Warnings: smut, fluff, angst, vulgar words, unprotected sex, both are a swith, brief mention of daddy, slight cockwarming, breeding, oral sex (m), degradation
Wc: 2.7k
A/n:Â 18+, MDNI, read at your own discretion, might do a part 2?Â
Special mention: @jay-durian thank you sm for proofreading some parts and changing it!! <3
"GET READY IN 10 MINUTES!!" shouted the staff which was barely audible because of the roaring crowd, chanting your band's name. You fixed your earpiece and checked your outfit for the last time in case of any wardrobe malfunctions, we don't wanna embarrass ourselves in front of all the people, right?
"You excited, babe?" You looked up and noticed your best friend Dina, also one of the main vocalists of your band, who had a teasing look on her face. By that look, you already knew what she meant by 'excited'
"Shut up, you little shit" she laughed at your response and clapped her hand like a seal, she looks like one anyways, just kidding. Before she could reply to you, a certain someone grabbed your wrist and dragged you to a corner
"What do you need, Jake?" You took back your wrist from his hold and questioned the boy in front of you in annoyance
"Nothing, just wanted to annoy you" he said with a smirk on his pretty face. You glared at him, annoyed by his stupid antics. If he wasn't annoying you, he would be flirting with you which undeniably gives you butterflies.
"Look at you darling, glaring at me, so cute~" he cooed and pinched your cheeks teasingly. You pushed his hands off your face and stomped on his foot. Jake grabbed his foot in pain, he's pretty unlucky you're wearing platform boots
"fuck off, jake" you walked away from the boy, not noticing how he checked you out from behind in your outfit that shows off your pretty curves
"Everyone gather up!!" Shouted heeseung, the leader of the band. We gathered and Heeseung gave us his usual speech. Enjoy the performance and do your best, he said.
10 minutes passed, and you climbed up the stage one by one which made the crowd roar. You took your spot on the stage, wore your guitar strap, and looked at the crowd in excitement. Heeseung held his hand up to silence the roaring crowd, which worked every time.
"Good day, everyone. I just wanna thank you guys for coming, we appreciate it a lot." Awe's and claps were heard amongst the crowd "Are you guys ready?" Asked jay, the bassist of the band
"YEEEES" " WOOOOOH" "YES DADDY"
Jay chuckled at the response 'yes daddy' which made the crowd roar once again, what wild fans we got here
"THEN GET READY TO MAKE SOME NOISE WOOOOH!!!" Dina shouted, you did your intro, followed by the rest of the members. You can feel your body fire up, the thumping of the ground, and the noise of the crowd. You jumped and strummed your guitar, banging your head, just feeling the rush you feel surrounding your body in excitement.
Now playing your band's second song, which is kind of sexual, made the crowd wilder. A certain part came, Dina grinded her front to you in which you grinded back in return, that made the crowd cheer
"YES MOMMIES" "FUCK THAT'S SO HOT" "WOOOOH"
you laughed and shouted the lyrics, Dina took place in other parts of the stage interacting with the crowd. You looked behind you and noticed Jake, watching you darkly through his hooded eyes, licking his bottom lip before biting it. You unconsciously clenched your thighs, which didn't go unnoticed by Jake The concert ended and you all headed to a room backstage.
You sat on one of the couches with Dina beside you, drinking water, "damn girls, what a show you put up there, huh?" Jay chuckled, referring to the one where Dina grinded onto you and you grinded back
"My gay ass can't help it, okay? y/n looked so fucking hot there, strumming that sexy guitar of hers. You wanna strum something wet other than your guitar, babe?" Dina suggestively asked you, making you feel hot.
Damn, even you can't deny that your bestfriend is smoking hot too
"control yourself, Dina. You might get killed by someone's glareâ Heeseung said and looked at the other side. You followed the direction of his eyes and noticed Jake glaring at Dina, rolling the drumsticks on his hand
"Chill Jake, I'm not gonna steal y/n from you. I mean, she isn't even yours to begin with" ooh's are heard after what Dina said
"fuck off, Dina" spoke Jake, annoyance visibly clear on his tone, Dina flipped him off in response
âââ
Heeseung sent a text on your group chat saying that you had practice this afternoon. You stood up from your bed and got ready. After getting ready, you grabbed your things and made your way to the studio You arrived, got inside, and caught sight of Jake playing his drum. âOnly Jake is inside the studio, maybe I'm too earlyâ you thought
"Jake? Where are the others?" You asked him, he shrugged his shoulders in response You took a seat on the couch and felt your phone vibrate, indicating that someone messaged you
Dina: hey babe, sorry i can't come to the practice right now, Had an emergency. Enjoy your practice but not too much though!!
"Let me guess, Dina texted you saying she can't come to practice, right?" Jake raised his brows and asked you
"uhm how'd you know?" You questioned
"Those fuckers, they set us up. The guys texted me saying they can't come to practice. Is the tension so thick that they ditched practice to set us up?" the last sentence goes unheard by you. He looked at his drumsticks and played with it before placing it on his chair as he got up and walked towards you. You looked up and found him already staring at you. Before he could reach you, your phone rang which means someone is calling, and that someone was Heeseung.
You answered the call and heard various voices that sounded like they were debating about something before Heeseung finally spoke up
"y/n? Could you put the call on speaker?" Heeseung requested from the other line which had you nervous about what he was gonna to say
"Jake? Can you hea-" before Heeseung could continue what he's saying, someone cut him off
"HAVE A GOOD FUCK YOU TWO!!"
"YEAHHH, RUIN THAT PUSSY JA-"
"SHUT UP JAY, BABE FUCK THAT TINY DICK"
Jake snatched your phone and said âExcuse me you little shit, my dick isnât tinyâ and ended the call. You gasped at what Jake said, shock evident all over your face. Jake then took a seat beside you and said something that made your heartbeat thump so fast that you could hear it, maybe Jake can hear it too
"What are you waiting for, baby? Aren't we gonna do what they want us to do?" Jake leaned back on the couch, manspreading with a smirk on his face
Oh, how you wanted to wipe that stupid smirk off his face.
You looked at him dead in the eye and thought about how you've been waiting for a long time for this opportunity and now it is clearly right in front of you so why not grab it. Not only you have been waiting for this moment, jake has been too. With all the lustful glares, lingering touches here and there, and those suggestive remarks
You rose from your seat, your feral instinct taking over your mind and body. Pouncing at jake, you straddled him and crashed your lips onto his, emitting a surprised whimper from jake. He was utterly unprepared of your outburst
I mean, how can he expect you to do anything at all when every time he tries to hit on you, you either punch him or roll your eyes combined with your nasty remarks?
Every time jake tries hitting on you, you can't help but be annoyed at him for giving you those stupid butterflies on your stomach
And now here you are, sitting on jake at the couch of your band's studio, having never imagined that going to practice that your other three members had abandoned would lead you straddling jake, both legs on each side of him, your hands tangled on his soft hair and his located on your ass squeezing it from time to time, eliciting a soft moan from you. You pulled back from the kiss, his bottom lip between your teeth before releasing it to breathe but seems like jake doesn't want you to since his lips chased yours eagerly and kissed you like he's been starved for a long time
How could he not, right? He's been waiting for this moment for ages
You moved your hips, rubbing against his hard-on, which has been caged by the fabric of his pants, causing him to let out a groan. This time, Jake is the one who pulled back from the kiss and threw his head back as he guided your hips on his boner
"You like that jakey? Hm?" You grinded harder making you whine from the pleasure. You took the chance trailing kisses on his exposed pretty neck not forgetting to mark it on the way. You found his sensitive part based on his reaction, which keeps you sucking on that spot. Before reaching your hand up, encircling it around his neck full of your marks, you stopped sucking and admired the colors darkening
"My hand looks so pretty on your neck jakey" you leaned towards his ear and whispered "Bet it looks a lot prettier around your cock" Before nibbling his earlobe and leaning back
You gazed at jake, lust clouding your head due to the image in front of you, making your breath catch in your throat. Your reaction goes unnoticed by jake, making him smirk
"Why don't you test Dina's theory about my cock y/n?" With that being said, you got up from your position and kneeled after him. You teased his clothed crotch emitting a groan from him before unbuckling his belt and pulling down his pants, his boxers following after making his cock slap his lower abdomen because of how hard it is
All I can say is that Dina's theory is incorrect you thought
You touched his slit and used his precum as lube before bringing your mouth on his shaft and sucked his angry tip eliciting a breathy moan from the man above you
"stop teasing me y/n if you don't want me to punish you" You swirled your tongue around his tip before bobbing your head up and down, hands stroking the ones that can't fit. You felt Jake's hands collecting your hair forming it as a ponytail and pushed your head deeper, thrusting his hips onto your mouth making you gag. You removed your hands and let jake fuck your throat, letting few tears fall from your eyes
His thrusts became erratic indicating that his orgasm is approaching making you clutch on his tensed thick thighs. Jake's moans and groans are the only ones heard in the studio together with your gags
"f-fuck you f-feel so good, so good f-for me ahh" jake cried before one final thrust, you felt the bitter taste of his semen going down your throat before swallowing it all and got up from your kneeling position, took your oversized shirt off followed by your pants which make you now only in your lacy pair of undergarments causing Jake's flaccid cock stand up once again
"Oh my jakey, hard once again after seeing me in only my undergarments" his face displayed embarrassment making you giggle at his cuteness
Jake took off his shirt making you clench your thighs at the sight of his fully naked body before you created a smirk from him at your reaction. He grabbed you by your waist making you straddle him once again before dipping his fingers on your wet aching core, making you whimper from the contact
"Is this all for me, hm? Did making out with me and giving me a head make you wet? Aren't you a fucking slut? Darling?" You can only moan in response to Jake's degradation, bucking your hips for more friction. Tears are starting to form in your eyes from the lack of touch making jake giggle
"Do you want my cock baby?" You nodded eagerly emitting a smug look on his face. He leaned to your ear and whispered, "beg" before leaning back on the couch, hands finding home on your hips
"Please baby? Fuck me with your pretty cock and make me cum so hard because of how you feel so good inside me, pretty please?" you begged giving him an innocent look, feeling his cock twitch on your thighs
He kissed you hungrily which you responded fervently, he unclasped your bra from behind freeing your boobs from the cage they were once in making you sigh in contentment. Jake palmed your tits, massaging each of them making you gasp. Jake took the opportunity to slide his tongue inside your mouth fighting against your warm moist muscle
You released first from the kiss and pushed your panties to the side, grinding on his cock feeling its prominent veins making you let out breathy moans. You held his cock sliding it between your lower lips up and down, collecting your arousal using it as your lube before pushing it in slowly eliciting a moan from the both of you in delight
"a-ah jakey you're so big, filling me up so w-well ngh", praising him because jake is a sucker for praises which you noticed whenever your having rehearsals. When you guys were undergoing rehearsals, jake astonished you all with his drumming skills, which gained him a lot of praises from your members and staff's, making him giggle and blush all over
"fuck baby your pussy is so tight", You started moving your hips up and down to find your rhythm. Once you found your pace you began to thrust quicker, making the both of you moan at the blissful feeling. Jake met up with your movement hitting your g-spot, making you cry from the euphoric feeling. You felt your body become hot and the familiar knot forming, making you clench on his dick
Jake moaned from the feeling of your tight cunt and warm walls deliciously clenching around his cock, making his second orgasm of the night approach faster. He pushed your panties more on the side to have access on your clit, rubbing it on circles to make your orgasm faster
"yes yes yes it feels so good ahh"
"Baby I'm gonna cum", because of his sloppy uneven thrusts, you sensed jake is about to cum
"Let's cum together jakey, cum inside me", hearing what you said pushed a grunting jake to cum, followed by you, leading your legs to quiver from the euphoric sensation engulfing your body, driving you to see stars as jake continued to thrust slowly inside you to ride out both of your highs
Pants are heard in the studio, sex lingering on the air, making the both of you laugh. You looked at jake and noticed him already staring at you fondly, you leaned in and kissed him once again but slowly and softly this time. The kiss, full of untold feelings and yearning. You pulled back and rested your forehead on his starting to regret why you always reject his advances
"I like you, y/n. I know this is not the right time to confess because we just fucked and probably not the right time but I just can't keep it inside me anymore and watch Dina ste-"
A shade of red crept up on the tips of his ears emitting a laugh from you making him pout. You kissed his pouty lips before caressing his face softly
"i like you too, dumbass" his ramblings making you grin
You came to the realization now why you keep on rejecting his advances, it is because you're afraid of falling in love, afraid of rejection, and afraid it is a one-time thing. But now you're unafraid of taking risks knowing jake feels the same way, maybe more than what you felt for him.
"Will you be my girlfriend?"
You moved your hips up and down once again eliciting a moan from a sensitive jake, its gonna be his third orgasm after all
summary. when you and jungkook show up to your much anticipated graduation trip and realise neither of you had the guts to tell your friends about your recent break up, thereâs only one thing you can do to keep the trip from falling apart: pretend.
but somewhere between fake kisses and real feelings, you start to wonder if letting go was ever the right choice at all.
pairing: jeon jungkook x f!reader
genre/warnings: exes to lovers, fake dating, idiots to lovers, mutual pining, a LOT of angst, fluff, (eventual) explicit sexual content ( mdni ! ), swearing, alcohol consumption, ft. seokjin, namjoon, hoseok, jimin, taehyung, yoongi + four female ocs, other chapter specific tags
- win one win me (14k, no smut, strangers to lovers, college sports au, romance) âą @jaylver
- emails i cant send (9.4k, heavy smut, boss heeseung x employee reader, yummy office romance/smut!!) âą @i2sunric
- trapped. (9k, smut, angst, toxic behaviors, stepcest!, fluff if ur delusional and squint!) âą @lassiie
jake:
- eyes closed (3.6k, loser roomate jake!!, no smut just fluff and romance, roomates to ? idk but its really freaking cute T.T) âą @iekeu
- bet you (5k, smut, academic rivals, science nerd jake, enemies to lovers?, this is overall just really cute and i <3 nerd jake so..) âą @blackwhitez
- stuffed (1.2k, smut, cockwarming, its beautiful.) âą @emisluvr
- second law (3.3k, fluff, crack, super cute and dorky sweet nerd jake who is assigned as your tutor!!) âą @sweethoneyjays
- liquid sweetener (5.2k, smut, jake taking care of his extra needy sick gf.... its so cute and nasty... perfect combo if u ask me!) âą @intromortal
sunghoon:
- inch by inch (23.6k, heavy smut!!! monster cock hoon. thats pretty much it but this is probably the best smut ive read honestly.) âą @intromortal
- meet me at the rink (10.3k, minor angst, fluff adorablness love the plot sm!!! its actually so amazing) âą @nocturnebite
- get you better (13.6k smut, cheating boyfriends bsf hoon) âą @i2sunric
- hoodie thief (no wc but lengthy!, heavy smut, roomates to lovers deliciousness ) âą @tobiosbbyghorl
- babysitter (22.4k, smut, rich dad au, enemies to lovers, age gap! lowk sugar daddy jay vibes to me.. mean!dom jay, dub-con) âą @jaysbaefie
- all mine (husband jay vs wife reader playing a little prank on him. its really cute... the tiktok trend where u ask your s/o to leave the room while u change!!) âą @enhaeil
jungwon:
- ecstasy (3.3k, smut, insatiable won, cnc, use of toys idk but it's delicious) âą @mssishipi
-cat & mouse (2k, flirty neighbor won! teasing skinship, cute shit. in my head they r married and have 2 kids now, i wrote it in my head) âą @boyfhee
- calc crush! (2.2k, smut, tutor wonnie!! so cute, soft dom won and lots of praising) âą @wqnkiverse
multiple members & poly fics:
- safe & sound OT7 (SERIES! 142k, theres love interest but im not spoiling that :P just read it trust me. dystopian apocalypse au, horror slow burn and ANGST., this fic is genuinely a masterpiece if u havent read this read it now. this is the only fic ive ever followed along and been foaming at the mouth for chapters to drop. genuinely one of the best fics ive ever read like this is better than any book, genuinely writer is so gifted we love u) âą @thatfeelinwhenyou
- girls goon too (5.3k, just smut, stepcest, step brothers heeseung and sunghoon @.@) âą @ireverie
- fuck toy (just smut, jakehoon, hoon is your bf and he lets you fuck jake, infront of him ofc <3) âą @wonbyyou
- only ever you. (5.7k, smut, light angst?, fluff, jakehoon x gf, poly relationship, soft doms jake joon, somewhat bratty sub reader. this is so cute and fed my poly enha craving so well) âą @loljaeyunz
- i would give up heaven if i had to.. (SERIES! multiple chapters, LONG!) step-siblings heehoon! morally grey characters, toxic manipulative behavior, heavy smut) âą @drunkhazed-archive
â i have sm more i swear ill try to compile another post like this but i had to digg these up fr, next time im gonna start writing down my rec list as i read!! anyways hope u guys enjoy and go show these writers lots of love!!!! they are all so amazing!!!!
Genre: ATLA au, enemies(?) to lovers, forbidden romance, royalty au
General Warnings: violence (bending fights), injuries (mentions of broken bones, burns, blood, bruises), alcohol consumption, mentions of prostitution
Smut Warnings: multiple smut scenes, fingering, dry humping, slight exhibitionism, oral sex (f & m receiving), unprotected sex, handjob, hair pulling, marking, virgin!reader, wonwoo has a tiny bit of a corruption kink
Length: ~14k | Fic Length: ~64k
Credits: banner: @caelesjjk and @shadowkoo | betas: @tomodachiii @miniseokminnies @gyuswhore @haologram and @wqnwoos
Note: insane insane insane. i started this from a tiny little head cannon forever ago and when i started writing i anticipated maybe 20k max. but im a liar because this quickly excelled that by a landslide. i hope yall enjoy this monster of a fic as much as i did writing it. i'll be uploading each part with one day in between. p.s i used the ATLA wiki to build a believable setting for this but it really diverges from cannon and doesn't mention any of the original characters from the cartoon.
summary: Wonwoo is the best fire bender in Capitol City. Or he is. But a water bender he's never seen before changes everything.
| Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 |
m.list
This blog is intended for 18+ only! Minors/blank blogs will be blocked.
Ranchous voices filled the warehouse, deafening as the hoard of bodies looking for a night of gruesome entertainment flooded the stands. Steam and smoke and dust clogged the air, only cleared by the occasional rush of wind the massive hole in the ceiling that showed the clear night sky above, the moon barely half full and the stars dusted across the sky.
Wonwoo watched from the catwalk criss-crossing high above the ring like always. He wonât fight until later, not until someone was dumb enough to challenge him once the adrenaline of the smaller spars bubbles to their head and they decide they would be the one to end his winning streak proudly tallied on the leaderboard.Â
But for now he stood on the metal platform. Below, Jihoon launched a clay disk at his opponent with terrifying speed. With a wide swing of his arm, Chan knocked it aside before it could land, spinning off balance from the recoil.
Too easy. But no matter how many times the two fight, Chan never catches on to Jihoonâs tricks until it's too late. Jihoon hurled a second disc â cracking it into pieces with a squeeze of his fist â at Chanâs head. The airbender managed to dodge the first piece but the other two landed true, crumbling him to his knees. The crowd fell into a frenzy of starved animals, foaming at the mouth as a tally mark appeared next to Jihoonâs name on the victory board.
Wonwooâs name sat on the next line above, so many tallies they nearly ran off the side of the sheet of repurposed metal.Â
He rarely lost. Dokyeom might force a draw for fear the building would burn down if a fight dragged on; but the last time that happened was nearly two years ago when Seungcheol demanded one final fight before retiring. They both walked away with matching black eyes and limps, his friend with singed uneven hair, and Wonwoo with a concussion and a dislocated shoulder.
It was one of the few fights Wonwoo didnât mind losing. Defeat was much sweeter when he got paid half the betting pool for it.
The next fight geared up to start; another air bender and a fire bender racing into the ring. Wonwoo rarely cared to watch their fights. Hoshi lacked finesse, relying on overwhelming his opponents, while Seungkwanâs temper historically ended the match before it could really begin. But it never stopped the audience from rushing to place their bets with Jeonghan like always.
Deciding he needed a drink for the chaos about to unfold, Wonwoo descended the stairs towards the crude bar in the corner of the upper tier of the stands. Itâs nothing more than a shabby counter top, covered with colorful bottles and cracked cups.
The sting of fire whisky going down didnât shock his system nearly as much as the woman leaning against the wall; watching him, gaze heavy on his skin even in the dim light.Â
Rounding the bartop, Wonwoo didnât look away as he approached. If you balked under his gaze, he canât decipher a tell; only a satisfied smile pulling the corner of your lips high and your eyelids lowering until his chest brushes yours.
His arm rests above your shoulder, pinning you beneath his gaze. âYouâre staring at me.â
It isnât a question, it's an accusation. And youâre more than guilty.
âAnd what are you going to do about it?â You asked, chin tilting back defiantly, eyes narrowed. Wonwoo makes the mistake of looking at your mouth, hypnotized by the tantalizing pout of flesh as it slips into a smirk. He walked right into your trap before he even knew what was happening.
He dipped closer, eyes still on your lips. âWhat's your name?â
Just as your nose brushed his own, you melted off the wall and under his arm. Wonwoo cut a glance over his shoulder to find you stalking backwards into the crowd, eyes never leaving his until you're swallowed into the fold without a trace.
The dare was so obvious in your gaze. Paired with the teasing words, Wonwoo felt something surge inside him. That hot need to chase, to tease you back. To find out if your boldness evaporated with enough attention or if youâd use the same haughty tone to chaste him in private.
Wonwoo moved to do just that but heâs called to the ring for the next fight.
âOur reigning champion, the man of fire,â Dokyeom preened dramatically into the mic. The crowd roared in enthusiastic response. âThe longest running victor in bending battle history!â
People parted as Wonwoo approached the walkway leading to the isolated platform surrounded by a steep drop off into a pool of water. Maybe he reveled in the applause and anticipatory cheers longer than necessary but if anyoneâs earned it, he has.
âAnd our newest challenger!â
The poor idiot who signed up to fight shouldnât last too long, Wonwoo isnât interested in dragged out humiliation. Especially not now. Hopefully, he can end this quickly and find you again, bargain his victory for your name and maybe some time alone.
But, as swiftly as his hopes ignited, they crumbled to ash. Dokyeom continued his rambling as you flashed a smug smile across the ring.
He faltered for only a moment before continuing towards the center of the ring. Out of the dark, he failed to decipher anything that might give him advantage. You lacked the breezeness of an airbender, posture too rigid, the cocky defiance from earlier still present. Maybe an earthbender. Or better yet, a firebender.
Your eyes trickle down his form. Only one of you is at a disadvantage so far but it wonât remain that way for long. Wonwoo thrives on a challenge, and after so long without one his heart squeezed in excitement.
âGood luck.â
You remained silent, eying Wonwooâs outstretched hand before ignoring it, turning towards your side of the platform with your nose in the air.
Gasps of shock erupted around the warehouse. The stands circling the platform were fuller than before, even the people who only came to socialize found a sudden interest in the stranger bold enough to snub the best. Wonwoo paid them no mind. Youâre the most interesting opponent heâs had in a long time.
Words from earlier echoed in his ears.
What are you going to do about it?
Wonwoo followed suit and retreated to his post with a few grounding breaths. The flame inside him grew in preparation. Hungry. Vicious. It raged until there's nowhere for the fire to go but out.
The starting bell cut the air; immediately he's on the offensive, dropping into a low stance, arms drawn into his side before the shrill sound stopped. A swift punch launched a huge fireball from his fist, a swell of heat surging through his veins as it sails over the ring with terrifying speed. Then another and another, fast enough that just as one dissipates, itâs already replaced with a new explosion of flames.
Barely any smoke filled the air when they dissolved. They were nothing more than a cheap scare tactic; completely hollow shells aimed to intimidate rather than maim. The fight is just starting and there's no reason to throw his best moves just yet.
You sidestepped each blow, dipping close to the floor before rising again and twirling out of the way with catlike grace. Wonwoo lobbed the next one right in your path but you adapt without pause. Like youâre dancing around the fire. With the fire.Â
Wonwoo rushed forward, taking the advantage to drive you towards the edge of the platform, refusing to grant an ounce of reprieve. Not that you needed it. Every blow is avoided even as he adds more punch to the moves, each burning hotter and brighter than the one previous.
He maintained a healthy distance, plenty of room to keep the heat away from himself as his arms sweep and a ring of fire slices at your feet, close enough to singe the edge of your boots before you can avoid it completely. But you dove through the opening and rolled back to your feet, as if you expected the blow.
Wonwoo sliced his hand through the air, a razor thin whip of flame bursting forth to lick against your chin, close enough to feel the heat but Wonwoo maintains control. You couldâve blocked the move but you retreat again, eyes furious at the smoke of burnt hair jagged from contact dangling next to your jaw.
Wonwoo canât detect any attempt at bending. The clay disks stacked at the edge of the ring remained unmoved, the air undisturbed. Thereâs no pull at the flames heâs conjuring, no hint that you're manipulating his own fire against him.
After another one sided volley of hits, your refusal to fight began to wear on his nerves. He harnessed more flame with a sweep of his leg, a swift stomp sending it over your head before it exploded and knocked you to your knees. You controlled the impact and roll to a crouch, eyes blazing,
âIs that really all youâve got?â you said, shoulders squared but lax.Â
Thereâs no teasing in your voice, if anything itâs cold disappointment. To Wonwooâs shame, a hot bolt of want ran through him. Images of you whispering the same words, with the same haughty tone, flashed in his mind; back in the dark corner near the bar where you started this entire game; back in one of the many unused rooms of the warehouse with just you and him and no one else to watch him earn your approval.
Your leg circled around and Wonwoo prepared himself for something of interest to finally happen but you used the momentum to raise back on your feet and brace for the next round.
Wonwoo realized you must be a waterbender. The way you moved, melting around every attack, shifting with impressive flexibility, was a dead giveaway. That or just plain stupid. If you walked into this fight with no bending then it was only a matter of time before you cut your losses and yielded.Â
Only one way to find out.
A towering wall of pure flame, large enough itâd scare even him to be on the receiving end, swelled in front of Wonwoo. The crowd roared in excitement, feral for the inevitable end to the match. There was nowhere for you to evade this time. It was either into the flame or off the backend of the platform.Â
A flat footed kick sent the wave barreling directly at you, consuming more oxygen and growing wider with rapid speed.
The flood of fire forced your hand. A tsunami of water rose from the grates criss-crossing the ring, geysers gushing with enough pressure to shake the floor. A sharp hiss echoes as opposing elements collided in an explosion of steam thick enough to clog the entire warehouse. So dense Wonwoo canât see in front of his own nose.
Wonwoo stood unfazed, even as the crowd distantly murmured in confusion. Now, the game truly began.
âCome out, come out, wherever you are,â he called, listening. Waiting.
A splash behind him is the only warning of your presence. Wonwoo slashed his leg through the air, an arch of flame slicing through the fog providing a brief glimpse of visibility before it sealed back up. However, it did nothing more, you werenât there.
âLongest running victor in battle history, and he canât even land a hit,â you tsked.
Wonwoo jerked at the sound of your voice, so close he expected to find you right behind him but heâs only met with a faceful of powder.
A fucking snowball?
You must have been close enough to see the scowl twisting his face because you giggled before launching another.
âCanât handle a little water?â you snorted.
Under different circumstances, ones not involving you pelting him like a child, Wonwoo might have enjoyed the sound. He might have even wanted to find out what the sound tastes like on his tongue.Â
Another snowball, this one more ice than anything, collided with his chin and that desire turned into cinders. He whipped fire towards the noise but missed.
Arms raised, he feigned as if to launch another and instead harnessed his breath and forced a wider arch of flame to evaporate the fog youâve hidden in. Wonwoo found you evading from the corner of his eye and used the moment of weakness to spring into action.
Except you crumbled with a choked scream and the sudden rush of victory tastes like ash.
Three wide strides and Wonwoo was there, hunched and ready for the next blow; ready for another one of your tricks. But your choppy breathing extinguished his competitiveness. The air reeked of burnt. The entire ring smoldered with heat.
He shouldâve known better; especially with you. So clearly unprepared for the intensity of a fight like this. Dokyeom should never have let you put your name down to fight, let alone against Wonwoo.
Acrid smoke rose from the discolored collar of your tunic; too close to hope he hasnât burnt your face but he does anyway. Wonwoo prepared for the worst as he rolled you over, already yelling for a healer.
He isnât prepared for an icy fist straight to his nose with enough force to send him onto his back. âWhat the fuck?â
Another blow landed on the back of his head. Hot blood rushed forward as the next punch lands with a grotesque crunch against his nose. His skin stung with cold, eyes burning from the sudden influx of pain.
Long channels of water with blunt frozen ends sprouted from the grates like a watery forest. You stood unscathed amongst the pulsing curtains, smiling like a lunatic.
Wonwoo covered his head from the brunt of attacks. His nose was broken and one of his eyes was already swelling shut. A torrent of water collapsed over him, bearing down with the power of a waterfall. His knees buckled. The air in his lungs abandoned him.
In a last ditch attempt to save his pride, he thrusted his hand forward. The reek of ozone clouded the warehouse as electricity splintered towards you.
And as if itâs nothing, you redirected the bolt of lightning through the opening in the warehouse roof as Wonwoo watches in shock.
The warehouse went silent. Seconds grew into minutes but no one moved as you rose into a lazy stance.Â
Wonwoo watched through sweat and blood, dark spots floating in his vision as the sound of your boots grew closer.
âHow disappointing,â you sighed just loud enough for him to hear before striding towards the platform and out of view.
When the echo of your footsteps faded, Wonwoo sank into darkness.
In the late hour, the Middle District streets buzzed with life. Vendors shouted, hawking their wares, boasting exotic produce and clothing with incatract embroidery from the farthest reaches of the world. Taverns packed with patrons singing and hollering in drunken glee. The smell of fried dough and roasted meat wafted through the air.
Mingyu was easily distracted with every stall he passed. Why, you had no idea. Even as a guard he could get the
best quality of anything he wanted at the palace; food, clothing, drink. But he stuck his nose in the air as the scraggly old man refuses to barter over the bruised moon peaches and wanders down the aisle to another stand with the exact same selection and even more wrinkled merchant.
