifts between the office prince and the private monster were breaking you. it would mean admitting that while he was just having a casual, physical release, you were drowning in him. if you showed a single crack in your composure, he would win. he would see your ruin, give you that polite nod, and walk away entirely. so you swallowed the pain until it tasted like acid, cementing your face into the same blank indifference he wore so well.
by the end of the month, your internal mess had stretched your nerves to a breaking point. the careless act was getting heavier, the unspoken friction between your cubicles turning into an icy wall that made the entire floor feel unsafe for you.
it was a thursday evening, the clock creeping just past 8:45 pm. the department was dead silent, the only sound the steady drumming of rain against the floor to ceiling glass windows.
your monitor flashed white in the darkened space:
From: Yang Jungwon
To: Y/N
Subject: Late Invoice Discrepancy
Please bring the physical Q3 budget folders to the archive room immediately for verification.
your fingers shook against the mouse. there was no discrepancy. he was just stressed from the executive board meeting he had endured that afternoon, and he wanted to use you to burn it off.
you slowly stood up, gathering the heavy folders against your chest like a shield. your knees felt weak, your blood running thick with that familiar adrenaline as you walked down the darkened hallway toward the archive room.
through the glass partition, you could see his silhouette. jungwon had his jacket off, his white shirt slightly loosened at the collar, his hands slid into his trouser pockets. he looked completely composed, a picture of solitary corporate elegance. you pushed the door open, stepping into the room. the quiet click of the latch closing behind you sounded as a definitive thud in the silence.
jungwon didn't turn around. he let the quiet stretch between you, the casual indifference of his posture practically mocking the storm raging in your chest.
"close the door, y/n." he murmured smoothly, his side profile showing the faint ghost of a smirk. "and lock it."
you didn't move. the plastic folders were cold against your chest, a brittle barrier between your hammering heart and the quiet expanse of the room. your thumb hovered near the edge of the first tab, freezing. for a whole month, your hand would have already reached backward, blindly finding the lock, twisting it shut without a second thought because the pathetic craving inside you always won. but today, the ache in your throat felt heavier than any other ache.
"i said," jungwon murmured, his tone dropping just a fraction, the smooth corporate tone beginning to fray at the edges as he slowly turned his head to look at you. "lock the door."
he was waiting for you to fold. he was waiting for the familiar routine to click into place — the cold glances, the sudden slam against the wall, the filthy whispers that would temporarily numb the hollow feeling in your chest. he looked so infuriatingly untouched, standing there with his sleeves rolled up, entirely confident that you would slide right into your designated role in his schedule.
"no." you said. the word was small, barely a whisper against the relentless drumming of the rain outside, but it felt like a gunshot in the dead silence of the room.
jungwon’s brows twitched, his head turning fully toward you now. his hands stayed in his pockets, his posture still maintaining that unbothered stance, but his dark eyes sharpened, tracking the slight tremor in your shoulders. "what?"
"i'm not locking it." you said, your voice growing steadier, though the raw edge of it was impossible to hide now. you walked forward, but you didn't stop close to him. you slammed the folders down on the edge of the table, the loud smack echoing off the metal shelves. "the metrics are on page twelve. if there's a discrepancy, find it yourself. i'm leaving."
you turned on your heel, your chest burning, ready to walk out before the humiliation of your own tears could fully expose you. but jungwon was faster. the casual nonchalance vanished in a heartbeat. his hand shot out of his pocket, his fingers wrapping around your wrist with a bruising grip that pulled you back into his space. the expensive scent of his cologne crowded your senses instantly, a suffocating reminder of every single desk, wall, and floor he had claimed you on over the last four weeks.
"what is this?" he growled, his voice dropping into that venomous rasp, his face mere inches from yours. his pupils were blown, the feral frustration finally breaking through his mask. "you don't get to just walk out, y/n. you received the email. you came down here. don't start playing games now."
"i'm not playing games, jungwon!" you choked out, the resentment finally fracturing your voice as you tried to remove your wrist from his grip. he didn't budge. his fingers only tightened, pinning you against his chest until you could feel the furious thudding of his own heart. "i'm done. i can't do this anymore."
"can't do what?" he muttered, his gaze dropping to your mouth, his breathing turning shallow as he leaned in closer. his hips subtly pressed forward, trying to force your body into the familiar, addictive submission it always succumbed to. "you want this just as badly as i do. you're shaking right now. let me lock the door and-"
"no!" a hot tear finally spilled over your eyelashes, tracing a humiliating path down your cheek, and the sight of it made jungwon instantly freeze. the walls you had spent a month building were completely crumbling into dust right in front of him. "i can't keep pretending. i can't watch you smile at the interns in the morning, listen to them talk about who you went home with on friday, and then come down here in the dark just so you can use me to burn off your stress."
jungwon’s jaw locked, the muscle pulsing under his skin. his grip on your wrist didn't slacken, but he stopped pushing into you, his dark eyes staring down at your face with a jarring intensity that looked almost like panic.
"it's ruining me." you whispered, your voice cracking completely, the raw truth tasting like ash on your tongue. "you get to slide right back into your perfect little suit and walk away like nothing happened, and i'm left sitting at my desk feeling entirely hollowed out. if it's just a casual release for you, fine. find someone else. because it's breaking me, and i'm not going to let you do it anymore."
the silence that followed was suffocating, full with the rules you had just permanently shattered. jungwon didn't move. he didn't give you a polite nod, and he didn't let go of your wrist. he just stared at you, his chest heaving. for a fraction of a second, he looked genuinely caught off guard, but then, the tension in his jaw completely vanished. the momentary panic in his dark eyes melted away, replaced by a calculating amusement that made your stomach drop.
jungwon let out a low chuckle. he didn't pull you in aggressively. instead, his grip on your wrist softened, his thumb slowly stroking over the hammering rhythm of your pulse.
"ruining you." he repeated, the words rolling off his tongue with a terrifyingly casual drawl. his gaze dropped from your tear stained eyes down to your chest, watching the way you were desperately trying to catch your breath. "you're acting like i'm dragging you down here against your will, y/n. but we both know that's a lie."
"jungwon-" you tried to step back, but his hand slid smoothly from your wrist to your hip, his long fingers completely encompassing the curve of your waist, holding you in place effortlessly.
"you hate that i smile at the interns? you hate that i don't look at you in the boardroom?" he murmured, leaning in until his lips were hovering just an inch from your ear. his suffocating scent wrapped around you like a vice. "that's just your pride talking, because your body tells a completely different story. you say this is breaking you, but you're shaking so hard you can barely stand. i haven't even touched you properly yet, and you're already completely soaked for me, aren't you?"
a hot, humiliating flush spread across your neck. you wanted to deny it, wanted to push him and scream that he was wrong, but your core was already pulsing with that familiar heat, reacting to the sheer proximity of his body just like a trained animal.
"i'm just giving you exactly what you need." he whispered nonchalantly, his free hand reaching up to casually brush a stray lock of hair behind your ear. "because we both know you sit at that desk all day, completely distracted, crossing your legs trying to chase the friction. you need me to pull you into these dark rooms. you need me to use you like this, because nobody else is ever going to fuck you the way i do."
he took a deliberate step back, creating a cold space between you. he slid his hands back into his trouser pockets, his expression returning to that untouchable corporate mask. "so go." jungwon said smoothly, gesturing toward the metal door with a slight tilt of his head. "walk out, go home. but when you're lying in bed tonight, completely unsatisfied, touching yourself to the memory of what i did to you on this exact desk last tuesday... don't send me an email tomorrow begging me to fix it. because if you walk out that door right now, i'm never touching you again."
the silence in the archive room became deafening. you stared at him, fresh tears stinging your eyes, your mind screaming at you to run. he was so utterly callous. he was stripping away every last ounce of your dignity, reducing all your emotional bleeding into a basic, pathetic physical craving. he was gaslighting you, offering you an out that he fully knew you were too weak to take.
because he was right. the thought of going home, of the cold sheets, of never feeling his heavy frame press you into a desk or hearing that rasp against your neck ever again, felt physically agonizing. the addiction was already too deep in your veins. you couldn't survive the withdrawal.
a pathetic sound caught in your throat. the fight completely drained out of your muscles, the resentment suffocated by that toxic yearning.
you didn't say a word. you just turned around, your legs feeling extremely weak, and walked toward the door. you didn't open the handle. instead, your trembling fingers reached out, blindly finding the deadbolt, and twisted it until the familiar click echoed through the quiet room.
behind you, jungwon let out a satisfied sigh.
"good girl." he murmured, the sharp metallic sound of his belt buckle clicking open signaling the absolute end of your resistance. "now get over here and hike that skirt up."
arranged husband!Jungwon x trophy wife!reader - confronting cold arranged husband on your first anniversary.
ENHA HARD HOURS 18+ MDNI, Angst, fluff, a second chance, the smut is crazy im ngl to u but the angst is worse, he actually goes insane like insane he loses it.
-
The grandfather clock in the hallway chimed five times, its deep resonance echoing through the marble corridors of your estate. Without opening your eyes, you knew Jungwon was already awake. The mattress dipped slightly as he carefully extracted himself from beneath the Egyptian cotton covers, his movements deliberately gentle to avoid disturbing you. You kept your breathing steady, maintaining the pretense of sleep as you had so many mornings before.
Through barely-parted lids, you watched his silhouette move through the predawn darkness. Jungwon's routine never varied—not on weekends, holidays, or even the morning after your anniversary celebration when he'd had perhaps one glass of Château Margaux too many. Five a.m. meant feet on the floor, regardless of circumstance.
He disappeared into the expansive en-suite bathroom, closing the door with practiced quietness before the shower began to run. You rolled over to face the floor-to-ceiling windows, abandoning the charade of sleep. Outside, the manicured gardens remained dark and still, mirroring the atmosphere that permeated your mansion despite its immaculate decoration and luxurious furnishings.
One year of marriage. Three hundred and sixty-five mornings of this same choreographed dance.
By the time Jungwon emerged from the bathroom, you had straightened your side of the bed and donned your silk robe. He nodded in acknowledgment, a small smile lifting the corner of his mouth.
"Good morning," he said, voice pleasant but neutral. "Did I wake you? I'm sorry."
"No, I was already awake," you lied, the response automatic after months of repetition. "Will you be joining me for breakfast on the terrace today?"
He checked his watch—the elegant Patek Philippe you'd given him on your six-month anniversary. "I have an early meeting. I'll grab something at the office."
You nodded, expecting this answer. Despite your chef preparing an elaborate breakfast spread every morning, Jungwon rarely sat down to eat it. You'd long since stopped taking it personally, instead viewing it as simply another aspect of your peculiar marriage.
"Madame," came a soft voice from the doorway. Your personal maid stood waiting respectfully. "The blue gown has been pressed for tonight's charity auction, and Mrs. Yang called to confirm your appointment at the salon at two."
"Thank you. Please tell the chef I'll be down shortly."
Jungwon's expression softened momentarily with what might have been gratitude. "The blue gown is a good choice. It matches the sapphires."
The brief warmth in his eyes vanished so quickly you questioned whether you'd imagined it. He dressed efficiently, selecting the navy suit you'd suggested earlier in the week. You busied yourself reviewing the day's schedule on your tablet, giving him space while maintaining the illusion of comfortable domesticity.
"I'll send the car for you at six," he said, adjusting his tie in the mirror. Perfect Windsor knot, as always. "The auction starts at seven, but your mother-in-law suggested we arrive early to greet the host committee."
"I'll be ready," you assured him. "The blue complements the sapphires your family gifted me last Christmas—perfect for the society photographers."
He nodded approvingly. "Perfect. The Yangs must maintain appearances."
The phrase hung in the air between you, a reminder of what truly bound you together. Not love or passion or even friendship, but appearances. The Yang family name and reputation, upheld through generations and now entrusted to Jungwon—and by extension, to you.
Before leaving, he stopped at the bedroom door. "The new arrangement in the grand foyer—the one with the peonies and orchids. My mother asked for the name of your florist."
"I'd be happy to share their contact information," you replied, surprised that he'd noticed the flowers at all.
He hesitated, as if considering saying something more, then simply nodded and left. Moments later, you heard the soft purr of his car starting in the circular driveway below.
The suite fell silent, save for the continuing measured tick of the antique clock.
By eleven, you had completed your morning inspection of the household: reviewing the dinner menu with the chef, approving the landscaping plans for the east garden, and confirming that the linens for Friday's dinner party had been properly pressed. The mansion operated with clockwork precision under your supervision, a showcase of domestic perfection that visitors frequently praised.
Your phone chimed with a text message from Mrs. Yang—your mother-in-law.
The charity auction tonight is a perfect opportunity to connect with the Singhs. Their daughter returned from Oxford and has taken over their foundation. Jungwon could use their support for the new community project.
You typed a gracious reply, assuring her you would make the introduction. This was part of your unspoken role: social facilitator, network cultivator, the charming counterbalance to Jungwon's more reserved demeanor in public. Mrs. Yang had explicitly voiced her approval of your social graces during the marriage negotiations, though she'd phrased it more delicately at the time.
In the solarium, you sipped tea and reviewed correspondence on your tablet. The household staff moved efficiently around the estate, their presence indicated only by the occasional distant voice or the soft closing of a door. This cocoon of luxury and service had become your domain—a gilded cage, perhaps, but one you managed with impeccable skill.
The charity auction venue sparkled with crystal chandeliers and the gleam of expensive jewelry. You stood beside Jungwon, your hand resting lightly in the crook of his arm as he conversed with an important international investor. Your blue gown complemented the subtle blue in Jungwon's tie, a coordinated detail that Mrs. Yang had encouraged early in your marriage.
"And what do you think of the market's new direction?" the investor asked, unexpectedly turning to include you in the conversation.
Without missing a beat, you offered a thoughtful response based on fragments you'd gathered from Jungwon's rare comments about business. Your husband's arm tensed slightly beneath your hand—in surprise or approval, you couldn't tell.
"You've got yourself a perceptive wife, Yang," the man laughed, clearly impressed. "Better be careful or I'll recruit her for my advisory board."
Jungwon smiled, a genuine expression that transformed his handsome face. "I'm very fortunate," he agreed, turning to look at you with apparent pride.
For a moment—just a moment—the warmth in his eyes seemed real. Then a passing waiter offered champagne, and the connection broke as he reached for two glasses.
The evening continued in this manner: introductions, small talk, strategic conversations with selected guests, and the careful maintenance of the image you projected as a couple. Jungwon's hand occasionally rested at the small of your back, guiding you through the crowd with gentle pressure. To anyone watching, the gesture appeared intimate and caring.
"Your work with the children's literacy foundation has been inspirational," commented Ms. Singh as you were introduced. "My father is quite impressed."
You played your part flawlessly. Laughed at the right moments. Showed appropriate interest in business discussions. Made mental notes of important names and connections to record later in your planner. You orchestrated the introduction to the Singh family that appeared completely spontaneous, fulfilling your mother-in-law's request with such subtlety that even Jungwon seemed unaware of the manipulation.
During a lull in the event, you excused yourself to visit the ladies' room. Standing before the mirror, you studied your reflection: perfectly applied makeup, not a hair out of place, the picture of a successful young wife. Other women came and went, exchanging pleasantries, complimenting your gown or asking about upcoming social events.
"You and Jungwon always look so happy together," sighed a fellow socialite as she applied fresh lipstick. "My husband can barely remember which events are on our calendar, let alone coordinate his tie with my outfit."
You smiled politely. "Jungwon is very attentive to details."
When you returned to the main hall, you spotted your husband across the room, engaged in conversation with the Singh patriarch as you had arranged. His posture was relaxed, confident, his expression animated as he discussed something that clearly interested him. You rarely saw that expression at home.
As if sensing your gaze, he looked up and met your eyes across the crowded room. For a brief moment, something unreadable flickered across his face. He excused himself from the conversation and made his way to your side.
"Is everything alright?" he asked quietly.
"Of course," you assured him. "Mr. Singh seems interested in your project."
He nodded. "Yes, thank you for the introduction. He mentioned you'd spoken highly of the initiative."
"That's what wives do, isn't it?" you replied, the words emerging more wistfully than you'd intended.
Jungwon studied your face, his brow furrowing slightly. "Are you tired? We can leave if you'd like."