In the midst of his discussion on cherry nuts, you slipped away, down one of the cramped alleys choked with smoke and shouts of people enjoying the balmy night.Â
No one looked in your direction twice as you meandered through crowded walkways, children squealing as they chased each other and adults shouting in annoyance when one bounces off their knees. In all the chaos, it was easier to disappear and actually explore without Mingyu hovering like an anxious mother hen. If anyone would get you two caught for sneaking out of the palace, it was him. Even in servantâs clothes, you couldnât help but feel woefully out of place and he wasnât helping.
The side streets were calmer; veins flowing slowly into the heart of main street. People moved in lazy sways, some appearing to only remain vertical from leaning against door frames into dark hallways. The lanterns strung above cast an oily sheen on the cobblestone. If you remembered the archive maps correctly, the Gaiety should be close.
Even through the thick clouds above, you felt the moon swelling. Only a few more days until sheâd be full and with it came the unbearable restlessness. Mingyu only agreed to sneak you out of the palace after the fight weeks ago because youâd nearly taken his head off while sparring.Â
A night away, somewhere new. Somewhere to take out the energy without nearly killing him. The warehouse out in the harbor was out of question after the fight weeks ago. Not with the way you made a spectacle of the cocky firebender youâd studied for weeks. Mingyu threatened to rat you out if you thought for a second to step back in there. At least itâd been worth the loss; Wonwooâs face as you redirected his lightning like it was nothing was worth every second of Mingyu's anger.
No longer feeling like one of your grandmotherâs koi, swimming in endless circles of the garden pond, you forced your shoulders to slouch, chin tipping down to obscure your face beneath the wide brim of your hat.
Most of the buildings lining the street are shabby; peeling paint, splintered windows, wooden steps on the brink of collapsing from years of rot. Most are alive with noise, men and women crowded around low tables just beyond the door, wine flowing like a river and laughter spilling from open windows.
Further down, where the lanterns are more sparse with red shades casting everything in an eerie glow, the air grows thick with smoke. The street twisted like a grotesque snake, turning at harsh angles to hide whatever waited beyond, tangled in indecipherable turns. Buildings were little more than shacks, each leaning on the one next to it for support; stacked like a house of precariously stacked cards one gust of wind away from crashing down. Plenty of alleys jutted off into darkness, shadows shifting with scantily clad women and what looked like couples making no attempt to obscure what was clearly taking place. A small crowd still mills about, some ogling but most too absorbed in their own merriment.Â
Just like when that firebender hit you with lightning, hairs all over your body stood on end. This place is wrong. You need to leave. Now.
Turning to do so, you found yourself nose to nose with a man completely blocking your vision.
âWhat is a pretty girl like you doing all alone?â he said, clearly drunk from his haphazard slant. That, or incredibly stupid. His breath stung your nose, bile rising at the scent of liquor.
Water, or something resembling it enough to heed your command, rocketed from a nearby drain pipe. The thick haze over the area dissipated in an instant, all eyes on the man frozen to the rickety wall of a nearby building, face turning purple as he shouted indignantly.Â
You stared for a moment, stunned by your own hand. And then, you ran.
People shouted as you crashed through them, feet pounding on the uneven stone road. Several sets of footsteps chase, gaining by the sound of it, all calling for you to stop. You pushed yourself to run faster, so hard your muscles burned but you pressed forward.
Lungs screaming for breath, you rounded the entrance to the main street in time for someone to snag your arm in a vice grip.
âLet me gââ Your scream is muffled by your captor forcing your face into his chest, arm slipping around your shoulders to keep you from breaking free. You fought but couldnât break free.
âWalk, donât look backâ a deep voice rumbled.Â
The hands were too warm to belong to your guard â not that youâd be lucky enough to run into Mingyu and make it back to the palace so easily â completely unfamiliar and unnecessarily rough. Between the guards still in pursuit not far behind and the man already dragging you through the crowd, you preferred the odds of whatever this new stranger had planned.
Out of the side street, your new captor maneuvered hastily. People parted on either side of your path, allowing more distance to grow between you and the mob, but their yells licked at your heels. You chanced a glance up and found the very firebender youâd humiliated weeks ago. Features schooled in a neutral expression, Wonwoo kept moving further down the street, steps so wide it was difficult to keep up.Â
âNext intersection go right.âÂ
Your heels dug into the ground, refusing to move another step with this man. No way he took that beating weeks ago and wasnât holding a grudge. You humiliated him in public, in front of his friends and probably a few enemies; few men would take that without protest and pass up an opportunity for revenge.
âTrust me, princess.â
The word striked frigid fear through your veins like ice. But he kept his eyes forward, constantly scanning the crowd and using the momentary pause to push you forward. You bounced off another couple as you stumbled to do as he says, face still hidden in the collar of his shirt. The street is still wet from last nightâs rain and the water calls in reassurance.Â
Wonwoo underestimated you, like so many others. Even though he didnât look smug about knowing your identity he was still a threat. Perhaps he thought your victory was a fluke but you were prepared to remind him what defeat tasted like.
But first, you needed to lose your pursuers. And for now, Wonwoo served that purpose.
The street he turned you down was far calmer, but no less packed. The bodies moved in a gentle pulse unlike the crush of the central avenue. Wonwoo pressed forward but not as urgently, flowing with the ebb of foot traffic.
Your muscles tensed as distance from the main street grew, prepared for Wonwoo to strike. To pull you into one of the shadowed alleyways and challenge you to another brawl. But there were too many witnesses here for him to do much, not to mention all the buildings made of wood. Unless he was a unique type of stupid.Â
But, surely this was far enough to shed him. Another busy street was not far ahead, one you recognized; farther south from the palace than youâd like but youâd make do. You just needed to find Mingyu and get back to the tunnels before Wonwoo caught back up.
Preparing yourself to run, you chanced another look to see if guards from earlier were well and truly gone. The chaos of before hadnât followed, no shouts or discontent from the people left in your wake. But you couldnât be sure until youâ
âDonât look.â
You huffed but faced forward once more. âI wasnât going to!â
âYes, you were,â Wonwoo swallowed something like a laugh.Â
How dare he! If he thought he could take you captive and chastise you like a rebellious child then he had another thing coming.Â
You jumped to your toes, twisting against his tight grip at your waist to peer back. Only to find one of the men from earlier already staring straight at you.
âHey! Stop right there!â
âYou looked,â Wonwoo groaned. âRun!â
Turning again, you froze the lanky manâs feet to the ground. He stumbled at the unexpected set back, crashing into passersby who seemed none too pleased but you could only assume from indigent yelling as Wonwoo dragged you away.
âIn here,â Wonwoo whispered, shoving you into a dark alley, barely more than a divot between buildings before he followed suit.
His body pressed tight against yours from knee to shoulder. Like back in the warehouse. When he nearly pinned you against the wall and almost made you forget the entire reason you went at all that night. When he tempted you with a different challenge than what you planned to offer. You might have considered the proposition if Wonwoo hadnât failed so spectacularly; let him prove his worth beyond bending.Â
In the dark, you tripped over the slick paced ground and fell straight into Wonwooâs chest. With your hands planted on his shoulders, you felt his lungs stretch around gulps of air. Under more pleasant circumstances youâd remember the impropriety of it all. Alone with a man, in a dark corner of the city; breath mingled in choppy pants, the heat of him sinking straight into your bones with his thigh between your knees. And his hands. Such rough, warm hands pinned against your sides. If anyone saw then theyâd see a couple unable to wait for a more private location.
But you didnât find yourself caring in the slightest. Not about propriety or even the fact that Wonwoo all but admitted he knowingly fought a member of the royal family and was now doing something even more scandalous. You couldnât think when you were wedged so tightly between a wall and a man, intimate proximity youâve never experienced before. The miraculous way his palms fit perfectly against your hips, how his breath ghosted against your forehead and the deep rumble of his voiceâ
âWhat were you doing?â he said. âAre you trying to get yourself arrested?â
If only heâd shut his mouth long enough for you to enjoy the fantasy of being like any other woman in the kingdom, free to touch and be touched. But the reprimand shattered the short lived dream.
âThey wouldnât have arrested me,â you huff indignitaly. âI had it under control! Or do you need a reminder?â
âBy all means, freeze me to a wall! That went so well last time, didnât it? Maybe this time you can just wait around for them to catch you.â
âMaybe I will!â You jabbed a finger into his chest, momentarily shocked by the firm muscles there, before ducking out of the alcove and back onto the street before doing something stupid with the new information.
But Wonwoo yanked you back into the shadows just in time for one of the men to run past. âDo you even know where youâre going?â
âOf course I do!â you silently scream. âWhy wouldnât I?â
âBecause only an idiot would visit the Red Lanterns alone. Especially a woman. You clearly didnât belong there.â
He said woman, not princess. Maybe he didnât know. Maybe it was a stupid nickname you were looking far too much into. There was no reason he should have recognized you. Your grandmother was so fiercely protective of her sole heir apparent that she hardly let you explore even the farthest corners of the palace grounds, let alone appear somewhere subjects got close enough to make out a single feature beyond your silhouette next to her. Only nobles, guardsmen, and servants would recognize you and the entire appeal of visiting the Middle District was none of them would be here. No one would know their princess was among them.
âOh? And how do you know?â
âYouâd be a lousy prostitute if you froze all your customers to a wall.â
You watched his face for any hint of dishonesty but he stared right back, eyes blazing with the same contagious annoyance. He didnât know. His heart raced beneath your palm but didnât stutter with dishonesty.
âThen what were you doing there?â
âI saw you earlier and thoughtâŠit doesnât matter.â He eyed the disgust on your face before sighing. âJust tell me where youâre going and Iâll help you get there.â
âThought what?â you gritted.
The air thickened with silence as different emotions flashed across Wonwooâs face. He was no better than the drunk who tried to proposition you. Your thoughts might have devolved into something less than proper but youâd never act on it. If he thought he could justâ
âNo!â he shouted, eyes wide and bright red despite the dark. âThatâs notâŠI wanted to challenge you to a rematch and then you went and got yourself into a fight.â
âSo you were stalking me?â
âYouâre in my neighborhood, waterbender. How do I know youâre not stalking me?â
You snorted at that in an attempt to ignore his muscles flexing between your thighs. He couldnât have not noticed how compromising the position was. If he dipped his chin you could easily kiss him. Not that you would. Ladies did not kiss strange men in alleys; especially not princesses. Even if the strange man was incredibly handsome. And muscular.Â
âWhy would I need to stalk you for a rematch? I know where to find you if I need a confidence boost.â
Whether you liked it or not â and you most certainly didnât â you were stuck with Wonwoo until you could shake him and the group of Middle District guards after you. Something tells you even if you did tell him you knew exactly where you needed to go, heâd follow just out of sight. That simply wouldnât do if you wanted to keep your identity a secret; assuming he truly didnât know.
Which meant he really did want to help; at least for now. As you peered back up, the fading bruises littering his jaw came into focus. Ugly splotches of yellow and green. Gifts you gave him freely and would happily supply more in spades but there is a twinge of guilt souring your stomach
âDid I do this?â
âYeah,â he released a long breath through his nose, subtly leaning into your finger unconsciously tracing the marks. Someone did a good job healing him. âAnd you broke my nose.â
âMaybe next time you should learn to block,â you teased.
The same fire from when he approached you in the warehouse burned across his face, hot enough to scorch everywhere his body touched yours. Maybe one kiss, just to see what all the fuss was about, wouldnât be so bad. The maids seemed to talk of nothing but which stableboys and guards they were kissing; how some were bad and others were good. Whatever that meant. How several were skilled at doing more vulgar activities with their mouths and hands. No matter how many times you asked, none of them ever answered what exactly they were so talented at but you read enough to have an idea.
For the briefest second, you wondered if Wonwoo would demonstrate just what it was that made the maids giggle so incessantly.
But as his head dipped closer to yours, the spell broke by the crush of reality. You needed to get back home. You needed to find Mingyu.
You looked back towards the street before speaking again, âI donât know what the street is called but my friend was checking out fruit stalls when we got split.â
âAh, yes,â Wonwoo grumbled, head tilting back against the wall behind him. âThe one street with fruit merchants. Remember anything else? Cobblestones and people? Were there buildings?â
Smartass.
âUm⊠there was a stall with spirit carvings and a tea house.â
He scrubbed his face, or attempted to. There wasnât enough room between your faces for the action so his hand hovered in the darkness awkwardly before collapsing back against your side. It seemed only then did he register his proximity, and whatever anger he clung to melted into stammering embarrassment.Â
âDid you see the sign for the tea house?â he asked, eyes on the street.
âIt was silver and had aââ
âThe Silver Dragon. I know it. Come on.â
Another check that the coast was clear and Wonwoo pulled you back into the street, arm slung over your shoulders. He navigated easily enough. Each time he spotted something suspicious ahead he pulled you towards a stall, feigning interest in whatever goods were on display while watching from the corner of his eye until he deemed it safe enough to continue towards the Silver Dragon.
Slowly the buildings became more familiar; a merchant with a unique hat, the raven eagle fountain that hosted squealing children splashing in its waters. An old woman dishing out cups of frozen watermelon juice.
A silver flag embroidered with a dragon hung limply overhead. You scanned for Mingyu but to no avail, faces passed and blended the crowd into an amorphous ocean of strangers. Wonwoo kept a firm hold on your shoulders as the crowd swayed. He gripped your bare upper arm beneath the billowing sleeve of your tunic. No one besides your maids had touched you like this; so familiar and foreign at the same time. The heat of his palms like the first lick of a fire after hours in the snow.Â
While Mingyu appeared to have moved on, the guards seemed to have doubled back. They wove through the thicket of people aggressively. Wonwoo froze, noticing at the same time that there was no way to turn around without garnering their suspicion.Â
The street choked into a tight squeeze, locking you in place as the guards surged forward. Twenty feet, then ten. Then only a single person separated you from them and desperation fanned the flame of stupidity.
Your neck strained upward, and before Wonwoo could jump back, you fisted a hand in his hair and dragged him down to meet your mouth. He hesitated before sinking into the kiss eagerly, commanding your full attention with his teeth and the, with his tongue. With another pull, he guided you into the narrow space between merchant stalls, tripping over his own feet until all you registered was the hot press of him to your front and the chill of brick behind you.Â
Itâs not like the sweet chaste kisses in the plays you grew up watching. Wonwoo demanded nothing less than your complete attention with a hot suck against your bottom lip. You copied him with clumsy eagerness.
All the thinking, the responsibilities and reminders plaguing your consciousness silenced their screaming; instinct filled its place. Your hips thrashed until his thigh slotted between your legs with dizzying firmness but then there was the want of more that had you rocking against it. In the process you brushed against a lump between his own thighs, and the instinct to rub against it was too strong to ignore.
Wonwoo only groaned before diving to lap against the sensitive skin beneath your ear. He surged forward, meeting every curl of your hips with an enthusiastic arch of his own. A hand at the base of your spine, beneath your tunic, angled you just so â completely at his whim. His other hand heated the side of your throat, tipping your head back to leave you panting with another rough press of his mouth.Â
Unconsciously, you traced his side, tugged at his shirt before letting go and only to crush the fabric again. Then your hands fell down his stomach until your palm pressed against that straining hardness and Wonwoo seized, teeth razing against your ear until you did the same.Â
âSpirits,â he exhaled through swollen lips, grinding into your hand.
You sucked him back into another kiss, laving at the swell of his bottom lip until he knocked your hand away and spread your legs for a raw drag against your core. His head tucked into the crook of your shoulder, panting breath creeping through the fabric of your top as he did it again. The press of his mouth made your pace sloppy, mindless grinds until you both groaned.
You wanted him without the frustrating barrier of clothing obscuring the warmth of his hands, his chest; to have him do something about the aching emptiness settled in your core. The pang of needing something stoked by the bruising twists of him against you.
Thereâs no sound over the roaring blood in your ears. Sparks flashed in your vision but your eyes sneak open to watch Wonwooâs face twisted in agony. You latched on to his neck â biting and licking the same way he did â until he made that noise again.
In the corner of your vision, you registered the pedestrians moving past as if nothing was happening. As if their princess wasnât concealed only feet away, pressed against a strange man with a hand sneaking beneath the tie of his pants.
But instead of embarrassment, a hot jolt squeezed your chest. No one knew. Much like the nights you snuck from the palace to explore the city, your freedom was innocuous. A way to learn what was hidden behind the false shine councilmen presented in their reports and the poetic ramblings of tutors.Â
Wonwoo could teach you about those sneaking passions that drove you mad on long nights. He already proved how much better they were when someone else wanted to resolve them.
Hours or days might have passed as you focused on coaxing out more of those delicious sounds â nail raking through his hair with every rut, rolling against him the same way waves rolled over the shore of the ocean under the full moon's pull.
Your vision blurred, unfocused on the faces walking past as Wonwoo sucked a bruise into your skin. That feeling in the pit of your gut twisted painstakingly tight like an itch you couldnât scratch. More and more, until a familiar face passed by and reality came like an ice bath.Â
Mingyu.
He couldnât see you in the shadows, and the call of his name morphed into a throaty whine as Wonwoo snaked his hand further down your spine, down the back of your pants to squeeze the curve of your ass painfully. He continued to mouth at your shoulder, unaware. When you pushed him this time he pushed back with a hungered moan until you tugged him out of hiding.
âI have to go,â you panted, melting out of his grip. Your voice was unfamiliarly husky. Everything felt slower, hazier like the smokey streets earlier.Â
His body tightened, attempting to pull you closer before letting go. Lips wet with spit, he regarded you with pure confusion. âWhat?â
But you were already back on the street before you could answer, underwear uncomfortably sticky. A problem for later; in the dark safety of your room. With vivid memories of a handsome firebender and the way his body felt surging against yours.
You chased Mingyu down the street, snatching his hand and taking off before temptation got the better of you and marched you back into the alley for Wonwoo to finish what started.Â
âWe need to leave,â you said. âNow.â
âSpirits, what did you do?â Mingyu cried.
âJust go!â
Wonwoo didnât chase, and a part of you curdled with disappointment.
Wonwoo knew he should be in bed. Sleep or not, his body needed rest after the last few nights he spent awake plagued by the nightmare of you. He couldnât concentrate. Blows heâd block with ease slipped by, bruises littered across his torso as proof. Forms heâd been drilled on for years and years to the point of muscle memory became sloppy enough for his commanders to notice.
And it was all your fault.
You were everywhere; the teasing lit of your voice, the heat of your eyes, the taste of your lips, those soft noises you made when Wonwoo pressed his cock into your core.Â
It was bad enough after the first night you challenged him. Dokyeom spent all night healing Wonwoo and it hadnât soothed the sting of humiliation. Then came the fact that no one knew who you were; Dokyeom hadnât gotten your name, Jeonghan took bets under âdeath wishâ. No one recognized you from anywhere in the city. You were a ghost.Â
But then fate granted him a second chance, only for it to slip through his fingers. Again.
He couldnât sleep, couldnât eat. Couldnât do the one thing heâs good at without being consumed by thoughts of you.
Moonlight dappled through the trees overhead, casting everything in a hazy filter of silver and shadows. Something scurried across the trail ahead and dipped into the bushes. Wonwoo was only fifteen minutes out from the barracks, too close to people for any of the bigger creatures to venture close. Even if something did come across his path, maybe it's what he needed; a new distraction from the one who's been terrorizing him non-stop.
Besides, Wonwoo was a soldier, body trained to remain vigilant even if his mind wanders. If something decided to attack he could handle it. But only fireflies and cicada crickets disturbed the stillness of the forest late at night.
He isnât sure how long he walked but the moon remained heavy and full in the sky. The sun lay far way away, deep beneath the horizon. Wonwooâs thoughts wandered farther than his feet could take him, imagining how youâd be spending a night like tonight, probably somewhere getting into more trouble. Maybe freezing another drunken pervert to a wall.
Wonwoo couldnât help but laugh at the idea. You with your nose in the air as some man begs for mercy, leaving him to rot just because you could.Â
Then, as all his thoughts of you were in the past few days, the images morphed until it was you and him. You beneath him, on top of him; him between your legs, his cock, his mouth, fingers. All of it as he tried to earn your approval.Â
There it was. The uncomfortable tightness across the crotch of his pants, the sweat at the edge of his collar. Even the most innocuous thoughts of you sent his body into a helpless frenzy. He hated it all the more because no matter what he did it never stopped. It didnât matter if he trained until his bones crumbled in on themselves, muscles wilted and spent, there was a part of him immune to exhaustion in light of you. When he took the herbs the medic recommended to help him sleep, his dreams were plagued with the most vivid visions of you; even worse than the waking ones.
It was all your fault for kissing him.Â
He could have dealt with the embarrassment of being defeated swiftly in the ring. Things happened, he wasnât immune to bad luck against a good opponent. But you kissed him, and touched him. You let Wonwoo touch you as if there wasnât a busy street of witnesses only a few feet away. You wanted him to; purred and whimpered with each drag against his thigh. If he had slipped his hand beneath your underbindings like he wanted to there would be evidence of your arousal. He wanted to do that too â where anyone could have seen him. On his knees, with his mouth between your legs as you writhed and pulled his hair until you came.
But he didnât know your name and was at the mercy of the spirits if he was ever to see you again.
Wonwoo followed the channel, meandering with every bend as his mind worked over and over. He just needed to clear his head enough for tomorrow. After that, heâd figure something out. Find a way to find you or hope you stumbled into his path once more.Â
Splashes up stream pricked his ears. The closest waterfall was at least an hour's trek upstream from the barracks, where the mountains dropped off into a steep cliff like a spirit cleaved it in half. Wonwoo didnât know how far or how long he walked but the trees were too dense to be that far out.
The ground was no longer soft from the rain days ago and allowed Wonwoo to sneak forward without sound. It was a shame the night was so clear, the shadows hugging close to the trees, not nearly enough to conceal himself in. But it was of little consequence.Â
He saw you in profile, bathed in moonlight as you stood in the river, water parted into great walls on either side. Even at a distance, Wonwoo traced the silk binding your torso and the dark leggings clinging to your thighs as you danced among the swelling waves eager to follow your whim. If he hadnât known better, it looked like the moon was focusing her gaze on you, illuminating you from beneath your skin.
The longer he looked the more he was convinced you were a spirit. No matter how close the waves came to your person, they never seemed to make contact; water completely bent to your will, under total control.
Wonwoo shuffled closer like a moth to a flame. Completely enamored with the sight before him, he didn't realize his mistake until a twig snapped beneath his foot.Â
In an instant, the sweat and humidity clinging to his clothes froze; icy crystals stinging against bare skin.
Your chuckle was barely audible over Wonwooâs hiss of discomfort. Heat flushed through his veins, melting your attack but the chill remained.
âYou know, it's getting really hard to believe you arenât stalking me,â you called. The rings of water floated around you even with divided concentration. Something like jealousy and awe rooted in his chest.
âHow was I supposed to know youâd be out in the woods tonight?â
âIâm just saying itâs convenient that you always show up when Iâm alone,â you smirked. âDonât worry. I didnât freeze anyone to a wall this time.â
Cover blown, Wonwoo approached the dry river bank. âSpeaking of that, you never said âthank youâ for saving your life.â
The whip circling your figure sagged back down into the stream. Wonwoo felt a piece of him warm that he was distracting enough to crack your focus so significantly despite the full moon. As you turned, he became privy to just how much visible through the silk bindings criss crossing your chest. âYou didnât save my life but thank you. Now, do you want to fight or can I get back to my training?â
He couldnât help but focus on the glittering drops of water cradled in your collarbone. How sweet theyâd taste on his tongue if given permission.Â
âI think Iâll watch for now.â He took a seat on the river bank, legs sprawled in front of him, a careful bend of his knees so the tent in his pants became less obvious.
âSuit yourself,â you shrug. The tentacles previously encasing you rose once again.
It was entirely inappropriate to ogle a woman in nothing but her underclothes. If Wonwoo was a better man heâd leave, or at least have the decency to pretend he wasnât staring like a starved wolf. But you were spectacular, flowing through different forms with ease that even the best trained guards in his unit would envy. You bent and stretched and twisted suggestively beneath the moonlight.
If you had a weakness, it didnât show. You bent the river to your will easily, skill that only came with years of trial and failure. Wonwoo stopped admiring the sight of bare skin and focused on your strength as you flowed into the more advanced forms. Thick branches hanging over the river snapping clean from nimble water whips, tree trunks peppered with ice daggers the size of his forearm.
He couldnât help sending a disc of flame to cut off your next water whip, collapsing it into the grass as you stared indignantly.
Another stream met a tongue of fire from his fist, a burst of steam left in its place. This time you face him with a huff and Wonwoo simply shrugged.
Wonwoo ignored your next moves. You reached over head in a wide circle, back stretched long, all the muscles and skin obstructed by the frustrating blue fabric. It wasnât until you froze a wall of water in place that he sent a blast of heat, melting the ice to drench you.Â
âOops,â he shrugged, stifling a laugh at your indignation.
Itâs not as funny when you dump half the river on him and Wonwoo was left gasping like a fish.
When he could finally breathe again, you smiled innocently with an âoopsâ of your own.Â
Then the game was on.
Unlike the disappointing night at the warehouse, Wonwoo kept up this time.
You never sparred with someone who didnât treat you as something fragile. Even Mingyu, try as he might to entertain your wishes, refused to attack with the full force he was capable of. Wonwoo didnât harbor the same concern.
Neither of you kept advantage for long. Every water whip evaporated before landing, each fireball snuffed by a wave. It was invigorating. You stood shaking and sweaty after hours of trading blow for blow, the moon already dipping low in the sky. Wonwoo didnât appear to be faring any better. The bruises on his jaw were faded but new ones stained his torso, blood trickling down his elbow from a particularly nasty ice blade. Singed holes scattered your leggings but the grass and trees claimed the brunt of damage.
It would have been so much easier to concentrate if he hadnât shed his shirt after a whip tore a jagged hole across the front, revealing a muscular torso to the pale moonlight. It was horrible knowing what beneath his clothes looked just as good as it felt the other night. Even worse when his pants ripped just above the knee and you caught a glimpse of his thigh.
The entire reason you even snuck out tonight was because of him. His taste, the feel of him pressed against you so intimately. It haunted you day and night â in sleep, while awake, in meetings, when you were all alone. There was nowhere you could go without the memory of his body against yours; nowhere you hadnât wondered what could have happened in that alley if Mingyu hadnât walked by.Â
You needed something to banish the feeling of his mouth on yours, to dissipate the restlessness settled deep in your muscles. While wading knee deep in the river wasnât a smart idea, there was nothing at the palace that could help. No one wanted to spar, not to the level you could during the days leading up to a full moon. It wasnât fair to give your all while guards curbed their skills in fear of hurting you.
So you bid an early goodnight, feigning some sort of illness and retired to your room before the sun had set. Once the moon started her venture across the sky you dug in the back of your wardrobe for the dark clothes from days prior. They were wrinkled but served their purpose. With Mingyu standing guard at your apartment entrance, you snuck out the tunnels and into the city beyond the palace walls.Â
The clearing was exactly what you needed. Plenty of water and space to lose control, trees offering their service as target practice for whatever twisted move your mind conjured. It helped. Your muscles strained with a level of exhaustion unfamiliar to you, enough so that your mind couldnât roam as easily. But then he plowed through the forest like he owned it. Of course you couldnât have a moment of peace, the spirits wouldnât allow you to indulge in serene silence if they could help it. They sent Wonwoo straight to you as an act of retribution for your long list of sins.
But sparring with him burned away some of the tension. If you were fighting with Wonwoo then you couldnât think about all the other cravings; of finishing what you started against that wall. Sending ice floes at his head kept him far enough away that even if you wanted to pull him against a tree or down to the grass, you couldnât.
âIs that really all you got?â he taunted. Wonwooâs pain is clear on his brow, every step closer punctuated by a limp and labored breathing.Â
âOh, please,â you grunted, launching a weak ice disc at his head. The wall of fire lapping at your heels disintegrated as Wonwoo dodged. âAs if you could handle more.â
Something feral flashed in his eye at the taunt. âTry me.â
Well at least this time he wasnât so disappointingly easy to overwhelm.
You skated across the clearing. With the river to your back once again, you pressed the advantage and sent wave after wave. Wonwoo narrowly dodged them with well timed kicks, his fire dispersing them into steam. But each volley soaked clearing until he struggled to remain upright on the muddy ground as he approached the riverbank.
With your next attack, he fell on his back with a hard grunt. For a long second he didnât move and you worried youâd seriously injured him this time.Â
âWonwoo?â
His chest rattled with each labored breath as you approached. He looked horrible; a mess of sweat and dirt, hair matted to his head. His eyes flickered with pain as he stared up at you, hesitating to take your outstretched hand before accepting.
Back on his feet, Wonwoo wasted no time tackling you into the water.
Breaking the surface, you screeched, âYou jerk!â
âCome on! I got that move from you,â he laughed.
Even in the midst of dunking his head under, your blood warmed at the sound. He gripped your body tightly to his own, pinning your wrists together in one hand, effectively cutting off your bending. But you refused to go down without a fight. Fortunately he didnât think youâd be formidable at hand to hand combat and while it was true, he was stronger, you slammed your foot against his thigh, breaking Wonwooâs hold long enough to slip away.
He breached and sputtered before following again. âWhere did you learn that?âÂ
You tussled on the shore, shoving handfuls of mud into each otherâs hair and skin. Your legs hooked around his waist, rolling until you sat on his stomach.
Bad idea.
Youâre close enough to trace the silver scar through Wonwooâs brow. A fraction lower, his eyes light with the same fire as when you kissed him the other night. Rocks bit through the thin fabric of your pants, jagged against your knees. But Wonwoo was unaware, tilting his chin up to capture your lips.Â
You bore down on him, sighing into the seductive heat of his mouth. Wonwoo groaned with a curl of his hips. It took all your focus to snatch his hands from your waist and pin them above his head but he didnât seem to mind as you rained a series of wet kisses down the column of his neck.Â
He made another desperate sound as you tugged at the water just out of reach, freezing thick cuffs from Wonwooâs elbow up to his fingertips.
âGotcha,â you whispered against his throat.Â
He slumped into the ground, an indignant huff fanning across your forehead. âVery funny.â
âFrom where Iâm sitting, it is.â
Youâre smirk dissolved as he rolled his hips once again. The force sending you up his chest, hands bracketing his shoulders in an effort to maintain balance. To your shame, a sharp gasp squeezed from your lungs at the motion.
âWhat was that?â
His face â barely an inch away â was lax despite his confinement. Itâs enticing. The way heâs spread out, chest displayed, muscles stretched; all of him on display, including the stains on his skin tugging at your conscience. Your hand glided down his chest, catching droplets from the stream to heal the fresher injuries. Those muscles flexed under your gentle touch before relaxing. Wonwooâs eyes closed with a sigh of relief as cuts knitted back together and bruises faded.
âYouâre really bad at this,â you said plainly, shifting focus away from the need to rut down.Â
Wonwooâs eyes widened for a moment, ears reddening before he sputtered. The realization dawned on you like the icy waters of the river. Oh.Â
âNot that!â you corrected. âFighting me. Iâd thought youâd be better this time.â
âItâs a full moon,â he argued, eyes closing once again as you mended a scratch along his chin. It wasnât even bleeding, but the compulsion to touch him was too strong to ignore.
âSo? I could fight you with my hands behind my back and still win.â
âWanna test that theory?â
With a dismissive wave the ice trapping Wonwoo melted before you answered, rising to your feet before you did something stupid. He was healed enough. âI think Iâve done enough damage to your ego.â
He barely reared back his fist for an attack when the same water froze him again. Now, with his arms and legs immobilized, he glared up at you. Predictable.
Without thinking, you pinned his chest down with a muddy foot. You couldnât help it; something so satisfying as having him at your mercy conjured the reckless parts of your brain. âYield.â
His eyes followed the line of your leg, up your torso, only pausing on your wet breast bindings for a moment, and then finally met your gaze. âIf I donât?â
âI can leave you here,â you shrugged, only to hide a shiver. âIâm sure youâll thaw out by noon.â
Perhaps it'd be better to leave him shackled to the ground. You could leave him and get back to the palace before doing anything scandalous. He could still firebend as long as his mouth was uncovered, and after all the noise of the battle none of the wild life would come close before he freed himself. But Wonwoo wasnât fond of the idea of waiting until morning to leave.
âFine,â Wonwoo huffed. âI yield.â
The ice melted again, soaking his pants. No sooner did you turn around, Wonwoo sent a lick of flame at your ankle and, in your attempt to dodge, you sprawled next to him with a hard thud.
âYou yielded,â you groaned in pain.
âIâm a sore loser.â Wonwoo rolled to his side, the weight of his gaze heavy on your face. One of his hands found the strip of skin between your bindings and your legs, tracing it with maddening pressure. How easy would it be for him to slip that same hand beneath your pants and touch you again. âWhereâd you learn to fight like that?â
âI practice a lot.â
âWith who? Assassins?.â
One of your eyes opened to glare. âI watched a few of your matches. YouâreâŠpredictable.â
âI never saw you at the warehouse before.â
âYeah well, I didnât want to be seen.âÂ
Wonwoo took the opportunity to cover your body with his own, a thigh back between your legs and pressed just right against your center. His mouth found the sensitive spot beneath your jaw as he crumbled your defenses. You could afford to indulge a little bit; some kissing, more of that mind numbing friction from the market. Just to set your nerves at ease, untangle that insufferable knot in the pit of your stomach.
âAnd why is that?â
Before you can answer, Wonwoo kissed you again but this time you were prepared; surging up to meet him like a tidal wave.
Somehow, the weight of his body like that was even better than when he crowded you against the wall; heavy and satisfying for you to grind against, chasing warm friction. This time he touched without restraint, tugging at your bindings until they fell slack, committing the new swaths of bare skin to memory with his mouth and wandering hands.Â
His tongue traced the slope of your breast, the chill in the forest pinching your nipples tight for his teeth to take one between.Â
âOh,â you moaned, fingers tangled in his hair, urging him to give more. Wonwoo offered the sting of a bite, sucking harder when you made the same depraved sound. You felt it everywhere, down to your core where he pressed against you with a kick of his hips. Far better than when you tried touching yourself after he had lit a consuming hunger in your veins. As if Wonwoo knew the spots driving you mad better than you ever would.
No one was around to hear the way you gasped his name as his hand snaked between your legs, the heel of it nothing short of mind numbing as it rocked against your clit.
âStill predictable?â
You leveled your gaze with his, furious at the confidence you found. During the spar you met him blow for blow. This would be no different, just a new stage.
âYouâre hard and trying to scandalize the wildlife after I kicked your ass,â you stuttered through the last bit because Wonwoo curled his fingers against a spot you didnât know existed. âYouâre incredibly predictable.â
You touched him just as eagerly; dipping beneath the tight cling of his pants and fisting his cock with false bravado.
He stopped when you thumbed the leaking tip, huffing against your chest with a throaty groan of his own before continuing with renewed energy. Wonwoo pressed himself through your loose grip, back and forth and back and forth with that mesmerizing hardness that was soft like velvet and hotter than any fire heâd attacked you with; each cant in time with the way you rocked against him. Until he followed your lead and dipped his hand beneath your leggings, calloused fingertips sliding timidly as you writhed beneath him.
âWonwoo, please.â You needed something, anything. He kept his teeth at your breast, sucking and licking while a finger shallowly dipped inside you.Â
âTell me what you want,â he gritted, pulling until you sat back in his lap completely bare from the waist up, the silk of your bindings left on the ground.
I donât know! I donât know, tell me what I need, you thought; but you'd rather die than admit inexperience. Instead, you acted on instinct. Each rock of your hips proved it was the right path, the tight press of his fingers better with the new angle as you clung to him. You sank further into it, Wonwoo encouraging you to take whatever you wanted.
It was too much and not enough. Your chest thrusted forward with every motion, and the hand cupping you gently turned into rough pinches hard enough to sting; his mouth the same.Â
Maybe you could sneak out of the palace every night for this, or sneak Wonwoo in. It wouldnât be too difficult. He could give this to whenever you needed, no one the wiser as you bared yourself between the sheets for his eyes only.Â
âSo fucking wet.â He punctuated the observation with another finger, palm rocking into that explosive place again and again. Youâre knocked off-balance. Knees spread wide to accommodate and Wonwoo took full advantage to brush your hand away from his cock and pull you further into his lap, both hands beneath your bottoms; perfect to roll against as he leaned back to watch. âDonât seem disappointed now.â
You swam through the beginning of something, Wonwooâs voice grounding you back down to reality. The goading you could do without but itâs a small price to pay. As long as he maintained the wet slide of your core, he could say whatever he wanted. Your mouth dropped open, head tilted back as your thighs quaked.Â
âIââ you gasped. All at once the world snapped into a million stars.
He kissed you; your chest, your throat, cheeks, lips. Anywhere Wonwoo could reach was stained with the warmth of his mouth as you shuddered with teary eyes, raking pink lines into his chest. He swallowed each wrecked sound until you kissed back with shaky breath.
 âYouâre dirty.â
âExcuse me?â you scoffed.
His humor exploded against your cheek, laughter tickling your ears as he dragged a finger across your collarbone. He meant the mud caked to your back, knotted in your hair. But you couldn't focus on the ridiculousness. Wonwoo was still hard, the dewy tip of his cock peeking from the band of his pants. The sight made your chest ache.
The laughter turned to a stunted moan as you gripped him once more. You shifted down his thighs to make more room, but Wonwoo kept you close, nipping at your jaw with each stroke. Itâs unlike anything you felt before, the power, the thrill of undoing him, watching as he crumbled into a panting mess beneath your fingers. You pulled his hair and licked behind his teeth.
âO-oh. Fuck,â he groaned. His head fell back, the smooth skin of his throat enticing as he swallowed another sound; the pale glow of early dawn sun providing a startling contrast.
Panic flooded your veins. You looked up and found the moon sunk deeper to make room for the new day.
You were late.
âShit. Shit. I have to go.â You scrambled away, snagging your bindings. They were disgusting but you had no time to wash them. At least the shirt you snuck out in would hide the wreckage. You tied them tight, whipping around to find the rest of your clothes.
âWhat?â Wonwoo blinked, as if he was waking from a dream; eyes glazed, cock dewy and pink in his lap as he stared up at you.Â
You flushed, tempted to sit back down and pretend it was a mistake. The voice whispering in the back of your head wanted nothing to do with responsibilities and obligations. You wanted this. To be reckless and enjoy what Wonwoo offered, and feel the way he responded when offered the same.
But the pale morning light brought reality with it.Â
âIâm sorry. Iââ There was nothing else you could say. No explanation that wouldnât leave you both with heartache. So you kissed him softly, long and slow, until Wonwooâs fingers tickled back across your hips and you remembered you had to go. Now. âIâm sorry.â
And then you sprinted home without looking back.
After the beating Wonwoo received into the early hours of this morning, perhaps he should feel the same bruise to his ego like the weeks before when his face resembled the wrong end of a moose dragon. Even with the best healing, his body ached for days after. A constant reminder not only had he lost, but done so in front of one of the biggest crowds the warehouse ever had.Â
But even though he lost again last night, heâd won enough to walk on clouds like an airbender.
You were distracting while in your element but when you came? He couldnât look away even if he wanted to. Helpless to the vision of your chin tipped back, spine arched as you moaned his name. Never mind he had to finish himself after you fled, returning to the barracks to hide in the bathroom like a teenager. The memory was enough, it only took a few strokes before he found his own satisfaction; though he preferred to find it with you next time.
Not even the weary day ahead dampened his glow despite the lack of sleep. The Queen rarely visited, and the princess never. But today they planned to, and that meant everything must be in perfect order which included new uniforms starched until Wonwoo could hardly bend.
The courtyard was packed with guards of all levels, cadeats to captains. They spent the morning sparring and working through basic forms under the watchful eye of Commander Aiko, Wonwoo overseeing the training ring. Under the high noon sun, the firebenders maintained a clear advantage over anyone else but Wonwoo conserved his energy for later. Once the Queen arrived, Commander Aiko would no doubt drag him out for a demonstration for the old man to tout as his own accomplishment.
Itâd be good to remind the others of his skill, how he earned his rank through nothing but sheer determination. Most of the teasing had faded in the past month but it never hurt to make sure. Just because he lost to you didnât mean he couldnât defeat any of them. It wasnât a fluke, you were just better. Wonwoo admired your skill but next time heâd win.
But he banished those thoughts for now. Heâd found you twice â by chance but he still found you â a third time felt inevitable. There was too much unfinished business for him to believe otherwise. When he did have you again, he wouldnât let you slip away so easily.
It wasnât until later afternoon that the royal procession arrived, palace guards donned in stark black uniform circling a pair of women like hawk vultures. He couldnât see the princessâs face from where he stood, only the stretch of silk across her shoulders as Commander Aiko gestured animatedly.
Rumor had it the princess was the most beautiful woman in the kingdom, with soft manners. kind eyes, and a gentle soul. Not that anyone saw her outside the palace. The queen kept her under lock and key, rightfully so as her only heir. But tales of her beauty and warmth flowed freely. She was the kind of princess men went to war for. Sacrificed their lives for.Â
And as such, most of the men had put extra time into preparing this morning; shaving and hogging mirrors in the bathroom to fix their hair. As if the princess would look upon one of them and find interest in a man with no title, no money, and no influence. The stuff of legends that Wonwoo had no interest in.
Wonwoo supervised the officers as they attempted to throttle one another. Apparently rumors of the princessâ presence inspired their best; it was almost pathetic if he wasnât impressed by their creativity.Â
Rone yanked the ground from beneath Ponoâs feet, rushing the smaller man forward into his fist covered in rock. The force wouldâve knocked Pono unconscious if he hadnât used the momentum to leap over Rone with a gust of air and slam his knee into his chest. Rone doubled over, gasping for breath.
âThatâs enough,â Wonwoo called. âUra. Tou. Youâre up. Try not killing each other this time.â
Ura shook her head. âYou light a guy on fire once.â
âSix!â Tou screamed. âYouâve lit me on fire SIX TIMES!â
âMake it seven,â someone on the sidelines cheered.
Ura lunged at To with a fire whip but Wonwoo was distracted with a call of his name before he could see Tou redirect it.
âCaptain Jeon, Iâd like to introduce you to her Royal Majesty and her granddaughter, Princess Y/Nâ
Wonwoo, remembering his manners to never turn his back to the royal family, whipped around fast enough everything blurred as he rushed to bow. âYour Majesty, Your Highness.â
âCommander Aiko has told me much about you, Captain Jeon,â a voice greeted him, definitely the Queen from the rich timbre. âI hope youâll honor us with a demonstration of your skills later.â
âOf course, Your Majesty. Itâd be an honor.âÂ
Wonwoo rose and finally got his first glance of the princess. She was even more beautiful than the stories claimed, face glowing in the sun, not a hair out of place. A dress of rich fabric, embroidered with pearls in a wave motif at the collar, hugged her figure but didnât betray the power beneath.
While he couldnât vouch for manners, your eyes were anything but kind. If looks could kill, Wonwoo was a dead man walking. His veins froze. Absolutely not. This was not happening. It was a dream, a sick and twisted dream where he made out with royalty in a field without knowing.Â
It didnât make sense.Â
You bowed, eyes averted to your shoes with a greeting in return. The wild energy that possessed you in the field was nowhere to be found; extinguished by faux meekness and rigid posture.
âJeon,â Aiko started, preening like a peacock. âGive Princess Y/N a tour of the grounds. Sheâs never seen men in action.â
Wonwoo managed to silence his snort of disbelief but couldnât help the quip dripping from his tongue. âOh, I doubââ
âA tour would be wonderful, Captain Jeon,â you cut him off. Your teeth gleamed like knives, gaze pointed. The wildness was still there and a bolt of fear flashed through him.
âOf course, Your Highness.â
Wonwoo spun on his heel, leading you to the far side of the training ring while Ura and Tou lulled into a standoff, circling one another warily. He couldnât help but feel you and him were doing the same.
Embarrassment, betrayal. Itâs why you hadnât told him your name, he realized. Not at the warehouse, not at the market, not even in the field. You played him for a fool again and again. And he let you
Tou knocked Uraâs left leg out from beneath her with a blazing kick. She fell to her knees but Ura rolled just in time to avoid Touâs fist, dragging an arch of flame up with her heel and forcing Tou back.
You hovered beside Wonwoo, silently watching the fight. He refused to look at you because if he did then no doubt someone would notice his anger. And why would he be angry at the princess? Wonwoo never officially met you, this is technically the first time heâs ever seen you let alone spoken to you.Â
From opposite sides of the training ring, Ura and Touâs both thrust their palms forward to summon fire streams thick enough the air around them shimmers as they collide; blue versus red. The crowd of guards watching stepped back, tugging at their collars. Wonwoo was tempted to step forward and join the fight, work out some of the restless annoyance burning beneath his skin.
âImpressive,â you commented, features tinged golden by the flame.Â
Wonwoo would have agreed if Uraâs ankle hadnât quivered. Tou, forever soft for the willowy firebender, refused to take advantage of her weakness. Heâd throw a hundred matches before using Uraâs injury against her. And Ura knew it.
âIs that all youâve got to say?â
âYou donât exactly seem interested in any sort of conversation,â you shot back.
You were right. Wonwoo didnât want to talk anymore than he wanted to pull his own teeth out. What he wanted was to wake from this horrible dream, for Hoshi to come out of the woodwork and reveal this was all an elaborate prank.Â
Wonwoo winced as Ura grappled Tou down to his knees, slinging her arm around his neck and pulling him into a chokehold. Then he turned to look at you. âPardon me for coming to terms with the fact I got into a fist fight with royalty. Itâs a first for me.â
âDonât be dramatic.â
âThis isnât funny.â
âI didnât plan this.â You have the sense to look ashamed, eyes on the ground Tou wiggled out of Uraâs grip and scrambled to his feet.
âDo you know how much trouble I could get in if anyone found out I tried to fight you? I could be executed.â
âThat wasnâtââ You stopped abruptly, chest expanding with a deep breath. âYou said you were from the Middle District. How was I supposed to know you were a part of the Crownâs Guard?â
âI am from the Middle District.â
Your fingers bunched in the pleats of your robes. âBut most of the guards are from the Noble's Quarter.â
âIâm not like most men. But I donât expect you to understand what it means to earn something.â
âI think I earn my victories quite well,â you spat. âPerhaps you would like another demonstration, Captain Jeon.â
In the ring, Ura and Tou came to a standstill. The inky braid coiled on Uraâs head had long unraveled, tangled and lopsided as it hung down her back. Touâs new jacket was signed at the collar, cuffs smoldering as well. They looked like they were having the time of their lives.
Wonwoo waited a long moment before speaking again. It would do no good to insult you. Already the darkest corners of his anger were brightening. âThat wasâŠunkind of me. I apologize.â
âYour insults are as deficient as your bending,â you smiled and strode away leaving Wonwoo to follow like a scorned puppy.
Ura and Tou waned but continued.Â
âWhy donât either of them give up?â you asked.Â
âUra agreed to marry Tou if he could beat her in a fight.â
âI thought relations between guards were forbidden.â
âThey are. Itâs why Tou refuses to take advantage of her weak ankle.â
âThen why would sheâŠâ
âIf youâre asking me to explain their relationship then I have no answers,â Wonwoo replied as Tou finally yielded and another pair of troops took their place. âYouâre lucky most of the guards donât go to those matches or weâd both be in serious trouble.â
âIf none of the other guards go, why were you there?â
âIâve been doing it for years. They pay well and I needed money.â
Wonwoo leaves the rest unsaid. What other reason did a Middle District kid have to fight other than money? He took his beatings in the public arena for years because coin was coin. He never planned to become skilled enough to start winning. But when he did, after years of blood, sweat, and tears, he was good enough for the Crown Guard to take notice and Seungcheol to bring him into the fold before retiring. Now, Wonwoo had a free place to sleep, albeit it was barely large enough for him and the four other men he shared it with, all on bunk beds. But it was far better than the fifty man barrack he started in years ago. There were free meals and hot showers and his patrols through the Noble's Quarter rarely were more than counting the number of steps through his route before he ended up back where he started.Â
The fighting kept his skills sharp in the way training couldnât. Commander Aiko didnât like his cheap shots or the scrappiness Wonwoo learned in the ring. They were âundignifiedâ for one of the Royal Army, especially the Crownâs Guard. But more often than not, they were the edge he had on the other officers.
âIâm sorry I didnât tell you. I never intended to put you in such a difficult position. I justââ
âYou just what, Your Highness?â
âDonât call me that,â you spat before softening. âHow am I supposed to be Queen if Iâm not allowed to actually see my kingdom?â
Seeing your kingdom felt like an odd way to describe what you and Wonwoo had been doing away from wandering eyes but he didnât dwell.
âProbably not by lying.â
âOr by freezing men to walls.â
The attempt at humor softened and soured Wonwooâs mood all at once. Rationally, he knew he should be angry. Furious even. But it was not that simple. If he was in your shoes, what would he have done? Probably far worse than sneaking out for a night on the town. Even too many hours at the barracks had a way of making him crave for the anonymity of the city streets he grew up on.Â
Wonwoo was not angry, annoyed maybe. Even as you stood, wrapped in the finest silks heâd ever seen with enough sapphires and pearls pinned in your hair for him to buy a village, it was pity he felt rather than disdain. To be forced to hide the wildness you possessed behind pretense and perform exactly what was expected of you. Could he blame you for wanting a break from it all?
Judging by the hopeful look on your face you wanted to leave the entire ordeal in the past, same as him.
âThat might help you on the throne.â
You smiled and looked back at the two men sparring in the ring who were fighting with swords, the smaller one locking their hilts together and twisting until the larger man was forced to release his weapon.Â
Heâd be infatuated with you but that was all it was; all it could be. A funny story to remember years and years from now, when his childrenâs children were grown. Theyâd call him crazy for rambling about how he once knew the princess.
He couldnât help his next question. âAnd everything else? Are you sorry for that too?â
A blight of confusion twisted your face before your eyes bulged. Years of etiquette schooled your features swiftly but Wonwoo felt pleased to see you off kilter as he felt, however brief. You should be just as uncomfortable with the looming consequences of what happened in that field as he was.
The satisfaction didnât last long.
You turned to face him head on, leveling him with a heavy gaze. âAre you?â
Wonwoo choked.
It seems the fire from before was not completely snuffed out under pounds of finery.Â
âI think Iâve seen enough of the grounds. It's quite warm and I feel myself growing faint.â
When he finally regained his senses, Wonwoo followed several steps behind, face tinged red. Hopefully everyone mistook it as a result of a day in the sun rather than a battle of wits.Â
Commander Aiko and the Queen ceased their conversation as you approached them..
âWhat do you think of our troops, Your Highness?â Aiko asked.
âThey are very impressive, Commander,â you smiled.
By some great miracle, Aiko stood fifteen feet taller with your compliments. It itches at the back of Wonwooâs brain that a compliment could slip off your tongue so easily towards others but not towards him.Â
âIâm pleased my men are up to your standards. Captain Jeon is one of my best, youâll be completely safe in his care during next month's festivities.â
âPardon?â you and Wonwoo asked at the same time.
Aiko frowned. âHer Majesty insisted on additional protection due to the increased presence at the palace. Surely, she informed you?â
âShe did,â you nodded. âBut wouldnât Captain Jeonâs expertise be more valuable elsewhere? Itâd be a shame for his skills to be wasted guarding me when we will be surrounded by allies.â
âIn the event something might go wrong, is it not better to have someone as trained as he is to protect you?â
Wonwoo wanted to argue that you were more than capable of protecting yourself. But clearly your bending talents were a secret, at least to Commander Aiko. Perhaps that was for the best; the element of surprise was a powerful tool, one you wielded well. A glance at your blanked expression all but confirmed it.
Aiko continued, âYou are next in line, therefore your safety is second only to the Queen herself. Captain Jeon would be honored to serve you.â
The old man leveled Wonwoo with an expectant look, giving him two options: reject the position and directly insult the crown and his commanding officer, inadvertently signing his own death warrant. Or accept, play minder for however long was required. Then he could return to his life and pretend none of this ever happened.
âIt would be my honor to serve the royal family and her Highness.â
Wonwoo convinced himself that the disappointment in your eyes was wishful thinking.Â
SUMMARY: sick and tired of their parents always arguing whenever one of them comes to pick âem up, yohan and haneul (or haneul and yohan, per haneulâs request) decide to organize a mission and make you and sunghoon fall in love again.
WARNINGS: starring JIHOON (readerâs new bf), fluff, divorced parents, shared custody, mentions of hickeys, insults, anger, fights, making out (jihoon & reader - later hoon & reader), memories, suggestive (barely by the end), mentions of pregnancy, lmk if more. NOT PROOFREAD.
You stepped from the elevator onto the thirty-ninth floor, stilettos clicking over marble, so glossy it caught the overhead lights and flung them back in shards of silver.Â
The corridor outside Sunghoonâs penthouse still smelled faintly of the cedar-and-bergamot diffuser he favored, familiar, irritating and annoyingly comforting.Â
Your blouse was perfectly ironed, hair swept into a high ponytail, makeup soft but immaculate.Â
Beneath the collar your scarf hid the blooming marks Jihoonâs mouth had painted along your throat last nighjt, the silk wrapped delicately each time you swallowed, a secret reminder of how fast youâd already moved on.
You rang the bell. The custom steel door whispered open, and there he was: Park Sunghoon, ex-husband, ex-golden boy, barefoot in a charcoal cashmere sweater and sweatpants that draped too casually on a body still honed like a fencerâs blade.Â
which was unfair, since you had to hit the gym so much to get your body back after pregnancy.
A crooked half-smile lifted one corner of his lips, the exact smile that used to undo you, and still threatened to annoy you into irrationality.
âTwo minutes late,â he said, leaning a shoulder to the jamb. âColor me shocked, youâre slipping.â
âTraffic was charitable,â you answered, gliding past him. âOr perhaps the universe felt sorry for me, knowing Iâd be dealing with you.â
He gave a low, appreciative hum while closing the door. âBiting already. I Havenât even offered you coffee yet.â
âGod forbid,â you muttered. âCaffeine brewed by your hands might revert me to our marriage counseling days, and we both know how that ended.â
âExplosively.â His eyes flicked to the silk tucked at your neck, lingered just a second too long. The bastard had always been sharp. âNew accessory? Striking choice for July.â
You lifted your chin. âFashion, Sunghoon. Look it up sometime instead of living in sweatpants.â
He laughed under his breath and motioned toward the sun-drenched living room where floor-to-ceiling windows gave Seoulâs skyline center stage.Â
Lego castles sprawled across the rug, watercolor palettes lay open on the coffee table, brushes soaking in mismatched mugs.Â
Voices floated from the hallway: one soft and uncertain, the other bright and commanding.
âHaneul, put that down, youâll spill!â Yohan fretted.
You couldnât help smiling. They were your perfect halves, as contrasting and complementary as moonlight and flame.Â
The moment they spotted you, four small feet thundered over the hardwood.
âMommy!â Haneul launched herself first, fierce as always, burrowing under your blouse in search of a hug.Â
She smelled like finger paint and the strawberry shampoo youâd chosen for her at six months old. Yohan arrived a breath later, slower, shy, but his arms slipped around your waist with a familiar sigh of relief.
âHey, my loves,â you murmured, kissing each silky head. âDid you behave for Daddy?â
âThey over-behaved,â Sunghoon said, folding arms across his chest. âIâm thinking of renting them out as examples to other children.â
Haneul stuck out her tongue at him. âWeâre only good because weâre awesome,â she announced.
Yohan tightened his grip on your wrist, âWe made you pictures,â he said, voice so small you bent to hear it. âI painted a galaxy.â
âAnd I drew a tiger eating a monster truck,â Haneul added proudly.
Sunghoonâs gaze moved from the paintings to your face. âThe kids have packed, everythingâs by the door. I labeled the medicine for Yohanâs cough.âÂ
A pause, then with exaggerated politeness he said âShould I also forward their pediatrician records to your⊠new friend? You know, in case of emergencies between making hickey art?â
Heat pricked your ears, but you smirked âJihoonâs a doctor, actually, I think weâll manage.â
âA doctor,â Sunghoon repeated, tilting his head âGood choice, someone has to keep you in one piece after you trip over your own pride.â
You arched a brow âFunny, thatâs exactly what he said about you, except with more medical terminology.â
Haneul, oblivious, tugged your wrist âMommy, can we bake cookies tonight? The really gooey ones?â
âAbsolutely. Yohan, youâll help too, right?â
He nodded shyly. âIf I can stir.â
âStirring is essential,â you assured him.
Sunghoon cleared his throat âHang on,â he said, and vanished down the hallway. The twins scampered into the foyer to collect tiny backpacks, one blue and one purple.Â
You waited, fingers tracing the ridges of your wedding bandâs phantom imprintâ gone nearly a year now, yet some days it felt freshly removed.
He returned with two plushies, Yohanâs weathered penguin, Haneulâs stuffed phoenix, plus a zipped folder âTheir latest school forms,â he said, pressing the folder into your free hand. âAnd Yohanâs reading log. Heâs ahead of level again.â
You met his eyes, a reluctant swell of pride shared between adversaries âThank you.â
An awkward beat.Â
The kind that used to end with a kiss back when the pauses held gravity, not distance.Â
He broke it first, voice low âTheyâre good kids because of you.â
âAnd you,â you granted softly. It was a truth neither of you enjoyed admitting.
Across the room the twins argued about who would press the elevator button.Â
Their little voices echoed like bells, filling corners once haunted by adult shouting. Your throat tightened, but hadnât walked into this ivory tower to cry, so you blinked the tears back.
âYou okay?â Sunghoon asked, more gently than expected.
You blinked âPeachy.â
He studied you, the way he once did across candlelit tables, conviction that he could read every flicker of thought.Â
His gaze drifted again to the scarf, and his lips curved, bittersweet âI donât regret us,â he murmured. âEven if weâre better like this.â
âBetter is relative,â you said, checking the time. âAnd you still owe me half the orthodontist fund.â
âInvoice me, Iâll pay promptly, unlike your boyfriend.â The playful barb slipped out before he could help it. You rolled your eyes.
Haneul appeared between you with the decisive stomp of a warrior princess. âDaddy, hug.â
He knelt, catching her in strong arms.Â
Yohan edged closer, and Sunghoon embraced him too, kisses pressed to raven hair. âBe good for Mom,â he said, and they nodded. Then his gaze lifted to you. âText when you get home?â
âI will,â you answered.Â
This new civility was fragile; you werenât about to break it.
At the door you paused, adjusting scarf and handbags while the elevator dinged. Sunghoon hovered in the threshold like a man thinking of unsaying things already said.
âTake care of yourself,â he said quietly.
âYou too.â You hesitated, then added, âTry sleeping before three a.m. for once.â
âDoctorâs orders, I suppose.â He flashed that maddening crooked smile.
The elevator doors slid open, you shepherded the twins inside.Â
As the doors closed, Sunghoon raised two fingers in a casual salute. You answered with a small, wry wave.
The elevator began its silent descent. Haneul bounced on her heels âMommy, can we call Uncle Jihoon on the way?â
âMaybe after dinner,â you said, smoothing her hair.
Yohan tugged your coat, whispering, âWill Daddy be lonely?â
Your chest tightened again, but you kept your voice steady Daddy has lots of things that keep him occupied, heâll be fine.â
The numbers ticked downward.Â
You inhaled, catching faint traces of cedar that clung even here, and let them pass.
â.
Jihoonâs mouth had trailed from the hollow behind your ear to the curve of your collarbone, each slow kiss coaxing a sigh you scarcely recognized as your own.Â
The loftâs floor-to-ceiling windows framed the late-afternoon light, dusty and gold, and the silk shirt you had worn for brunch lay discarded over the arm of the couch.Â
Jihoonâs hands explored beneath the lace edge of your bra, thumbs stroking the faint bruises his lips had left the night before.Â
When he murmured your name you arched into him, fingers threading through his soft brown hair.
âYou taste like espresso.â he teased, breath warm against your shoulder.
âYou made it too strong.â you whispered, nipping his lower lip.
His chuckle vibrated through both of you. âI make everything strong.â
The slow, building pressure of his body against yours blurred whatever fragile sense of time youâd carried in.Â
He nudged your knees apart, trailing open-mouthed kisses down the slope of your sternum, and you tugged at his belt with impatient fingers. He braced an arm beside your head, gaze glossy with heat. âTell me what you need.â
âI needââ The sentence dissolved when his hips rolled, and you gasped, half laugh, half moan. âJihoon, donâtââ
A faint buzz rattled somewhere to the left.Â
Phone? Table? Call? You ignored it, lifting to meet his mouth again. The buzz returned, more insistent, followed by a muffled ping.Â
Then another.