"No," you said quickly. "Your mother would be disappointed if we left before the final auction lot."
The mention of his mother was enough to settle the matter. Jungwon nodded and offered his arm again, leading you back into the social whirl. The rest of the evening passed in a blur of smiles and small talk, your practiced responses on autopilot while your mind drifted elsewhere.
The mansion was quiet when you returned just after midnight, though a few lights remained on for your arrival. The night butler opened the door as the car pulled up.
"Welcome home, Madame, Sir," he greeted with a respectful bow. "May I bring anything before you retire?"
"No thank you," Jungwon replied, loosening his tie. "That will be all for tonight."
As the butler disappeared, Jungwon turned to you in the grand foyer, its marble floors gleaming under the soft chandelier light. "Successful evening," he commented, his voice echoing slightly in the vast space. "The Singhs have invited us to their summer compound next month."
"That's wonderful," you replied, slipping off your heels with a small sigh of relief. "Your mother will be pleased."
He set down his keys and looked at you directly, something he rarely did at home. "You don't need to keep mentioning my mother. I'm capable of recognizing business opportunities on my own."
The unexpected sharpness in his tone surprised you. "I didn't mean to suggest otherwise."
He sighed, running a hand through his perfectly styled hair, disheveling it slightly. "I'm sorry. That came out wrong."
The apology hung awkwardly between you. Jungwon rarely expressed irritation, maintaining the same polite distance whether discussing dinner plans or household accounts.
"It's late," you said finally. "We're both tired."
He nodded, the momentary crack in his composure already repaired. "I have some work to finish. Don't wait up."
You watched him retreat to his home office, the door closing firmly behind him. In the kitchen, you found the chef had left a covered plate of small desserts and a pot of tea keeping warm. The thoughtful gesture—understanding your tendency to skip dinner at formal events—brought an unexpected lump to your throat.
The mansion was beautiful—spacious, elegantly decorated, with every luxury and convenience. The marriage looked perfect from the outside: handsome, successful husband; accomplished, supportive wife; respected families united through a beneficial alliance. You wanted for nothing material.
And yet.
Upstairs, your nightwear had already been laid out and the bed turned down. In the adjoining bathroom, you methodically removed your jewelry and makeup, the familiar routine requiring no thought. Your reflection stared back, younger without the carefully applied cosmetics but somehow sadder too.
When you finally slipped between the cool sheets, Jungwon's side of the bed remained empty. You knew from experience that he might not come upstairs for hours. Sometimes you woke briefly in the night to feel the mattress dip as he joined you, maintaining a careful distance even in sleep.
As exhaustion pulled you toward unconsciousness, you wondered—not for the first time—what thoughts occupied your husband's mind during his late-night work sessions. Whether he ever questioned the arrangement that had brought you together. Whether he ever wished for something more than this immaculate, empty performance you both maintained.
Outside, a gentle rain began to fall against the panoramic windows, drops catching the moonlight like silver tears against the darkness.
-
The first anniversary dinner had been your mother-in-law's idea.
"A small celebration," she'd said during your weekly tea. "Nothing extravagant, of course. Just family to commemorate the successful first year."
You'd nodded and smiled, playing your part. "I'll coordinate with the chef for a special menu."
A successful first year. The phrase echoed in your mind as you supervised the staff arranging peonies and orchids in the dining room—Jungwon's mother's favorites. The crystal gleamed under the chandelier light, the silver polished to mirror brightness, the napkins folded into perfect swans. Success measured in appearances, in business connections forged, in social obligations fulfilled.
Not in moments of genuine connection, in shared laughter, in the casual intimacy of a hand brushing hair from your face. Those metrics of success remained conspicuously absent from your marriage ledger.
"The wine selection has been brought up from the cellar, Madame," said the butler. "And the chef has prepared the appetizers exactly as you specified."
"Thank you," you replied, adjusting a place setting minutely. "Mr. Yang will be home by seven, and his parents will arrive at seven-thirty."
The butler nodded and withdrew, leaving you alone in the perfect dining room of your perfect mansion in your perfect marriage that was, somehow, entirely empty.
Jungwon arrived precisely at seven, as predictable as the sunrise. You heard the familiar sound of his car, followed by his measured footsteps in the foyer. When he appeared in the doorway of the dining room, he was already dressed in the suit you'd laid out—the charcoal gray Tom Ford that his mother once commented made him look distinguished.
"Everything looks lovely," he said, surveying the room with appreciative eyes. "You've outdone yourself."
"Thank you," you replied, accepting the compliment with practiced grace. "Your mother mentioned Mr. Kim might join them. I've set an extra place just in case."
Something flickered across Jungwon's face—annoyance, perhaps. "He wasn't mentioned to me."
"He's the family attorney. Perhaps there's business to discuss."
"On our anniversary dinner?" The edge in Jungwon's voice surprised you. "Some things should remain separate from business."
You studied your husband's face, wondering at this unusual display of emotion. "Would you prefer I call your mother and inquire?"
"No," he said, composure returning like a mask sliding back into place. "It doesn't matter."
But it did matter, and the tension in his shoulders told you so. This was new—this momentary crack in the facade. You wanted to press further, to understand what had triggered this response, but years of social conditioning held you back.
Instead, you said, "There's time for a drink before they arrive. Would you like something?"
He nodded, following you to the sitting room where the bar cart awaited. You poured him two fingers of the Macallan 25-year he preferred, your movements precise and practiced. When you handed him the crystal tumbler, your fingers brushed his—an accidental touch that shouldn't have felt significant but somehow did.
"One year," he said quietly, staring into the amber liquid.
"Yes," you agreed, pouring yourself a small measure of the same. "It's gone quickly."
The silence between you stretched, filled with all the words neither of you knew how to say. Jungwon seemed on the verge of speaking when the doorbell rang, announcing the arrival of his parents.
The moment, whatever it might have been, evaporated.
Dinner progressed with the same choreographed precision as every family gathering. Mrs. Yang complimented the decor, inquired about your recent charity work, and dominated the conversation with updates on various family connections. Mr. Yang, stern and reserved like his son, contributed occasional comments about business or politics. And Mr. Kim, who had indeed accompanied them, observed it all with the calculated interest of someone evaluating an investment.
"The first year is always the most challenging," Mrs. Yang declared over the entrée, smiling at you and Jungwon with evident satisfaction. "And you two have managed it beautifully."
"Indeed," agreed Mr. Kim, raising his wine glass in a small toast. "The Yang family's standing has only strengthened. Your partnership has proven most advantageous."
Partnership. Not marriage. The distinction wasn't lost on you.
"And the foundation gala last month," Mrs. Yang continued. "Several board members commented on how impressive you both were. The Choi family was particularly taken with you, dear." She directed this last comment at you. "Mrs. Choi mentioned how fortunate Jungwon is to have found such an accomplished wife."
"I am fortunate," Jungwon agreed smoothly, the response automatic. He didn't look at you as he said it.
"Now, about the expansion into renewable energy," Mr. Yang began, turning to his son. "The board is meeting next week to discuss the proposal."
Business at the anniversary dinner, just as you'd predicted. You caught Jungwon's eye across the table, a silent acknowledgment passing between you. For once, it felt like you were truly on the same side, united in your recognition of the situation's irony.
As the men discussed business, Mrs. Yang leaned closer to you. "You know, dear, I've been meaning to ask... it's been a year now. Any news you'd like to share? Any... expectations?"
The delicate emphasis made her meaning clear. You felt heat rise to your face, embarrassment mingling with a deeper discomfort.
"Not yet," you replied quietly, maintaining your composure despite the intrusive question.
"Well, there's still time," she said, patting your hand. "Though of course, an heir is important for the Yang legacy. My husband's grandmother used to say, 'A tree without new leaves withers.'"
You nodded politely, taking a sip of wine to avoid having to respond further. Across the table, you noticed Jungwon's shoulders tense, though he gave no other indication of having overheard.
The rest of the evening passed in a similar vein—discussions of business, thinly veiled inquiries about family planning, and reminiscences about the wedding that focused primarily on its beneficial outcomes for the Yang family interests.
Not once did anyone ask if you were happy.
After seeing his parents and Mr. Kim to the door, Jungwon returned to the sitting room where you were nursing a final glass of wine. The house felt unnaturally quiet after the departure of the guests, the air heavy with unspoken thoughts.
"My mother was pleased," he said, loosening his tie and pouring himself another whiskey. "She said the dinner was perfect."
"Of course she did," you replied, a hint of bitterness seeping into your voice despite your best efforts. "Everything about us is perfect on the surface."
Jungwon looked at you sharply. "What does that mean?"
The wine, the emotional strain of the evening, the accumulation of a year's worth of silences—something inside you finally cracked.
"It means this," you gestured between the two of you, "isn't a marriage. It's a business arrangement with living quarters."
His expression hardened. "That's unfair. I've given you everything you could want."
"Everything except yourself," you countered, your voice rising slightly. "We live in the same house, sleep in the same bed, but you might as well be a thousand miles away."
"I don't know what you expect," he said stiffly. "We both understood the nature of this marriage from the beginning."
"Did we? Because I didn't agree to a lifetime of politeness and distance. I didn't agree to be nothing more than the perfect hostess and social coordinator for your business connections."
Jungwon set down his glass with careful precision. "You've never complained before."
"When would I have complained, Jungwon? During the three minutes of conversation we have each morning? Or perhaps during our public performances where we pretend to be a loving couple?"
He ran a hand through his hair, disheveling its perfect arrangement. "I thought you were satisfied with our arrangement. You manage the household, attend the events, fulfill your responsibilities—"
"Responsibilities?" The word struck like a match against your accumulated frustration. "Is that all I am to you? A set of responsibilities to be fulfilled?"
"That's not what I meant."
"Then what did you mean? Please, enlighten me about my role in this arrangement, since clearly I've misunderstood."
His jaw tightened. "You're my wife."
"Your wife," you repeated, the word suddenly sounding hollow. "And what does that mean to you? Because from where I stand, I might as well be your assistant or your housekeeper for all the genuine connection between us."
"You're being dramatic," he said dismissively. "Perhaps you've had too much wine."
The condescension in his tone was the final straw. A year of suppressed emotions—loneliness, frustration, yearning—erupted like a volcano too long dormant.
"Don't you dare dismiss me," you snapped, rising to your feet. "I have spent a year of my life walking on eggshells, trying to be perfect, trying to please you and your family, and for what? A thank you when I select the right tie? A nod of approval when I make the right business connection?"
Jungwon stared at you, clearly taken aback by your outburst. "I don't understand where this is coming from."
"Of course you don't! You've never bothered to see me as anything more than a convenient addition to your perfectly ordered life. Wake up at five, ignore wife, go to work, come home, work more, sleep. Repeat until death."
"That's not fair," he protested, but his voice lacked conviction.
"Isn't it? When was the last time you asked me about my day? Or shared something personal about yours? When was the last time you looked at me—really looked at me—not as the 'Madame' of this house or as an accessory at a business function, but as a woman? As your wife?"
The color drained from Jungwon's face, but you were beyond stopping now. The floodgates had opened, and a year's worth of unspoken thoughts poured forth in a torrent.
"We haven't even consummated our marriage, Jungwon! One year, and you've never once reached for me in the night. Never once kissed me with anything resembling passion. Do you have any idea how that feels? To lie beside someone night after night, wanting to be touched, to be desired, and meeting nothing but polite distance?"
His eyes widened in shock at your bluntness. "I—I thought you preferred our current arrangement. You never indicated—"
"Indicated?" You laughed, the sound brittle. "Would it have mattered if I had? You barely look at me when we're alone together. You keep yourself locked in your office until I'm asleep. Tell me, Jungwon, are you repulsed by me? Is that it?"
"No!" The vehemence of his response surprised you both. "That's not it at all."
"Then what? What keeps you at arm's length? Because I can't live like this anymore—this half-life of appearances and politeness with nothing real beneath it."
You moved closer, anger giving you courage you'd never had before. "How do you satisfy your desires, Jungwon? Do you have someone else? Some mistress in an apartment downtown who gets to see the real you? Who gets to feel your touch, your passion?"
He looked genuinely shocked. "There's no one else. I would never—"
"Then what?" Your voice broke slightly. "Are you simply that cold? That disconnected from your own body, your own needs? Because I refuse to believe a healthy man in his prime feels nothing, wants nothing."
Jungwon's jaw tightened. "This conversation is inappropriate."
"Inappropriate?" You were nearly shouting now. "We're married! This is exactly the conversation we should have had months ago! Do you have any idea what it's like to wonder if there's something wrong with you? To lie awake wondering why your husband never reaches for you? To start believing that maybe you're fundamentally undesirable?"
"That's not—" he began, but you cut him off.
"I've started inventing stories in my head, Jungwon. Elaborate scenarios to explain why my husband treats me like a porcelain doll. Maybe you're secretly in love with someone from your past. Maybe you prefer men. Maybe you have some medical condition you're too embarrassed to discuss. I've considered everything because the alternative—that you simply feel nothing for me—is too painful to bear."
His face had gone pale. "It's none of those things."
"Then help me understand," you pleaded, anger giving way to raw vulnerability. "Because the silence is killing me. The wondering is killing me. Are you like this with everyone? This... removed? This contained? Or is it just me you can't bring yourself to touch?"
Jungwon paced away from you, his composure cracking visibly. For a moment, he looked like he might retreat to his office—his usual escape—but instead, he stopped at the window, staring out at the darkness.
"I live in my head," he said so quietly you almost missed it. "Always have. Physical... intimacy... doesn't come naturally to me."
"Have you ever let yourself feel something?" you asked, your tone softer now. "With anyone?"
He was silent for so long you thought he might not answer. When he did, his voice was strained. "There was someone in college. It ended badly. I lost control, became... emotional. My father said it was embarrassing. Unbecoming of a Yang."
The confession surprised you. This tiny glimpse into his past felt like more intimacy than you'd experienced in a year of marriage.
"And since then?"
"Since then I've learned to be careful. Controlled." He turned to face you. "I thought I was respecting your space. Your independence."
"Respecting my space?" You stared at him incredulously. "There's a difference between respect and indifference, Jungwon."
"I'm not indifferent to you," he said quietly.
"Then what are you? Because from my perspective, I might as well be living alone for all the emotional connection between us."
He turned away again, his shoulders rigid with tension. "I don't know how to do this."
"Do what?"
"This." He gestured vaguely. "Marriage. Intimacy. I wasn't raised for it."
"Neither was I," you countered. "But I'm trying. I've been trying for a year while you've been hiding behind work and politeness and duty."
You moved to stand beside him at the window, close but not touching. "Do you ever look at me and feel anything, Jungwon? Anything at all? Because sometimes I catch you watching me when you think I won't notice, and there's something in your eyes that disappears the moment I turn toward you."
He swallowed visibly. "I notice everything about you," he admitted, the words seeming to cost him. "The way you arrange flowers according to your mood. How you always leave the last bite of dessert. The small sigh you make when you're reading something that touches you."
The revelation stunned you. "Then why—"
"Because wanting leads to needing," he interrupted, his voice suddenly raw. "And needing makes you vulnerable. My father taught me that. The moment you need someone, you've given them the power to destroy you."
The silence stretched between you, heavy with the weight of truths finally spoken aloud. When Jungwon finally turned back to face you, his expression was uncharacteristically vulnerable.
"What do you want from me?" he asked, and for once, the question seemed genuine.
The simplicity of the question momentarily deflated your anger. What did you want? It was a question you'd asked yourself countless times during sleepless nights.
"I want a husband, not a housemate," you said finally. "I want to know the man behind the perfect facade. I want to feel wanted, desired, known. I want the possibility of love, even if it's not there yet."
Your voice cracked on the last words, and you felt tears threatening. "Sometimes I think if I sleep with you once and let you get me pregnant, at least I won't be so damn lonely. At least I'd have someone who needs me, truly needs me, not just for appearances or social connections."
"A child deserves better than to be born from desperation," Jungwon said softly, surprising you with his insight.
"And a wife deserves better than emotional abandonment," you countered. "I look at other couples sometimes—even the arranged marriages in our circle—and I see moments of genuine tenderness. A hand on a shoulder. A private smile. Small intimacies that say 'I see you, I choose you.' We have none of that, Jungwon."
He flinched as if struck. "Is that what you think? That I only see you as a means to an heir?"