Jihoon pulled back just enough to look at you, hair falling into his eyes. âWant me to toss it onto the obalcony?â
You huffed a soft laugh. âMight be the hospital.â
âFine.â He leaned, snagged his phone, squinted. âItâs yours.â he said when he found no missed call on his.
You frowned.Â
Your own phone lay face-down on the coffee table, screen pulsing with notification after notification.Â
When you flipped it, the lock screen lit with Sunghoonâs name⊠eight missed calls, two voicemails, half a dozen texts.
The last message read at 3:47 PM
Sunghoon: WHERE ARE YOU?
Blood drained from your face.Â
Pickup was three-thirty.Â
A twenty-minute cross-city drive in Friday traffic stood between you and the twins.
âOh God,â you breathed. âIâm late. Jihoon, Iâm late.â
He sat back instantly. âWhatâ how late?â
âHalf an hour, maybe more if we hit jams.â You shoved into your blouse, fumbling buttons wrong, then right, hand shaking.Â
The twins had never waited aloneâ Sunghoonâs anger was one thing, but Yohanâs shy heart twisted at schedule changes, and Haneulâs fierce bravado evaporated when she sensed tension.
Jihoon steadied your wrists. âIâll drive,
give me the keys.â
âYou have a shiftââ
âNot till seven, come on.â
You stuffed rumpled hair into a claw clip, found your heels, and snatched your back before quickly bolting out of the house.
While Jihoon locked up, you hit call back. Sunghoon answered on the first ring; the controlled ice in his voice froze your spine.
âItâs four oâclock,â he said, no greeting. âYou were due at three-thirty.â
âI know. Trafficââ
âDonât you dare lie.â A hard exhale. âThe twins have been sitting in the lobby with the doorman for twenty minutes because I have a meeting I canât move.â
Guilt slammed like a wave. âIâm on my way! twenty-five minutes.â
âYou shouldâve been on your way an hour ago.â The line clicked deadkÂ
Your stomach churned.Â
In the elevator Jihoon squeezed your hand, lips pressed to your temple. âFocus on breathing. Weâll make every light.â
You half-ran to his car.Â
jihoon wove through side streets, one palm steady on the wheel, the other resting on your thigh in silent reassurance.
You replayed the last four years in the windshield: the final shouting match with Sunghoon, ink drying on divorce papers, the fragile truce of shared custody.Â
Youâd kept promises; pickups, drop-offs, parent-teacher nightsâ a flawless record until now. Your eyes stung. Jihoon squeezed again. âTheyâll be okay, Sunghoon too.â
âSunghoon doesnât do âokay., he does perfect schedules and synchronized watches.â
âHe can survive twenty minutes of imperfection.â
âHeâll make sure I donât.â
Jihoon hit the horn, merged ruthlessly. âHeâll snarl, youâll snarl back, then youâll take the kids home. Thatâs it.â
The GPS ticked minutes downward while the sun slid west.Â
At 4:24PM the logo over Sunghoonâs building loomed like a herald of judgement. You leapt from the car before Jihoon had fully stopped.
Inside, the concierge recognized you and your panic, and gestured toward a leather bench.
Yohan sat small-shouldered, backpack clutched to his chest. Haneul swung her legs defiantly, scowling at every adult in range. The instant they spotted you, mixed relief and hurt flooded their faces.
You knelt. âIâm so sorry, babies.â You wrapped them both close. âTraffic swallowed me whole.â
Sunghoon approached from the elevators, suit jacket off, shirt sleeves rolled to elbows, jaw tight. His presence alone thickened the air.
âThank Mr. Seo for babysitting,â he told the twins, nodding to the concierge. They murmured thanks.Â
Then his eyes skewered you. âMy office lost a forty-million-won client because I had to sprint downstairs.â His tone remained low, but fury simmered beneath. âYou didnât answer until the tenth call.â
âI wasâ occupied,â you admitted, heat crawling up your throat.
âWith Doctor Perfect.â His gaze flicked to the slight smudge of your lipstick above Jihoonâs collar. âHow responsible.â
Jihoon entered then, purposeful but calm.Â
He offered a slight bow. âAfternoon, Mr. Park. Iâm sorry for the inconvenience, the delay was my fault.â
Sunghoon laughed once, sharp. âChivalry? Cute. It doesnât un-delay my schedule.â He turned back to you. âIf you canât honor the pickup window, you need to let me know, they sat with strangers.â
âMr. Seo isnât a stranger,â you argued, but your shoulders drooped. âI know itâs my fault.â
âDamn right,â he snapped, then seemed to remember the childrenâs wide eyes and moderated his voice. âFrom now on, if youâll be late, call at least half an our ahead.â
Jihoon stepped forward. âWeâll set extra alarms. She trulyââ
Sunghoonâs palm lifted, silencing him. âThis is between their mother and me.â
Haneul spoke up, fierce loyalty flashing. âDaddy, Mommy said sorry. Let it go.â
Sunghoon regarded his daughter, pride and frustration warring.Â
Yohanâs hand slipped into yours; his small fingers trembled. You tucked him under your arm.
âIâll make it up,â you promised, meeting Sunghoonâs gaze. âIâll take them also tomorrow, feed them, homework, baths. Drop them at school in the morning.â
âWe already have plans,â he said. âBut go now. I have work.â He crouched to the twinsâ level, anger vanishing behind tenderness. âLove you both. Be good, buckle up.â
They hugged him tight. When they stepped back he straightened, facing you again, expression calmer but still flinty. âOne slip, fine. Donât let it become a pattern.â
âIt wonât,â you said.
Jihoon touched the small of your backâ steady warmth. Sunghoonâs eyes tracked the gesture, but he only nodded once, curt, and strode toward the second bank of elevators, phone already to ear.
In the car, silence settled until Haneul blurted, âMommy, youâre never late.â
You winced. âI messed up. Iâm sorry.â
Yohan leaned against you. âWe forgave you already.â
Your chest ached. Jihoon glanced in the mirror. âCookies and extra sprinkles tonight?â
Haneul brightened. âBear shaped!â
âAnd maybe a penguin one for Yohan,â you added.
Promise of sugar thawed the tension.Â
As Jihoon eased into traffic, his hand sought yours again. You squeezed, grateful.Â
You texted Sunghoon
You: Home safe. Thanks for waiting. Â
The read receipt appeared instantly, yet no reply came.Â
Perhaps it wouldnât tonight. You would face him again at soccer practice on Sunday, armed with punctuality and contrition.
For now you had twins chattering about cookie shapes and a man beside you who smelled of hand sanitizer and steadfast patience.Â
But it didnât quite soothe you as Sunghoonâs cedar scent did.
â.
You had tucked Yohan beneath his rocket-printed duvet at nine-thirty sharp, smoothing the fringe from his lashes while he whispered requests for âjust one more chapter.âÂ
Haneul occupied the opposite bunk across the room, arms folded in protest because her brotherâs galaxy comforter looked âcooler than boring princess swirls.âÂ
You compromised: two pages more of Tangled for them both and a promise of pancakes at dawn, then a good-night kiss to each forehead.Â
When you eased the door nearly shut, lwaving a narrow sliver left open so hallway light could chase away nightmares, you heard nothing but the hush of their synchronized breathing and, somewhere deeper in the apartment, the distant drip of the kitchen faucet you still forgot to call the landlord about.
In your bedroom you exchanged slacks for an oversized tee, idly scrolling through Sunghoonâs terse email about next weekâs parentâteacher conference: concise bullet points, no greeting, no sign-off, just times and an attachment.Â
You answered with equal brevity: noted, see you there, and hit send before second-guessing tone.Â
Jihoonâs name flashed in a new message immediately after.
The apartment settled into its nocturnal symphony: refrigerator humming, street traffic, a soft river flowing some feet away, and you let eyelids flutter shut unaware of the quiet rebellion brewing down the hall.
Haneul waited until the hallway light dimmed on the smart timer, ten-fifteen, then kicked off her blanket.Â
She tiptoed across cool laminate, clutching her phoenix plush like a talisman.Â
Yohan was already half-propped on elbows, eyes wide behind the milky glow of the small astronaut night-lamp.
âYouâre awake too?,â he whispered, voice feather-soft so it wouldnât carry.
âMission time,â she declared, clambering onto the mattress beside him.Â
The springs squeaked; both froze, listening.Â
No footsteps. No Mommy. Safe.
Yohan scooted to make room, pulling up his notebook, the one with planetary rings on the cover and TOP SECRET scribbled in bubble letters.Â
Inside, colored-pencil schematics sprawled across pages: stick-figure Mommy and Daddy separated by a jagged thunderbolt, arrows leading to a giant red heart.
Haneul grabbed a purple crayon. âStep one, we need a plan that makes them talk without all the blah blah fight stuff.â
Yohan nodded solemnly, pencil poised. âLike a peace treaty.â
âTreaties are boring. We need⊠a trap.â She drew a square labelled family patch HQ and, under that, two stick grown-ups with startled eyebrows.
He frowned. âDaddy doesnât like when we surprise him, and mommy gets scared when daddy is mad.â
âFine,â she allowed, tapping the page. âThen we make them do something happy together. What do they both like?â
Yohanâs brow furrowed, deep in six-year-old contemplation. âCoffee?â he suggested.
âTheyâll just drink and talk about bills.â Haneul rolled her eyes. âThink bigger.â
âSkating!â he blurted. âDaddy took us to the frozen fountain last winter. Mommy laughed a lot that day.â
Haneulâs grin flashed feral. âYes. Ice. But how do we get them there at the same time?â
They fell into hushed deliberation, heads bent, plush phoenix wedged like a conference mascot between them.Â
Yohan proposed forged invitations to a âspecial parentsâ nightâ at the rink.Â
Haneul countered with a surprise picnic in the middle of the ice, blankets, cocoa, maybe glitter bombs. Yohan worried about glitter in skates; Haneul insisted glitter fixed everything.Â
They compromised: glitter only on the thermos.
Haneul flipped to a fresh page. âBackup plan in case they canât pic nic: make them watch old wedding videos.â
Yohanâs eyes widened. âDo we have those?â
âGrandma does. We can ask but pretend itâs for school.â
âI donât like fibbing.â
âItâs not fibbing,â she soothed. âItâs⊠diplomacy.â Sheâd heard Sunghoon use the word during a heated phone call and liked how it rolled off the tongue.
They listed supplies: colored paper, cocoa packets, marshmallows shaped like stars (non-negotiable), enough allowance coins to bribe the rink guard, and Sunghoonâs spare keycard if pick-up shuttling required infiltration of his apartment.Â
Haneul promised she could swipe it from the crystal bowl by his door.Â
Yohan fretted about fingerprints, but she waved him off âDaddy is a CEO, not an FBI agent.â
When strategies tired their brains, Yohan yawned cavernously.Â
Haneul fished a flashlight from under the pillow, clicked it on beneath a shared blanket, and they whispered final oaths of secrecyâ not a peep to grown-ups, especially not Jihoon, because doctors asked too many questions.Â
They spat on palms with theatrical disgust, then sealed the pact with a sticky handshake that made them giggle until Yohan clapped both hands over his mouth.
Haneul switched off the flashlight. She nestled beside her twin brother, fingers intertwined.
âMommy and Daddy will be happy again,â she murmured into darkness, more a statement than a wish.
Yohan swallowed. âEven if they donât get married again⊠maybe theyâll laugh.â
She nudged him with an elbow. âTheyâll laugh. And then we wonât have to pack bags every other weekend like ping-pong balls.â
He considered this, then nodded. âMission: family patch!â he recited, sleep thickening his voice. âOperation commence tomorrow at oh-six-hundred.â
Haneul had no idea what hour that was, but Yohan liked numbers, so she agreed and commanded the phoenix plush to stand lookout.Â
By the time its stitched wings drooped against the pillow, both children drifted under, breathing in unison, dreaming of twirling ice and microscopic glitter storms, of coffee steam curling between two grown-ups who once loved each other enough to make a galaxy-painting boy and a tiger-riding girl.
Down the hall, you lay unaware, one arm flung over your eyes, pondering whether to email Sunghoon a proper apology for last weekâs tardy scramble.Â
You debated phrasing until thoughts blurred, eventually you decided morning clarity would serve better.Â
Had you risen to peek in on the twins, like you usually did before sleeping, you might have noticed the double rise and fall beneath Yohanâs quilt or the faint scent of purple crayon still hanging in the air.Â
â.
You spent Saturday morning lost in the weekend routine: laundry tumbling in the washer, a precarious tower of receipts on the dining table begging to be categorized, too distracted to notice the unnatural hush in the twinsâ room and ghe sudden disappearance of your phone.
Sunghoon, the next day, somewhere across the river, sat in his high-rise office final-polishing a pitch deck, blissfully ignorant that Yohan and Haneul were toggling between his unlocked laptop.
While you counted vitamins into a plastic day-pill container, they sent your mother a text requiring your wedding videos for a school project. She dropped a USB driver when you were busy hanging out the clothes.Â
Then, they plundered the external drive labeled ARCHIVEâ DO NOT DELETE on Sunghoonâs computer.Â
Up popped camcorder footage: you six months pregnant, satin wedding dress tailored around your belly; Sunghoon in a dove-gray suit, gaze locked on you like earthâs true north.Â
The twins giggled at their own embryonic cameosâ your wobbling walk down the aisle, Sunghoonâs trembling hands when he kissed your knuckles, your joint vows whispered over the soundtrack of distant seagulls.Â
Haneul clipped segments without mercy, Yohan layering transitions that blinked neon pink and comic-sans captions: LOOK HOW MUCH THEY LOVED EACH OTHER! A royalty-free harp arpeggio looped beneath every frame, jerky and too loud..Â
Yohan handled logistics. He typed on Sunghoonâs email: âClient call moved. Iâll be offlain after noon.âÂ
Haneul commandeered your phone when you left it charging beside the toaster. Her thumbs flew: âRunning errands.â even if she didnât really know what it meant âTaking kids skating at Star Rink tomorrow, can you grab them at four? :) Grab your skates, maybe they wanna stay longerâÂ
The smiley looked nothing like your usual punctuation and everything like six-year-old exuberance, but they trusted adult obliviousness.
Next they texted you from his own work chat window, Yohanâs idea, so a parallel message pinged onto your lock screen: âIâll drop twins at rink 3:30. You pick âem up? Thanks. Bring your skates in case they want to stay longer.â
Then they deleted the threads, archiving proof deep in message trash where no one ever scrolled.
Grandma arrived at noon.Â
Your mother thought the surprise visit was your idea; you didnât know that neither Sunghoon nor you were aware of their secret mission.
By three-thirty you shoved your skates into a canvas tote, wondering why Sunghoon had promised the twins ice on a weekend so crammed.Â
Still, a commitment was a commitment, and guilt over last weekâs tardy pickup nipped your conscience.Â
You arrived to Star Rinkâs gleaming atrium just after three-fifty, breath fogging in the artificially cooled air, muttering apologies youâd craft for tiny ears.Â
The rink looked unusually empty, just a few teenagers practicing spins, no sign of your children skating with your ex husband.
Then a familiar voice echoed across the polished concrete. âYouâve got to be kidding.â
Sunghoon strode from the opposite entrance, coat unfastened, skates slung over one shoulder.Â
His surprise mirrored yours so perfectly it might have been choreographedâ which, unknown to either of you, it had.
âYou said to be here at four,â he accused.
You blinked. âNoâ you said iâd grab them at four.â
He frowned. âI have the text.â He dug for his phone, scrolling with brows knit. You mirrored him, finding nothing but your past conversations.
âWhere are the twins?â you asked, throat tightening.
âProbably hiding behind a pillar laughing at us.â He scanned the rink. âCome on, rascals, out!â
No answer.Â
Only the squeak of rental skates and the distant crunch of blades carving ice.Â
You and Sunghoon shared a look that bridged the chasm of monthsâ parental telepathy laced with worry.
A rink attendant in a blue windbreaker approached, clipboard in hand. âMr. Park? Ms. L/N?â
âYes,â you both answered, then glared at each other for saying it in unison.
The attendant smiled like someone whoâd been tipped off. âYour children dropped off a USB this morning. Asked us to play it at four sharp. They said you might⊠need context.â She gestured toward the suspended Jumbotron above center ice.Â
Its four screens currently looped skate sponsors.
You opened your mouthâ closed it. Sunghoonâs eyes narrowed.Â
âThey told us to inform you they are at their Grandmaâs, safe and sound.â She made air quotes.Â
Haneulâs grin flashed in your memory, wicked and gap-toothed. Yohanâs shy collusion behind it. You dragged a hand over your face. âDemons.â
The attendant glanced at the wall clock. 3:58. âWe were also told to insist you both âget on the ice first so the magic works.â Their words.â
Sunghoon pinched the bridge of his nose, then sighed. âFine. Humor us.â
You laced skates side by side on a bench, trying not to notice how his forearm brushed yours when he tugged his bootstrings, how the slice of his jaw looked less severe up close, how the citrus-cedar cologne you once bought him still anchored memories.Â
When you stood, wobbling, he offered a reflexive hand, not the poised businessman, just the competitive skater whoâd coached you through a thousand laps in winter courting days.Â
Muscle memory overruled pride, you let him steady you onto the ice.
The rink felt cavernous without the twinsâ chatter. Fluorescent lights struck the frozen surface in blue shivers. You pushed off cautiously, lungs filling with cold whisper-clean air.Â
Sunghoon glided backward, assessing your form. âKnees bent,â he murmured, in instinctive coach mode.
âI remember,â you said, managing a credible curve. Across the ice, teen couples twirled; pop music thumped overhead. That familiarity, him skating circles until your confidence caught, stirred warmth you tried to quell.
At exactly four-o-one the music cut, replaced by a jarring harp trill booming through loudspeakers.Â
The Jumbotron flickered snowflakes, then a shaky camcorder frame: you in pearls, belly round under ivory silk, Sunghoon at the altar, eyes glossy.
Your skate edges wobbled. âOh, my God.â
He looked up, jaw slack.Â
The audio crackledâ your voice in 720p, laughing, telling the officiant a twins joke mid-vow and everyone roaring. Caption bubbles popped: THEY WERE SO CUTE! :â) Glitter GIFs rained down pixelated gold across the screen.Â
The edit jumped, janky cross-fade to the first dance where Sunghoonâs hands rested protectively on your curve.Â
A subtitle shouted: LOOK HOW DADDY STARED AT MOMMY!
A collective âawwwâ rose from rink spectators. Your cheeks burned.
Then the too loud music started, deafening everyone around.
Sunghoon skated closer, voice low. âWhere did they even get this?â
âYour archive drive? My mother had a backup too.â
Onscreen footage shifted to the hospital delivery room, your mother mustâve filmed it, Sunghoon pressing lips to your brow while monitors beeped.Â
Then a freeze-frame zoom-in on both newborns, overlay text in rainbow font: MISSION FAMILY PATCH: ACTIVEIGHT.
Mutters of delight filtered from onlookers.Â
You swayed slightly, Sunghoon caught your elbow. For a long heartbeat neither of you moved, riveted by the stumble-through montage, first bath, stroller race, your exhausted faces side by side on the couch.Â
The amateur edit felt like a love letter scrawled in crayon, messy yet searingly sincere.
When the screen faded to white with a final flourish, PLEASE LOVE AGAIN, silence thawed into soft arena applause. The attendant cut the feed and awkwardly restarted the playlist.
You exhaled, a shudder that misted the chilly air. âThey went to Grandmaâs so weâd be forced to⊠reconnect.â
âTiny criminals,â he murmured, but his voice wasnât angry. just overwhelmed. And guilty.Â
You eased back, studying him. Ice crystals peppered his hair where condensation had settled.Â
He looked suddenly tired, the rapid-fire CEO shutters pulled open to something vulnerable.
âThey miss the way we used to laugh,â you said, throat tight.
âDo you?â he asked, earnestness slipping out before he could clothe it in sarcasm.
âYes,â you admitted, quiet, surprising even yourself. âI miss when we were on the same team.â
He nodded, gaze drifting to your scarf, today a soft gray, no hickeys to hide, âWeâre still parents. That team never dissolved.â
âYouâre right. We just⊠forgot how to play.â
He released a breathy chuckle. âLeave it to our kids to schedule a remedial practice.â
You managed a tentative smile. The playlist shifted to a mellow jazz instrumental. Without thinking you extended a hand. âOne lap? For old times.â
He took it gently, palm warm through your glove.Â
Together you pushed off, synchronizing lengths like gear teeth meshing.Â
The glide settled into familiar rhythmâ your left, his right, bodies leaning, inside edges kissing ice.
He matched speed to yours, never showboating. Halfway around, muscle memory took over and you attempted a cautious crossover.Â
He guided your hips with featherlight fingertips, murmuring corrections the way he had when teaching you to skate backwards: âWeight over the heel, trust the blade.â
Trust.Â
That had been the fragile axis after divorce, trust in schedules, trust in boundaries, but not in closeness.Â
Yet here, under fluorescent hum and cinnamon-cocoa rink air, your body remembered what your mind had shelved, you trusted him to keep you upright on ice.Â
He trusted you with the beating hearts of his children.
When you completed the circuit, neither of you let go immediately.Â
You drifted near the boards, hearts thudding louder than rental pop. Finally he cleared his throat. âWe should call them. Let them know mission accomplished⊠partially.â
You laughed softly. âTheyâll demand proof.â
âLetâs take a picture then, to show them.â
âAlright.â You murmured, taking your phone out of your jeans and handing it to him.
He took it, a shy quirk on an otherwise confident man. âSay cheese.â
His hand rested on the small of your back, so familiar it was almost painful.Â
Heat jolted through your body, and he must have felt it too because his own shifted closer.
âCheese.â You breathed out and he took the selfie before giving you your phone back.Â
A comfortable hush settled.Â
You studied his profile, the slope of cheekbone, faint crease where laughter used to live.Â
Something gentle stirred beneath ribs, not romantic lightning, but a warm tide of possibility.
âIf weâre going to be ambushed by our own offspring,â you said, âmaybe we should carve out time to talk, really talk, before they escalate.â
âDinner?â he offered, simple as breathing. âSomewhere public. Neutral ground.â
You lifted a brow. âSupervised by waitstaff instead of kindergarteners.â
âExactly.â His smile warmed. âNext Thursday? Iâll book at that Italian place you like.âi
âEmail me the details.â You squeezed his arm once before stepping back. âAnd⊠thanks for catching me earlier.â
âAlways.â The word hovered in the cool air, sincere and unvarnished.
You skated toward the exit, heart lighter.Â
Behind you, Sunghoon called after with playful edge, âTry not to be late this time.â
You looked over a shoulder, grin spreading. âSet a reminder for me, tech genius.â
He laughed, unrestrained, head tipped, and the sound echoed like silver bells across the rink.Â
You carried it with you off the ice, past the attendant who winked knowingly, past teenagers still buzzing about the cutest video ever, all the way to the lobby where your phone buzzed with a photo from your mother: twins on her sofa, popcorn bowl between them, thumbs-up so wide it nearly cracked the frame.
You texted back: Nice try, tiny masterminds. Weâll talk when youâre home. Love you.
You opened Sunghoon's chat:
You: Theyâre officially grounded from espionage⊠but Iâm glad they tried. See you Thursday.
Three dots pulsed. His reply came shortly after
Sunghoon: Iâm glad too. Good night, Y/N
You slipped the phone away, realizing your cheeks still ached from smiling.Â
Outside, dusk mellowed the skyline into lavender and rose.Â
You inhaled the bite of winter air the rink expelled each time doors opened and thought maybe patchwork didnât have to recreate an old quilt; it could stitch something newâ imperfect seams, frayed threads, surprisingly strong.Â
And thanks to two relentless six-year-olds, the first patch was already in place.
â.
You sat across from Jihoon in the hospitalâs rooftop garden, wind tugging faintly at the corners of the pale-blue picnic blanket heâd spread on a lunch break more rushed than he admitted.Â
A single thermos of his too-strong espresso steamed between you, the scent mingling with oregano from planters that volunteers kept for the pediatric wing.Â
His eyes, steady, kind and edged with fatigue from a sixteen-hour shift, searched your face while you traced invisible constellations on the blanketâs plaid.
He smiled, soft. âYouâre quiet today. That usually means your brainâs ten paragraphs ahead of your mouth.â
You huffed a small laugh. âGuilty.â
âTalk to me.â
The ease in his invitation nearly unstitched your resolve.Â
You folded your hands, thumbs fidgeting. âJihoon⊠I need to tell you something, and I donât know how to do it without sounding ungrateful.â
He uncapped the thermos, poured you half. âJust say it.â
You met his gaze, the gentle brown that had steadied you through late-night panics and blues, and felt the first sharp twist of regret. âI care about you so much. You know that, right?â
âI know.â A faint line appeared between his brows. âAnd?â
âAnd Iâve loved how safe I feel with you, how easy things are.â You wrapped cold fingers around the paper cup. âBut after what the twins pulled at the rink⊠I realized easy isnât the same as⊠a spark.â The last word trembled in the air.
He swallowed, intake of breath small but audible. âYou mean Sunghoon.â
âI mean the life I had with him. The mess, the fire.â You exhaled. âI donât want to hurt you, youâve been nothing but wonderful.â
Jihoonâs shoulders sagged, but he nodded once, firm and deliberate. âFeelings arenât crimes, they just⊠happen.â He scanned the skyline, blinking hard. âWe both knew from the start your heart was still boarded up with âhandle fragileâ stickers.â
âI thought time would change that, and maybe it could have. But when I stood on that ice and saw the way he steadied meââ Your voice cracked. âI felt something snap back into alignment and I canât pretend I didnât.â
Jihoon rubbed the bridge of his nose. âAre you going back to him?â
âIâm going to ask if we can try, slowly. i donât even know if he wants that.â
He gave a rueful smile. âHeâd be a fool not to.â Then, softer, âDo you love him?â
You opened your mouth, closed it, then whispered, âYes.â
Silence hung, broken only by the flap of pigeons and distant ambulance sirens.Â
Jihoon inhaled and squared his shoulders like a surgeon scrubbing in. âThen you owe it to yourself, and to the twins, to see. And I owe it to myself to not be someoneâs gentle detour.â
Tears blurred your vision. âYou deserve someone who blazes for you.â
âYeah,â he said, tone light but eyes wet, âI intend to find her.â He leaned forward, brushed a thumb beneath your cheekbone. âThank you for being honest before resentment set roots. That takes guts.â
You laughed shakily. âFeels more like cowardice.â
âHonestyâs never cowardice.â He squeezed your hand, then released it. âGo tell him, before I change my mind and keep you here for selfish reasons.â
You rose, tucking the cup near the planter. âIâll always be grateful of you, Jihoon.â
âJust remember me when the twins need free check-ups. I can still be their uncle Jihoon.â His chuckle chased you to the elevator, bittersweet but genuine.
â.
Clouds brooded violet over the Han River by the time you stepped from a taxi at Sunghoonâs building.Â
You forced a breath, rode the elevator thirty-nine floors, and stared at the steel door, heartbeat ricocheting.Â
Before you could knock, it slid open, sunghoon stood framed in warm lamplight, phone pressed to ear, expression surprised.Â
He was about to head somewhere, but he ended the call anyways. âDid we schedule something I forgot?â
âNo,â you said, voice thin. âCan I come in?â
He stepped aside, bare feet on oak planks, the apartment scented faintly of roasted sesame, maybe early lunch abandoned.Â
He waited until the door shut, then folded arms. âIs everything okay with the kids?â
âTheyâre fine. At Momâs till tomorrow.â You swallowed. âI needed to talk⊠without small ears.â
His eyes softened, wariness mingled with curiosity. He gestured toward the sofa where plushies still lounged from last custody swap.
You both sat, leaving a cushion of space that pulsed with old familiarity and new tension.
You braced elbows on knees. âAfter the rink video, Iâve been⊠rethinking a lot.â
Sunghoonâs jaw tensed. âThought we agreed not to scare them with false hope.â
âThis isnât about false hope.â You looked up, meeting his gaze head-on. âItâs about real hope, but only if you want it too.â
His breath caught. âYouâre serious.â
âYes.â Words tumbled out, halting at first, then fluid. âI miss the way you used to leave notes in my pockets, how youâd call from the taxi just to hear me breathe.Â
you gulped, laying down the cards alongside uour heart âI miss us arguing about which tea to drink and making up before the kettle boiled. I donât miss the screaming matches or the silence afterwards, but I believe weâve grown. The twins forced us to see we can still be a team.â You exhaled. âSo I broke things off with Jihoon this afternoon.â
Shock flickered across his features, surprise, then something almost like relief.Â
He reached for you, stopped, lowered his hand. âI donât want you to choose me if being with him made you happy.â
âI know,â you murmured. âAnd lord, he was amazing.âÂ
You looked up at him, emotions flickering on your face âBut he wasnât you.â
Silence pooled, thick but gentle. Finally he asked, âWhat does âtry againâ look like to you?â
âCoffee on Sunday mornings, just us, talking about anything except bills. Shared therapy if we fall into old traps. Dates, real ones, ending in separate apartments if pace matters. Honesty every step.â
âAnd what if the spark still scorches us?â His voice husky.
âThen we keep ice buckets nearby,â you teased, then sobered. âIâm not promising a fairytale, just the chance to rebuild.â
He stood, paced to the window where Seoul glittered like scattered gemstones.Â
Reflection haloed him in citylight. âI never stopped loving you,â he said, quiet, raw. âI just stopped believing love was enough.â
You rose, walked until you stood an armâs length away. âLove isnât enough. But love and work, and two pint-sized spies, might be.â
He laughed softly, turned, and took your hands. âOkay,â he breathed. âSlowly.â
âSlowly,â you echoed. The warmth of his palms radiated up your arms, familiar and electric.
He drew you into an embraceâ tentative at first, then securing, his chin atop your head, your ear over his heart.Â
The rhythm there felt both new and remembered. You closed your eyes, inhaling cedar and a hint of sesame, and let your muscles melt into a shape theyâd once known by instinct.
Minutes or hours might have passed, until finally Sunghoon pulled back a fraction, eyes shining. âStay for dinner? I burned the sesame oil but I can salvage the soup.â
You smiled through wet lashes. âIâll chop scallions.â
His lips curved, softness where theyâd once been rigid with pride. âAnd after we eat, weâll draft a co-parenting treaty version two. The kind with glitter.â
âAll treaties should have glitter,â you agreed.