"How would I know what you think?" you demanded. "You barely speak to me about anything that matters. For all I know, you've mapped out our entire future in that methodical mind of yours—the optimal time for children, their education, their role in continuing the Yang legacy—all without once considering what I might want, what I might need as a woman, as a person."
"That's not true," he protested, but his voice lacked conviction.
"When have you ever shared your fears with me, Jungwon? Your hopes? Your dreams beyond the next business deal or family obligation? When have you ever asked about mine?"
He had no answer, and his silence was damning.
"I can't do this anymore," you said, suddenly exhausted. "I can't keep pretending that this empty performance is enough. I need more than politeness and perfect appearances. I need connection. I need intimacy. I need to at least feel that there's the possibility of love someday."
"And if I can't give you that?" he asked, his voice barely audible.
The question hung in the air between you, a challenge and a plea at once. You met his gaze directly.
"Then this marriage is already over, regardless of what we show the world."
The words fell like stones into still water, ripples of consequence expanding outward. Jungwon's face paled, and something like genuine fear flickered in his eyes.
"You would leave?" he asked, the question revealing more vulnerability than he'd shown in a year of marriage.
"Not in body, perhaps," you replied. "The scandal would devastate both our families. But in spirit? I'm already halfway gone, Jungwon. Every day of polite distance pushes me further away."
He sank onto the sofa, looking suddenly lost. This wasn't the composed, controlled man you'd lived alongside for a year. This was someone else—someone real and raw and unsure.
"I don't know how to be what you need," he admitted finally.
"I'm not asking for perfection," you said, your anger giving way to a profound sadness. "I'm asking for effort. For honesty. For the chance to build something real together, even if it's difficult. Even if we don't know exactly how."
Jungwon stared at his hands, his wedding ring catching the light. For a long moment, he said nothing. When he finally looked up, his eyes held a complexity of emotion you'd never seen before.
"I need time," he said. "To think. To... process all of this."
The request was reasonable, but it still stung. Even now, faced with the potential collapse of your marriage, he couldn't give you an immediate response.
"Fine," you said, suddenly bone-weary. "Take your time. You know where to find me."
You turned to leave, your body heavy with emotional exhaustion, when his voice stopped you.
"Where are you going?"
"To the blue guest room," you replied without turning. "I think we both need space tonight."
He made no move to stop you as you left the sitting room, your anniversary dress rustling softly with each step. The grand staircase seemed longer than usual, each step an effort. Behind you, you heard the clink of glass—Jungwon pouring another drink, perhaps, or simply moving restlessly in the silent house.
The blue guest room was immaculate, as was every room in the mansion, but it felt cold and impersonal. You sat on the edge of the bed, still in your evening dress, too tired even to cry. The confrontation had drained you completely, leaving nothing but a hollow ache where hope had once resided.
From the nightstand, your phone chimed with a message. Mechanically, you reached for it, expecting perhaps your mother-in-law with some post-dinner comment.
Instead, it was Jungwon.
I do want you. I always have. That's what frightens me.
You stared at the screen, the words blurring slightly as you read them over and over. A text message—that was what it had taken to finally glimpse the man behind the mask. Not a conversation, not a touch, but characters on a screen.
Another message appeared below the first.
I'm sorry. I should have said this to your face.
I'll be in the study when you're ready to talk. No matter how late.
The formality, even now. The careful distance maintained even in apology. You placed the phone back on the nightstand without responding, a weariness settling over you that went beyond physical exhaustion.
For a moment, you sat motionless on the edge of the guest bed, the weight of the past year pressing down on your shoulders. The perfect house with its perfect furnishings suddenly felt suffocating—every object a reminder of the performance your life had become.
You rose and moved to the window, pressing your palm against the cool glass. Outside, the rain had stopped, but the night remained dark and close. The mansion grounds, usually so meticulously maintained, seemed oppressive in their perfection. Even the garden paths were laid out with mathematical precision, every plant and stone exactly where it should be.
Like you. Exactly where you should be. The proper wife in her proper place.
The realization came suddenly, with absolute clarity: you couldn't stay here tonight. Not in this guest room, not in this house, not with Jungwon waiting in his study for a conversation that would likely end with more careful words and measured promises.
You needed air. Space. A place where you could remember who you were before becoming Mrs. Yang.
With deliberate movements, you changed out of your evening dress and into simple clothes. Packed a small overnight bag with essentials. Found your personal credit card—the one not connected to the Yang family accounts.
You hesitated only when it came time to write a note. What could you possibly say that wouldn't be misinterpreted or dismissed? In the end, you kept it simple:
I need space to breathe. Please don't follow me. I'll contact you when I'm ready.
You left it on the bed, where it would surely be found when someone came looking for you. Then, silently, you made your way down the service stairs and through the side entrance—avoiding the main foyer where you might encounter Jungwon.
The night air hit your face as you stepped outside, cool and clean and startlingly fresh. You took a deep breath, perhaps the first real one in months, and felt something inside you loosen just slightly.
You didn't call for the driver. Instead, you walked down the long driveway and past the gates, your heartbeat quickening with each step that took you farther from the mansion. Only when you reached the main road did you order a rideshare, giving the address of an old friend—one who predated your marriage, who had no connection to the Yang family circle.
As the car pulled away, you glanced back at the house—a magnificent silhouette against the night sky, lights burning in the study window where Jungwon waited for a conversation that wouldn't happen tonight.
Tomorrow would bring complications, explanations, perhaps reconciliation. But tonight, for the first time in a year, you were choosing yourself.
Your phone buzzed with a message from Jungwon.
Are you coming down?
You turned off the notifications and watched the mansion recede in the distance, growing smaller until it disappeared from view entirely.
-
The city lights blurred through your tears as the car wound its way through the quiet streets. The driver, sensing your distress, maintained a respectful silence, occasionally glancing at you in the rearview mirror with concern. You kept your face turned toward the window, watching as elite neighborhoods gave way to more modest surroundings.
When the car finally pulled up outside Leah's apartment building, you sat motionless for a moment, suddenly uncertain. It was past midnight. What if she wasn't home? What if she had company? What if—
"We're here, ma'am," the driver said gently, interrupting your spiraling thoughts.
"Thank you," you managed, gathering your small bag and stepping out into the night.
Leah's building was nothing like the Yang mansion—a six-story pre-war structure with a faded charm that stood in stark contrast to the sleek modernity you'd grown accustomed to. You hesitated at the entrance, then pressed her apartment number on the intercom.
After a long moment, a sleepy voice answered. "Hello?"
"Leah," you said, your voice cracking slightly. "It's me. I'm sorry it's so late, but—"
"Oh my god!" The sleepiness vanished instantly. "Are you okay? I'm buzzing you up right now."
The door clicked open, and you made your way to the third floor, each step feeling heavier than the last. Before you could even knock, Leah's door swung open, revealing your oldest friend in mismatched pajamas, her curly hair wild around her face.
"What happened?" she demanded, then stopped as she took in your appearance—the elegant makeup now streaked with tears, the designer clothes hastily exchanged for whatever you'd grabbed, the overnight bag clutched in your trembling hand.
"Oh, honey," she said, simply opening her arms.
Something inside you broke. You stumbled forward into her embrace and the tears you'd been holding back for months—perhaps for the entire year of your marriage—finally erupted. Great, heaving sobs that shook your entire body, that made it impossible to speak or breathe or think.
Leah didn't ask questions. She simply guided you inside, closing the door behind you, and held you while you fell apart. Her apartment was cluttered and lived-in, books stacked on every surface, half-finished art projects leaning against walls—the complete opposite of your sterile perfection at the mansion.
"I can't—" you tried to speak, but the words dissolved into more tears.
"Shh," she soothed, leading you to her worn but comfortable couch. "Just breathe. That's all you need to do right now."
You don't know how long you cried—long enough for your eyes to swell, for your throat to grow raw, for Leah's shoulder to become damp with your tears. Eventually, the storm subsided enough for you to become aware of your surroundings again. Leah had wrapped a soft blanket around your shoulders and was pressing a mug of hot tea into your hands.
"Small sips," she instructed, settling beside you. "It has honey for your throat."
You obeyed, the warmth spreading through your chest, momentarily calming the chaos inside you.
"I left him," you said finally, your voice hoarse from crying.
Leah's eyebrows shot up. "Jungwon? You left Jungwon?"
"Just for tonight. Maybe a few days. I don't know." You shook your head, struggling to articulate the tangle of emotions. "I couldn't breathe there anymore, Leah. In that perfect house with its perfect things and its perfect emptiness."
"I always wondered," she said cautiously, "if you were really happy. You stopped talking about the real stuff after the wedding. It was all charity events and dinner parties, but never... you know. The actual marriage part."
"There was no marriage part," you confessed, fresh tears threatening. "That's the problem. We live side by side like strangers. Polite, distant strangers who happen to share the same address."
Leah reached for your hand, squeezing it gently. "Did something specific happen tonight?"
You nodded, the evening's confrontation flashing through your mind in painful fragments. "We had our anniversary dinner with his parents. And after they left, I just... broke. All the things I've been holding back for a year came pouring out."
"Good for you," Leah said firmly.
"Is it?" You looked at her, uncertain. "I said terrible things, Leah. I accused him of seeing me as nothing but a showpiece, a means to an heir. I asked if he was repulsed by me. If he was sleeping with someone else."
"And what did he say?"
"He was shocked, mostly. I don't think anyone's ever spoken to him like that before." You took another sip of tea, gathering your thoughts. "But then he said something about... about wanting me but being afraid of needing someone. Of being vulnerable."
Leah nodded thoughtfully. "That actually makes a strange kind of sense. Your husband always struck me as someone who keeps himself under tight control."
"You've met him twice," you pointed out with a watery smile.
"Twice was enough." She grinned briefly, then grew serious again. "So what happens now?"
You shook your head, feeling utterly lost. "I don't know. I just knew I had to get out of there tonight. To remember what it feels like to be... me. Not Mrs. Yang, not the society hostess, just me."
"Well, you came to the right place," Leah said, gesturing around her chaotic apartment. "Nothing perfect or polished here. Just real life in all its messy glory."
For the first time that night, you felt a small laugh bubble up. "I've missed this. I've missed you."
"I've been right here," she reminded you gently. "You're the one who got swept up into the Yang universe."
The observation stung because it contained truth. After the wedding, you had gradually withdrawn from your old friendships, immersing yourself in the role expected of Jungwon's wife. It hadn't been a conscious choice, but rather a slow submersion into a new identity that had eventually consumed the person you used to be.
"I don't know who I am anymore," you confessed, the realization dawning as you spoke it. "I've spent so long being what everyone else needed me to be that I've forgotten what I actually want."
"Then maybe that's what this time away is for," Leah suggested. "To remember."
You nodded, exhaustion suddenly washing over you. The emotional release had drained what little energy you had left after the confrontation with Jungwon.
"The guest room is a disaster area right now—art supplies everywhere," Leah said apologetically.
"The couch is perfect," you assured her, overwhelmed.
"Shut up, you'll sleep next to me,"
-
Jungwon sat in his study, crystal tumbler of whiskey untouched beside him, as he stared at his phone screen. The message showed as delivered, but not yet read. He refreshed the screen again, a gesture he'd repeated dozens of times in the last hour.
Are you coming down?
The timestamp mocked him. It had been nearly two hours since he'd sent it, and still no response. Unease had gradually transformed into concern, then alarm when he'd finally ventured upstairs to find the blue guest room empty, save for a handwritten note on the perfectly made bed.
I need space to breathe. Please don't follow me. I'll contact you when I'm ready.
The words had hit him with physical force. He stood there staring at the note, reading it over and over as if the sparse sentences might reveal some hidden meaning. Space to breathe. Had he really been suffocating you all this time without realizing it?
Now, back in his study, Jungwon fought against his instinct to act—to call security, to track your phone, to send drivers searching the city. You had asked for space. Following you would only prove that he couldn't respect your wishes, your independence. The very thing he'd convinced himself he'd been protecting all this time.
The irony wasn't lost on him.
Jungwon picked up his phone again, debating whether to try calling. His thumb hovered over your contact information before he set the device down with a sigh of frustration. What would he even say if you answered? The right words had eluded him for an entire year of marriage; they weren't likely to materialize now, in the middle of the night, after the worst fight of your relationship.
A relationship. Was that even the right word for what you had? You had called it a "business arrangement with living quarters," and the brutal accuracy of the description had left him speechless.
Jungwon ran a hand through his hair, disheveling it completely. The careful composure he maintained at all times had crumbled the moment he'd found your note. Now, alone in his study, there was no one to witness his distress, his uncertainty, his fear.
Fear. That was the emotion he'd denied for so long, burying it beneath layers of control and duty. Fear of needing someone. Fear of being vulnerable. Fear of repeating his father's cold, loveless existence.
And in trying to avoid his father's mistakes, he had made his own. Different in method, perhaps, but identical in result: a wife who felt unseen, unwanted.
The grandfather clock in the hallway chimed two in the morning. Jungwon hadn't slept, had barely moved from his position at the desk. The silence of the mansion pressed in around him, no longer the peaceful quiet he'd always preferred, but an emptiness that echoed your absence.
On impulse, he rose and left the study, walking through the darkened house toward the master suite. Inside the bedroom, everything remained exactly as you'd both left it hours earlier—your perfume bottle on the vanity, your book on the nightstand, your robe draped over a chair. He moved to your side of the bed, sitting down carefully on the edge, and picked up the book you'd been reading.
A collection of poetry. Jungwon hadn't even known you liked poetry.
What else didn't he know about the woman he'd married? What interests, dreams, fears had you kept hidden—or worse, had tried to share only to be met with his characteristic reserve?
He opened the book to where a silk bookmark held your place. The poem was circled lightly in pencil:
Between what is said and not meant, And what is meant and not said, Most of love is lost.
The simple lines struck him with unexpected force. Jungwon stared at the words, wondering how many times you had tried to tell him what you needed, how many signals he had missed or misinterpreted.
From his pocket, his phone buzzed with an incoming call. His heart leapt as he fumbled to answer, but the caller ID showed his father's name, not yours.
"Father," he answered, struggling to keep his voice even. "It's very late."
"Where is your wife?" Mr. Yang's voice was sharp, cutting through the pretense of pleasantries.
Jungwon tensed. "How did you—"
"Mrs. Park saw her getting into a taxi. Alone. After midnight. She naturally called your mother with concerns."
Of course. The gossip network never slept. "She's visiting a friend," he said carefully.
"In the middle of the night? Without you?" His father's skepticism was palpable. "Do you take me for a fool, Jungwon? What's going on?"
A familiar pattern attempted to reassert itself—the urge to placate his father, to maintain appearances, to ensure the Yang family reputation remained unsullied. For a moment, he almost slipped into the expected response.
But the circled poem caught his eye again. Most of love is lost. He couldn't lose any more.
"We had a disagreement," Jungwon said finally, the admission feeling like ripping off a bandage. "She needed some space."
"A disagreement?" His father's tone grew icier. "Serious enough for her to leave the house? To risk being seen by others, creating speculation? What were you thinking, allowing this?"
The word "allowing" ignited something in him—a flicker of the same defiance he'd felt when his father had demanded he end his college relationship.
"I wasn't 'allowing' anything, Father. She's my wife, not my subordinate. She made a choice, and I'm respecting it."
The silence on the other end of the line was deafening. Never in his adult life had Jungwon spoken to his father with such open opposition.
"This is unacceptable," Mr. Yang said finally. "You will resolve whatever childish spat has occurred and bring her home immediately. The gala next week—"
"Is not as important as my marriage," Jungwon interrupted, surprising himself with the firmness in his voice.
"Your marriage? Suddenly you care about your marriage?" His father's laugh was without humor. "For a year you've treated it exactly as I advised—as a beneficial arrangement. Now you're telling me you've developed feelings? Become sentimental?"
The contempt in the older man's voice was unmistakable, but instead of cowering as he might have in the past, Jungwon felt a strange calm settle over him.
"Yes," he said simply. "I have feelings for my wife. I always have. And I've been wrong to hide them."
"This is disappointing, Jungwon. I expected better from you."
"I'm beginning to think your expectations are precisely the problem, Father." Jungwon took a deep breath. "I need to go now. It's late, and I have some thinking to do."