Hand in hand, you moved toward the kitchen, steps slow, hearts quicker.Â
Behind you the plush phoenix slumped against the penguin on the couch, as if exhausted from orchestrating fate.Â
The sizzle of rekindled soup and the gentle scrape of knives against cutting board marked the beginning, not of going back, but of beginning again, eyes open, promises tempered, sparks tended, slow and deliberate as the first stroke of a painter restoring a treasured canvas.
â.
The slow-burn weeks unfolded like pages warmed by sunlight:Â
Thursday pasta in your kitchen where Yohan grated parmesan with the gravity of a jeweler cutting diamonds and Haneul dirtied the whole table with tomato sauce.
Saturday mornings on Sunghoonâs cavernous couch, your sock-clad feet tucked under a shared blanket while Haneul narrated every plot twist.
Sunday morning pancake (very poor) art, followed by polite squabbles over syrup real estate.Â
Between those orchestrated family moments lived quieter, riskier hours, you and Sunghoon trading texts about whoâd forgotten the dental forms, a lingering brush of knuckles while rinsing dishes, the way his gaze tracked you when he thought the twins werenât looking.Â
No lightning strike, no fireworks, just kindling stacking itself, breath by breath, until even a whisper could set it alight.
Youâd slipped into his apartment with take-out bulgogi and a box of those âunnecessarily cuteâ star-shaped macarons that made the twins squeal.Â
Post-dinner they demanded a pillow-fort marathon of Spirited Away, then conked out before Chihiro met Haku.Â
You and Sunghoon carried them, limp with sleep, to the joined rooms they had, the very first room you had used.
When you straightened, Sunghoonâs hand stayed at the small of your back a fraction longer than necessary, you turned, breath hitching at how near his lips had drifted.
No audience. No distractions. Just you, him, a hush weighted by weeks of restraint.
âYouâre wearing the honey lipstick again,â he murmured, thumb ghosting the corner of your mouth.
You swallowed. âMaybe I remember itâs your favorite.â
His laugh rumbled low, intimate. âFlattery, or a tactical move?â
âDepends,â you whispered, pulse hammering.
He leaned in, tentative once, then confidence flooded as your mouths met, soft and searching, the air swelling with the musk of his cologne and rain on windowpanes.Â
The first kiss tasted of nostalgia, salt-sweet like melted macarons; the second tasted of now, your tongue sliding against his, a hungry sigh youâd forgotten your body could make.Â
His palm cupped your jaw, thumb tracing your pulse, the heat where he touched felt almost unbearable.Â
When he drew back, breathing ragged, he whispered your name the way it used to fall in the quiet just before dawn: reverent, claiming, achingly gentle.
âTell me to stop,â he rasped, forehead resting against yours. âIf itâs too fastââ
âDonât stop,â you answered, fingers fisting in the collar of his henley. âPlease.â
Walls youâd rebuilt brick by brick tumbled with shocking softness.Â
He nudged you against the hallway wall, kisses deepening, teeth grazing your lower lip.Â
Dirty words slipped from his mouth, pet names soaked in promise, in memory of every night youâd once mapped each otherâs bodies, and you answered with a breathy moan that made him curse softly.Â
His hands found the hem of your dress, palms warm against your thighs, but he slowed, seeking permission, you guided his wrists higher.Â
Fabric rustled, buttons surrendered, you pressed close, reveling in the feel of his broad back under your roaming hands, the ripple of muscle tightening as he lifted you slightly to fit knees between your legs.Â
Desire pooled, insistent yet exquisitely familiar, as though this dance had only paused, never ended.
âBedroom,â he managed, voice gravel.Â
You nodded, mouths colliding again as he half-walked, half-carried you down the hall.Â
And you collided in bed, sheets tangled around your forms dancing a tango you had forgotten was so familiar with him.Â
Morning sunlight shone through the curtains Sunghoon had forgotten to open the prior night.Â
You stirred first, disoriented, then aware of every muscle pleasantly overworked.Â
Sunghoonâs arm lay across your waist, his hand splayed over your stomach. You tilted to watch him sleep, lashes fanning his cheeks, lips parted.Â
Sheer peace... well, a peace that shattered with the stampede of four small feet.Â
The bedroom door crashed open, squeals ricocheted off walls.
âAttack!â Haneul shrieked, launching herself onto the mattress.
âDad, wake up!â Yohan followed, slightly less feral but equally determined, penguin plush waving like a flag of conquest.
Sunghoon woke with a strangled grunt just before twenty-five kilos of enthusiasm landed on his rib cage. You fumbled to pull the duvet higherâ too late. Haneulâs eyes went huge.
âMommyâs wearing Daddyâs shirt!â she crowed, triumphant as a detective cracking a cold case.
Yohan grinned. âMission success?â
You gaped, cheeks flaming, while Sunghoon scrubbed a hand over his face, half mortified, half amused. âGuys, personal space?â
âI think itâs barely seven.â Your voice rasped embarrassingly. âCanât cartoons wait till coffee?â
Yohan shook his head with solemn conviction. âCartoons fuel creativity.â
Sunghoon snorted. âYour bedtime documentaries are paying off.â He sat up, duvet after all staying mercifully in place, and hauled both kids into his lap, pressing kisses to disheveled hair.Â
His eyes slid to you, warm, just a hint of mischief. âWhat do you say we make pancakes? Mommy and I can supervise from the couch.â
âWith syrup rivers!â Haneul insisted.
âsprinkles too,â Yohan added.
âDeal,â you said, laughter bubbling. You squeezed their ankles affectionately. âBut maybe let Mommy find pants first?â
They scampered off, shouting about mixing bowls. You sagged back, exhaling a near-hysterical giggle while Sunghoon tipped his forehead to yours.
âWell,â he murmured, âthat escalated quickly.â
You smacked his chest lightly. âYou know theyâll brag about this for years.â
âProbably.â He threaded fingers through yours. âWorth it.â
Your smile softened. âYeah, worth it.â
Down the hall cupboards slammed, utensils clanged, and a shriek informed you a measuring cup had become airborne.Â
You swung your legs over the edge, tee skimming thighs, and stood. Sunghoon caught your wrist, pressing a tender kiss to the inside.
âRound two tonight,â he teased, voice low. âKid curfew enforced.â
Heat curled in your belly even as you rolled eyes. âWeâll see if Chef Daddy survives breakfast first.â
SUMMARY: sick and tired of their parents always arguing whenever one of them comes to pick âem up, yohan and haneul (or haneul and yohan, per haneulâs request) decide to organize a mission and make you and sunghoon fall in love again.
WARNINGS: starring JIHOON (readerâs new bf) divorced parents, shared custody, mentions of hickeys, insults, anger, fights, making out (jihoon & reader - later hoon & reader), more to be added!
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 variedânot on weekends, holidays, or even the morning after your anniversary celebration when he'd had perhaps one glass of ChĂąteau 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 watchâthe 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 Christmasâperfect 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 Jungwonâand by extension, to you.
Before leaving, he stopped at the bedroom door. "The new arrangement in the grand foyerâthe 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. Yangâyour 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 domainâa 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 handâin 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 momentâjust a momentâthe 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 gestureâunderstanding your tendency to skip dinner at formal eventsâbrought an unexpected lump to your throat.
The mansion was beautifulâspacious, 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 wonderedânot for the first timeâwhat 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 roomâJungwon'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 outâthe 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 faceâannoyance, 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 newâthis 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 hisâan 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.
"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 veinâdiscussions 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 silencesâsomething 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 responsibilitiesâ"
"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 emotionsâloneliness, frustration, yearningâerupted 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 meâreally looked at meânot 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. "IâI thought you preferred our current arrangement. You never indicatedâ"
"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 anymoreâthis 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 neverâ"
"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 notâ" 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 alternativeâthat you simply feel nothing for meâis 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 officeâhis usual escapeâbut 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 whyâ"
"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 sometimesâeven the arranged marriages in our circleâand 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 yoursâthe optimal time for children, their education, their role in continuing the Yang legacyâall 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 elseâsomeone 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 glassâJungwon 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 messageâthat 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 suffocatingâevery 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 cardâthe 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 entranceâavoiding 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 friendâone who predated your marriage, who had no connection to the Yang family circle.
As the car pulled away, you glanced back at the houseâa 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 ifâ
"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 mansionâa 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, butâ"
"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 appearanceâthe 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 monthsâperhaps for the entire year of your marriageâfinally 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 wallsâthe complete opposite of your sterile perfection at the mansion.
"I can'tâ" 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 criedâlong 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 nowâart supplies everywhere," Leah said apologetically.Â
"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 actâto 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 earlierâyour 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 hiddenâor 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 youâ"
"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 itselfâthe 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 himâa 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 weekâ"
"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 advisedâas 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 onâ"
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 facadeâthe 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 wonâhe couldn't begin rebuilding trust by violating itâbut 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 youâyou'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 talkâwhether 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 himâstaff arriving, coffee brewing, the day's preparations beginningâJungwon 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 scentâa 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 marginâsmall, 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 youâpassing dishes at dinner, handing you into the car, the brief contact when giving you a giftâand 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 allâthe 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 himselfâany 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 booksânovels 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 expectationsâheaven.
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 loveâI 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 composureâthe mask he'd worn his entire adult lifeâshatter 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 returnedâif 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 designâ"
"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 planâ"
"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 parlorâbring 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 mansionâto 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 eatenâ"
"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 gardenâthe 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 repeatedlyâhis 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 journeyâthe 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 homeâand 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 leavingâthe one who'd admitted his fear of vulnerability, who'd texted you his feelings rather than say them aloudâperhaps 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 partnershipânot 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 peoniesâyour favorite flowerâplanted 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 toâ" 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 gardenâyour favorite part of the grounds, where you often walked aloneâyou 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 booksâyour booksâmany 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 undoneâhair 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 youâreally 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 entirelyâraw, 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 writtenâthey'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 mostâvulnerability, need, the possibility of rejectionâwas 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 willingâif there's any part of you that believes we could start againâI swear I will spend every day trying to be worthy of you."
You stood frozen, overwhelmed by his declaration, by the sight of Jungwon Yangâheir to an empire, always in perfect controlâon 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 wordsâ'I want to do with you what spring does with the cherry trees'âI 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 marginsâit 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 deserveânot 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 wantedâwasn'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 himâ" 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 meâall 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 voiceâthis 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 youâI 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 palmâa 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 awakeningâthe 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 stepsâeach 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 talkedâsometimes for hoursâabout 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 obligationsâ"
"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 communicationâI'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 smiledâa 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 youâthe 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 houseâsmaller, 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 auctionâironically, the same type of event where you'd played your roles so convincingly beforeânow 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 backânot 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 gestureâone that might have seemed ordinary in most marriages but was revolutionary in yoursâmade 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 thereâno longer hidden or deniedâsent heat cascading through you.
"May I kiss you?" he asked softly.
It wasn't your first kiss since the reconciliationâthere had been gentle pecks, cautious explorationsâbut 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 wifeânot 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 oneâleaving 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 yearâthese six months especiallyâhave 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 setânone 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 personalâa 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 themâone chosen for appearance, one chosen for meaningâperfectly 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 hereâfrom 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 eyesâeyes that now held nothing back from youâyou 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 wasnât the tenderness.
It was the hunger.
Jungwon, who used to sleep with a polite space between your bodies, now touched you like he couldnât 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 snappedâlike some tight, internal knot had come undoneâand he was feral from the release.
The first night you truly became intimate, you realized just how much heâd 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 nervesâfrom sheer fucking relief.
His mouth, which had always only spoken in formal tones and quiet dinner conversation, now whispered against your skinâ
âIâve dreamed of spreading your legs and living between them.â
You gasped. He kissed lower. His breath hot between your thighs.
âEvery night beside you, pretending I didnât 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.â
You were already soaked, trembling.
You cupped his face, forced him to look up. âYou donât have to hold back anymore.â
His pupils were blown wide. He licked his lips, nodding.
âI donât think I could if I tried.â
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 mouthâfast and loudâand he didnât even let up.
âAgain,â he groaned, âfuck, again, I want to feel you fall apart.â
And when he finally hovered over you, flushed and trembling and naked between your legs?
âTell me,â he whispered, cock dragging through your soaked folds, âtell me what you want. What youâve been aching for. Let me ruin you the way Iâve dreamed about.â
So you did.
You told him all of it. The fantasies. The positions. The filthy little things youâd only ever written down in notebook margins when he was still cold and distant.
And Jungwon?
Did. Not. Flinch.
He nodded, breath shaking, and saidâ
âYou want to be face down? Crying? Begging? Iâll give it to you. Just know when I start, I wonât stop until youâre fucked stupid.â
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 youâd never imagined him sayingâ
âThis pussyâs mine. All fucking mine. You think I donât know how wet you get when I talk like this?â
âLook at youâslutty little wife, dripping down your thighs like youâve been waiting to be treated like a whore.â
âHow many times you make yourself cum thinking about me breaking like this, huh?â
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 hadnât just rearranged your insides.
Pulled you into his arms and whispered, âI 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.â
He paused. Smiled against your neck.
âIâve never been so happy to disappoint him.â
-
In the weeks that followed your first night together, the shift between you became impossible to ignore. And impossible to contain.
Jungwon couldnât stop touching you.
He didnât even try. His hand found yours under the breakfast table.
His palm slid across your lower back when you walked past him in the hallwayâlingering 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 youâd saved from the mansion.
You didnât hear him approach.
But you felt itâthe 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.
âThatâs what I come home to?â
You turned your head, startledâand then flushed under the weight of his gaze.
He was already unbuttoning his sleeves.
Already breathing too hard.
âJungwonââ
He hauled you to your feet. Didnât flinch at the dirt. Didnât care about the sunlight.
Just gripped your waist, pulled you close, and kissed you like youâd been killing him in his dreams. You gasped against his mouth, hands braced on his chest, heart pounding.
âWhat was that for?â
His eyes were black with need. He didnât let you go.
âBecause I can,â he said. âBecause 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.â
You trembled.
He pulled you closer.
âI refuse to waste another fucking day.â
The peonies were forgotten.
He dragged you inside, dirt on your hands, sweat beading on your spineâand 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.
Didnât even bother removing your clothes properlyâjust shoved your dress up and pulled your underwear down like it offended him.
âHere,â he growled, palming your ass as he pressed you forward onto all fours. âHere on the floor, where I can see every inch of you. Where I can fuck you raw and you can scream for me.â
You moaned, breath hitched.
âGod, I wanted to do this the first night I married you. I wanted to wreck you. I wanted to see what sounds youâd make with my cock in you.â
You were dripping by the time he pushed inside.
No teasing. No patience. Just one smooth thrust that made you cry out, already clenching.
âSo fucking tight,â he hissed. âSo wet and hot and mine.â
He fucked you hard, fast, hips slapping against your ass as your moans echoed through the empty house.
You didnât care. You let him take everything.
He gripped your hips, pulled you back onto him harder, chasing your high like heâd 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 youâhead on your stomach, smiling like a teenager.
âMy father would be appalled,â he murmured. âThe Yang heir behaving like this. Desperate. Loud. Fucking his wife on the floor.â
You laughed, running your fingers through his sweat-damp hair.
âAnd what do you think?â
He tilted his head. Kissed your bare hip, then lower.
Then smiled.
âI think we should do it again in the kitchen.â
A pause.
âThen the stairs. Then the study. Then maybe the floor again.â
You didnât 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 detailsâthat he paid such close attention to your physical comfortâmoved 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 itâhow 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 thisâ" he kissed you deeply "âis 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 touchesâhis 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 usâthis 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 heâd been holding it in all dayâlike 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 didnât rush. He didnât 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.
âWhat are you thinking?â he asked, voice low, tight, lips brushing the corner of your mouth.
You blinked up at him, dazed, overwhelmed. âThat I hardly recognize you sometimes.â
His rhythm stutteredâhips faltering, jaw tensing.
His brows drew together. âIs that⊠disappointing?â
You couldnât help the breathless laugh that escaped you. You wrapped your legs tighter around his waist and pulled him closer, arching up to meet him.
âNo. Quite the opposite.â
Your fingers slid into his hair, your voice thick with wonder and arousal.
âIâm amazed that all of thisââ
Your hands trailed down his chest, to where your bodies met, to the heat and slick and stretch between your legs,
ââwas hidden inside that perfect, restrained man.â
Relief washed over his face, followed by a crooked, mischievous smileâso at odds with the version of him youâd once known that it sent a fresh wave of heat crashing through you.
âI have years of self-control to make up for,â he said, lowering his mouth to your throat, his voice a warm rasp against your skin. âYou donât think Iâve imagined this? Every night. Every day. Watching you walk around like you didnât know how badly I wanted to fuck you into the mattress?â
You whimpered, breath catching.
âYou think I didnât notice how soft your thighs looked in those dresses? Or how your voice changed when you said my name?â
His tongue flicked over a sensitive spot just below your ear, and your back arched without thinking.
âI used to jerk off in the shower,â he whispered, filthy now, âbiting my lip so you wouldnât hear. Palming my cock like a coward while I imagined you moaning for me just like this.â
You gasped as he pinned your wrists above your head, not rough, just firmâcontrolling, possessive. His other hand slid between your bodies, fingers circling your clit with devastating precision.
âYouâre mine now,â he said against your collarbone. âI donât have to hide it anymore. Donât have to pretend I donât want you crying and shaking under me every night.â
The need in his voice made your toes curl.
âI donât think anyone could be prepared for this version of you,â you managed to gasp, hips bucking as his thumb pressed harder.
He chuckled darkly. âGood. I like catching you off guard.â
Then his lips ghosted over your pulse, and he murmured:
âI 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.â
His hips snapped, and your whole body trembled.
âI like owning this version of you. The version that melts under me. That asks for more even when Iâm already inside.â
The sheer possessiveness in his voiceâraw and reverentânearly undid you.
Your whole body clenched, eyes wide, breath gone. âOnly you,â you whispered, completely wrecked. âAlways you.â
He kissed you then. Deep. Unrelenting.
And when you came again, shaking apart in his arms, you knew:
Youâd 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 rewardâthis man who loved you without restraint, who showed that love in every look and touch and whispered wordâwas 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 hereâjust 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-endedâa 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 desireâa 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 breakfastâfresh 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 poemsâsome 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 recognizeâcontemporary 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 neckâthe 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 poemsâfrom hesitant early attempts to more recent, confident expressionsâmirrored 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 phoneârarely used during the trip except for taking photosâand 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 workâ"
"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 himâabout the villa."
You looked out at the endless blue of the Aegean, then back at the man who had transformed himself for love of youâwho 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 worldâwhich, 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 youâunplanned, 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:
synopsis: you decide to go to your first college party after two years, and after having to take care of two different drunk men, your college life changes drastically.
genre: social media au (smau), crack, fluff, smut, strangers to lovers, love triangle, college au
status: on going! (started 12/22/2024)
playlist: jake's playlist | sunghoon's playlist
warnings: profanity, sexual jokes, little bit polygamic, weed consumption, alcohol consumption, ignore timestamps please!!! it's all crack zero braincells kinda au, reader is jungwon's twin sister, jake and hoon hate each other
teaser đ
profiles: 1 | 2 | 3
incoming chapters
1. greek god
2. the bro code
3. jungwon's best friend
4. rabbit hole
5. niki from the future
6. she's coming...
7. the aftermath (2.6k words)
8. like a prayer trend
9. werefolf
10. naruto and sasuke are gay
11. thanks sigmund freud
12. bros like to gossip
13. women are dating robots in 2025
14. between two wolves (2k words + 6 screenshots)
15. shawty had them apple bottom jeans
16. the john cena episode
17. TELL ME WHY
18. sigma boy
19. rose bowl
20. hate to mate bowl
21. tom brady and patrick mahomes
22. unspoken desires (5.5 works + 6 screenshots)
23. hungary field trip
24. sunghoon diss track
25. fifa straight male gathering
26. just close the door (1.3k words + 8 screenshots)
27. nikola jokic
28. the super bowl episode (10k words + 10 screenshots
29. tdot
30. travis kelce but he's from japan
31. chateau marmont
32. tax evasion is a victimless crime
33. the premiere (15k words)
34. coming soon!
heejama's masterlist đ
author's note: hey guys! this is my first long smau so i hope you guys like it đ„č taglist is open, just comment down below or dm me đ€
Getting invited into bed with two insanely hot guys? A dream come true. Sim Jaehyun is everything youâve ever fantasized aboutâsoft, sweet, impossible to resist. And his boyfriend? Park Jongseong is the perfect mix of manly, dominant, and dangerously addictive.
So when they invited you to join their bed activities, you can't argue to say no despite of your situation. Who could blame you? They're insanely sexy and they're the ones insisting. They want you there. So why the hell is Jay acting so bitter about it?
warning: everyone is either gay or fruity, bi! jake, bi! jay, pansexual! reader, brief mention of: fxf, scissoring, open relationship, threesome (heeseung and his gf x reader). reader having a hard time enjoying actual sex, so reader masturbate like a man, she's so sexually deprived that she uses everything to get off, reader thirsting over jake, jealous angry jay.
explicit content ahead (smut): masturbation, threesome (switch jake, dom jay x sub reader), anal sex (mxm), fingering, cunnilingus, nipple play, dacryphilia, overstimulation, pussy slapping, squirting, pain kink?, unprotected sex, throat fucking, dubcon-ish, biting, rough mean jay, MDNI. WC: 15.7K
want a taste?
You are so frustrated.
Why does sex feel amazing for everyone except you?
It's not like you don't know what it's supposed to feel like. You've read books, watched porn, listened to your friends rave about their latest hookups. They make it sound euphoricâbreathless moans, trembling legs, mind-numbing pleasure. And yet, for you? Nothing.
Your first time was a disaster. The foreplayâif you could even call it thatâwas pitiful. The stretch burned. It hurt. It hurt so much that you ghosted the guy afterward, deleting his number like he was nothing more than a bad memory. Because that's all he was. A mistake.
Maybe it was him. Maybe he was just bad at it. So you tried again, this time with someone older, more experienced. Surely he would know what to do. But noâit was the same damn thing. They couldn't get you off. It hurt. It burned. And worst of all? It was boring. Uncomfortable, frustrating, infuriating.
You sit there, listening to your friends gush about their wild sex lives, their earth-shattering orgasms, and you can't help but hate them a little. It's not fair. It's not normal.
Is it a you problem?
You tried something different. A woman. Maybe men just weren't built to handle you.
And at first, it was better. You liked touching her, liked making her feel good, liked watching her body shudder under your hands. But when it came to you? The same damn problem. The moment she touched you, it was like your body refused to respond. Even scissoring just felt like raw friction, nothing more than skin dragging against skin. It burned. It always burns.
You're so envious of othersâfor actually enjoying sex, for having partners who know how to touch them.
Meanwhile, you're stuck in your room, watching porn, getting yourself off because no one else ever gets it right. No one knows your body like you do.
You've spent night after night touching yourself, pushing your limits, exploring kinks you never even knew you had. Your vibrator's been through hellâdrained, recharged, drained againâbecause you can't get enough of the pleasure it sends coursing through you.
Six times in a single night, and it's still not enough. It never is.
You're pathetic, aren't you? Masturbating like some desperate, sex-starved pervert. Plunging your fingers deep inside yourself, chasing the high that no real partner has ever been able to give you. Watching porn, imagining yourself in the girl's placeâwishing it was you being touched like that, fucked like that, worshiped like that.
And after nearly a year of searching, experimenting, you've realized something. You cum the hardest when you watch groups. Threesomes, foursomes, full-blown orgiesâbodies tangled together, hands everywhere, mouths everywhere. The way they touch each other, pay attention to every inch of skin, despite the numbers.
So, you decided to bring that into real life.
You replied to a guy looking for a one-time hookup with his girlfriendâa birthday gift for her, he said. It sounded perfect.
You told them it was your first time, and the three of you set some ground rules. He guided you gently, his fingers threading through your hair as you ate his girlfriend out. She was beautiful, and you loved every second of making her moan, feeling her thighs tremble beneath your tongue.
It soaked you. This was what you wanted. Giving them what they wanted. Letting him use your throat, over and over, watching him fuck his girlfriend while you licked her clit. That was the turn-on.
But then, his fingers slipped inside you. His girlfriend kissed you, her lips soft, her words so comforting. And yetâ It burns.
You winced, tried to relax, but it was useless. That familiar, infuriating discomfort crept in again, killing whatever arousal you had.
You pulled away, forcing a smile, telling them to keep going, that it was okay if they didn't focus on you. Because you didn't need it. They were your typeâboth of them, so hot, so eager. You loved watching them touch each other. You loved licking his balls while he fucked her, loved playing with her breasts, pinching her clit.
Your pussy clenched at nothing while you watched her fall apart on his dick, her face blissed out in pleasure you knew you'd never feel.
And just like that, frustration settled deep in your gut.
Maybe sex just isn't for you. Maybe it never was. And maybe, at some point, you'll have to accept it.
But damn, you're jealous.
"Awww, they're so cute! Look at them holding hands!"
You follow her gaze, eyes landing on the two men walking in. Their hands are loosely intertwined, their strides in sync.
The shorter one has a face that's both sharp and soft, his jawline well-defined yet not too harsh, his high cheekbones giving him an almost ethereal look. His eyesâwarm and expressiveâcontrast with the straight line of his nose and the fullness of his lips, God, what a handsome man.
The taller man, in contrast, carries a striking, almost intimidating presence. His facial structure is all sharp angles and strong linesâhigh cheekbones, a prominent nose bridge, a jawline - a sharp 120 degrees jawline.
You raise a brow, turning back to Wonyoung. "What's with them?"
"Nothing!" she chirps, grinning as she watches them take a seat. "It's just refreshing to see bro luh bro together."
You snort. You steal another glance at the pair. The shorter one is laughing now, dimples peeking out as he leans in, nudging the taller man playfully.
Sunoo arrives, setting down a tray with all of your orders. He follows your gaze, his own eyes landing on the two men.
"Oh, Jake and Jay?" he says, voice dropping slightly.
Wonyoung perks up immediately. "You know them?"
Sunoo plops down beside you, nodding as he starts distributing drinks. "Yeah, Jay's our club president. Never thought they'd are together, though. I meanâ" He pauses, lowering his voice slightly. "They sound so straight."
Your eyebrows shoot up, and Wonyoung lets out an exaggerated gasp. "No way," she drawls, glancing back at them with renewed interest.
"Swear," Sunoo says, holding up a hand like he's making a vow. "Back in highschool, Jake always had that... golden retriever energy, y'know? Friendly, flirty, kinda dumb in a cute way. But Jay?" He scoffs.
"Jay was the heartbreaker. Like, he had this whole nonchalant thing going onâcool, detached, gave just enough attention to make a girl fall for him, then disappeared a week later. Maybe that was just his denial phase."
Sunoo hums in agreement, shrugging. "Yeah, because life is better when you're gay."
You huff out a quiet laugh, finally reaching for your drink. "Oh, you got matcha, right?" Sunoo asks, sliding the cup toward you.
You nod, mumbling a quick thanks, but your mind is barely in the conversation anymore. Your attention keeps slipping, your eyes betraying you as they flick backâagain and againâto the couple sitting at the other table.
Becauseâif you're being honestâyou've thought the Jake guy was attractive from the moment he walked in.
Sunoo and Wonyoung have moved on, their conversation shifting into casual university gossip, but their words barely register. Your focus is locked on Jake, on the way he sits, leaning slightly forward, lazily twirling his pen between those long fingers as he writes something down in a notebook. He says something to his boyfriend, smiling as he does.
That smile. Those lips. Plump. Soft-looking, the kind that part just enough to reveal a glimpse of teeth when he grins. The kind that would feel soâ
You bite down on your straw.
No. Nope. You are not thirsting over a man who very obviously has a boyfriend.
And yetâyour gaze drifts lower, down to his hands. His hands.
Slender, long fingers, veins subtly running beneath his skin. Knuckles slightly prominent as he flexes them, tapping his pen absentmindedly against the page. You swallow hard, mind spiraling down a path you know you shouldn't be going down, but fuck, you can't help it.
Those handsâhow would they feel against your skin? Pressing against your thighs, spreading you open? Fingers sinking deep, stretching you just right? The thought alone sends a pulse of heat straight between your legs.
And his noseâfuck, his nose.
It's perfect. Straight, slightly defined at the bridge, the kind of nose that was made to be sat on. Your breath hitches as a vivid image flashes through your mindâhis face buried between your legs, that perfect nose rubbing against your clit as he eats you out. You imagine his hands gripping your hips, holding you down as you ride his face, your fingers tangled in his hair, your moans breathy and desperate as you grind against him.
Would it actually feel as good as it looks in porn? You wouldn't know. But it doesn't hurt to imagine, right?
You shift in your seat, heartbeat thrumming in your ears. Your foot taps anxiously against the floor, your thighs pressing together, trying desperately to ignore the growing ache between them.
But just as you force your gaze down, trying to pull yourself out of your own head, a chill runs through you.
You feel it before you see it. Slowly, hesitantly, you glance back upâonly to lock eyes with Jay.
Fuck.
He's looking right at you, his brow raises just slightly, like he knows exactly what you were thinking.
Your breath catches in your throat. Panic sets in, and you immediately tear your gaze away, heart hammering as you stare down at your drink.
Great. Just great. Not only are your panties soaked, but now you've got a pissed-off boyfriend glaring at you.
You don't even make it five minutes before bolting.
Some half-assed excuseâan emergency, you tell them, whatever the hell that meansâand then you're gone. Practically fleeing back to your dorm, heart hammering, skin burning with embarrassment.
The second you step inside, you lock the door, press your back against it, and let out a shaky breath. You strip any piece of your clothing and went to the bathroom, turning on the water.
The shower is scalding but it does nothing to wash away the lingering heat in your core. You scrub your skin, try to shake off the feeling of want, but it clings to you.
Even after, sitting on the toilet in just your towel, your legs still feel weak. Your mind won't shut up, replaying the way Jake looked, the way Jay looked at you.
You feel so guilty.
But it's not like you actually did anything, right? You were just looking. It's not a crime to look. You tell yourself that over and over, forcing the thought down, gaslighting yourself into believing it.
It's normal. Completely normal. You just found him attractive. That's all. Then why does it feel so wrong?
Your fingers twitch against your thigh. Your whole body is tense, wound up tight, frustration eating you alive.
You don't think. You just act. Your hand reaches for the bidet, adjusting the angle, fingers trembling as the cold metal rests against your skin.
A sharp gasp leaves your lips as the water pulses against your clit, and your head tips back, shame curling tight in your stomach. You shouldn't be doing this. You know that.
But you can't stop. You're so pathetic.
Since it was your third year, the number of students had dwindled. Some had transferred to different courses, others had dropped out entirely, victims of whatever existential crisis they were facing. It was just the reality of being a college student.
The college retreat finally arrived, and you placed your bag in the train's storage before settling into your seat. Sunoo, already making himself comfortable beside you, had an eye mask covering his eyes and was snoring before the train even began to move.
You sighed, sinking into your seat, plugging in your wired headphones to drown out the chatter around you. As music filled your ears, you scrolled through your phone. Your gaze drifted downward, watching your foot tap lightly against the floor in time with the beatâuntil something small thumped against it.
A small bag. Frowning, you pulled out one earbud, wincing at the slight tug.
"Be careful, babe," a voice said. You looked up just in time to see Jay reaching down for the bag at your feet.
"I'm sorry," Jake murmured. The moment your eyes met his, your entire body froze.
You couldn't speak. Couldn't even move. Jay straightened, holding the bag, his gaze lingering on you for a second too long. Jake, oblivious, apologized again before walking off.
But Jay? He didn't move right away. He looked at you one last time before turning to follow Jake.
You swallowed hard, your throat dry.
Slowly, you put your headphones back in, forcing yourself to relax against your seat.
Why the fuck is it so hard not to look at him? Who could blame you, though? They were your batchmates, your classmates, and you hadn't even realized you shared the same major until now. And they were so close.
And so fucking hot.
Both of them were, to be fair. But Jay was the one who would kill you with his angry glares.
Your foot taps anxiously against the ground, your teeth worrying your bottom lip as you fight the urge to glance over again. Don't look. Don't look. Don't look. But you do.
Across the room, your colleagues erupt into cheers, celebrating another round of drinks, but their voices fade into the background. You tryâtryâto engage, to smile, to socialize like a normal person, but your gaze keeps betraying you, flickering back to them.
Jake looks so happy. His face is flushed, his glasses fogging slightly from the heat of the room and the alcohol in his system. His smile is soft, a little lazy, dimples appearing as he giggles at something Jay mutters in his ear. He's a lightweight, that much is clear, and the alcohol is making him affectionateâleaning into Jay's shoulder, fingers absentmindedly playing with the hem of his boyfriend's sleeve.
Jay is the complete oppositeâcalm, composed, sipping his drink with effortless elegance. He barely reacts as Jake presses closer, only tilting his head slightly, allowing him to rest against him. His fingers lazily ghost over Jake's knee, a silent acknowledgment, a small show of possession.
Your stomach tightens. Your mind wanders, slipping into dangerous territory, conjuring images you should not be entertaining.
Is Jake a bottom? Or is he a top?
Noâno way. Look at him. He's so soft, so giggly, so touchy. If you had to bet, you'd say he's the kind of guy who'd melt under the right hands, who'd whimper when teased, who'd take it so wellâ
Your breath catches. Fuck.
And Jayâfuck, Jay is so manly. So effortlessly dominant. He doesn't even have to do anything, and yet he owns every space he's in. You can only imagine what he's like behind closed doors, when there's no one around to seeâexcept Jake.
What does Jake sound like when he moans? Would his voice be high, needy? Would he gasp, or would he whimper? Would Jay be rough with him? Would he tease him, make him beg, make him squirm?
Would heâ You squeeze your thighs together under the table, your nails pressing into your palms.
You need to stop.
"I need some fresh air," you blurt out, standing a little too fast, the chair scraping against the floor as you push back from the table. Sunoo barely acknowledge your sudden departure, too wrapped up in their own conversations, and you're grateful for it.
You make a beeline for the exit, your cheeks burning, your pulse erratic. The moment you step outside, the night air rushes over you, cool against your heated skin.
You take a deep breath. Then another. The cabin's outdoor area is quiet, save for the rustling of tall trees and the distant hum of music from inside. The air is fresh, crisp, but it does little to cool the wrong kind of heat pooling in your stomach.
"Fucking hell," you mutter under your breath, slapping your cheeks lightly, trying to shake yourself back to reality.
What the hell is wrong with you?
Is this how dry you are? Years of masturbating, of getting off alone, of chasing something that never quite hitsâhas it really reduced you to this? To thirsting over a taken man like some desperate, pathetic slut?
You groan, dragging your hands down your face. You march aimlessly in circles, feet pressing against the dirt path, trying to ground yourselfâtrying to shake the images still burning in your mind. You need to behave. Your pussy needs to behave.
After a while, you drop onto a wooden bench, pressing your palms against your knees, forcing yourself to breathe.
"Hey."
A voice startles you, and you whip around, heart nearly jumping out of your chest.
"OhâHeeseung," you exhale, relaxing slightly when you see him standing there, hands in his pockets, the faint glow of the lights casting long shadows behind him.
He smirks. "You look like you just saw a ghost."
You roll your eyes, smiling despite yourself. "Where's your girlfriend?"
"Inside, having fun with her friends." He steps closer, glancing at the empty space beside you. "Can I?"
You nod, shifting over to give him room.
He sighs as he sits, stretching his arms out along the back of the bench, tilting his head up to look at the sky. "Didn't think I'd see you out here alone."
"I needed a break," you say vaguely, not about to admit to the absolute filth running through your mind just minutes ago.
Lee Heeseung was the guy you met last summerâa music major with a healthy, happy open relationship with his girlfriend. You had joined them for one encounter, though nothing more came of it. After that, you stayed mutuals on social media, exchanging the occasional like or comment. His girlfriend, however had a habit of slipping into your DMs with suggestive messages, playful and teasing, making you chuckle every time.
"She misses you," he started, looking at you. "She was kind of disappointed, waking up and realizing you leave without cumming, telling me I'm such an asshole." He laughed, "well, maybe I was. I'm sorry."
You blink. Then, shaking your head, you wave a hand dismissively. "No, don't feel bad! It was a wonderful experience."
"You guys were amazing," you continue, turning to meet his gaze. "I loved watching you two, letting you use me, but I wasn't expecting anything. Seriously, don't feel guilty. I wanted to focus on herâon making her feel good."
Heeseung watches you for a beat, his lips curling slightly before he exhales, stretching his arms again along the back of the bench. "Ahh, I'm so glad I picked you." His tone is light, teasing. "You're really considerate, you know that?"
You shrug, grinning. "What can I say? I have a talent for that."
He laughs, shaking his head, but then his expression sobers slightly. "Still, I feel bad about that. I just thoughtâ" He pauses, scratching the back of his neck. "That night, when you backed off... I figured touching you might've made you uncomfortable. I didn't wanna push it."
You blink. Oh. He thinks that's why?
"No!" you blurt, laughing, reaching out to slap his shoulder playfully. "It wasn't you, okay? That was totally a me issue."
Heeseung raises a brow, tilting his head. "What kind of issue?"
You hesitate. Do you tell him? It's not exactly something you go around sharing, but it's just the two of you out here. You think Heeseung has always been easy to talk toânever judgmental, just curious, open.
So, you sigh, deciding to just be honest. You tell him everythingâhow you get aroused easily, how your body wants it, craves it, but the moment someone actually touches you, it all goes wrong. How you can't seem to relax, how their touch feels too much, too uncomfortable. How it burns.
Heeseung listens, his brows furrowing slightly as he processes your words.
When you finish, he shifts, leaning forward, elbows resting on his knees. "Shit," he breathes, his voice softer now. "Iâfuck, I'm sorry." His eyes widen, guilt flickering in them. "IâWe tried to touch you. IÂ slipped a finger inside. And you didn't say anything. I didn't even realizeâ"
You shake your head quickly, waving him off. "Don't feel bad."
"But it hurt," he says, like he's trying to wrap his head around it, his breath hitching slightly.
"Well, yeah," you admit, leaning back against the bench. "It burns."
Heeseung lets out a quiet, almost guilty laugh, rubbing a hand over his face. "Fuck. I feel like such an asshole now."
"You're not," you assure him, nudging him with your knee. "Seriously. It's fine. I wanted to be there. I wanted to do that. And I did enjoy itâI loved watching you two." You flash him a grin. "Plus, your girlfriend? Hot as hell."
That makes him chuckle, shaking his head again. "She is, huh?" He glances at you, eyes softer now. "But... you? You didn't get anything out of it?"
You shrug, sighing. "That's just how it is for me, I guess."
There's a moment of silence between you, filled only by the distant hum of laughter and music from inside. Heeseung sits back again, stretching his legs out in front of him, staring up at the sky as if he's thinking.
"I'm actually here to convince you to do it again with us," Heeseung admits, rubbing a hand over his face awkwardly.
Your eyes widen. "What?"
He laughs, a little sheepishly. "Yeahâuh, she said I should probably, you know, lick you as a take-back and propose the idea of doing it again because the sex was so good." His grin turns teasing before he sighs, shaking his head. "But... I don't know. I've been thinking about it, considering your situation, and my conscience just can't take it."
You open your mouth, unsure of what to say. "IâI..." You hesitate, then finally admit, "Honestly? I would like to do it again with you guys. It was a good experience, and you were both so kindâ"
"But," Heeseung interrupts, giving you a pointed look. "I don't want to do it again knowing that you're probably not enjoying it."
"Hey," you protest, frowning. "I said I enjoyed it."
Heeseung groans, slumping back against the bench. "Still."
You laugh at the sheer misery in his voice. "What, is your ego that fragile?"
He gives you a side-eye. "Yes. Absolutely."
You shake your head in amusement. "So... what now? You going to find someone else for your little proposition?"
Heeseung exhales dramatically, staring off into the distance. Then he shakes his head. "Nah." His gaze flickers back to you, lingering for a brief second before he smirks. "Damn, thoughâyou and my girlfriend are such freaks in the best way. It's hard to find someone like that. Plus, you're sexy as fuck."
Your lips twitch, amused. "Oh?"
"And your gag reflex?" Heeseung groans, running a hand through his hair. "Impressive. I'd rate the blowjob five stars, easy."
You laugh, playfully flipping your hair over your shoulder. "Why, thank you."
"But," he sighs, dramatically placing a hand over his chest, "I'm letting you go."
You pout, exaggerating your disappointment. "Awww."
"Yeah, yeah, I know," he says, waving you off. "I actually rehearsed a whole ass speech before coming over here, thinking I'd convince you to join us again âbut honestly, I'd just be disappointing my girlfriend." He chuckles, shaking his head. "It's okay, though."
You exhale, feeling a strange mix of relief and... loss?
"I'm sorry," you murmur.
"Hey, I'm sorry," Heeseung says, more serious now. "Don't think I'm letting you go just because you can't get off. That's not the reason. I don't want you to be hurt, and well..." He pauses, his voice lowering slightly.
"There were... things my girlfriend and I discussed doing to you. But after hearing what you said, I don't think it'd be a good idea anymore."
You swallow, his words sinking in. Another experience, another opportunity taken away because of your body's refusal to cooperate.
Heeseung must see something in your face because he groans, rubbing the back of his neck. "Fuck, I feel so bad now. Can I make it up to you? Food? Something sweet for making you feel bad?"
You shake your head, a small smile playing on your lips as you look at him. "Is it okay if we kiss?"
Heeseung looks momentarily caught off guard, but then he shrugs. "Sure, why not?"
"Waitâdoesn't this feel morally wrong? Like, cheating?"
He snorts. "You do know we fuck other people, right?" Heeseung raises a brow, amused. "Besides, she's the one who suggested I should eat your pussy as an apology."
You scrunch your nose. "Yeah, but I wouldn't enjoy it."
Heeseung clutches his chest, "Fuckâyou don't have to say it like that. Even I can't please you, huh?"
You burst into laughter before leaning in, pressing your lips against his.
His hands immediately find your waist, gripping you firmly as he responds, lips parting slightly as he follows your lead. The heat between you builds quickly, the moment shifting as your fingers tangle in his hair.
You move, climbing onto his lap, your thighs pressing against his hips as his hands slide down, settling on the curve of your ass. His tongue flicks against yours, deepening the kiss, and he practically shoves it down your throat, savoring the moment and leaving a last impression.
And just a few feet away, standing unnoticed in the shadows beyond the cabin's back entrance, Jay remains completely stillâleaning against the wall, hands in his pockets. Watching. Listening.
You don't even remember how you ended up in bed that night. One moment, you were locked in a messy make-out session with Heeseung outside, and the next, you were back in the cabin, drink in hand, relieved to find that Jake and Jay were nowhere in sight.
You actually enjoyed drinking with everyone. Maybe because you had let out a problem that had been weighing on you. Maybe because there were no distractions around the circleânothing tempting, nothing forbidden, nothing that made your skin burn with frustration.
Even Sunooâwho could usually outdrink everyoneâended up absolutely wasted.
A loud, piercing voice jerks you from unconsciousness.
"WAKE UP! EVERYONE GET READY FOR TODAY'S ACTIVITY!"
Your brain screams in protest, eyes squeezing shut as the harsh sunlight spills across your face. Around you, deep groans of agony echo through the cabin, everyone waking up in a collective hangover-induced suffering.
You stiffen, you felt something heavy weighing against you.
Blinking, you squint through the brightnessâonly to realize Sunoo is wrapped around your waist, his deep snores vibrating against your back. What the hell?
You tilt your head, glancing around groggily. Why are you in a room full of men?  Several guys are already getting up, shuffling around in various stages of disarray, stretching, groaning, rubbing their faces in exhaustion.
Panic jolts through you as you slap Sunoo's arm. "Did you bring me here?!"
He winces, barely cracking one eye open before scowling and slapping your back in revenge. You groan at the sting.
"Both of us were drunk as fuck," he grumbles. "Do you really think I had the brainpower to take you to the right room?" He shifts, kicking off the blanket, pulling a pillow over his face.
"Agh, fuck, the seniors are so noisy," he groans, muffled. "Let me fucking sleep."
Your mouth falls open in disbelief. Then, you glance down at yourself. The blanket is covering most of your legs, but... something feels off.
A memory flashes through your mindâyou and Sunoo, stumbling into the room last night, singing like idiots, collapsing into bed. You kicking off your pants because it felt too hot. Your stomach drops.
"Where are my fucking pants?" you whisper harshly, panic creeping in as you glance around. Other guys are groggily stretching, pulling on hoodies, running hands through messy hair, and you suddenly want to die.
"Uh... hey," a familiar voice calls.
You freeze. Slowly, hesitantly, you turn your head. And immediately wish you hadn't.
"Is this yours?" Jake stands a few feet away, holding your pants. But that's not the problem.
The problem is that he's shirtless, fresh water dripping from his hair, rolling down his bare shoulders, glistening over his defined chest and absâ Don't look lower. Don't look lower.
Oh, fuck, those abs.
"Y-Yes!" you blurt, scrambling to sit up. "Thank you!"
You practically launch yourself off the bed, tripping over the blanket as you grab your pants from his hand. Your fingers brush against his slightlyâwarm, damp from his showerâand your entire body locks up.
Jake just grins at your flustered state. "Rough night?" he asks, amused.
You don't answer. You can't.  Your face is burning, your thoughts spiraling, and the only thing that matters is getting the fuck out of there.
You mumble a quick, "Thanks," grabbing your pants with shaky fingers. Turning away, you hurriedly step into them, nearly tripping in your rush to cover yourself. Your hands fumble with the waistband as you stumble toward the door.
You don't look back. You don't see the way Jay's gaze follows you. The way his eyes drag down your body, your ass, the way his fingers twitch, his knuckles flexing as his grip tightens.
A scoff breaks the silence. "Enjoy flirting with that girl?"
Jay leans back against the bedframe, arms crossing over his chest. His eyes flick toward Jake, who is casually applying lotion to his arms, completely unbothered.
Jake doesn't even glance up. "Everything is such a big deal to you."
"Yeah," Jay mutters, his jaw tightening, "because you know she wants to fuck you. And you just gave her a reason to touch herself thinking about you." His voice is flat and bitter. "Do you want to fuck her?"
Jake lets out a breathy laugh, shaking his head at Jay's possessiveness.
Then, without warning, he leans forward, pressing in close, his lips brushing against Jay's ear as he murmurs, "Come on... don't pretend you don't want to fuck her too."
You hear Sunoo grunt beside you as everyone gathers in a large circle for today's activity. Your shoulders sink slightlyâthere are too many people, too much noise, and the closeness makes your skin prickle with discomfort.
Before you can dwell on it, someone calls your name.
Heeseung's girlfriend appears beside you, slipping her arm through yours. Heeseung follows a step behind, hands in his pockets, watching the two of you with mild amusement.
Conversation flows naturally between the three of you. She's playful, teasing, and when the moment strikes, she leans in to press a quick kiss to your cheek before Heeseung pulls her away with a laugh, shaking his head.
You huff out a chuckle, shaking off the flustered warmth lingering on your face. The fresh air feels nice, even with Sunoo rambling beside you, half-awake and barely filtering his thoughts.
"There's some dirt in your hair."
You pause, caught off guard by the voice behind you. You blink at Jay as he gestures vaguely toward your head. Your fingers immediately reach up, brushing through your hair, searching for whatever he's talking about.
Before you can find it, another voice cuts in.
"Can't get off?"
Your eyes snap to Jake, heartbeat stuttering.
Sunoo frowns beside you. "What?"
Jake grins. "I meanâyou can't get it off." He reaches out, plucking something from your hairâa small leafâand twirls it between his fingers before letting it drop. He and Jay don't wait for a response. They just turn, walking off, their presence fading into the crowd.
You let out a breath you didn't realize you were holding. Sunoo clicks his tongue, slipping his hand into yours as he pulls you along. "What's wrong with them?"
The activity is divided into groups, and you've been paired with your colleagues. The rules are simple: win the games, and your team gets to decide what food to eat. With everyone desperate for a good meal, the competition turns chaotic.
The entire field is a messâpeople running, yelling, tackling each other for flags. You and Sunoo are no exception, darting up and down the hill, breathless and determined.
"I fucking want some steak!" you scream, gripping the colored flag in your hands like your life depends on it.
Behind you, Sunoo is just as wild, holding onto another flag. "We are not eating instant noodles again!" he howls, voice cracking mid-sentence.
But just as victory feels within reach, another group surges past, shrieking in triumph.
Your stomach drops as you watch them hoist their flags in the air, the whistle blowing to signal their win.
Gravity betrays you. You and Sunoo crash to the ground, tumbling into a heap, dirt and grass sticking to your clothes. You groan, lying there for a moment, staring up at the sky in defeat.
"Goddamn it," Sunoo mutters. "I wanted seafood."
A hand appears in your vision. Someone is helping you up. You grab hold, letting yourself be pulled to your feet. "But I wanted steak," you whisper, still eyeing the victorious group with bitter jealousy.
A soft chuckle sounds behind you. "Must be frustrating."
Your brows furrow. You turn, only to find Jake standing there, hands lazily tucked into his pockets, watching you with an amused glint in his eyes.
"What?" you ask, confused.
He takes a step closer, reaching out. His fingers barely brush your shoulder as he tugs off a piece of dirt clinging to your shirt.
Then, he leans inâjust slightly, just enough for only you to hearâ "Never getting what you want."
Your body tenses, a shiver running down your spine. Because no fucking wayâthis isn't about the game.
Your mind races, trying to make sense of it.
You stay in the shower longer than you should, the hot water running over your skin, but doing nothing to wash away the unease settling in your chest. Some of the other girls have already finished, wrapping themselves in towels, chatting about the day's activities. A few glance your way, concern flickering across their faces.
"Are you okay?" one of them asks. You don't answer. You just stand there, naked, staring at the tiled floor, your hands limp at your sides.
"Can't get off?"
"Must be frustrating, never getting what you want."
A chill runs down your spine. Jake's words loop in your head, over and over, like an echo you can't shake off.
Your brain scrambles, piecing together every interactionâevery weird moment leading up to this. First of all, you don't even know Jake. One day, you were just thirsting over him from a distance, admiring him like some campus crush. Your second interactionâif you could even call it thatâwas when he dropped his bag in front of you. No words exchanged, just a moment of awkward eye contact before he walked away.
Then last nightâwhen you looked at him again, when you got caught looking. By his boyfriend, Jay.
And then? The sudden shift. The randomness of it all. Why did Jake start talking to you out of nowhere? Could it be because of the pants? The morning embarrassment? But noâhis comments weren't just casual teasing. They were pointed. Suggestive. And worst of all, relatable.
Your stomach twists. Your mind flashes back to last night.
You had stepped out for fresh air. You had talked to Heeseung. You make out with him. And when you went back insideâ Jay and Jake were gone.
Your breath hitches.
Fuck.
Your hand grips your hair, heart pounding. Could they know? No. No way. That's impossible. Right?
Three more days, and the retreat would be over.
If Jake and Jay knew, then all you had to do was avoid them until you got back to campus. No unnecessary conversations, no eye contact, no chance for them to slip more suggestive comments into your ears and make your skin crawl.
It was the last night of the retreat, the final stretch before you could return to normal life.
The final activity was a mountain climb. The goal was simpleâmake it to the top and back before 8 o'clock. But the moment the seniors announced it, you just stood there, dumbfounded. What the actual fuck were they thinking?
Sure, a hike sounded fun in theory, but at night? In an unfamiliar area? Terrible idea. Most of the students murmured in protest, some even flat-out refusing, but somehow, you ended up participating. Why? Because Sunoo, your only companion in this nightmare, begged you to come along, promising that he wouldn't survive without you.
Now, with each step up the steep incline, you're regretting it.
"We need to go back down soon," you huff, pausing to catch your breath. "Before the sun sets. I don't trust the seniorsâthey're probably planning some shit."
Sunoo, hunched over beside you, dramatically clutches his chest. "What?! Can you justâ give me five minutes to breathe?" He whines, panting. You roll your eyes but grab his wrist anyway, tugging him forward. "Come on. I have a bad feeling about this."
While walking in the middle of the forest to go down, both of you stop when you hear a scream. Not just any screamâbloodcurdling, echoing through the trees, sending a violent shiver all through your body.
Your body stiffens. "What the fuck was that?"
Sunoo barely has time to respond before more sounds eruptâheavy footsteps, frantic rustling, the unmistakable pounding of people running.
The flashlights around the area flicker out, plunging everything into a suffocating black void.
Your breath catches. "No, no, noâ"
Sunoo grabs your wrist. "Run."
You don't question it. The two of you bolt, feet crashing against the uneven ground, dodging low branches, blindly navigating the terrain. You don't even know what you're running fromâonly that fear is thrumming through your veins, keeping your legs moving.
In the middle of running, in the darkness, your grip on Sunoo slips.
"Sunoo?!" You gasp, stumbling as you lose sight of him.
"Keep running!" You heard him shout, but his voice are distant.
You're alone.
Heart hammering, you stagger forward, breath coming in sharp, uneven gasps. Your legs are aching, your hands trembling as you reach out blindly, searching for stability.
Finally, your fingers brush against rough bark. A tree. You collapse against it, sinking down to the ground, your back pressing into the trunk as you try to calm the rapid rise and fall of your chest.
The silence around you is deafening. You close your eyes, stabilizing your breath when you heard a twig snaps.
Your eyes fly open, and panic takes over. A scream tears from your throat as you kick out wildly, scrambling backward, heart hammering in your ears but a hand clamps over your mouth.
"Shhh," a hushed voice murmurs against your ear, warm breath ghosting over your skin. "Unless you want the seniors to hear and make fun of you more."
The low timbre sends a shiver down your spine. A firm arm snakes around your waist, pulling you against something solid and warm.
You tilt your head, catching a glimpse of soft curls, of a lazy, curling smirk beneath the dim glow of the moonlight.
Jake. His scent is so closeâclean, a little woody. It makes your head feel light, makes your thoughts blur at the edges. And his eyesâfuck, his eyes. Dark, glinting, lashes so long.
Your throat tightens. With a sharp breath, you yank his hand away from your mouth, coughing as you shift awkwardly in his hold. "W-What?"
Jake grins. "Relax. The seniors are just scaring the juniors. That's the 'big activity.'"
You scowl, turning your head away. "I know that."
He laughs, low and amused. Then, before you can react, he tugs you down beside him, making you squeal.
"Why are you so awkward?" he teases, settling back against the tree trunk, looking at you like he's enjoying every second of this. "I just wanted to talk to you."
You swallow, shifting uncomfortably. "You have a boyfriend."
"And yet," he murmurs, leaning in slightly, "you keep staring at me like I don't."
Your body reacts before you can stop it, thighs pressing together instinctively at the way his voice drops, at the heat curling in his gaze.
"T-That's micro-cheating," you whisper, trying to steady your voice. You pressed your hand around his chest, stopping him from getting any closer.
Jake chuckles. "It's notâ" he leans in, his nose grazing your cheek, his breath fanning over your skin, "âwhen he's aware of it."
Your eyes widen, lips parting in shock just as his tongue flicks against your earlobe. A sharp, involuntary sigh escapes you, your body shuddering at the sensation.
He smirks. "Sensitive?"
"S-Stop," you stammer, hands pressing against his chest in a weak attempt to push him away.
But Jake doesn't budge. Instead, he poutsâactually poutsâhis fingers curling around your wrist, gently prying your grip from his shirt. "Why? Don't you want me?" His voice is teasing.
"I know you've participated in threesomes." Your breath catches at his bold statement.
"I'm just interested in you joining us," he continues, his tone light, almost casual, like he's suggesting something as simple as grabbing a coffee.
Your thighs press together. Because fuckâfuck, it's too easy to imagine it. Two mouths. Two bodies. Two dicks.
The kind of scenario you've watched over and over in the videos you get off to. The kind of scenario that should have you saying yes without hesitation.
But then you remember. His words from the past few days. The suggestive phrases, you felt that he was toying with something deeply personal to you.
Your arousal sours, replaced by a dull ache of frustration. You inhale sharply, forcing yourself to meet his gaze, to focus. "I know that you also know my situation."
Jake tilts his head slightly, curious about where you're going with this.
Your voice hardens. "I'm not the girl you're looking for. Yes, you're hot. Your boyfriend too. Butâ" You swallow thickly, fingers curling. "Do you think it's a little insensitive of you?"
His brows lift, you take a steadying breath. "I got turned down from experiencing a threesome because of my issue." The words taste bitter on your tongue, resentment creeping in despite yourself. "So what makes you think this would be any different?"
Jake stays quiet for a moment. His fingers are still wrapped around your wrist but the teasing glint in his eyes has dimmed slightly. Not completely goneâjust softened, like he's listening now.
You use the moment to pull your hand free and leave him alone, despite of being scared in the dark.
The next morning, as you pack your things, your mood is bitter. Sunoo notices immediately but doesn't press, only throwing you occasional glances as he folds his clothes into his bag.
By the time you're on the train, settled into your seat, the frustration inside you has only grown. You stare out the window, thoughts spiraling, the rhythmic movement of the train doing nothing to calm you down.
Sunoo, beside you, nudges your arm gently. "Is it because I left you alone?" His voice is small, pouting as he holds your hand.
You blink, turning to him briefly before exhaling a heavy sigh. "God, no."
"Then what?"
You lean back against the seat, rubbing your temple. "I'm just... frustrated."
Sunoo raises an eyebrow. "Frustrated about what?"
You don't answer immediately, pressing your tongue against the inside of your cheek as you avoid his gaze.
"Frustrated about everything," you murmur, voice low, more to yourself than to him.
Sunoo watches you for a moment before sighing, deciding to let it go.
But your mind doesn't. You think about it. Threesomes are the best. You love everything about themâthe attention, the pleasure, the thrill of being used by more than one person at once. You've spent countless nights fantasizing about being sandwiched between two bodies, your moans muffled against warm skin, hands gripping your thighs, your body bent and spread, completely taken.
The thought alone makes your stomach tighten. But, what's the point if your body refuses to cooperate? If every touch that should send you over the edge instead makes you feel like you're burning from the inside out?
And come onâyou know yourself. You don't want to put yourself in a situation where you'll just end up jealous again, where you'll watch pleasure unfold before you and be left with nothing but your own frustration.
You made the right choice. You should praise yourself for finally prioritizing your mental health this time. Because you know how this ends. A wet-ass pussy left hanging, again and again, with no relief.
"You're really dumb," Jay sighs in frustration, rubbing his face with his palm. His other hand rests on his waist as he stares at his boyfriend, unimpressed.
"Now, how are you supposed to convince that girl, huh? You scared her off."
Jake shrugs, unbothered. "Maybe you should go talk to her."
Jay's eyes widen before he scoffs, laughing sarcastically. "No fucking way."
He feels Jake's presence, familiar arms snaking around his waist from behind, pulling him close in a lazy, comforting embrace.
"I'm sorry," Jake murmurs, resting his chin on Jay's shoulder. "I know you told me to give it more time, but I was excited to approach her. You know I've been looking for the perfect third, right?"
Jay huffs, rolling his eyes. "I still don't get why you want a threesome so bad." He pries Jake's arms off his waist, turning to face him. His jaw tightens as he stares at his boyfriend. "Am I not fucking you right?"
Jake chuckles, tilting his head, eyes glinting with amusement. "Oh, baby, you areâbut that's not the point."
Jay crosses his arms, his annoyance growing. "Then what is the point?"
Jake shrugs, leaning casually against the table behind him. "I just want to add some spice. It's nothing personalâjust something I'd like to try." He watches Jay carefully. "And I'm not forcing you, okay? If you don't want it, we don't have to. But you asked why, and I'm just telling you."
Jay lets out a sharp exhale, running a hand through his hair. Of course, Jake says it so easily, so casually, like it's not a big deal at all. But to Jay, it is.
He's pissed. Maybe even jealous. Because Jay is not the type of man who shares. He never has been. The thought of someone else touching what belongs to himâseeing Jake spread out, vulnerable, pleasured by someone elseâsets something ugly and possessive twisting in his chest.
But thenâfuck. Jake is looking at him with those big, innocent, doe eyes. His lower lip juts out, his brows lift slightly, and he tilts his head just enough to make himself look small, needy. And Jay hates that he knows exactly how to get his way.
Jay groans, rubbing his face with both hands. In the back of his mind, a voice whispersâmaybe he'll like it. Maybe, just maybe, it won't be so bad if he's the one in control.
His hands drop, and he meets Jake's gaze. "I'll try to talk to her."