"Don't you dare hang up on—"
Jungwon ended the call, staring at the phone in mild disbelief at his own actions. Then, with deliberate movements, he silenced the device and set it aside.
Returning to the poetry book, he carefully noted the page number of the circled poem, then moved through the house to your closet. There, among the designer clothes and accessories, he searched for some clue to the woman behind the perfect facade—the woman he'd married but never truly allowed himself to know.
In the back of a drawer, he found a small wooden box, simple and clearly personal. For a moment, his ingrained respect for privacy warred with his desperate need to understand you. Privacy won—he couldn't begin rebuilding trust by violating it—but the box's existence gave him hope. There were parts of yourself you'd kept separate from your arranged life, a core identity preserved despite the pressures of being Mrs. Yang.
Jungwon returned to the study, his earlier paralysis replaced by a growing resolve. He wouldn't chase you—you'd asked for space, and he would respect that. But he could prepare for your return, could begin the work of becoming someone worthy of a second chance.
The task seemed monumentally difficult, decades of conditioning standing in opposition to what he now knew he needed to do. He had no model for the kind of husband he wanted to become, no example of vulnerability balanced with strength.
But for the first time since you'd walked out, Jungwon felt something like hope. If you gave him the chance, he would find a way to be better. To be real. To tear down the walls he'd built over a lifetime of emotional suppression.
Dawn was breaking outside the study windows when he finally drafted a message, simple and without expectation:
I understand you need space, and I respect that. I'll be here when you're ready to talk—whether that's tomorrow or next week. I'm sorry for a year of silence. I'm listening now.
He sent it before he could second-guess himself, then set the phone down and moved to the window. Outside, the gardens were beginning to emerge from darkness, the first light revealing dew on the perfectly manicured lawns.
For once, Jungwon didn't see the perfection. Instead, he noticed how the morning light caught in a spider's web between two branches, transforming the fragile structure into something beautiful and strong. Perhaps there was a lesson there, in vulnerability's unexpected resilience.
As the mansion gradually woke around him—staff arriving, coffee brewing, the day's preparations beginning—Jungwon remained at the window, watching the light change and wondering if you, wherever you were, might be watching the same sunrise.
-
The mansion felt impossibly silent as Jungwon moved through the darkened hallways, your poetry book clutched in his hand like a lifeline. Sleep had become not just elusive but impossible, the vast emptiness of your shared bed a physical manifestation of what had been missing between you for a year. The sheets still carried your scent—a subtle perfume that he'd never properly acknowledged until now, when its absence made the fabric seem cold and lifeless.
He couldn't bear to remain in that room, surrounded by the ghosts of a thousand nights spent in careful distance. Instead, he found himself back in his study, the room that had been his refuge from intimacy for so long. Now it felt like a prison of his own making, walls lined with business achievements that suddenly seemed hollow.
With trembling hands, he placed your book on his desk and opened it once more to the marked page, the one with the circled verse that had first pierced his carefully constructed armor:
Between what is said and not meant,
And what is meant and not said,
Most of love is lost.
His fingers traced your handwriting in the margin—small, delicate notes that revealed more about your inner thoughts than a year of careful conversation had. Next to this poem, you'd written simply: Us? with the question mark trailing off like a fading hope.
One word, followed by a question mark. So much longing contained in those three small letters. Had you written this recently, or months ago? Had you been silently questioning the emptiness between you while he maintained his facade of contentment?
Jungwon turned the page, discovering more of your markings. Some poems had stars beside them, others had entire stanzas underlined. Some had exclamation points, others question marks. It was like finding a secret language, a code he should have deciphered long ago.
A poem about two rivers running parallel without ever meeting carried your annotation: This is what marriage feels like. So close yet never touching.
His breath caught. When had you written that? While lying beside him in bed, bodies carefully not touching? While sitting across from him at breakfast, exchanging polite comments about the day ahead?
He continued reading, unable to stop himself now. Each page revealed more of your hidden inner life. A poem about seasonal changes had reminds me of childhood summers before expectations written in the margin. Another about distant mountains carried the note wish we could travel together somewhere without his family or business associates.
Each annotation was a window into desires you'd never expressed, dreams you'd kept hidden. Why had he never asked what you wanted? Where you longed to go? What made you happy?
The night deepened around him, but Jungwon barely noticed. He was falling into your world, glimpsing for the first time the woman behind the perfect wife he'd taken for granted.
Then he found a page with the corner folded down, a poem about physical love:
I want to do with you what spring does with the cherry trees.
Your handwriting beside it was more hurried, almost feverish: too much to hope for? would he ever lose control enough?
Jungwon's throat tightened painfully. All those nights lying beside you, maintaining a careful distance, while you marked poems about passion and wrote desperate questions no one would see. How many nights had you lain awake, wanting him to reach for you? How many times had you considered reaching for him, only to retreat in fear of rejection?
He turned more pages, finding increasingly intimate selections. Next to Pablo Neruda's words:
I want to eat the sunbeam flaring in your lovely body, the sovereign nose of your arrogant face, I want to eat the fleeting shade of your lashes
You'd written: I dream of his mouth on my skin. Would he be disgusted by such thoughts?
The pain that shot through him was physical. Disgusted? How could you think that? But then, what else could you think when he'd maintained such careful distance, when he'd retreated to his study each night rather than face the vulnerability of desire?
Another poem, this one about hands tracing the geography of a lover's body, carried your note: I've memorized the shape of his hands during dinner parties, imagined them on me instead of on his wine glass.
Jungwon looked down at his own hands, remembering all the times they'd almost touched you—passing dishes at dinner, handing you into the car, the brief contact when giving you a gift—and how he'd always pulled back just slightly too soon. What would have happened if he'd let his fingers linger? If he'd given in to the urge to trace the line of your jaw, to feel the softness of your skin?
Hours passed as he lost himself in your secret thoughts. Some poems had tear stains, barely perceptible wrinkles in the paper where droplets had fallen and dried. Those broke him most of all—the tangible evidence of your solitary tears, shed perhaps just feet away from where he sat working, oblivious to your pain.
One poem about loneliness had simply: I am disappearing inside this house, inside this marriage, becoming nothing but "Mrs. Yang" scrawled across the bottom in handwriting that shook with emotion.
Dawn found him still at his desk, eyes burning from reading and from tears he hadn't realized he was shedding. The morning staff moved quietly through the house, shocked to see him disheveled and unshaven, the immaculate Yang heir looking like a man undone.
He ignored their concerned glances, your poetry book still open before him. But it wasn't enough. One book couldn't contain all of you. He needed more.
"Sir," the housekeeper approached hesitantly as Jungwon emerged from his study, still in yesterday's clothes, "would you like your breakfast now?"
"No," he replied, his voice hoarse from a night without sleep. "I need to see all of Madame's books. Every book in this house that she's ever touched."
The housekeeper exchanged a worried glance with the butler. "All of them, sir?"
"Every single one. Novels, poetry, anything with her handwriting in it. Bring them to the library."
He moved with feverish purpose to the library, pulling books from shelves himself—any that showed signs of your touch. Dog-eared pages, bookmarks, the slight cracking of spines that indicated frequent opening to favorite passages.
Throughout the day, the staff delivered more and more books—novels from your nightstand, reference books from the sunroom shelves, journals from your writing desk. Jungwon created careful piles around him, transforming the library floor into a map of your mind.
He found a travel book about Greece with dozens of Post-it notes marking specific locations. The private cove where no one would expect Mrs. Yang to swim naked read one note that made his heart race. Another, beside a picture of a small village: No social obligations, no family expectations—heaven.
You'd been dreaming of escape. From the mansion, from the Yang name, from him? The thought was unbearable.
In your copy of Jane Eyre, he found your underlining of Rochester's passionate declaration: "I have for the first time found what I can truly love–I have found you." Beside it, your handwriting: To be truly SEEN by someone. What would that feel like?
"Oh god," he whispered, the words escaping involuntarily. "You've never felt seen."
How could he have failed so completely? He, who prided himself on his attention to detail in business, had missed everything that mattered about the woman who shared his home, his name, his bed.
As afternoon turned to evening, Jungwon discovered a small leather journal tucked between larger books on a bottom shelf. He hesitated, knowing this was crossing a line from reading your notes to reading your private thoughts. But his need to know you, to understand what he'd missed, overrode his sense of propriety.
The journal wasn't a diary but a collection of poems you'd written yourself, clumsy in places but raw with emotion:
I practice conversations with you in my head
Witty things I might say that would make you look at me
Really look at me
But when you enter the room
My words evaporate like morning dew
And we speak of dinner parties and business associates
Never of stars or dreams or why your eyes
Sometimes follow me when you think I don't notice
Jungwon felt his careful composure—the mask he'd worn his entire adult life—shatter completely. You had seen him watching you. Had known there was something beneath his polite facade. But he'd never given you enough to be sure, had never been brave enough to let you see his wanting.
Another poem, dated just two months ago:
Your fingers brushed mine as you handed me a glass
Accidental touch that burned through my skin
I wonder if you felt it too
That current between us, electric and dangerous
Or if I imagined it, desperate for connection
For any sign that beneath your perfect suit
Beats a heart that could want me
As much as I want you
He had felt it. Every accidental touch, every brush of your hand, every moment when you stood close enough that he could smell your perfume. He had felt everything and denied it all, retreating into work and duty and the expectations drilled into him since childhood.
The worst entry was the most recent, written just days before your anniversary:
One year of marriage
Three hundred sixty-five nights of lying beside him
Listening to his breathing
Wondering if he's awake
Wondering if he ever thinks of touching me
Of breaking through the invisible wall between us
One year of perfect Mrs. Yang While the woman inside me slowly suffocates
Sometimes I think if I just reached for him once
If I was brave enough to cross that divide
But what if his rejection destroyed the last piece of me
That still believes I'm worthy of being
Wanted.
Jungwon closed the journal, his vision blurred with tears. You had been silently begging for him to reach across the divide while he had been congratulating himself on respecting your independence. The magnitude of his failure crushed him.
He didn't eat that day. Didn't change clothes. Didn't acknowledge the increasingly concerned staff who hovered at the library's periphery. Instead, he immersed himself in your hidden world, learning you through the books you'd loved, the passages you'd marked, the words you'd written when you thought no one would see.
Dawn arrived, but Jungwon had lost all sense of time. The library floor was covered with open books, each one containing fragments of your soul. He had read himself into a state of emotional exhaustion, discovering more and more evidence of your loneliness, your desire, your gradual loss of hope.
A desperate energy seized him. Reading wasn't enough. He needed to act, to change, to create physical evidence of his awakening before you returned—if you returned.
He summoned the head gardener, ignoring the man's shocked expression at his disheveled appearance.
"I need every peony on the estate moved to the front garden," he announced, his voice rough from disuse. "Every single one. From all the gardens, the greenhouse, everywhere."
"Sir, that would be hundreds of plants," the gardener protested. "And the formal design—"
"I don't care about the design," Jungwon interrupted, thinking of a note he'd found beside a picture of a wild garden: Why must everything be so ordered? So perfect? I long for beautiful chaos. "I want them arranged naturally. The way they would grow if they chose their own placement."
"But sir, your mother's landscape plan—"
"Is no longer relevant." Jungwon's eyes flashed with an intensity that made the gardener step back. "The peonies were always her choice, not my wife's. I want a garden that reflects what she loves."
"This will take all day, possibly longer," the gardener warned.
"Then start immediately. And I need something else. The bookshelves from the east parlor—bring them to the east garden. All of them."
The staff exchanged alarmed glances, but Jungwon was beyond caring about their concerns. He continued issuing instructions, driven by the need to transform the mansion—to break the perfect mold that had trapped you both.
"Sir," the butler ventured cautiously when the others had gone to carry out these strange orders, "perhaps you should rest. You haven't slept or eaten—"
"How can I rest?" Jungwon's voice broke with emotion. "Do you know what I've discovered? She's been living here for a year, lonely and unfulfilled, while I congratulated myself on being a proper husband. I've failed her completely."
The butler, who had served the Yang family for decades, had never seen the young master in such a state. "Sir, if I may... it's never too late to change course."
Jungwon looked at him sharply. "Have you seen her? Has she contacted anyone?"
"No, sir. But knowing Madame, she's not one to leave matters unresolved."
With renewed determination, Jungwon returned to the library. He selected dozens of books containing your most revealing notes and had them brought to the east garden. As the shelves were positioned on the grass, he began arranging the books, creating a physical testament to what he'd learned.
The gardeners worked throughout the day, transplanting hundreds of peonies to the front garden in a naturalistic arrangement that would horrify his mother but, he hoped, would speak to you. The once-formal approach to the house transformed into an explosion of your favorite flowers, arranged with the organic randomness of nature rather than the rigid precision of Yang tradition.
By late afternoon, Jungwon had created an outdoor library in the east garden—the private corner of the grounds where you often walked alone. He placed books on the shelves and opened others on the grass around him, creating a circle of revelations.
He had sent the staff away, needing to be alone with the evidence of his awakening. His phone buzzed repeatedly—his father, his mother, business associates all demanding attention. He ignored them all.
Instead, he picked up your poetry journal again, reading and rereading your most vulnerable confessions. The precise handwriting becoming more jagged with emotion. The careful Mrs. Yang breaking through to the woman beneath.
As sunset painted the sky in shades of pink and gold, Jungwon sat amidst the books, surrounded by the fragments of you he'd collected, feeling more alive and more terrified than he had ever been. What if it was too late? What if you had already decided that the year of emotional solitude was too high a price for the Yang name and fortune?
He wouldn't blame you. How could he? He had offered you everything except himself.
Night fell, and still he remained in the garden, under stars you had once described in a margin note as witnesses to all our silent longings. He read your words by the light of lanterns the staff had silently provided, losing himself in the labyrinth of your unspoken desires.
In the faint light, he reread the poem that had started his journey—the one about love lost between what is said and not meant, what is meant and not said. He traced your question mark with his finger, feeling the slight indentation in the paper where you had pressed the pen, perhaps harder than you intended, the physical evidence of your frustration.
"I see you now," he whispered to the empty garden, to the books that held pieces of your soul. "I see you, and I'm terrified it's too late."
The night deepened around him, but Jungwon remained among the books, keeping vigil, waiting, hoping you would come home—and fearing you would not.
-
Five days since you'd left. Five days of freedom from the perfect imprisonment that had become your life. Five days to remember who you were before becoming Mrs. Yang.
On the morning of the sixth day, as you sat on Leah's small balcony with a chipped mug of coffee, your phone lit up with a text from Jungwon's personal assistant.
Mr. Yang has canceled all appointments for the foreseeable future. The household staff reports concerning behavior. If you could contact them, they would be grateful.
You stared at the message, rereading it several times. Jungwon never canceled appointments. Even when he'd had the flu last winter, he'd conducted meetings by video rather than reschedule. His schedule was sacred, immovable.
"What's wrong?" Leah asked, noticing your expression.
You handed her the phone. She read the message and raised her eyebrows.
"Sounds like someone's having a breakdown."
"Jungwon doesn't have breakdowns," you said automatically, then paused. The man you'd confronted before leaving—the one who'd admitted his fear of vulnerability, who'd texted you his feelings rather than say them aloud—perhaps that man did have breakdowns after all.
"Are you going to go check on him?" Leah asked.
You sighed, setting down your coffee. "I have to, don't I? At the very least, I need to get more of my things." You'd left with only a small overnight bag, having no plan beyond escape.
"Want me to come with you?"
"No," you said, more decisively than you felt. "This is something I need to do alone."
As you showered and dressed, you tried to prepare yourself for what awaited. Would Jungwon be coldly angry, his moment of vulnerability already locked away? Would he have summoned his parents, ready for a united front to convince you of your duties? Or would he simply be absent, buried in work as a shield against emotion?
In the rideshare on the way to the mansion, you rehearsed what to say. You would be calm but firm. This wasn't about blame anymore but about whether a real marriage was possible between you. You needed honesty, vulnerability, true partnership—not just the performance of marriage you'd endured for a year.
But as the car approached the gates of the estate, your carefully prepared speech evaporated. The formal gardens that had always greeted visitors with mathematical precision had been transformed. Instead of the orderly rows of seasonal blooms, there was a riot of peonies—your favorite flower—planted in natural, wild groupings that looked almost as if they had grown there spontaneously.
"Wait here," you told the driver. "I may not be staying."
As you walked up the long driveway, your heart hammered against your ribs. The front door opened before you reached it, the butler appearing with an expression of profound relief.
"Madame," he said, bowing slightly. "Thank goodness you've returned."
"I'm not staying necessarily," you clarified, stepping into the foyer. "I just came to—" You stopped, noticing more changes. The formal floral arrangements that always occupied the entryway tables had been replaced with wild, exuberant bouquets of peonies and wildflowers. "What's happening here?"
"Mr. Yang has been... making adjustments to the household," the butler replied diplomatically. "He's in the east garden. He's been there nearly two days now."
Two days? "Is he... is he all right?"
The butler hesitated. "I believe he's waiting for you, Madame."
You made your way through the house, noting more changes as you went. Books that had always been perfectly arranged on shelves now sat in haphazard stacks on tables, many open to specific pages. Your books, you realized, from your private collection.
When you reached the doors leading to the east garden—your favorite part of the grounds, where you often walked alone—you paused, gathering your courage.
Nothing could have prepared you for what you found.
The garden had been transformed into an outdoor library. Bookshelves stood on the grass in a semicircle, filled with books—your books—many open to display specific pages. And in the center, sitting cross-legged on the ground surrounded by open volumes, was Jungwon.
You'd never seen him like this. His usually immaculate appearance was completely undone—hair disheveled, several days' stubble on his jaw, clothes rumpled as if he'd slept in them. He was reading intently from what you recognized as your private poetry journal, his expression a mixture of pain and wonder.
He looked up as your shadow fell across the page, and the naked hope and fear in his eyes made your breath catch.
"You came back," he said, his voice rough as if from disuse.
"What is all this?" you asked, gesturing to the surreal scene around you.
Jungwon carefully closed your journal and set it aside. He rose slowly to his feet, a man moving carefully so as not to shatter something fragile.
"I've been trying to find you," he said. "The real you. The one I should have been looking for all along."
You stepped closer, picking up one of the books from the grass. It was your copy of Neruda's love sonnets, open to a page where you'd scribbled Would he ever touch me like this? in the margin.
Heat rose to your face. "You've been reading my private notes?"
"Yes." Jungwon didn't try to justify or excuse it. "I needed to understand what I'd missed, what I'd ignored. I needed to see you—really see you."
You should have been angry at the invasion of privacy, but something in his broken expression stopped your protest. This wasn't the controlled, perfect Jungwon Yang you'd married. This was someone else entirely—raw, desperate, real.
"Do you have any idea," he continued, taking a step toward you, "how much you've wanted? How much you've needed? All these books, all these words you've underlined, notes you've written—they're full of longing I never acknowledged."
You remained silent, unsure what to say as he moved closer, stopping just short of touching you.
"I found your poem about lying beside me at night, wondering if I was awake, wondering if I ever thought about touching you." His voice broke slightly. "I did. Every night. I lay there wanting you, terrified of reaching for you, convinced that maintaining distance was the same as showing respect."
Your heart pounded so hard you were sure he must hear it. "Why are you telling me this now?"
"Because I almost lost you." The simple truth hung in the air between you. "Because I realized that the thing I feared most—vulnerability, need, the possibility of rejection—was nothing compared to the emptiness of letting you walk away without ever knowing how much I want you. How much I've always wanted you."
To your shock, Jungwon suddenly dropped to his knees before you, looking up with eyes that held none of his usual composure.
"I don't deserve another chance," he said, his voice raw with emotion. "I've been a coward, hiding behind duty and family expectations. But if you're willing—if there's any part of you that believes we could start again—I swear I will spend every day trying to be worthy of you."
You stood frozen, overwhelmed by his declaration, by the sight of Jungwon Yang—heir to an empire, always in perfect control—on his knees before you, walls finally shattered.
"I want to build a life with you," he continued, the words spilling out as if he couldn't contain them any longer. "A real life, not this performance we've been trapped in. I want mornings where we don't pretend to sleep through each other's routines. I want to hear about your day and tell you about mine. I want to take you to that cove in Greece where no one would expect Mrs. Yang to swim naked."
Your cheeks flamed at the reference to your private note in the travel book.
"I've read every word you've written in the margins," he confessed, his voice dropping lower. "I've memorized your poetry. The ones you circled, the ones you starred. Neruda's words—'I want to do with you what spring does with the cherry trees'—I understand them now. I feel them in my veins."
His eyes locked with yours, their intensity almost unbearable.
"I dream of you. Of being inside you. Of knowing nothing but the depth of your eyes when you look at me. Of drowning in your skin until my mind forgets every lesson in restraint I've ever learned." His voice shook slightly. "All those nights I lay beside you, rigid with control, while you wrote of desire in book margins—it was never indifference. It was fear. Fear of how completely I would surrender to you if I allowed myself a single touch."
You couldn't breathe, couldn't speak as he continued, years of suppressed desire breaking through the dam of his composure.
"I found where you wrote 'would he ever lose control enough?' The answer is yes. God, yes. Every moment of every day I've wanted to lose myself in you. To press you against walls, to taste every inch of your skin, to hear my name in your voice when I'm buried so deep inside you that we can't tell where I end and you begin."
He trembled visibly now, hands clenched at his sides to keep from reaching for you.
"I want children who know their father can feel, can love," he went on, his voice breaking. "I want to be the man you deserve—not the perfect Yang heir, but a husband who sees you, hears you, wants you exactly as you are."
Tears welled in your eyes, but you blinked them back. This was what you'd wanted—wasn't it? The real man beneath the perfect facade. But now that he was here, raw and vulnerable, you found yourself terrified of your own power to hurt him, to be hurt again.
"I don't know if I can trust this," you admitted softly. "What happens when your father calls? When your mother visits? When business demands return? Will you retreat back behind those walls you've built over a lifetime?"
Jungwon nodded, acknowledging the fairness of your question. "I already told my father I won't be controlled by his expectations anymore. I hung up on him—" He gave a small, disbelieving laugh. "I actually hung up on him when he tried to order me to bring you back for appearances' sake."
Your eyes widened. In the Yang family hierarchy, defying the patriarch was unthinkable.
"I can't promise I'll never struggle," Jungwon continued. "A lifetime of conditioning doesn't disappear in a week. But I can promise to try. To talk instead of withdraw. To let you see me—all of me, even the parts I was taught to hide." He swallowed hard. "And I can promise that no business meeting, no family obligation, nothing will ever be more important to me than you are."
The morning sunlight filtered through the garden trees, casting dappled light across his face, highlighting the exhaustion in his eyes, the vulnerability in his expression. In that moment, all the trappings of wealth and status fell away, leaving just a man asking a woman for another chance.
"I love you," he said quietly, the words clearly strange on his tongue. "I think I have from the beginning, but I didn't know how to show it, how to say it, how to let myself feel it without fear."
Your carefully constructed walls began to crumble. The honesty in his eyes, the tremor in his voice—this wasn't another performance. This was real in a way nothing between you had been before.
You took a deep breath, making a decision that would change everything.
"Stand up," you said softly.
Jungwon rose slowly, uncertainty in every line of his body. He stood before you, not touching, waiting.
"I need time," you said finally. "Not away from you—I think we've had enough distance. But time here, together, building something real. Day by day. No quick fixes, no grand gestures, just... honest effort."
Relief washed over his face. "Anything. Whatever you need."
You reached out slowly, your hand trembling slightly as you placed it against his cheek. The stubble was rough under your palm—a tangible sign of his unraveling, his transformation.
"We start again," you said. "As equals. As partners. As two people choosing each other every day, not just fulfilling an arrangement."
Jungwon covered your hand with his own, his eyes never leaving yours. "Yes," he agreed simply. "That's all I want. The chance to choose you, and to be chosen by you, every day."
You stood there in the garden surrounded by the evidence of his awakening—the books, the wildflowers, the breaking of perfect order that had defined your lives together. Nothing was resolved yet, not really. The real work of building a marriage would take time, patience, courage from both of you.
But as Jungwon's fingers tentatively interlaced with yours, you felt something you hadn't experienced in a very long time: hope.
Not the desperate hope that had led you to mark passages in poetry books, dreaming of connection. But a quieter, stronger hope built on the foundation of truth finally spoken, of walls finally breached.
A beginning, at last, after a year of beautiful emptiness.
-
The transformation didn't happen overnight. Real change never does. But it began with small, deliberate steps—each one a silent promise, a brick in the foundation of what you both hoped would become something genuine and lasting.
The first week was tentative, both of you navigating an unfamiliar landscape of honesty. You moved back into the master bedroom, but Jungwon slept on the chaise lounge across the room, respecting your need for physical space while closing the emotional distance. Each night, you talked—sometimes for hours—about everything and nothing. Your childhoods. Your dreams. The books that had shaped you. The places you longed to visit.
"I never knew you wanted to see Greece so badly," Jungwon said one evening, sitting cross-legged on the chaise, looking younger and more relaxed than you'd ever seen him. "We could go. Whenever you want."
"It's not just about going," you explained, hugging your knees to your chest as you sat against the headboard. "It's about going somewhere simply because we want to, not because it's expected or beneficial to the family business."
He nodded, understanding dawning in his eyes. "A trip just for us. No schedules, no business meetings disguised as vacations..."
"Exactly."
Two days later, you found a travel guide to the Greek islands on your pillow, with a note in Jungwon's precise handwriting: Pick the places that call to you. No expectations. No time limit. Just us.
-
The second week brought the first real test. Mrs. Yang arrived unannounced, sweeping into the foyer with the authority of someone who had never been denied entry.
"I've heard disturbing reports," she announced, eyeing the wildflower arrangements with thinly veiled distaste. "The garden completely rearranged. Appointments canceled. Your father says you're not taking his calls. And now this..." She gestured to the informality of the house, the books scattered on surfaces, the general disruption of the perfect order she'd helped establish.
In the past, Jungwon would have immediately adjusted his behavior to appease her. You braced yourself for his retreat back into the perfect son role.
Instead, he surprised you.
"Mother," he said calmly, "we're in the middle of some changes here. I should have called to tell you it's not a good time for a visit."
Her eyes widened. "Not a good time? Since when do I need an appointment to visit my own son's home?"
"Since now," Jungwon replied, his voice gentle but firm. "We're working on our marriage, and we need space to do that properly."
Mrs. Yang turned to you, expecting you to be the reasonable one, to smooth over this unprecedented friction. "Surely you understand that family obligations—"
"Are important," you finished for her, "but not more important than our relationship. Jungwon and I are learning to put each other first."
Her mouth opened and closed, momentarily speechless. "This is your influence," she finally said to you, her voice sharp. "My son has never been so disrespectful."
You felt Jungwon tense beside you, but before he could speak, you placed your hand on his arm. A silent communication—I've got this.
"It's not disrespect to establish healthy boundaries," you said, maintaining a respectful tone despite the accusation. "We both value you and Mr. Yang, but we're building something here that needs protection and care."
Mrs. Yang looked between the two of you, noting the united front, the way Jungwon stood slightly closer to you than necessary, the casual intimacy of your hand on his arm. Something in her calculation shifted.
"I see," she said finally. "Well. Call when you're ready to rejoin society. The foundation gala is in three weeks, and people will talk if you're absent."
"Let them talk," Jungwon said simply.
After she left, you turned to Jungwon, studying his face for signs of regret or anger. Instead, you found him looking almost relieved.
"That was the first time I've ever said no to her," he confessed with a shaky laugh. "It feels... terrifying. And right."
You squeezed his hand. "You were perfect."
"Not perfect," he corrected. "Real. There's a difference."
-
By the third week, physical barriers began to dissolve. Jungwon moved from the chaise to the bed, though always maintaining a careful distance. But one night, half-asleep and cold from the air conditioning, you instinctively shifted closer to his warmth. Without fully waking, he draped an arm over you, pulling you against him with a contented sigh.
You froze, suddenly wide awake, your heart racing at the casual intimacy. His breathing remained deep and even, clearly still asleep. Slowly, you relaxed into the embrace, allowing yourself to feel the solidity of him, the gentle rise and fall of his chest, the warmth that radiated through his thin t-shirt.
It was the first time you'd slept in each other's arms. In the morning, when you both woke to find yourselves entangled, there was a moment of awkward uncertainty before Jungwon smiled—a genuine, unguarded smile that transformed his face.
"Good morning," he said softly, making no move to pull away.
"Good morning," you replied, marveling at how natural it felt to be here, in this moment, with him.
That day, the staff noticed the shift between you—the lingering glances, the casual touches as you passed each other, the private smiles. The mansion seemed to exhale, as if the building itself had been holding its breath, waiting for life to finally fill its rooms.
-
A month after your return, Jungwon came to you with a proposal.
"I've been thinking about the house," he said over breakfast, which you now took together every morning before he left for work. His schedule had been completely reorganized, with strict boundaries between work and home time. "It's beautiful, but it's never felt like ours. It's been my family's vision of what our home should be."
You nodded, understanding immediately. "It's always felt like living in a museum."
"Exactly." He pushed a folder across the table. "What would you think about this?"
Inside were architectural plans for a new house—smaller, more intimate, designed around shared spaces and natural light.
"You want to move?" you asked, surprised.
"I want us to build something that belongs to us," he clarified. "Something that reflects who we are together, not who everyone expects us to be."
You studied the plans more carefully, noting the library with two desks facing each other, the open kitchen designed for cooking together, the master bedroom with windows that would catch the sunrise.
"There's room for a nursery," you observed quietly, looking up to gauge his reaction.
His eyes softened. "I thought... someday... if we decided..." He took a deep breath, steadying himself. "I want children with you. Not for the Yang legacy, but because I can't imagine anything more beautiful than creating a family with you. But only when we're ready. Only when our foundation is solid."
You reached across the table, taking his hand. "I'd like that. Someday."
He squeezed your fingers, a simple gesture that had become precious in its newfound ease. "So, the house?"
"Yes," you decided. "Let's build something that's truly ours."
-
Two months into your new beginning, you attended your first social event as a changed couple. The charity auction—ironically, the same type of event where you'd played your roles so convincingly before—now became the stage for your authentic selves.
When you entered on Jungwon's arm, the subtle changes were immediately apparent to the careful observers of high society. The way his hand rested at the small of your back—not for show, but because he liked the connection to you. How he kept you within his sight even during separate conversations. The private smiles you exchanged across the room, small moments of complicity in the public setting.
Mrs. Singh approached you during a lull in the evening. "There's something different about you two," she observed shrewdly. "You seem... happier."
You smiled, watching Jungwon across the room. He was engaged in conversation but looked up at that exact moment, as if sensing your gaze, and smiled back with undisguised affection.
"We are," you replied simply.
Later, when the dancing began, Jungwon led you to the floor. Unlike the choreographed movements you'd performed at countless events before, this time he held you closer, his cheek occasionally brushing against your temple, his hand warm and secure against yours.
"Everyone's watching us," you murmured, feeling the weight of curious eyes.
"Let them," he replied, his lips close to your ear. "Maybe they'll learn something."
The evening continued, but unlike before, you weren't simply playing a part. The genuine connection between you was unmistakable, and as the night progressed, you felt something shift in the atmosphere around you. The calculated social maneuvering gave way to something more genuine, as if your authenticity had granted others permission to drop their own facades, if only slightly.
When you returned home that night, the tension that had always accompanied these performances was absent. Instead, there was a shared sense of accomplishment, of having navigated the social waters together without losing yourselves in the process.
"That wasn't so bad," Jungwon admitted as you both prepared for bed. "Being real in public."
"It was actually nice," you agreed, sitting at your vanity to remove your jewelry. "Though I think your mother nearly fainted when you declined the board seat Mr. Lee offered."
Jungwon laughed, the sound still new enough to delight you. "The old me would have accepted immediately, even though we both know it would have meant even less time at home." He moved behind you, meeting your eyes in the mirror. "I have different priorities now."
He reached for the clasp of your necklace, his fingers brushing against your skin as he helped you remove it. The simple intimacy of the gesture—one that might have seemed ordinary in most marriages but was revolutionary in yours—made your breath catch.
When he finished, his hands remained on your shoulders, thumbs gently caressing the exposed skin above your dress. Your eyes met in the mirror, and the desire you saw there—no longer hidden or denied—sent heat cascading through you.