Jake's entire face lights up. His arms shoot forward, wrapping around Jay's neck as he peppers kisses all over his face, murmuring between them, "Thank you, thank you, thank youâI love you, you're the best, oh my godâ"
"Yeah, yeah, yeah," Jay grumbles, pretending to be unimpressed, even as his arms tighten around Jake's waist. "I love you too."
Jay drops his notebook onto the desk with a loud thud, drawing a few glances as he settles into the seat beside you with a quiet grunt.
You freeze, lip gloss wand hovering just above your lips, staring at him in confusion.
"Excuse me? That's my seat." A sharp, sassy voice cuts through the moment.
Jay sighs, already annoyed, and glances up. He recognizes the guy instantlyâSunoo, one of the members from his club.
"Do you have your name on it?" Jay asks, raising a brow.
Sunoo rolls his eyes. "Seriously? God, you guys just pop up out of nowhere." Huffing, he drops into the seat in front of you instead, muttering something under his breath.
Jay turns his attention forward. "I need to talk to you."
You blink, shoving your lip gloss back into its tube. "What?"
"Is this about what your boyfriend told me? Because I already saidâ"
"And I'm here to change your mind."
You press your lips together, irritation and confusion mixing inside you.
Then, without another word, he stands up, walking away because he can't sit next to you any longer.
You watch him go, then, right on cue, Jake walks into the lecture hall. His eyes scan the room once before landing on Jay. His face lights up immediately, steps quick as he moves in, casually throwing an arm around Jay's shoulders.
Jay barely reacts. He says something back, forcing a small smile, but you can tell it's fake.
Jake looks at you for a second his lips twitch into a small smile before he turns back to Jay.
Before you can even process it, Sunoo is sliding into the seat beside you, reclaiming what was his.
"Are you friends with them?" he asks, side-eyeing you. "What's with all the random talks?"
You force yourself to shrug, keeping your voice light. "No idea."
Your foot taps anxiously against the floor. "Where's Jake?" you ask, breaking the silence.
Jay exhales through his nose, placing his drink down on the table before spreading his legs slightly, leaning forward. "He's too impatient and impulsive," he says firmly. "It's better if I'm the one talking to you."
You press your lips together, feeling the weight of his stare.
"Look, I didn't mean to overhear your conversation that night." His voice controlled as he's talking to you.Â
"Jake has been looking for the perfect third to bring into our bed, and he thinks you're..." He hesitates, his next word feeling like it physically pains him to say, "interesting."
Your fingers curl against the fabric of your skirt. "There are plenty of other girls who would be willing to join you." Your voice is steady, but your stomach is twisting. "I'm just... not the oneâ"
"But you want it, don't you?"
The air shifts. Your breath catches, your eyes widening slightly as you stare at him.
"You just can't say yes because of your situation," he continues, watching you closely making your throat feel dry.
He sighs heavily, rubbing a hand over his face before pushing his hair back. "Look," he starts, tone lowering slightly.Â
"I know this may sound pushy, but just give it a chance. Jake is great at what he does." His jaw tightens, like the words physically strain him. "We'll consider your situation. We'll take it slow. We won't push you into anything you don't want. If it gets uncomfortable, you can back out."
He exhales sharply, his gaze flickering away for a moment before he forces himself to look at you again. "Just... give him a chance."
You stare at him, mouth slightly open. There's something strange about this. The way he speaks. The way his voice changesâlike he's forcing himself through the words.
Your lips part before you even think. "What about you?"
His head lifts slightly, eyes narrowing. "What?"
You swallow. "Are you even sure you want me to join?"
His shoulders tense.
"This isn't just about Jake," you continue, shifting in your seat. "You're a couple. This kind of thing requires a lot of trust and... well, you know." You let out a nervous laugh, trying to ease the tension.
Jay doesn't smile, his eyes flicker before he answers, voice softer than before. "I'm okay with it."
You tilt your head slightly. "Being okay with it doesn't mean you want it."
His jaw ticks. Jay exhales sharply, running a hand through his hair again, more frustrated now. "Just don't mind me, alright?"
"I just want him to be happy. What stays in the bedroom, stays in the bedroom. He's mineâand letting you into our bed doesn't mean anything more. You're just there for fun." His voice is short, irritation creeping into it.
Then, his next words come out gritted, dripping with something so possessive, it nearly startles you.
"I'll always be the one who fucks him better."
You blink. Then before you can stop yourself, you laugh.
A short, amused scoff, shaking your head. "Okay, chill." You hold your hands up in mock surrender. "I'm not going to steal your boyfriend from you."
"So you're down?"
Jay voice is impatient, looking at you. You sigh, leaning back slightly. For most girls, this would be a dream come true. Jake is hot. Jay is hot.
And they acknowledge your situation. They get it. They've promised to take things slow, to not push you, to let you back out if it gets too much.
Maybe... maybe you should just give it a chance.
Because honestly? All that self-reflection, all those moments of avoiding temptation, of telling yourself you're better than this?
Fucking pointless. Because it's not you chasing after dicks. It's the dicks chasing you.
You exhale, rubbing your temple before finally meeting his gaze. "Okay. When?"
Jay studies you for a moment before nodding, pulling out his phone.
As he scrolls through his messages, you brace yourselfâalready preparing for another abdominal pain moment. Because you see it coming already.
But heyâat least they're hot.
â
You wake up early, too early, scrubbing your body until your skin is soft and warm. Another round of shaving, another layer of the sweetest lotion, perfume misted over every inch of you.
By the time you sit in your lecture, your nerves are already getting the best of you. Your eyes keep flickering toward them. Jake, completely unaware of what's coming. Jay, pretending not to notice you staring.
You remember his words.
"Don't degrade him. You can't finger his ass. No leaving marks on his neck. Don't bite his dick. Don't choke himâthat's my job."
You had blinked at him, slightly amused. "What about you?"
Jay had raised an eyebrow, looking at you like you had lost your mind.
"The same." His voice had been simple. Then, after a beat, "Yours?"
You had hesitated for a moment, thinking. "Uh... nothing, really. I am uhâI'm more into giving. If I get comfortable -" You had tapped your nails against the table, feeling the heat creep up your neck. "I'm okay with everything. You can use me all you want."
Jay hadn't expected his pants to tighten at that.
Fuck. He shouldn't be feeling this way.
Then, you had laughed, trying to ease the tension. "Oh, and I'm not ready for double vaginal penetration. Or something inserting in my ass."
Jay had stilled. His jaw had ticked, his thoughts immediately spiraling into something he shouldn't be imaginingâboth him and Jake taking you, your body trembling, stretched wide between themâ
He had shaken his head sharply. "As if I'm going to fuck you," he had muttered under his breath. But he had made sure you heard it.
You had only raised an eyebrow at him.
Two hours after your lecture, you're cleaning yourself again.
Over and over, you go through the motionsâshower, shave, perfumeâyour anxiety making you restless. Jay had texted you his address earlier, and now, standing in front of his apartment door, your heart is pounding.
Your fingers tremble as you twist the knob open. Stepping inside, you're immediately hit with the scent of him.
The living room is simpleâclean, minimal. Your eyes soften slightly as they land on the table covered in picture frames, mostly of him and Jake.
Cute. How long have they been together?
You shake the thought away, climbing the stairs slowly, Jay's instructions still clear in your mindâ
"Just go straight to my room. The one with the keychain on the knob."
But the second you reach the hallway, you hear a soft, breathy sounds slip through the walls. Your brows furrow, steps slowing.
"Ahhh, fuck, please, please. I want to cum, I want to cumâ"
You gulp, throat tightening, fingers hovering over the doorknob. A familiar ache spreads between your legs. You let out a sharp breath, half-annoyed, half-aroused.
"God, he didn't even give me a heads-up," you mutter under your breath, shifting your weight, trying to decide if you should actually walk in on this.
"Fucking shut up," Jay's voice cuts through the air, with his rough and commanding tone.
Your thighs press together as you let out a shaky breath, closing your eyes for a brief moment before gathering the nerve to twist the knob open.
The door swings slightly, and you're immediately hit with the sight in front of youâ
Jake, on his knees, getting pounded from behind by his boyfriend. And the worst part? They're facing you.
Your head spins as you stared at Jake's face is flushed, glistening with tears, his mouth parted as he moans helplessly. His hair is fisted in Jay's grip, keeping him in place, forcing his back into a deep arch.
Your eyes travel lowerâ Fuck, why the hell it's so long?
His achingly pink, dripping cock dangles with every relentless thrust, bouncing between his trembling thighs. A sharp inhale slips from your lips.
"Oh, look who finally showed up," Jay murmurs,
His grip tightens in Jake's hair, tugging him back further, forcing him to lock eyes with you.
Jake's body shudders, his eyes widening in shock.
"J-Jay! Oh my Godâ" His words break into a loud, desperate moan as Jay speeds up, the sound of skin meeting skin echoing through the room. "You said she refused!"
Jay only laughs, voice dark and smug as he leans down, shifting his angle, making Jake cry out.
"Surprise."
Your throat bobs as you swallow, hard.
You're just standing there, frozen, watching the scene unfold before you. Watching how beautifully, how filthy Jake takes Jayâs cock. The way his body rocks forward with each thrust, the way his lips fall open in helpless moans.
And then your eyes trail lower. You can see everythingâJayâs dick sinking in and out of him, coated in slick, stretching him so perfectly. Each movement is deep and unrelenting. Your breath shudders as you take it all in, heat curling through your body, making your skin burn despite the cold sweat forming on your back.
Jakeâs moans grow louder, whinier, then, with his free hand, he reaches down, wrapping his fingers around his neglected cock, fisting it fast.
"Nggh, you got louderâ" Jay grunts, his pace never slowing, His gaze flicks toward you, locking onto yours with a sharp, knowing glare. "Youâre really into this, huh?"
"Yes, yes, yesâ!" Jake moans through a smile, his hand moving faster, squeezing around his cock, never looking away from you.
Your body feels weak. Your nails press into your palms, clenched so tightly that they sting, but you barely notice. Your legs shake slightly, but you still donât move. You canât.
"Iâm cummingâoh fuck, Iâm cummingâ!"
Jakeâs entire body trembles, his back arching, muscles tightening as he finally lets go. His cock twitches in his hand, thick white ropes spilling over his fingers, his stomach, dripping onto the sheets beneath him. His moans are long, drawn out, mixing with the broken whimpers leaving his lips.
You donât even realize youâre staring until your breath stutters, your thighs pressing together involuntarily.
Jayâs pace stutters as well, hips jerking forward one last time before he exhales sharply.
"Agh, fuckâ"
His grip tightens on Jakeâs hips, burying himself deep as he spills inside him, his body going rigid before his movements slow. He takes a second to catch his breath before finally pulling out.
A slap lands on Jakeâs ass, making him jolt slightly, though heâs still too dazed to react properly.
"Donât keep the guest waiting,"Â Jay mutters.
Your gaze drops to him.
Jay stands there, still breathless, still hard, his cock coated in a mess of slick and cum. Itâs thick, flushed, andâfuck. Your mouth waters.
Jake takes a moment to catch his breath before turning to you, grinning as he practically bounces toward you, not even bothering to clean upânot even caring that Jayâs cum is still dripping down his thighs.
He just walks up to you, arms wrapping around you in a soft, warm hug.
"Hi!" he says, his bare skin is hot against yours, his breath warm near your neck. And then you feel itâhis softened cock resting against your covered thigh.
Jake pouts at him, tilting his head. "Huh? Youâre not gonna join us?"
Jay barely looks back. "Later."
He reaches for the door but pauses, eyes flicking back toward you. His gaze sweeps over you slowly before settling. "Why are you still in your uniform?"
You blink, still struggling to breathe properly. "IâI have a lecture in four hours."
Jay just nods before slipping out of the room.
Left alone with Jake, you find yourself staring at him just as much as heâs staring at you. His eyes are wide, his smile effortlessly cute.Â
He takes your hand, fingers lacing through yours, and gently guides you toward the bed.
"Do you think you can take another one?" you ask, watching the way his flushed face still carries the lingering effects of pleasure. Jake chuckles, guiding you to lean back as he climbs onto the mattress on all fours, positioning himself above you. So hot.
"Of course,"Â he murmurs before finally settling beside you, propping his head up on one hand while keeping his eyes locked on yours. His free hand rests on your thigh, his touch warm and steady. "How did Jay manage to convince you?"
You shrug slightly. "He said to just give it a try. That I can always leave if it gets uncomfortable."
Jake nods, then tilts his head slightly. "I want to eat your pussy."
Your pussy clenches around nothing, the casual, sweet way he says it making something inside you tighten. How can he be so innocent and so filthy at the same time?
"Have you ever experienced that?"Â he asks, fingers tracing small circles against your thigh. "Can I?"
You shudder slightly, barely processing the words. "IâI have," you admit, voice quieter now. "But it felt... weird." Jake hums in thought, his fingers moving higher.
"Hmm. Then is it okay if I give it a try?" His voice is soft, but thereâs something intentional about the way he asks, his fingers pausing just shy of your core, waiting.
You look into his eyesâhis beautiful eyes, you exhale shakily, then nod.
Jake's lips curl into a soft smile before he leans forward, his hand sliding to your waist, pulling you closer.
"Can I kiss you?"
Your lips twitch slightly. "You donât need to ask every time."
He chuckles, then closes the space between you. His lips press against yours, warm and soft, moving slow. You respond instantly, your hands finding his shoulders, feeling the heat of his bare skin beneath your fingertips.
He deepens the kiss, his tongue gliding against your lips, insistent but teasing. When you part them for him, he pushes in, his tongue curling against yours, exploring, coaxing, making your head spin. His grip on your waist tightens, his arm wrapping fully around you, pulling you flush against his body. His thigh slips between yours, his bare skin brushing against your covered core, sending sparks of warmth up your spine.
You feel his cockâslowly waking up again, pressing lightly against your thigh, twitching with interest as the kiss grows hungrier.
 You break the kiss, a thin string of spit connecting your lips before snapping as you tug at the knot of your uniform tie, letting it slip off and fall to the floor.
Jake watches you, breathless, his eyes hungry. Without hesitation, he reaches for the buttons of your blouse, fumbling slightly in his urgency. When he finally pushes the fabric apart, his gaze darkens at the sight of your plump, barely covered breasts.
"Fuck."Â He groans, cursing under his breath before crashing his lips against yours again.
His hands find your chest, cupping you through the thin material of your bra, his thumbs brushing experimentally over the fabric. The sensation makes you whine, surprising yourself with how sensitive you are. Youâre not used to thisâto any of this.
His lips trail down, open-mouthed kisses pressing against your throat, his tongue flicking against your pulse before licking a slow path upward. Your breath hitches, the heat pooling inside you growing more intense with every touch.
"God, I love tits," he murmurs, burying his face between them, nuzzling against your soft skin.
"Are you still okay?"Â he asks, pulling back just enough to meet your gaze.
You nod, eyes fluttering shut, already feeling overwhelmed in the best way possible.
His fingers slip behind you, unclasping your bra. The straps slide down your arms, the fabric falling to the floor, leaving you completely bare from the waist up. Jake doesnât hesitateâhis lips immediately latch onto one of your nipples, sucking gently before dragging his tongue over it.
A sharp gasp escapes you, your back arching slightly into his touch. Your hands find their way into his hair, fingers curling into the strands as he switches to the other breast, his hand kneading the one he just left.
"I want to hear you,"Â he murmurs against your skin, pressing slow kisses around your areola before flicking his tongue over the hardened bud.
"IâIâm not the type,"Â you admit, biting your lip, trying to suppress the noises threatening to spill from your mouth.
Jake pulls back just enough to pout up at you before diving right back in, his tongue swirling, his lips sucking, his fingers teasing. Heâs determined to get a reaction out of you.
And fuck, itâs working.
The sensation is slow, nothing rushed, nothing rough, just pure focus on you, on making you feel good. He spends minutes worshiping your chest before finally kissing his way back up to your lips, capturing them in another deep, lingering kiss.
His hands move lower. He unzips your skirt, fingers tracing along the waistband of your panties before slipping underneath, brushing against the heat between your legs.
"Fuck, you're so wet." His fingers find you soaked, glistening with arousal, and it makes his cock throb.
You shudder in anticipation, a nervous sigh leaving your lips as he slowly eases your panties down your legs.
This is it. You already know how this endsâyour body will betray you, the same burning discomfort will return, and youâll be left frustrated and disappointed again.
Jake presses a soft kiss against your lips, unconsciously distracting you from your thoughts, his hands roaming your body. His palms are so gentle, and the way he squeezes your breasts, thumbs grazing over your nipples, he kisses you deeper, tongue sliding against yours, his breath hot and ragged as he takes his time exploring your mouth. He took the opportunity to dip his hand between your legs.
You gasp into his mouth, body tensing as his fingers graze your slit, gathering your wetness before rubbing slow, teasing circles over your clit.
A sharp jolt of pleasure shocks you, so unfamiliar, so intense that your arms immediately wrap around him, clinging to him.
Jake pulls back slightly, his lips brushing against your jaw. "Still okay?" he whispers, kissing just below your ear.
You let out a shuddering breath. "Y-Yeah. Itâs just... strange."
His fingers keep moving, slowly, carefully. "Strange how?"
You swallow thickly, your mind barely able to form words through the pleasure building inside you. "It... it doesnât burn like it usually does."
Jake stills for half a second before tilting his head, a small, knowing smirk forming on his lips.
"Good."
His fingers press in just a little more. "Iâm gonna insert a finger," he whispers, eyes locked on yours.
His middle finger pushes in slowly, sinking into you, the wetness making it effortless. He bites his lip, watching for your reaction, his chest rising and falling a little heavier now.
The second his fingertip brushes just the right spot, your body jerks.
"Oh my Godâ!"
A sharp moan escapes you, your back arching at the pleasure. Your hands grip onto his shoulders, your hips twitching up instinctively, chasing the sensation. Your eyes flutter, struggling to stay open, overwhelmed by the unfamiliar feeling.
Jake chuckles, completely enthralled by the way you cling to him, how sensitive you are, how eager your body is to take more.
"Hey, relax,"Â he murmurs, pressing a gentle kiss to your cheek, nuzzling against your skin as if to soothe you. His finger begins movingâslow, deep strokes, pulling out just enough before pressing back in.
The pleasure is new, intense, making your breath hitch with every slow drag of his finger inside you. Thenâit hits you. This feels good. For the first time, this actually feels good.
Your chest tightens and your vision blurs. Before you can stop it, you start crying.
Jake freezes. His brows furrow, his movements halting immediately. "Whatâs wrong?"
You shake your head desperately, your hand darting down to grip his wrist. "Donât stop, donât stop, pleaseâ"
Tears spill onto your cheeks, but itâs not from frustration, not from discomfort. Itâs from relief.
"Feels so good, fuckâ" your voice trembles, a broken whimper leaving your lips. "It feels so good."
Jake stares at you as something tightens in his chest, seeing you like this, falling apart on just one of his fingers, crying from pleasure , it stirs something almost primal in him.
"Poor baby,"Â he murmurs, his lips ghosting over your temple. "You must have been so frustrated every time, hmm?"
You nod frantically, still clinging to him as you start rolling your hips, grinding down onto his hand, chasing the friction, desperate for more.
"Want moreâplease, more,"Â you plead, voice breathless.Â
Jakeâs cock twitches, precum dripping steadily from the tip at the sound of your voice, the way youâre begging for him.
His free hand grips your thigh, holding you still as he eases a second finger inside. The stretch makes you gasp, walls tightening around him instantly, but before you can adjust, he flicks his fingers against your sweet spot, fast.
You scream. A sharp, choked-out cry, your whole body shaking as your grip on him tightens, fingers digging into his arm.
Jake smiles at the reaction, his heart pounding, the heat in his stomach coiling tighter. He adjusts his position behind you, spreading your legs apart with his knee, giving himself more space to move.
"Come on, let it out," he coaxes, watching you struggle to hold back. "Please, I want to hear you."
His pace increases, fingers moving faster, curling deeper inside you, dragging along the most sensitive parts of your walls.
Your breath comes out in quick, stuttering gasps, your nails digging into his wrist as pleasure crashes into you. Your body vibrates, overwhelmed, barely able to process just how good it feels.
His other hand moves up, fingers brushing against your breast before squeezing, thumb flicking over your hardened nipple.
You let out a loud, desperate whine, head falling back onto his shoulder.
"Youâre so beautiful," Jake groans, pressing a kiss to your jaw, feeling the way your body writhes against his. Then, a breathless chuckleâ"Fuck, whereâs Jay? Heâs practically missing out on this."
He watches you fall apart, his fingers fucking into you at a steady rhythm, your legs trembling, your moans growing louder.
Jake swallows thickly, his cock painfully hard, already imagining all the ways heâs going to ruin you.
"I told you, heâs good at what he does." Jay voice appear, you barely register his presence at first, too lost in the overwhelming sensation of Jakeâs fingers working you open.
Your half-lidded eyes flutter open, your hazy vision focusing just in time to see Jay stepping closer to the bed.
Heâs fresh from the shower, only a towel hanging loosely around his waist, damp strands of hair sticking to his forehead. Droplets of water slide down his sculpted chest, disappearing into the fabric wrapped dangerously low on his hips.
He doesnât look at you. Not even a glance. Instead, he moves straight to Jake, gripping his jaw and tilting his head up before crashing their lips together.
Jake melts into it instantly, moaning into Jayâs mouth, fingers still working relentlessly inside you, curling and pressing in all the right places.
Your walls clench around him at the sight. Your abdomen tightens, your body writhing against Jakeâs hold, the pleasure swelling dangerously close to its peak.
Jake groans against Jayâs lips, feeling the way your body reacts. He tightens his grip around you, breaking the kiss to catch his breath, his forehead resting against Jayâs.
"Look, babe,"Â Jake murmurs, voice thick with amusement.
He tilts your face toward Jay, thumb swiping at the tears streaking down your flushed cheeks.
"Sheâs crying." Jake laughs softly.Â
Jay finally looks at you. His sharp gaze drags over every inch of you, lingering on your trembling thighs, your swollen breasts, and your cuntâstill stretched around his boyfriendâs fingers.
You moan at the weight of his stare, barely registering the way his jaw tightens, his lips pressing into a thin line. You are barely aware that your hands are reaching for him, desperate for something, anything, to ground you. Jay, however, just scoffs, eyes narrowing as if he finds your reaction pathetic.
"Iâm gonnaâ"Â
"Are you gonna cum?"Â Jake asks, his breath hot against your cheek. You nod frantically, tears slipping down your face as the build-up inside you coils tighter, the overwhelming sensation too much to hold in.
Jake hums, licking the salty streaks from your cheeks before pressing a messy, open-mouthed kiss to your lips. Not really a kiss, tongue's out and licking each other.
Jay watches. His hand slides down, gripping his cock through the towel, squeezing at the aching hardness there. He doesnât know what the fuck heâs feelingâanger, possessiveness, bitterness all twisting together into something almost violent.
Because this wasnât supposed to happen. He was the one who convinced you. He was the one who pushed for this. And yetâhe hates it.
Hates the way Jake is practically glowing in pleasure, completely lost in you, in someone else.
Hates the way you look right nowâso fucking hot, back arching, mouth falling open in a silent scream as your orgasm hits, your iris literally disappear in your eyes, your whole body shaking, your walls fluttering around Jakeâs fingers.
Hates that his cock twitches at the sight. His grip on himself tightens, his pace quickening, his breath hitching as he watches you come undone.
Fuck you for being so fucking irresistible. Fuck Jake for being such a needy little slut, never content with just his cock.
Jay yanks the towel from his waist, tossing it aside before climbing onto the bed, his eyes flicker to Jake, who is still licking the remnants of your slick from his fingers, savoring it, eyes half-lidded in pleasure.
His gaze drops to you, to the way your chest rises and falls in uneven breaths, to the way your legs tremble from the intensity of your last orgasm.Â
Without warning, he grabs your thighs, forcing them apart despite your weak resistance, his eyes locked onto your glistening, swollen pussy. Thereâs no hesitation in the way he spreads you open, no gentleness in his touch
His fingers tighten on your skin, his expression dark, before he suddenly slaps your cunt.
"Ah, no!" A sharp cry rips from your throat, your body jerking violently as your legs instinctively snap shut. But Jay doesnât allow itâhe leans in, using his weight to keep you open, delivering another harsh slap to your clit before rubbing it cruelly, only to slap it again, sending jolts of overstimulation through your already-sensitive body.
"Noâstop!" you scream, thrashing against his hold, but itâs too much, too soon, and your voice comes out weak, broken.
Jake hesitates, watching the scene unfold, the conflict flickering in his eyes as you whimper beneath them. "Jayâ"
"Hold her down, Jake. She likes it."
Your mind spins, unable to process what you're feelingâif it's pleasure, pain, or something in between. Your body resists, still trying to recover from the last orgasm that left you weak and trembling, but your walls clench involuntarily at the rough treatment.
Jakeâs hesitation falters. He exhales sharply, biting his lip before following Jayâs order, arms sliding around you, pressing you down against the mattress.Â
"Shhh," he hushes, his lips ghosting over your damp skin, trailing lower to your breast, tongue flicking over your nipple in slow, teasing motions. But the moment of tenderness only amplifies the pleasureâonly makes your body more overwhelmed, more sensitive.
"Come on, give us another one," Jay mutters before shoving three fingers inside you at once.
Your back arches off the bed, a loud sob escaping your lips, your walls stretching too fast, too full, nothing like the slow build-up Jake had given you before. Unlike his boyfriend, Jay doesnât ease into itâhe doesnât tease, doesnât wait for your body to adjust. He just fucks you with his fingers, rough and unrelenting, his palm slamming against your clit with every harsh thrust.
It doesnât burnânot like it used to. But fuck, it hurts.
It hurts in a way that makes your body crave it, that makes you cling to Jake even as your mind screams that itâs too much. The pleasure is raw, overwhelming, your thighs quivering uncontrollably, your breath coming out in frantic gasps.
"Fuck, fuck, fuckâ!" you choke out, voice cracking, unable to stop yourself from whining, from shaking.
Jay clicks his tongue, displeased, his free hand moving up to grab your throat, fingers pressing into the sides as he tightens his grip. "You said we could do anything we wanted, didnât you?" His tone is mocking, his pace never slowing, only pushing deeper, rougher. "Donât you fucking back out now."
Your vision blurs, a strangled gasp escaping as you clutch at his wrist, your body caught between wanting to stop and wanting more. Your mind is too far gone to fight itâyour thighs trembling as another orgasm builds fast, your walls tightening around his fingers.
Jay feels it immediately, his jaw clenching, his anger still simmering beneath the surface. He should stopâshould let you breathe, let you come downâbut instead, he pulls his fingers out abruptly, making you whine at the emptiness.Â
Before you can even process the loss, his hand slaps your pussy again.Â
"Jayâ" Jake starts, but heâs cut off by a sharp glare.
"Sheâs enjoying it, isnât she?" Jay huffs, his dark gaze snapping back to you, watching the way your body shudders, your fingers gripping his wrist like itâs the only thing keeping you grounded.
 His lips curl, amusement flickering in his eyes. "Ah, I forgotâyou canât speak right now, can you?" He laughs under his breath, finally releasing your throat, watching you gasp for air.
"Jake, hold her legs open. Donât let her close them." His voice is firm, commanding, and Jake doesnât question him this time.
Jake moves behind you, his warm hands gripping the backs of your thighs, forcing you open as Jay continues his assault on your wrecked cunt. The slaps grow harder, sharper, the alternating mix of rough circles over your clit and sudden impact making your body feel like itâs burning, in a good way.Â
You sob, your throat raw, your entire body trembling, but you canât stopâcanât fight the way your hips twitch upward with every hit.
Itâs too much.
Itâs exactly like porn.
The last slap lands, harder than before, followed by relentless, rough circles against your clit. Your abdomen tightens so suddenly it feels violent, your breath choking on a scream. "Fuck, no, noâ!"
Your body jerks, a shockwave of pleasure ripping through you, forcing Jayâs hand out of you as your orgasm explodes.
A sudden rush of liquid spurts from between your legs, the wetness splashing onto Jayâs forearm, drenching Jakeâs hands where they still hold you open. The realization hits all of you at the same time, the room falling into stunned silence for a brief second.
Jakeâs eyes widen, his fingers tightening around your thighs as you keep squirting, your body writhing against his grip. "Holy shit," he whispers, almost in awe, his own cock twitching at the sight.
Jayâs expression darkens, his lips parted slightly as he watches the mess you just made. His jaw tightens, his cock aching, his pride burning with how wrecked you look.
Your body barely registers whatâs happening. Your throat is raw, your limbs are limp, and your vision is hazy, blurred with exhaustion and overstimulation. But they move you anyway, shifting your body like a doll between them, switching positions.
Jake lowers himself between your legs, his warm breath ghosting over your slick, oversensitive skin. At the same time, Jay positions himself behind you, pulling you flush against his chest, his firm grip keeping you upright as your legs tremble. His arms snake around you, locking your thighs open.
"Donât fall asleep on us. Jakeâs still enjoying himself."Â Jayâs voice is low, whispering so Jake doesn't hear, his breath hot against your ear as his fingers toy lazily with your swollen nipples.
 Your heavy eyes fight to stay open, lids drooping, but the moment Jakeâs tongue licks through your folds, sharp pleasure snaps through you, making you whimper.
Jay watches the way your body jerks, his tongue pressing against the inside of his cheek in irritation of what you're doing. He bites your napeâhard, teeth sinking into your skin just as Jake flicks his tongue over your clit.
A scream rips from your throat, pain and pleasure crashing into each other all at once. Jayâs fingers tighten around your breasts, kneading roughly, relishing how soft you feel beneath his grip. He groans, inhaling your scent, his lips brushing against the mark he just left.
"Fuck, you feel so soft." His voice is quieter now, almost to himself, but then his fingers pinch your nipples, making you jolt. "I hate you." The words are bitter, filled with frustration, but his hands never stop.
Jake pulls back slightly, licking his lips before glancing up at you. "Is she still okay?" His voice is gentle, laced with concern, his fingers stroking your inner thighs.
Jay sighs, rolling his eyes, his grip tightening possessively around your chest. "Of course sheâs fine, baby. Iâm waking her up." He flashes Jake a sweet smile.