"May I kiss you?" he asked softly.
It wasn't your first kiss since the reconciliation—there had been gentle pecks, cautious explorations—but something about this moment felt different. More significant.
You turned to face him, rising from the vanity bench. "Yes."
He cupped your face with reverent hands, studying you as if committing every detail to memory, before leaning in slowly. The kiss began gentle but deepened as months of carefully banked desire kindled between you. His arms encircled your waist, drawing you closer until you could feel the rapid beating of his heart against yours.
When you finally separated, both breathless, Jungwon rested his forehead against yours. "I love you," he whispered, the words no longer strange or difficult but natural, necessary.
"I love you too," you replied, the truth of it filling every part of you.
That night, for the first time, you truly became husband and wife—not through social obligation or family expectation, but through choice. Through desire. Through love that had fought its way past barriers of conditioning and fear to find expression at last.
-
Six months after your confrontation, the new house was completed. It stood on a hillside overlooking the city, modern in design but warm in execution, with natural materials and spaces designed for living rather than showcasing wealth.
The move was symbolic in more ways than one—leaving behind the mansion with its rigid expectations and cold perfection, stepping into a home created specifically for the life you were building together.
On your first night there, after the movers had gone and the essentials were unpacked, Jungwon opened a bottle of champagne, pouring two glasses as you both stood in the expansive living room, floor-to-ceiling windows revealing the city lights spread below.
"To new beginnings," he said, raising his glass.
"To us," you added, clinking your glass against his.
After you both drank, he set his glass aside and reached for your hand, his expression turning serious.
"I want to ask you something," he said, leading you to the sofa. When you were both seated, he took both your hands in his. "This past year—these six months especially—have been the most transformative of my life. I feel like I'm finally becoming the person I was meant to be, not the perfect heir my father designed."
You squeezed his hands encouragingly. "I'm proud of you. The changes you've made, the boundaries you've set—none of it has been easy."
"It's been worth it," he said simply. "And I want to keep growing, keep becoming better. With you." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small velvet box. "Which is why I want to ask you to marry me. Again. For real this time."
He opened the box to reveal a ring nothing like the elaborate diamond he'd given you during your engagement. This one was simpler, more personal—a band of intertwined gold and platinum with a small sapphire that matched the color of your favorite flowers.
"Our first marriage was arranged for us," he continued. "I want this one to be chosen by us. No families planning, no strategic alliances, just two people who love each other deciding to build a life together."
Tears filled your eyes, but unlike the lonely tears you'd shed in that first year, these were born of joy, of wonder at how far you'd both come.
"Yes," you whispered, watching as he slipped the ring onto your finger, alongside the formal engagement diamond you still wore. The contrast between them—one chosen for appearance, one chosen for meaning—perfectly symbolized your journey.
"I thought we could have a small ceremony," Jungwon said, pulling you close. "Just us and a few people who truly care about our happiness. On that Greek island you've been reading about."
You laughed through your tears. "Your mother would never forgive us."
"She'll survive," he said with a smile. "This isn't about the Yang family or social connections or business advantages. It's about you and me, choosing each other. Every day. For the rest of our lives."
As you kissed to seal this new promise, you marveled at the journey that had brought you here—from empty performance to authentic partnership, from silent longing to expressed love, from arranged marriage to chosen commitment.
The road hadn't been smooth. There had been setbacks, moments when old patterns threatened to reassert themselves. There would be more challenges ahead, more work to maintain the vulnerability and honesty you'd fought so hard to establish.
But looking into Jungwon's eyes—eyes that now held nothing back from you—you knew with absolute certainty that the difficult path was worth it. That true connection, once found, was worth fighting for. That love, real love, could grow even from the most barren beginnings, if only given the chance to breathe.
-
The most shocking transformation in your renewed marriage wasn’t the tenderness.
It was the hunger.
Jungwon, who used to sleep with a polite space between your bodies, now touched you like he couldn’t bear even a millimeter of distance.
The man who once bowed his head before kissing your hand now dropped to his knees and begged to taste you.
It was as if years of restraint had finally snapped—like some tight, internal knot had come undone—and he was feral from the release.
The first night you truly became intimate, you realized just how much he’d been suppressing.
His hands, once always tucked in his lap, now gripped your thighs like a lifeline, dragged you down onto the sheets with a growl. He shook when he touched you, but not from nerves—from sheer fucking relief.
His mouth, which had always only spoken in formal tones and quiet dinner conversation, now whispered against your skin—
“I’ve dreamed of spreading your legs and living between them.”
You gasped. He kissed lower. His breath hot between your thighs.
“Every night beside you, pretending I didn’t hear how you breathed heavier when I got too close. I wanted to fuck you so bad I used to take cold showers just to stop myself from humping the fucking mattress.”
You were already soaked, trembling.
You cupped his face, forced him to look up. “You don’t have to hold back anymore.”
His pupils were blown wide. He licked his lips, nodding.
“I don’t think I could if I tried.”
He broke.
He devoured your pussy like it owed him rent. Like it was his first and last meal.
No teasing. No patience. Just his tongue, buried deep, moaning into you like your taste was the only thing that ever made him lose his composure.
You came once on his mouth—fast and loud—and he didn’t even let up.
“Again,” he groaned, “fuck, again, I want to feel you fall apart.”
And when he finally hovered over you, flushed and trembling and naked between your legs?
“Tell me,” he whispered, cock dragging through your soaked folds, “tell me what you want. What you’ve been aching for. Let me ruin you the way I’ve dreamed about.”
So you did.
You told him all of it. The fantasies. The positions. The filthy little things you’d only ever written down in notebook margins when he was still cold and distant.
And Jungwon?
Did. Not. Flinch.
He nodded, breath shaking, and said—
“You want to be face down? Crying? Begging? I’ll give it to you. Just know when I start, I won’t stop until you’re fucked stupid.”
And he meant it.
He took you face down on the mattress, hips locked in place by his grip, his cock slamming into you so deep you saw stars. He growled things you’d never imagined him saying—
“This pussy’s mine. All fucking mine. You think I don’t know how wet you get when I talk like this?”
“Look at you—slutty little wife, dripping down your thighs like you’ve been waiting to be treated like a whore.”
“How many times you make yourself cum thinking about me breaking like this, huh?”
You choked on your moans. You were sobbing by the time he made you cum again, legs shaking, jaw slack, vision blurry.
He kissed your spine afterward. Slowly. Tenderly. Like he hadn’t just rearranged your insides.
Pulled you into his arms and whispered, “I used to leave the room when I got too hard just looking at you. I thought wanting you like this made me weak. My father always said a Yang man should control his urges.”
He paused. Smiled against your neck.
“I’ve never been so happy to disappoint him.”
-
In the weeks that followed your first night together, the shift between you became impossible to ignore. And impossible to contain.
Jungwon couldn’t stop touching you.
He didn’t even try. His hand found yours under the breakfast table.
His palm slid across your lower back when you walked past him in the hallway—lingering there, possessive.
He stole kisses while you were brushing your teeth, while you answered the door, while you loaded the washing machine.
It was as if his body was always reaching, always chasing, making up for a year of self-denial all at once.
You gave in to him every time.
One afternoon, he came home early from the office to find you kneeling in the garden, soil smudged on your knees, digging holes for the last peony bush you’d saved from the mansion.
You didn’t hear him approach.
But you felt it—the change in the air. The heat behind you. The sound of breath catching.
Hands on your waist. A sharp inhale. And a low, devastating voice.
“That’s what I come home to?”
You turned your head, startled—and then flushed under the weight of his gaze.
He was already unbuttoning his sleeves.
Already breathing too hard.
“Jungwon—”
He hauled you to your feet. Didn’t flinch at the dirt. Didn’t care about the sunlight.
Just gripped your waist, pulled you close, and kissed you like you’d been killing him in his dreams. You gasped against his mouth, hands braced on his chest, heart pounding.
“What was that for?”
His eyes were black with need. He didn’t let you go.
“Because I can,” he said. “Because I spent a year not touching you. Not letting myself want you. Not letting myself want to bend you over every surface in our house.”
You trembled.
He pulled you closer.
“I refuse to waste another fucking day.”
The peonies were forgotten.
He dragged you inside, dirt on your hands, sweat beading on your spine—and kissed you again against the door.
His jacket hit the floor first. Then yours.
Then his belt, as he backed you into the living room like a man possessed.
When your knees hit the rug, he dropped with you.
Didn’t even bother removing your clothes properly—just shoved your dress up and pulled your underwear down like it offended him.
“Here,” he growled, palming your ass as he pressed you forward onto all fours. “Here on the floor, where I can see every inch of you. Where I can fuck you raw and you can scream for me.”
You moaned, breath hitched.
“God, I wanted to do this the first night I married you. I wanted to wreck you. I wanted to see what sounds you’d make with my cock in you.”
You were dripping by the time he pushed inside.
No teasing. No patience. Just one smooth thrust that made you cry out, already clenching.
“So fucking tight,” he hissed. “So wet and hot and mine.”
He fucked you hard, fast, hips slapping against your ass as your moans echoed through the empty house.
You didn’t care. You let him take everything.
He gripped your hips, pulled you back onto him harder, chasing your high like he’d been dying for it. You came shaking on him, and he groaned, low and broken, before following with a curse buried into your shoulder.
You collapsed to the rug in a tangled heap, both of you breathless, glowing in the afternoon sun. Later, still half-naked, your cheek resting on the rug, he lay beside you—head on your stomach, smiling like a teenager.
“My father would be appalled,” he murmured. “The Yang heir behaving like this. Desperate. Loud. Fucking his wife on the floor.”
You laughed, running your fingers through his sweat-damp hair.
“And what do you think?”
He tilted his head. Kissed your bare hip, then lower.
Then smiled.
“I think we should do it again in the kitchen.”
A pause.
“Then the stairs. Then the study. Then maybe the floor again.”
You didn’t even get a chance to answer. Because his hand was already sliding between your legs again.
-
What amazed you most was his attentiveness. Jungwon, who had once seemed completely disconnected from physical needs, now anticipated yours with an almost uncanny perception. He noticed when tension gathered in your shoulders and appeared with warm hands to massage it away. He registered which touches made your breath catch and revisited them with deliberate intent. He cataloged every sensitive spot, every preference, every response with the same meticulous attention he'd once reserved for business reports.
"How did you know?" you asked one evening when he drew you a bath exactly when you needed it, complete with the lavender oil you preferred when tired.
"Your left eyebrow tenses slightly when you're exhausted," he explained, kneeling beside the tub to wash your back with gentle hands. "And you roll your shoulders every few minutes. Plus, you've been on your feet all day with the interior decorator."
The fact that he noticed such small details—that he paid such close attention to your physical comfort—moved you deeply. This wasn't just passion; it was care, consideration, genuine desire for your wellbeing.
One night, as you lay tangled together in the afterglow of particularly intense lovemaking, Jungwon traced patterns on your back with his fingertips, his expression thoughtful.
"I used to think that needing someone physically was a weakness," he confessed. "That it gave them power over you. My father warned me about it—how desire could cloud judgment, make a man vulnerable."
"And now?" you prompted, propping yourself up to look at him.
A slow smile spread across his face, transforming his features in a way that still took your breath away. "Now I think vulnerability is its own kind of strength. The courage to need someone, to show them exactly how much you want them..." He pulled you closer, pressing a kiss to your forehead. "I've never felt stronger than when I'm completely undone in your arms."
-
The physical transformation in your marriage rippled outward, affecting every aspect of your lives together. Jungwon, once rigid in his schedules and plans, now embraced spontaneity. He would cancel meetings to spend the day in bed with you, laughing as you expressed shock at his newfound willingness to prioritize pleasure over work.
"The company won't collapse if I take a day off," he said, pulling you back under the covers when you suggested he shouldn't neglect his responsibilities. "And this—" he kissed you deeply "—is a responsibility too. To us. To what we're building."
Even in public, the change was evident to anyone with eyes to see. Though still mindful of appropriate boundaries, Jungwon couldn't seem to stop himself from small touches—his hand at the small of your back, his fingers laced with yours, the way he would occasionally lean down to whisper something in your ear that made heat rise to your cheeks.
At a corporate gala, Mrs. Yang cornered you by the refreshment table, her eyes narrowed in disapproval. "Your husband's behavior has become rather... demonstrative lately," she observed acidly. "It's unseemly for a man of his position to be so openly affectionate."
You smiled, watching Jungwon across the room as he spoke with investors. Even engaged in business conversation, his eyes sought you out regularly, as if making sure you were still there, still his.
"I disagree," you replied calmly. "I think it shows remarkable strength for a man to be secure enough in himself to express his feelings openly."
Your mother-in-law's lips thinned, but before she could respond, Jungwon appeared at your side, his hand automatically finding yours.
"Mother," he greeted her with polite warmth. "I see you've found my wife. I hope you'll excuse us—this is our song."
There was no song playing that held any special meaning, but Mrs. Yang couldn't know that. With a small bow, Jungwon led you to the dance floor, pulling you closer than was strictly proper for such a formal event.
"Rescued you," he murmured against your ear, his breath sending delicious shivers down your spine.
"My hero," you teased, relaxing into his embrace. "Though your mother might never recover from the shock of seeing the Yang heir so besotted with his own wife."
"Let her adjust," he replied, his hand splayed possessively against your lower back. "This is who I am now. Who we are together."
Later that night, he touched you like he’d been holding it in all day—like the hours of careful, public restraint had coiled inside him, pressing tight under his skin, begging for release.
Now, with you spread beneath him in your shared bed, every breath he took seemed heavy with need.
His thrusts were deep, deliberate, dragging moans from your throat with each slow roll of his hips.
He didn’t rush. He didn’t look away. He studied you.
His dark eyes locked onto yours, watching every flicker of expression, every twitch, every gasp, like he wanted to memorize the exact second you shattered.
“What are you thinking?” he asked, voice low, tight, lips brushing the corner of your mouth.
You blinked up at him, dazed, overwhelmed. “That I hardly recognize you sometimes.”
His rhythm stuttered—hips faltering, jaw tensing.
His brows drew together. “Is that… disappointing?”
You couldn’t help the breathless laugh that escaped you. You wrapped your legs tighter around his waist and pulled him closer, arching up to meet him.
“No. Quite the opposite.”
Your fingers slid into his hair, your voice thick with wonder and arousal.
“I’m amazed that all of this—”
Your hands trailed down his chest, to where your bodies met, to the heat and slick and stretch between your legs,
“—was hidden inside that perfect, restrained man.”
Relief washed over his face, followed by a crooked, mischievous smile—so at odds with the version of him you’d once known that it sent a fresh wave of heat crashing through you.
“I have years of self-control to make up for,” he said, lowering his mouth to your throat, his voice a warm rasp against your skin. “You don’t think I’ve imagined this? Every night. Every day. Watching you walk around like you didn’t know how badly I wanted to fuck you into the mattress?”
You whimpered, breath catching.
“You think I didn’t notice how soft your thighs looked in those dresses? Or how your voice changed when you said my name?”
His tongue flicked over a sensitive spot just below your ear, and your back arched without thinking.
“I used to jerk off in the shower,” he whispered, filthy now, “biting my lip so you wouldn’t hear. Palming my cock like a coward while I imagined you moaning for me just like this.”
You gasped as he pinned your wrists above your head, not rough, just firm—controlling, possessive. His other hand slid between your bodies, fingers circling your clit with devastating precision.
“You’re mine now,” he said against your collarbone. “I don’t have to hide it anymore. Don’t have to pretend I don’t want you crying and shaking under me every night.”
The need in his voice made your toes curl.
“I don’t think anyone could be prepared for this version of you,” you managed to gasp, hips bucking as his thumb pressed harder.
He chuckled darkly. “Good. I like catching you off guard.”
Then his lips ghosted over your pulse, and he murmured:
“I like knowing no one else gets to see you like this. Just me. The mess. The begging. The way you moan when I hit you right there.”
His hips snapped, and your whole body trembled.
“I like owning this version of you. The version that melts under me. That asks for more even when I’m already inside.”
The sheer possessiveness in his voice—raw and reverent—nearly undid you.
Your whole body clenched, eyes wide, breath gone. “Only you,” you whispered, completely wrecked. “Always you.”
He kissed you then. Deep. Unrelenting.
And when you came again, shaking apart in his arms, you knew:
You’d never seen the real Jungwon before this.
Afterward, as you drifted toward sleep in his arms, you reflected on the journey that had brought you here. From polite strangers sharing a bed without touching, to lovers who couldn't bear even the smallest distance between them. From a marriage of appearance to a union of body, heart, and soul.
Jungwon's arm tightened around you, even in his sleep unwilling to let you go. The man who had once feared needing someone now embraced that need without reservation, transforming what he'd been taught was weakness into his greatest strength.
As you snuggled closer to his warmth, you silently thanked whatever courage had prompted you to finally break the silence between you, to demand more than the empty performance your marriage had been. The risk had been terrifying, but the reward—this man who loved you without restraint, who showed that love in every look and touch and whispered word—was beyond anything you could have imagined.
Epilogue: Aegean Dreams
The light breeze carried the scent of salt and wild herbs through the open French doors of your villa, perched on the cliffs of Santorini. Dawn had just begun to paint the horizon in shades of gold and rose, the Aegean Sea below reflecting the spectacle like a mirror. You stood on the private terrace, wrapped in a silk robe, drinking in the view that had once been nothing more than a wistful note in a travel book margin.
Warm arms encircled you from behind, and Jungwon's lips found the curve where your neck met your shoulder.
"I woke up and you were gone," he murmured against your skin. "For a second, I panicked."
You turned in his embrace, reaching up to brush a strand of hair from his face. No product kept it in place here—just like no tailored suits or carefully crafted personas had made the journey to this small Greek paradise.
"Just wanted to see the sunrise," you explained, smiling at the vulnerability he no longer tried to hide. "Old habits. Though I'm not used to you noticing when I slip out of bed."
"I notice everything about you now," he said, tightening his hold. "Especially when your warmth disappears from beside me."
Two years had passed since that fateful anniversary night when everything had broken open between you. Two years of learning each other, rebuilding trust, discovering what it meant to truly choose one another every day. The small, intimate wedding you'd held on this very island six months ago had merely formalized what your hearts had already decided.
"Penny for your thoughts?" Jungwon asked, noticing your contemplative expression.
"I was just thinking about that travel book," you said, leaning into him. "The one where I marked all those Greek islands, never believing I'd actually see them."
"And now you've seen five of them in three weeks," he replied with a smile. "With three more to go before we have to think about heading back."
The itinerary for this trip had been deliberately open-ended—a luxury neither of you had ever permitted yourselves before. No business calls, no social obligations, not even a fixed return date. Just the two of you moving at your own pace through the islands you'd dreamed of.
"Remember that cove I mentioned in my notes?" you asked, a mischievous glint in your eye. "The one where 'no one would expect Mrs. Yang to swim naked'?"
"How could I forget?" Jungwon's voice dropped lower, his hands sliding down to your waist. "It's circled on the map in our bedroom. I've been wondering when you'd bring it up."
"The boat captain said he could take us there this afternoon. Completely private, accessible only by sea."
His eyes darkened with desire—a look that still thrilled you, even after months of uninhibited passion. "I'll tell him we'll double his fee if he drops us off and doesn't return until sunset."
You laughed, stretching up to kiss him. "Always the efficient businessman."
"Only when efficiency serves pleasure," he countered, deepening the kiss until you were both breathless.
When you finally pulled apart, the sun had fully crested the horizon, bathing the white-washed villa in golden light. Jungwon led you to the small table on the terrace where he'd already set up breakfast—fresh fruit, local yogurt, honey, and coffee prepared exactly the way you liked it.
"I have something for you," he said, reaching into the pocket of his linen pants as you both sat down.
He placed a small package wrapped in simple brown paper on the table between you. His expression held an endearing mix of anticipation and nervousness that reminded you how far he'd come from the controlled, emotionless man you'd married.
"What's this for?" you asked, picking up the package. "It's not my birthday or our anniversary."
"Do I need a reason to give my wife a gift?" he countered with a smile. "Open it."
You carefully unwrapped the paper to find a leather-bound journal, its cover soft and supple. When you opened it, you discovered it was filled with poems—some typed, others handwritten in Jungwon's precise script.
"I've been collecting them," he explained, watching your face closely. "Every poem that made me think of you. The ones that helped me understand what I was feeling when I didn't have the words myself."
You turned the pages, eyes widening as you recognized some of the poems you'd once secretly marked in your books, now preserved in this new collection. But there were others you didn't recognize—contemporary pieces, older classics, even what appeared to be original works.
"Did you... write some of these?" you asked, looking up in surprise.
A flush crept up his neck—the unguarded reaction still so different from the controlled man he'd once been. "I tried. They're probably terrible, but..." He shrugged, a gesture of vulnerability that would have been unthinkable in the old Jungwon. "I wanted to find a way to tell you what you mean to me that wasn't borrowed from someone else's words."
You found one of his original poems, dated from the early days of your reconciliation:
I lived behind walls so high
Even I forgot what lay inside
Until your voice broke through
And light flooded places
I had kept dark for so long
I had forgotten they could shine
Tears pricked your eyes as you continued reading. The progression of the poems—from hesitant early attempts to more recent, confident expressions—mirrored the journey of your relationship.
"This is the most beautiful gift anyone has ever given me," you said finally, closing the journal and holding it against your heart.
"There's one more thing," Jungwon said, reaching across the table to take your hand. "I've been thinking about what you said last week, about not being ready to go back to real life yet."
"I was just being silly," you assured him, though the thought of returning to schedules and obligations did fill you with a certain dread. "We can't stay on vacation forever."
"Why not?" He smiled at your startled expression. "Not forever, but... longer. I've been working on something." He pulled out his phone—rarely used during the trip except for taking photos—and showed you a property listing. "It's a small villa on Paros. Nothing extravagant, but it has a garden for you and a study for me with a decent internet connection."
"You want to buy a house here?" you asked, stunned.
"I want us to have a place that's just ours. Not tied to the Yang name or business or social expectations." His eyes held yours, serious despite his smile. "A place where we can come whenever we need to breathe. Where no one expects anything from us except being ourselves."
"But your work—"
"Can be managed remotely for extended periods," he interrupted gently. "I've been talking with the board about restructuring my role. Less day-to-day management, more strategic direction. It would mean fewer hours, more flexibility."
You stared at him, processing the magnitude of what he was suggesting. The old Jungwon would never have considered stepping back from his corporate responsibilities, would never have prioritized personal happiness over professional ambition.
"What about your father?" you asked, knowing that Mr. Yang would view such a move as a betrayal of family duty.
"He'll adapt," Jungwon said with surprising calm. "Or he won't. Either way, I'm not living my life to meet his expectations anymore." He squeezed your hand. "What do you think? Not about him—about the villa."
You looked out at the endless blue of the Aegean, then back at the man who had transformed himself for love of you—who continued to transform, to grow, to choose your shared happiness over prescribed obligation.
"I think," you said slowly, a smile spreading across your face, "that I'd like to plant bougainvillea along that terrace wall in the photos."
His answering smile was radiant. "Is that a yes?"
Instead of answering with words, you stood and moved around the table, settling onto his lap. His arms came around you automatically, holding you as if you were the most precious thing in his world—which, you knew now, you were.
"It's a 'you make me happier than I ever thought possible,'" you said, framing his face with your hands. "It's a 'I love the life we're building together.'"
"Even if it scandalizes my mother?" he asked, laughter in his eyes.
"Especially then," you replied, leaning in to kiss him as the Greek sun climbed higher in the sky, warming your skin, illuminating the future stretching before you—unplanned, unprescribed, and gloriously your own.
Behind you, the pages of the poetry journal fluttered in the sea breeze, open to the last entry, written in Jungwon's hand just days before:
ouuu shiii request 🤤🤤 reader has a habit of sleeping with one leg up and lifts it while laying on jungwon one day 🤣🤤let your imagination run free goat
warnings ᯓ. bsf!jungwon, reader is clueless af, smut, mdni, foul language, bigdick!won, dry humping, p in v, unprotected (don’t), 18+ .
. . . your eyes shot open to the noises of the city filtering through the thin window. it wasn’t anything you weren’t used to— but jungwon’s apartment sat much closer to the heart of downtown, where the city never really seemed to sleep.
you blinked away the last traces of sleep, taking in the faint glow of the full moon spilling through the curtains. the digital clock on his nightstand read 4:01 a.m. too fucking early.
with a quiet sigh, you shifted, searching for a more comfortable position— or at least you tried to. your brows pinched together. why couldn’t you move?
you squinted your eyes— attempting to see in the darkness, slowly collecting that the pillow you normally hook under your leg was radiating warmth. it wasn’t a pillow. it was your best friend.
jungwons arm was thrown around your waist, your leg thrown over his lap and hooked around him. memories of staying up too late watching obsession and pausing every second to make funny comments came flooding back to you.
you slowly began to pull your leg off of him, trying way too hard not to wake him.
“mmm… don’t.” jungwons eyes stayed closed, his voice rough with sleep as he absentmindedly rested a hand on your knee, holding it exactly where it was. “comfy.”
your mouth fell open. you lay back down, readjusting your thigh over him— jesus. he’s fucking bricked.
“jungwon,” your breath hitched, still looking at him.
“hm?” he propped his head up, eyes pulling open, laced with sleep.
“you’re…” you looked down then back at jungwon, who was now smiling lazily.
“morning thing,” he dragged his words on, clearly tired. “help me with it, hm?”
your eyes widened. did he mean what you think he did? “you mean like-“
“only if you want.”
you were dumbfounded. sure, you’d had sex. but with jungwon? you were sure you would never have a chance with him— you gave it up years ago when he started throwing around the ‘best friend’ title. “yeah,” your voice came out strained.
he sat up against the headboard, pulling you onto his lap and rolling his hips against yours, earning a low moan out of both of you.
he put his hand on the nape of your neck and slammed his mouth against yours. continuing to guide you against him as his grip on your hips grew tighter.
you tore your shirt off before continuing the kiss, your hips still rutting against the tent in his sweatpants.
“shit—” you panted, digging your nails into jungwons shoulders as the knot in your stomach grew needier.
the friction brought a low whimper out of jungwon that only made you wetter. he gave in, pulling his boxers down just enough— cock springing free while you lifted off him to discard the rest of your clothes.
he groaned at the feeling of your entrance. a small wet squelch noise filled the room as you whimpered, adjusting to the stretch.
a ragged trail of red runs down his cheeks, his eyes filled with lust watching your walls surround his cock. it was a beautiful sight, even in the dark.
you whined, sitting in place and looking down, his size causing pain that was hardly allowing you to move yourself. “sorry,” you felt bad making him wait, slowly getting used to the new feeling.
he chuckled lowly, tracing comforting circles in your arm. “it’s ok,” he reassured. “when you’re ready.”
you started slowly pulling on and off of him, both of your uncontrollable noises from years of yearning filling the room. “nngh— fuck!” your arm flew to grab his bicep as your pace grew faster.
your slick covered the base of his cock, slowly dripping down with every thrust until it reached his lower stomach.
he whimpered through his teeth, bringing a desperate hand to your tit and throwing his head back. “shit— m’ gonna-“
your vision grew hazy at the extreme amounts of bliss, lashes fluttering and jaw slack.
you grinded down one last desperate circle, crying out as your walls clenched hard around him and you both tipped over the edge, his hips instinctively jerking upward into you.
“did that help?” you said mockingly, pulling yourself off and falling beside him.
- - -
a/n: sorry this took so long anon i have too many drafts
⌗ in which . . . when you get overly jealous over your boyfriend’s collab with another female idol, but he reminds you that you’re the only one who owns his heart
The music pulsed through the venue like a living thing, bass vibrating up through the floor into your bones. You stood in the dimly lit waiting area backstage, arms crossed tightly over your stage outfit, watching the monitor with an intensity that could probably burn holes in the screen.
Jungwon was out there your jungwon — the one who stole kisses in the practice room when no one was looking, who texted you goodnight even when schedules kept you apart for days, who whispered “mine” against your neck like it was the most natural truth in the world.
And right now he was dancing with her.
Karina, the senior idol known for her sharp visuals and even sharper stage presence. The collab stage had been hyped for weeks a sultry, powerful performance blending his group’s sharp choreography with her sensual concept.
The concept photos alone had made fans lose their minds. Tonight’s live stage was supposed to be the climax. You knew it was just work. You knew collabs like this happened all the time. You knew jungwon had rehearsed with karina for hours without a single complaint, treating it like any other professional gig.
But knowing and seeing were two very different things.
On the monitor, the lights dimmed to a deep crimson. Jungwon moved with that effortless, predatory grace he was famous for loose hips, sharp isolations, that signature smirk playing on his lips as he matched karina’s every step. Their bodies came close, too close, during the bridge.
Her hand slid down his chest in a choreographed move that looked far too intimate under the stage lights. He spun her, caught her waist, dipped her low while the crowd screamed, your stomach twisted.
You weren’t new to this industry. Jealousy was supposed to be something you outgrew after debut. Yet here you were, main vocalist of your own rising girl group, biting the inside of your cheek hard enough to taste blood, watching your boyfriend look at another woman like the choreography demanded like he was enjoying it just a little too much.
The final pose had them pressed together, faces inches apart, breathing heavy under the spotlights. The audience erupted. Karina laughed breathlessly and jungwon flashed that charming, boyish grin he usually reserved for you.
You turned away from the monitor before the lights even came up. By the time the show ended and both groups were back in the shared artist van heading toward the dorms, you had perfected the art of polite silence.
You sat in the back row, earphones in, staring out the window at Seoul’s glittering night lights. Your members chattered around you, still buzzing from the successful joint concert, but you only offered short nods and small smiles.
Enhypen had their own van, but you both knew the plan. After the usual post show debrief and quick costume changes at the company building, you would slip away separately and meet at the secret apartment the one your agencies didn’t know about, paid for with pooled savings and careful scheduling.
A tiny two bedroom hideout in a quiet residential area where you could be just be you and jungwon for a few stolen hours.Tonight, the drive felt endless.
When you finally unlocked the door and stepped inside, the familiar scent of his cologne mixed with your favorite vanilla diffuser hit you. The apartment was dark except for the soft glow of the city filtering through the half closed blinds.
You kicked off your shoes, dropped your bag, and headed straight for the kitchen to pour a glass of cold water. Anything to occupy your hands.The front door clicked open ten minutes later.
Jungwon stepped in still dressed in his stage outfit black shirt unbuttoned at the top, silver chain glinting against his collarbones, hair slightly tousled from the performance. He looked unfairly good under the low light, cheeks still flushed from the adrenaline.
He spotted you immediately and that trademark teasing smile curved his lips. He called out your name , voice low and playful as he locked the door behind him. “You disappeared so fast after the show i was looking for my favorite noona.”You didn’t answer. Instead, you took a slow sip of water, eyes fixed on the glass.
He tilted his head, cat like eyes narrowing in amusement as he shrugged off his jacket and tossed it over the couch. “Silent treatment already? The stage lights must’ve been brighter than I thought.”
Still nothing.
Jungwon padded closer, barefoot now, until he was leaning against the kitchen counter right beside you. He smelled like stage smoke, sweat, and that warm, addictive scent that was purely him. “Come on, baby talk to me or are you going to make me guess what’s got my pretty girl all pouty tonight?”
You set the glass down a little harder than necessary. “I’m not pouty.”
“Oh?” He leaned in, voice dropping into that flirty register he knew made your knees weak. “Then why won’t you look at me? And why do you have that cute little crease between your brows? The one you get when you’re jealous.”
Your head snapped up at that. “I am not jealous.”
Jungwon’s grin widened, delighted. He reached out and gently tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, fingers lingering against your skin. “Liar i saw you backstage on the monitor feed you were staring daggers at the screen the entire time karina and I were performing. It was kind of hot, actually.”
You swatted his hand away, cheeks burning. “It’s just choreography. I know that but did she have to press up against you like that? And that dip? The fans were screaming like it was a proposal.”
He chuckled softly, the sound vibrating through his chest. “It’s a collab stage, baby. We practiced it a hundred times. It means nothing.”
“Easy for you to say,” you muttered, turning to rinse the glass just so you wouldn’t have to face him. “You weren’t the one watching your boyfriend get all touchy with a senior idol who looks like she stepped out of a magazine.”
Jungwon moved behind you before you could escape. His hands settled lightly on your hips, warm through the thin fabric of your oversized hoodie. He didn’t press, just rested there, chin brushing the top of your head. “My boyfriend, huh? Possessive much?”
You tried to shrug him off, but he only tightened his hold, pulling your back flush against his chest. His lips ghosted along the shell of your ear. “I like it when you’re possessive. Makes me want to remind you exactly who I belong to.”
The words sent a shiver down your spine, but you stubbornly kept your voice cool. “Maybe you should remind karina instead she seemed pretty comfortable.”
A low, amused laugh escaped him. “There it is.” He spun you around gently but firmly, backing you up until your hips met the edge of the counter. His hands braced on either side of you, caging you in without fully trapping you.
Those sharp, feline eyes sparkled with mischief and something darker, warmer. “My baby’s jealous. Actually jealous over a stage performance. Should I be flattered or should I start apologizing?”“You’re enjoying this way too much,” you accused, but your voice had already softened, betraying you.
“Guilty.” Jungwon dipped his head, nose brushing yours in that teasing almost kiss he loved to torture you with. “Seeing you all fired up because of me? It’s cute. Dangerous, but cute. Makes me want to kiss that pout right off your face.”
You turned your head at the last second so his lips landed on your cheek instead. He hummed in mock disappointment.“Still mad?” he murmured against your skin, trailing soft kisses along your jaw. “Fine then I’ll just have to work harder to make it up to you.”
His mouth found the sensitive spot beneath your ear and you couldn’t stop the small sigh that escaped traitorous body. Jungwon noticed immediately, of course he always did.
“See?” he whispered, voice husky now. “Your body knows who it wants even if your pretty mouth is still sulking.”You pushed at his chest half heartedly. “won”
“Hm?” He caught your wrists gently, pinning them to the counter behind you with one hand while the other tilted your chin up, forcing you to meet his gaze. The teasing light in his eyes had shifted into something hotter, more intense. “Tell me what you’re thinking use your words, baby or I’ll keep guessing until I get it right.”
The proximity was overwhelming. His body heat, the way his thigh had slipped between yours without you realizing, the familiar scent of him mixed with the faint remnants of stage makeup. Jealousy still simmered low in your belly, but it was rapidly morphing into something else something needy and possessive.
“I hated it,” you admitted quietly, eyes dropping to his lips. “Watching her touch you watching you smile at her like that even if it’s fake i know it’s your job, but I wanted to drag you off that stage.”
Jungwons breath hitched the playful mask cracked just enough to show the raw hunger underneath. “Fuck, baby say that again.”
“I wanted you all to myself,” you whispered, voice gaining strength. Your free hand came up to fist the front of his shirt. “Not sharing you with the lights, the cameras, or her.”
Something possessive flashed across his face. In one smooth motion he released your wrists, cupped your face, and kissed you deep, claiming, nothing like the teasing brushes from earlier. His mouth moved against yours with intent, tongue sliding in when you gasped, tasting like the cherry lip balm he always stole from your bag.
You kissed him back just as fiercely, pouring all the evening’s frustration into it. Your fingers threaded through his hair, tugging lightly the way you knew drove him crazy. He groaned into your mouth, pressing his body fully against yours until you could feel every hard line of him.
When he finally pulled back for air, his forehead rested against yours, breathing ragged. “You have no idea what you do to me when you get like this,” he rasped. “All jealous and possessive makes me want to mark you up so everyone knows exactly who you belong to.”
“Then do it,” you challenged, eyes locked on his. The jealousy had burned away into pure heat now. “Remind me remind yourself.” Jungwon’s control snapped beautifully.
He lifted you onto the counter in one effortless move, hands sliding under your hoodie to grip your waist. His mouth found your neck again, sucking and biting hard enough to leave faint marks that would need careful covering tomorrow. You arched into him, a soft moan escaping as his teeth grazed your pulse point.
“Mine,” he growled against your skin, hands roaming higher, pushing the fabric up. “Say it.”
“Yours,” you breathed, helping him tug the hoodie over your head. The cool air hit your skin, quickly replaced by the warmth of his palms and then his mouth as he kissed down your collarbone.
Your own hands were busy, fumbling with the buttons of his shirt until you could push it off his shoulders, revealing the toned chest and faint sheen of sweat still lingering from the performance. You raked your nails lightly down his abs, feeling the muscles jump under your touch.
Jungwon hissed in pleasure, capturing your lips again in a messy kiss. “Bedroom,” he muttered against your mouth. “Now or I’m taking you right here on the counter.”
You laughed breathlessly, wrapping your legs around his waist. “Counter’s fine.”He groaned, half laugh, half desire. “Greedy tonight, aren’t we?”
“Only because you made me watch you dance with someone else.”
“Fair point.” He nipped at your lower lip, then scooped you up properly, carrying you toward the bedroom while your mouths stayed fused together.
The short hallway felt endless. By the time he kicked the bedroom door open and laid you down on the bed, both of you were breathing hard, clothes half gone. Jungwon hovered over you, eyes dark and reverent as he took in the sight of you flushed, hair spread across the pillows, lips swollen from his kisses.
“Look at you,” he murmured, voice thick. One hand traced down your side, fingers hooking into the waistband of your leggings. “All worked up because of a silly stage my jealous little star.”
You tugged him down by the silver chain around his neck. “Stop talking and show me who you really want.”His answering smile was pure sin. “As you wish.”
Clothes disappeared in a blur of impatient hands and whispered curses. When skin finally met skin, the relief was electric.jungwon took his time despite the urgency thrumming between you kissing every inch he could reach, murmuring praise and teasing taunts in equal measure.
“You think I could ever look at her the way I look at you?” he whispered as his lips trailed lower, across your stomach, teasing the edge of your panties. “No one else gets this. No one else gets me like this.”
You threaded your fingers through his hair, guiding him exactly where you needed him. When his mouth finally found you, hot and insistent, your back arched off the bed with a broken moan. He worked you open with tongue and fingers, relentless and skilled, until you were trembling, whispering his name like a prayer and a curse.
Only when you were gasping, teetering right on the edge, did he pull back. You whined at the loss, but he was already crawling up your body, kissing you so you could taste yourself on his tongue. “Want you,” he panted, forehead pressed to yours. “Need you right now.”
You nodded frantically, legs wrapping around his hips to pull him closer. “Then take me. Please, won—”
He entered you in one smooth thrust, both of you groaning at the perfect fit. For a moment he stayed still, buried deep, letting you adjust while he pressed open mouthed kisses along your jaw.
Then he started moving slow at first, deep rolls of his hips that had your toes curling. The teasing flirt from the kitchen was gone, replaced by raw, focused intensity. Every thrust felt like a claim, every moan he drew from you a victory.
You met him thrust for thrust, nails digging into his shoulders, leaving crescent marks that mirrored the ones he’d left on your neck. The jealousy that had started the night had transformed into this frantic, passionate proof that he was yours and you were his, no stage, no collab, no audience could change that.
“Harder,” you demanded, voice wrecked.
Jungwon obliged with a low growl, picking up the pace. The bed creaked beneath you. Skin slapped against skin. Your names fell from each other’s lips in broken gasps.
He shifted angles, hitting that spot inside you that made stars burst behind your eyelids. Your orgasm built fast and overwhelming. You tried to warn him, but all that came out was a strangled cry as pleasure crashed over you, clenching around him.
“Fuck—” jungwon followed right after, hips stuttering as he spilled inside you, burying his face in the crook of your neck.
For long minutes afterward, the only sounds were your ragged breathing and the distant hum of the city outside. Jungwon collapsed half on top of you, careful not to crush you, one arm draped possessively over your waist.
Eventually he lifted his head, brushing damp strands of hair from your face with surprising gentleness. The teasing smile returned, softer now, sated.
“Still jealous?” he asked, voice hoarse.
You pretended to think about it, tracing lazy patterns on his chest. “Maybe a little you did look pretty good out there with her.”
He laughed, the sound rumbling pleasantly against you. “Brat.” He pressed a lingering kiss to your forehead, then your lips. “Next time there’s a collab, I’m dragging you on stage with me instead. No more making my girlfriend watch from the sidelines.”
You smiled against his mouth. “Deal but only if I get to be the one pressing up against you.”
“Possessive,” he teased, but his eyes were warm, full of affection. “I love it and i love you.” Your heart fluttered the way it always did when he said it so casually, like it was the simplest truth. “I love you too even when you’re being an annoying flirt on stage.”
Jungwon grinned, rolling you both so you were tucked against his chest. “Good because I plan on making you jealous again sometime. Just so I can bring you home and remind you exactly how much I’m yours.”
You swatted his arm lightly, but snuggled closer, contentment settling over you like a warm blanket. The stage lights, the screaming fans, the choreographed touches they all faded away in the quiet safety of this apartment.
Here, under the soft glow of the bedside lamp, there was only jungwon’s steady heartbeat under your cheek, his fingers drawing lazy circles on your back, and the unspoken promise that no collab, no performance, no amount of jealousy could ever come between you.
Outside, Seoul kept shining. Inside, you fell asleep wrapped in the arms of the only idol who had ever truly mattered.And tomorrow, when the makeup artists asked about the faint marks on your neck, you’d just smile and say it was from the intense choreography.
Seoul’s boxing world is all champagne, flashing cameras, and designer suits — at least on the surface. Beneath it, the Shim empire was built on blood dressed up as luxury: violence, dirty money, underground fights. Men powerful enough to bury bodies and call it business. And you belong to the worst of them. As the daughter of Shim Group’s CEO, you’ve spent your entire life playing the role expected of you — untouchable, elegant, useful. But when YANG JUNGWON , a gifted fighter with bruised knuckles and quiet honesty, crashes into your world from Mapo-gu, and LEE HEESEUNG — heir to your family’s greatest enemy — starts pulling at secrets meant to stay buried, the carefully controlled life you’ve built begins to unravel. All while PARK SUNGHOON , your oldest and most familiar mistake, knows every ugly part of you that nobody else gets to see. The deeper the three of them pull you in, the harder it becomes to separate love from manipulation, loyalty from possession, and truth from performance. And when the truth finally surfaces, someone will bleed for it. Maybe everyone will.
featuring; yangjungwon x leeheeseung x parksunghoon x female!reader
estimated word count!! - 28k (ongoing)
themes! legacy as a prison , performance vs reality , love as consumption , class disparity , power imbalance , manipulation , violence hidden under beauty , the fantasy of escape , moral corruption , loneliness
content warnings for each chapter will be stated before. the following work is a work of fanfiction and does not reflect the personalities, thoughts and actions of the real people. this fanfiction will alternate between five different POVS including; reader, jungwon, heeseung, sunghoon and jake.
Warnings: 18+ mdni, shower sex, pw no p, nsfw, nipple/clit play, spanking , ‘good girl’ + ‘daddy’, squirting, just smut, fluff in aftercare ؛ ༊
☁︎ small a/n note: oh my gees Enhypen is coming to Amsterdam!!! I’m not okay.. I don’t know if I’ll post this soon so the tour announcement will probably be old news oop >< enjoy!
☁︎ check out my recent posts: ❦ ❦ + my playlist here!
“Fuck… so tight” jungwon groans into your neck as he fully burries his cock in your pussy, your nails buried in his back while he fucks your stupid under the steamy shower.
“Wonnie~” you whimper as you started to feel that you were losing your ability to stand.
“Mhm I got you baby” Jungwon murmured as he lifted you up against the cold shower wall, still buried balls deep into your tight hole.
While he fucked you he sucked hickeys all over your neck and breasts, his fingers kneading your sensitive tits as you threw your head back.
Moans escaped your lips as you felt a familiar coil in your stomach. He swallowed your moans by capturing your lips in a deep kiss, claiming you.
“Are you close baby?” He cooed as you whimpered his name, wanting him to make you cum all over his cock.
“Not yet love” he whispered as he pulled his cock out and turend you around, a shiver going down your spine at the contact of the cold wall and your sensitive nipples.
“Wonnie I’m so close” you whined as he landed a firm smack on your ass, making you moan immediately.
“Mhm be a good girl and count them, then I’ll make you squirt all over my cock okay love?” He said as he ran his index finger through your folds, teasingly dipping into your wet hole making you arch into him searching for contact.
“Patience baby, now count them hm?” He cooed.
He smacked your ass, it left a red print of his hand. “O-one” you whimpered as you felt a sting on your ass, you will definitely not be walking tomorrow.
“Louder love I need to hear you” he said as he grabbed your chin to kiss your lips deeply.
He smacked your ass again, this time it hurt less.
“Two.. mpff~” you moaned trying your best to say it louder, but your two quickly faded into a whimper.
“Mhm good girl we’ll go to ten” he said as he soothingly rubbed over your ass.
He smacked your ass ten more times, after each slap you automatically arched into him searching for more contact.
“Ten!” You moaned loudly as he landed the final slap on your ass, he immediately spun you back around capturing your lips in a deep kiss.
He slid his cock between your folds, teasing your entrance with his pink mushroom tip.
“You’ve been such a good girl for me love” he cooed as he rubbed his finger over your clit.
“Now I’m gonna give you want you want baby, take it like the good girl you are mkay?” He murmured as he pushed his tip in making your eyes roll back as you finally got what you wanted.
“Yes daddy”
He groaned as he heard those words coming out of your mouth, he entered you fully, his fingers never leaving your clit.
“Say that again” it wasn’t a question, it was a command.
“Please fuck me daddy” you moaned as he started moving, almost fully pulling out and then entering you balls deep.
“Mhm I’m going to make you cum so hard love” he replied as he started circling your clit in small circles making your eyes roll back in pleasure.
He felt your legs giving out again, so he lifted you up against the wall, this time he wrapped your legs around his waist tightly.
The new angle hitting even deeper made your vision blur for a second, you were already close.
He felt your gummy walks clench around him repeatedly, knowing you were going to cum soon.
“Wonnie I’m so close, please”
“Ngh.. baby come for me” he said as he sucked your left nipple, lightly biting it and the soothing by licking over it.
Those words made you fall apart completely, you came all over his cock, squirting all over him. Your vision going black. You wet juices covered his toned abs.
“Mhm good girl” he groaned as he circled you clit, burying his face jn the crook of your neck he game too.
Painting your walls white he loudly groaned your name.
“Shit baby you did so good for me” he said as he pushed a wet strand of hair out of your face.
“Let’s get cleaned up” he said as he pressed soft kisses all over your face.
“Mhm wonnie I don’t think I can walk” you said as he pulled out wrapping his arms around you securely making sure you don’t fall.
“It’s okay I got you baby I’ll clean you up love” he said as he held you in his arms while he put some shower gel on his hands.
He somehow was able to wash your body and hair, he carried you out of the shower bridal style and put you down on the toilet seat, grabbing a towel to dry you off.
He made sure to be gentle with cleaning oversensitive nipples and pussy. After he was done also drying himself he put on his boxers and handed you one of his t-shirts and a pair of underwear.
“Thank you baby” you kissed his cheek as he carried you to the bed.
He went to the kitchen but quickly came back with a warm cup of tea and popcorn, and also a small pill with a cup of water. The morning after pill.
“Here take it asap, I came without protection” he said as he handed you the pill.
“Mhm thank you wonnie” you said as you swallowed the pill taking a sip of your water to flush it down your throat.
He slid in beside you wrapping his arms around your waist tightly.
“What movie do you wanna watch baby” he asked as he pulled you impossibly closer to him.
“Hmm how about Notting Hill? It’s so romantic”
“Whatever you want love” he said as he turned on the tv.
Halfway the movie you fell asleep on his chest. He smiled softly as he heard soft snores coming from you.
He turned off the tv and nestled his face in your hair, inhaling your sent.
He quickly fall insleep after, his arms still wrapped around your small body.
He was so sweet.
𓏲ּ𝄢 author’s note : finallyy I finished writing a fic! I’m so excited to upload something again after more than two weeks! Hope yall enjoy, kisses! (Please comment if I made mistakes cuz I didn’t read it through.. oop)
𓏲ּ𝄢 important note ! : please do not copy or spam interact my posts. I appreciate your support but it will sadly shadow ban me and I will have to block u :(