Jake lowers himself again, spreading you open further, his tongue gliding along your folds before dipping inside, tasting you. Your head falls back against Jayâs shoulder, unable to hold yourself up any longer.Â
You barely have a voice left, just soft, broken moans spilling from your lips as Jakeâs tongue works against you, his nose nudging your clit. The wet sounds mix with your ragged breathing, your hands gripping weakly onto Jayâs legs.
Jay watches Jake closely, his eyes darkening as he notices how his boyfriend grinds his hips into the sheets while eating you out.Â
The way Jakeâs tongue hardens inside you, how his moans vibrate against your cunt, sends your back arching for more even though you can't take it anymore.Â
"Are you still okay with penetration?"Â His voice drags you back, your dazed eyes barely focusing on him as you try to process the question.
"Yesâ" The word slips from your lips, hoarse and weak, as your body arches under Jakeâs tongue, your walls clenching around nothing.
Jay hums, satisfied, his fingers idly stroking your inner thigh as his attention shifts back to Jake. "Babe, do you want to go inside her?"
Jake lifts his head, breathless, his lips shining with your slick. His eyes flicker between you and Jay before he grins, biting his lip. "Can I?"
Jay smiles at him, softer this time, his hand brushing over Jakeâs cheek before nodding. "Of course, baby." He leans down, pressing a slow, lingering kiss to Jakeâs lips, tasting you on him.
You squirm slightly as Jay shifts again, dragging your legs further apart as Jake moves into position. Your hazy mind barely registers how youâre now upside down, your head hanging slightly over the edge of the mattress. When you blink up, Jay is standing in front of you, looking down at you with a glare.Â
Jake groans as he fists his cock, spreading the leaking precum along his length before positioning himself between your legs. He grips your thighs, spreading you further, his cock rubbing along your clit, gathering your wetness before pressing against your entrance.
A sharp exhale leaves you as he pushes in, the slow stretch making your body tense before melting into pleasure.Â
"Fuckâ" Jake moans, his head tilting back as your warmth surrounds him, his fingers tightening around your waist. "So fucking goodâ" His hips twitch slightly, unable to stop himself from thrusting in deeper, his pace quickening almost immediately.
"Good?"Â His voice is breathless, almost a whimper, as he looks at you.
You nod weakly, arms reaching for him, needing more. Jake leans forward, capturing your lips in another deep kiss, his moans muffling against your mouth.
"Move, baby. I have to feel good too."Â Jayâs voice is calm and patient, but the command is clear.
Jake straightens, adjusting his position as his thrusts deepen, picking up speed. You cry out, the angle hitting something devastating, making your toes curl. But before you can process the pleasure, something heavy presses against your lips.
"Letâs see if Heeseungâs rating was right."
Your moan is cut off by Jayâs cock pressing past your lips, stretching your mouth as he slides in. He groans, fingers curling into your hair, holding himself still as he feels how tight you are around him. "Shitâso fucking deepâ"
You force yourself to relax, breathing through your nose, your tongue pressing against the underside of his cock. Jay sighs in satisfaction, his grip in your hair tightening slightly before he begins to move, rolling his hips in time with Jakeâs thrusts.
Your head spins.
Every movement from Jake sends Jayâs cock deeper into your throat, forcing you to take him further with each thrust. Your body is overwhelmed, overstimulated from both ends, your moans vibrating around Jay, making his jaw clench.
Jake grips your legs, wrapping them around his waist as he drives into you, his thrusts becoming erratic, sloppy, desperate. "Babyâfuck, so good, so goodâ" His voice is almost whiny, his pace stuttering as he gets closer to his release. Jay glances at him, his lips twitching into a soft smile.
"Are you happy?"Â Jay asks, his voice smooth despite the way heâs thrusting into your mouth, barely holding himself together.
Jake nods frantically, gasping between moans, his body trembling as his hips jerk forward uncontrollably. "Yes, yes, yesâfuck, Jayâ" He leans forward, pressing his forehead against Jayâs, kissing him openly.Â
Jayâs hands dig into your breasts, his grip tightening until the pressure burns, sure to leave behind faint bruises in the shape of his fingers.Â
His breath is ragged, the pleasure coiling in his stomach, but just as his body urges him to chase his release, he pulls out, leaving you suddenly empty. Your dazed, confused expression meets his as he fists his cock, stroking himself slowly.
"What? You think you deserve my cum?"Â His voice is cold, "not a chance."
The words barely register before Jakeâs thrusts snap your focus back to him, his pace growing more frantic. Your body rocks beneath him, your oversensitive walls clenching tight around his cock, milking him for everything heâs worth.Â
Jay watches with dark, unreadable eyes, his hand moving steadily over himself, his knuckles white from the grip.
Youâre too far gone to even moan properly nowâyour throat is too raw, your body too exhausted. But you still feel itâevery deep, hard thrust slamming against your g-spot, sending you spiraling further into an overstimulated haze.
"Iâm gonna cumâcan I cum inside you? Please, pleaseâ" Jakeâs voice is wrecked, pleading, his fingers working quick circles over your clit, making your head spin.
You nod weakly, unable to do anything else, your body locking up as the final wave crashes over you. Your cunt tightens around him, your orgasm ripping through you so violently that your vision whites out.Â
Your limbs shake uncontrollably, your mind blanking from the sheer intensity of it, your nerves fried. You donât even realize youâre crying again, too far gone to care.
Jake gasps, his body stiffening before his hips stutter, his cock buried deep as he spills inside you. "Yes, yesâthank you, thank you, thank youâfuckâ" He babbles, his forehead pressing against yours as he trembles, his release filling you to the brim, dripping down where youâre still connected.
Jay exhales sharply, his own arousal teetering on the edge as he watches the sight before him, with a growl, he grabs Jakeâs hair, yanking him down onto his cock without warning. Jake barely has time to catch his breath before Jayâs hips snap forward, his cock pushing past his lips, forcing him to take him deep.
Jake chokes, his throat tightening around him, his body still trembling from the aftermath of his orgasm. His fingers dig into your thighs as he adjusts, tongue flattening against Jayâs shaft, relaxing his throat the best he can.
Jay groans, his free hand gripping the back of Jakeâs head, holding him still as he thrusts into the warmth of his mouth.Â
"Come on, baby. Iâm close too, hmm?" His voice is rough, but his eyes have softened slightly, watching the way Jake struggles to take him properly, how his throat works around him, trying so hard to please him.
Jake nods weakly, his tongue swirling around the length of him, his lips stretching around his thick cock as he bobs his head in time with Jayâs movements. His body is exhausted, but the desire to satisfy Jay outweighs the burning in his throat.
You force yourself to sit up, your entire body weak, your legs barely able to hold your weight. Your half-lidded eyes land on the sight before youâJakeâs lips stretched wide around Jay, his jaw slack, his throat taking every deep thrust. Your mind is foggy, your muscles sore, but you watch, hypnotized.
Jayâs eyes flick toward you, his gaze meeting yours, and for a moment, his thrusts falter.Â
"I'm close, baby." His grip on Jakeâs hair tightens slightly, his chest rising and falling in heavy breaths. And then, with a final groan, his release spills into Jakeâs mouth, his hips pressing forward as he holds him there, forcing him to swallow every drop.
Jake takes it all, eyes fluttering shut, his throat working around him until Jay finally pulls out, a thin string of saliva and cum breaking between them.
You didnât even realize you had passed out.
Everything was a blurâthe memories muddled together, the sensations lingering somewhere between dream and reality. Your body floated, weightless, exhaustion pulling you under even as you felt hands on you.
Fingers washing you, dragging a warm cloth over your skin, rinsing you. The soft splash of water surrounded you, the faint scent of soap.
Jakeâs voice filtered, "Are you okay?"
You wanted to answer, but your body wouldnât respond. You were too tired, too drained, your mind slipping back into the darkness before you could even try.
When you wake up, itâs already another day.
You blink, squinting against the dim light filtering through the unfamiliar room. Your head feels heavy, like itâs been weighed down by exhaustion, and your limbs ache with every movement.
Your gaze drifts, taking in your surroundingsâthis isnât your dorm, but your belongings are neatly placed on the side table.
Your uniform hangs on a nearby hook, freshly ironed.
Slowly, you push yourself up, wincing as a dull ache spreads through your muscles. Your throat throbs, and the soreness in your body makes it feel like youâve been beaten.
You shuffle toward the mirror on the wall, rubbing at your sore neck absentmindedlyâ
And then you freeze.
Your reflection stares back, the evidence of last nightâs events written across your skin.
A deep bite mark sits at the side of your neck, darkening into a deep purple. Your throat is bruised, a faint imprint of Jayâs grip still visible. Your legs are covered in smaller marksâfinger-shaped bruises, faded red streaks.
"Fuckâ"
Panic flickers in your chest.
How the hell are you supposed to go to school like this?
SYNOPSIS > park sunghoon was the most good looking and respectful man youâve ever met at the age of 13. ignoring the fact that you had a loud and obnoxious older brother, park jongseong, as his best friend. with things going by in your life and a heartbreak at 17. what happens when you coincidentally reconnected with your past crush on someone 5 years older than you?
GENRE > brother's best friend au, older!sunghoon (27); you're 22 in current times but met him when you were 13
FEATURING > karina (aespa), wonhee (illit), chaewon (le sserafim), e:u (everglow), small cameo of myung jaehyun (boynextdoor) & rei from ive
SCHEDULE > every two days
TAGLIST > send an ask or go here for the google form! also do note that i don't always see every comment so it's better send an ask/fill the google form
Faced with a daunting reality, youâre compelled into madness in the midst of true love
pairingâ fwbâs brother!jay x fem!reader x fwb!sunghoon
status: on-going
genre: smut minors do not interact, angst, slight fluff, friend with benefits au, friend with benefitsâ brother au, sibling rivalry, p with plot, p with feelings, love triangle
warnings: morally ambiguous characters, toxicity, arguing, manipulation, full warnings and full smut warnings within each release
now shuffle playing: House of Ballons (Original) by The Weeknd â¶ïž 1:00 ââáá||á|á||||âá|á||||ââąâá|á||á|á|á||á|á|||âá||á|á||
THE PURGE SERIES #1: Kiss Me - enhypen! jay
PAIRING:purger reader x privileged jay
SYNOPSIS: You hate the Purge. You hate the monster they create, the cruelty, and the way it's broken you down year after year. You hate the rich most of allâthe people who don't have to fight to survive. People like Park Jongseong.
And now, somehow, he's sitting next to you. The boy who's always smiling, always comfortable, as if the world hasn't burned down around him. The boy who lives in safety, behind barricades his father's company builds, while you've spent years starving, hiding, and praying.
Jongseong keeps smiling at you, oblivious to the weight of your hatred. He doesn't care about you, not really. To him, life is simple. And maybe that's why you can't stand him. Because while he laughs, you're trying to figure out how to make sure people like him never smile again.
warning: contains dark sensitive topics, mentions of murder, sexual assault, violence, and ptsd behavior, different perspectives of the purge, one sided hatred, reader is kinda difficult to handle but it's a trauma response, messy ending, jay is a supportive boyfie (in a good and bad ways), reader is unhinged, explicit content (3 diff scenes smut), fingering, nipple play, pussy eating, unprotected sex, doggy style, purge fucking, MDNI, reader discretion is advised
WC: 21.8K.
music to listen while purging: murder in my mind
You hate March 21. God, how you loathe itâthe day that strips away any pretense of humanity.
It always starts the same way: the wailing sirens, cold and mechanical, ripping through the air.
Not even sixty seconds pass after the announcement before the streets erupt. Gunshots. Screams. The unmistakable, animalistic sounds of survival. The world falls apart faster than you can blink, faster than you can even take a breath. And every year, you sit in that darkness, trembling, hating.
You hate how they made thisâhow society carved out one single night to let its ugliest urges spill over.
You hate the twisted smiles on people's faces, the gleeful violence, the merciless slaughter. You hate everything about it.
You hate how weak you are. How poor you are. How your "barricade" is nothing but a creaky door and a pile of junk you've pushed in front of it. Heavy chairs, the couch, a dresser you could barely moveâwhat is that supposed to do against the monsters outside?
They'll break through it in minutes, seconds even, if they choose you this year.
And there's nowhere to run. Nowhere to hide.
So you crawl inside the closet, knees tucked into your chest, hands pressing hard over your ears as the chaos outside creeps closer and closer. You rock back and forth, whispering to yourself, "Just twelve hours. You just have to survive twelve hours."
You hate how your morals hold you hostage.
You're too much of a coward, aren't you? Or maybe you're too human, too stupidly tied to the idea of right and wrong.
Either way, you've sentenced yourself to this endless nightmare.
You hate how they have no mercy. How people don't even hesitate.
The second those sirens stop, the masks go on, the knives come out, and the laughterâthe laughterâstarts echoing down the streets like some kind of hellish symphony.
You hate the way your mind races, picturing your own end over and over again. Would it be quick? A bullet to the head? Or would it be slow? Something worse?
You hate how poor you are. How people like youâpeople who can't afford high-tech barricades, bulletproof shelters, or private security.
You're the bottom rung of society, the lambs to the slaughter. And that's exactly how they see you. Nothing more than sport for the rich.
You've been their prey beforeâdragged into one of their "games." Their sick, twisted hunting expeditions where they wear masks and hunt you down like animals, laughing all the while.
Somehow, you survived that night. Somehow, you ran fast enough, hid well enough. But you didn't leave unscathed.
No, you left something behind that night:Â your sanity.
You can still feel their eyes on you, their jeers echoing in your ears, their mocking laughter as they cornered you over and over, just to let you escape so the game could continue.
You see their facesâthose masksâevery time you close your eyes.
And no matter where you go, it's always the same.
You transfer to a new town, a new neighborhood, hoping to disappear, but you always end up right back here.
They smile too wide, your neighbors. They're too friendly. Too eager to see you. And every time they stare at you, every time their grins linger a little too long, you feel the bile rise in your throat.
You hate everything about the Purge.
You hate the people who participate in it, the government that allows it, the sick, twisted minds that relish in it.
You hate the monsters you've seen outside, but you hate the monster you're becoming even more.
Because every year, it gets harder. Harder to keep your sanity intact. Harder to resist. Harder to keep your morals from shattering under the weight of it all. And every year, the hatred inside you grows like a poison, rotting you from the inside out.
You hate how you're always waiting. Waiting for another March 21.
Waiting for the next time you'll have to endure this torment. Waiting for the day you finally snap, when you stop running, when you stop hiding, and when you start fighting back.
You hate the waiting more than anything because you know that day is coming. You know it's only a matter of time before something inside you finally breaks.
And when it does, you'll hunt them down. Every last one of them. The rich who preyed on you. The neighbors who smiled too wide while undressing you. The government officials who allowed this nightmare to persist.
You hate March 21.
But more than that, you hate how much you're starting to look forward to it.
"I see you survived the Purge," you muttered, your eyes narrowing as they landed on the group of seven boys in the hallway.
They were laughing softly, their voices laced with relief as they exchanged hugs and pats on the back.
"Thank God," one of them said, gripping the others in a tight embrace, his shoulders sagging like he'd been holding his breath for the last twelve hours.
"I already told you guys," another voice chimed inâsmooth, Park Jongseong. Of course.
"Next year, you should all come to our house. Our lockdown is solid. Our barricades are strong enough to keep anyone out. You'll be safe there, trust me."
You scoffed, the sound low and bitter, but loud enough to be heard if anyone was paying attention. Of course, they weren't. They never noticed you. Not people like them.
Park Jongseongâ the golden boy. His father owned one of the biggest barricade companies in the country, making a fortune off other people's desperation and fear.
He didn't just survive the Purge; he thrived in it. His family's state-of-the-art lockdown system probably made their house into a fortress.
And now here he was, standing in the middle of the school hallway, flashing that perfect smile and talking about how his family had been "safe and sound" while people like you hid under a bed, praying not to die.
You bit the inside of your cheek, tasting blood, and turned away. Of course Jongseong had survived. People like him always did.
You were miserable. Miserable every single day for the past seven years since the Purge began.
Seven years since the night your parents were taken from you on that first Purge.
Seven years of surviving on your own, scrabbling through life like a rat in a never-ending maze.
An irregular college student balancing four jobs just to afford rent, tuition, and scraps of food that barely kept you standing.
And some nights, when you're too tired to even close your eyes, the same thought creeps in, like a whisper you can't shut out.
Why can't you just die already?
Was this what God wanted for you? Was your suffering some part of His great plan? If it was, you hated Him for it. You hated everythingâfor putting you here, for making you live like this, for keeping you alive while everyone else you cared about was gone.
Then came August. Seven months before the next Purge, You took your entire month's payâevery single cent you'd earned and bought a handgun from a retired Russian police man who didn't ask questions.
You didn't eat for weeks after that, barely managing to survive on water and scraps you could steal from work.
Hunger clawed at your stomach, but you didn't care. Every second of discomfort was worth it as you cradled the gun in your hands at night, running your fingers over the cold steel.
At college, exhaustion weighed on you like a heavy coat. Your mind was foggy, your body barely cooperating as you tried to focus in class. You were too tired to care about anything anymore. That's why, when you heard the voice, you didn't even look up at first.
"Hey, are you Y/N?"
You blinked, sluggishly dragging your tired eyes up to meet the man.
Park Jongseong. He was standing there, his usual easy smile on his face, holding a lab manual in one hand.
Your brows furrowed as he sat down next to you like it was the most natural thing in the world. You raised an eyebrow at him, watching in silent disbelief as he got comfortable.
"We're partners in laboratory," he announced with that same friendly grin, his tone light and conversational.
You stared at him, your eyebrow twitching slightly. Of course, we are. Just my fucking luck.
You hated him. You hated everything about him.
You hated how he could walk into a room and light it up, how he always smiled like life was some perfect little gift wrapped up in a bow.
You hated how easy everything seemed for him, how he floated through life without ever seeming to care about the world around him.
Jongseong keeps smiling at you, oblivious to the weight of your hatred. He doesn't care about you, not really. To him, life is simple. And maybe that's why you can't stand him.
Because while he laughs, you're trying to figure out how to make sure people like him never smile again.
"I'm Park Jongseong," he says brightly, "You can call me Jay, if you don't know me."
You stare at him with your tired eyes, barely masking your irritation. His enthusiasm is exhausting, like a candle burning too brightly, too close to your already frayed nerves.
But he doesn't seem to notice. Of course, he doesn't. He keeps talking.
"I'm planning to start our experimental research maybe in like three days? I don't really like cramming," Jay continues, flashing you another one of his easy smiles.
"Are you available on Saturday?" he asks, finally looking at you. "Do you want to do it at my place or yours?"
His smile falters for the first time when you just stare at him, bored and uninterested, like he's wasting your timeâwhich he is.
He must be so used to people hanging on his every word, eating up his charm. You, on the other hand, are trying to figure out how long you have to tolerate him before he leaves.
"I have a morning shift at the ice cream shop. Probably the afternoon, but I'll leave at 7 PM," you reply flatly, spinning your pen lazily between your fingers. You're not trying to be rude.
You're just tiredâtired of him, tired of everything. "Then I have another shift at the restaurant."
Jay nods, and for a moment, you think he's about to say something stupid, like you work too hard or you should take it easy. But he doesn't. Instead, he watches you for a second too long before his smile returns, a little dimmer than before.
"And your place," you add, cutting off whatever he was going to say. The idea of being in his house, surrounded by whatever rich-boy luxuries he has, makes your stomach churn.
Jay blinks, then nods again. "Alright, my place it is," he says, his tone softer, as if he's trying to figure you out.
You hate itâhate the way his gaze lingers on you.
You turn your attention back to your notebook, letting the silence hang between you until he finally shifts in his seat and looks away. At least he knows when to stop talking. For now.
You observe people every shift. At the ice cream shop, kids cry and tug at their parents, pointing at a flavor they desperately want. At the fast food chain, students laugh, stuffing fries into each other's mouths, their joy spilling out into the air.
You watch them. You clean up after them. And when no one's looking, you pick at their scrapsâhalf-eaten burgers, fries left behindâanything to stave off the hunger that gnaws at you day and night.
When you sneak into the back to wash your hands, you catch your reflection in the grimy bathroom mirror. It almost shocks you, the hollow-cheeked girl staring back.
Your dark eye bags seem to sink into your face like bruises, your cheekbones sharp enough to look dangerous. Your lips are pale, chapped from thirst, and your hoodie swallows what little remains of you.
Even when you do sleep, it's never peaceful.
The nightmares always find you, pulling you back to that nightâhands grabbing, voices laughing, the cold press of a mask against your skin.
Not even the sleeping pills you've wasted money on help anymore. You've tried. God knows you've tried. But the fear is something you can't escape.
And then Saturday comes.
Jay welcomes you at his house with his usual easy smile.
You stand awkwardly at the entrance, your eyes immediately drawn to the luxurious details surrounding you.
Expensive vases line the walls. A cabinet full of fine liquor gleams under the lights. Everything in the house feels deliberate, pristine, and just looking at it makes you feel like you don't belong.
"This way," Jay says cheerfully, leading you to his room.
The moment you step inside, you're greeted with more of the sameâdisplays of wealth that feel almost obscene to you. A collection of guitars lined up like trophies. A cabinet stuffed with fancy perfumes. Everything here screams a life of comfort, of privilege, of a world you'll never touch.
"Are you always cold? Want me to lower the aircon?" Jay asks suddenly, his gaze flicking to your oversized hoodie.
You almost punch him for the question. The audacity of it.Â
Are rich people really this clueless?
The irritation bubbles up. You almost imagine your hands around his neck, squeezing some sense into him.
"No, thanks," you say curtly, not bothering to hide your annoyance. You drop to the floor, pulling out your notebook and pen, ignoring the uncomfortable tension forming between you.
"You can sit on my bed," Jay offers, reaching out to touch your arm like it's no big deal.
But the moment his hand brushes your sleeve, your mind snaps. You're not in his room anymore. You're back thereâon that nightâbeing grabbed, pulled, restrained. Masked faces loom in your vision, their laughter ringing in your ears like a sick melody.
Before you even realize it, you've slapped his hand away, standing so fast you almost knock your notebook over.
"IâI'm sorry," you stammer, your voice shaky as you rub your arm. Jay just stands there, his hand hovering in the air, confusion written all over his face.
"It's fine," he says quickly. His smile is gone now, replaced by something softer.
You swallow hard, forcing yourself to sit down againâthis time on the bed, even though you'd rather be anywhere else. You pull your notebook back into your lap, flipping it open as if nothing happened, your hands trembling slightly.
The two of you work in near silence, researching for your lab project. Jay tries to engage you now and then, asking for your thoughts, but you keep your answers brief. You don't want to talk. You don't want to share. You just want to get through this.
After a while, Jay breaks the silence again. "How many jobs do you have?" he asks, his voice almost hesitant. "How do you manage school and work?"
You huff, irritated by his questions. What does he know about working to survive? What does he know about balancing your life on a thread?
"I don't manage," you reply bluntly. "I'm already planning to stop after this semester."
Jay straightens in his seat, frowning slightly. "Why?"
"Because I can't afford it anymore," you snap, your patience wearing thin. Your voice is sharper than you intend, but you don't care. You glare at him, daring him to argue, to say something stupid like, You should keep trying.
But Jay just looks down, his gaze softening. "I'm sorry," he whispers, almost too quiet to hear.
Before you can respond, a knock interrupts the moment. A head peeks into the roomâa woman with wavy hair and a face so similar to Jay's that it's clear she's his mother.
"Heard you had a classmate over," she says warmly. "Come down and eat."
Jay stands immediately, glancing at you as if waiting to see if you'll follow. You nod stiffly, clutching your notebook to your chest as you trail behind him, feeling awkward in a house like this.
When you reach the dining room, your stomach grumbles embarrassingly loud at the sight of the food. A table full of steaming dishes spreads out before you, prepared by maids who move around effortlessly. You've never seen this much food at once before, not even during the holidays.
"Come, sit, sweetheart," Jay's mom says, pulling a chair out for you. Her voice is so kind, so gentle, that it makes your chest ache.
You sit down slowly, staring at the food like it's a mirage. Jay's mom piles your plate high with food, her warm smile reminding you so much of your own mother that your throat tightens.
"Eat, don't be shy," she says, her voice light and encouraging.
Your hands shake as you pick up the spoon, the first bite warming your tongue.Â
The taste is overwhelming, rich and filling, and it's so good that tears prick at the corners of your eyes.Â
You quickly take another bite, and another, ignoring the lump in your throat.
Jay watches you quietly, his gaze flicking to your small, trembling hands. His eyes catch on the scars peeking out from your sleeves as your sweater rides up.
"So, where are you from? It's my first time seeing you here! Jay's always bringing friends overâso many faces!" His mother's voice was cheerful, her smile warm and inviting.
"I'm from Las Vegas," you replied, keeping your eyes on your empty plate. You didn't want to talk, but her energy made it hard to ignore her.
Your gaze shifted to Jay as he leaned over, silently placing more food onto your plate.
"Oh, Las Vegas!" His mom exclaimed, her eyes lighting up. "What made you settle here in Seattle? Life is so exciting over there! So bright and lively!"
"Not really," you said, inhaling sharply as you tried to keep your tone even. The last thing you wanted was to go deeper into that conversation.
She didn't seem to notice your discomfort. "Oh, I see. Well, what do your parents do for a living?"
You froze. The fork in your hand stilled as memories rushed back like a tidal wave.
The screams. The blood. The way your parents looked at you, their faces twisted in pain as you hid, trembling in the cabinet.
"They're dead," you said bluntly, gripping your fork so tightly your knuckles turned white.
The room seemed to grow quieter. His mother's cheerful expression faltered. "Pardon?"
"They're deâ" you started, but the words caught in your throat. Your pulse quickened, your chest tightening, and before you could finish, Jay cut in.
"It's already almost 7:00," he said quickly, "Didn't you say you have a shift?"
You looked at him, startled. His gaze met yours, and for the first time, his ever-present smile was gone. Instead, his eyes were steady, watching you carefully, like he knew you were unraveling and didn't want to make it worse.
You took the excuse without hesitation. "Yeah," you muttered, shoving your chair back as you stood. "I should go."
His mom looked like she wanted to say something, but Jay rose from his seat, cutting her off with a gentle hand on her shoulder. "I'll walk her out," he said softly.
"Thank you for the food, Mrs. Park," you smiled, trying to look natural, bowing at her. You grabbed your bag and slung it over your shoulder, refusing to look back at the table, at the food, at his mother's concerned face. Your throat burned as you fought the tears threatening to spill over.
Jay followed you silently as you stepped into the hallway. Once you were out of earshot, he finally spoke.
"You didn't have to answer her," he said gently.
You stopped in your tracks, gripping the strap of your bag tightly. "I didn't want to," you said flatly, your voice trembling just a little. "But people always ask. Like they have the right to know."
Jay didn't respond immediately. When you glanced at him, he looked... softer, his usual brightness dimmed with something quieter. "I'm sorry," he said, his voice low and careful. "She didn't mean anything by it. My mom's just... the type to ask questions. She doesn't think it'll hurt anyone."
"Yeah, well, it does," you snapped, the words slipping out before you could stop yourself. Your voice was sharp, cutting through the quiet hallway. But Jay didn't flinch. He just nodded, that same calm expression on his face, like he understood.
And for some reason, that made you angrier.
Your bag strap digging into your shoulder as you stared at him. The silence stretched, heavy and awkward. Your chest burned with frustration, your hands curling into fists at your sides. You weren't sure what you were mad atâhis mom's question, his calm demeanor, or the fact that he kept pretending to get you when he didn't.
The words tumbled out. "What are your thoughts about the Purge, Jay?"
Jay's eyes widened, caught off guard by the sudden question. He hesitated for a moment, his mouth opening and closing like he was carefully picking his words.
"IâI don't agree with it," he said finally, his voice quiet..
You laughed bitterly, shaking your head. "You don't agree with it?" you repeated, mocking his tone.
"That's rich. The Purge is the reason why you're making money, Jay. It's why your family's living in that giant house with your shiny vases and fancy barricades."
Jay blinked, visibly taken aback. "That's not fair," he said, his voice soft but firm.
"Isn't it?" you shot back, your voice rising.
"Your dad's company makes barricades, doesn't it? Every year, people like you get richer while people like me..." You trailed off, shaking your head as your throat tightened. "You don't get to sit there and say you don't agree with it. Not when your family profits from it."
Jay's jaw tightened, but he didn't interrupt. He just looked at you, his expression unreadable.
"And you know what's funny?" you continued, the bitterness spilling out of you now. "You probably spend Purge night in your fortress of a house, watching movies or playing board games with your family while the rest of us are out there dying. You don't even have to think about it, do you?"
"That's not true," Jay said quietly, his hands clenching at his sides. "I do think about it."
"Oh, do you?" you snapped, glaring at him. "What, do you spend a whole five minutes feeling bad for people like me before you go back to your perfect little life?"
"That's not what Iâ" Jay started, but you cut him off.
"You don't get it, Jay," you said, your voice trembling now, anger and exhaustion mixing into a volatile cocktail. "You'll never get it. You don't know what it's like to be hunted like an animal while people laugh. So don't stand there and tell me you 'don't agree with it,' because that doesn't mean anything coming from you."
Jay looked like he wanted to say somethingâhis mouth opened, but no words came out. His shoulders slumped slightly, and for a moment, you thought you saw guilt flash across his face.
"I'm sorry," Jay said softly, his voice barely above a whisper.
You froze, your anger faltering for a moment as his words sunk in. Your chest tightened, and your eyes softened just slightly, guilt prickling at the edges of your mind. What were you even doing?
But the shame and bitterness were too much to face. You turned away quickly, your voice small and strained. "I'm sorry... I should go," you murmured, gripping the strap of your bag as you hurried to leave.
Jay didn't stop you. He just watched your retreating figure, his expression a mix of concern and frustration. As the door clicked shut behind you, he sat down heavily, running a hand through his hair. He wanted to help, but he didn't know how. And the way you looked at him, like he was the problem, made it feel impossible.
The weeks passed in a blur of survival and self-destruction. Bullets were fucking expensive. Even knives cost more than you expected, and every penny you earned disappeared the moment it hit your hands. Life was getting harder.
The monster inside youâwas growing louder, feeding off your exhaustion and anger.
At night, when you weren't working, you trained yourself obsessively. Watching documentaries on how to kill someone. Studying anatomy. Practicing with your weapons until your hands were blistered and shaking.Â
You didn't care if your body couldn't take it anymore. Pain didn't matter. Hunger didn't matter. Nothing mattered except being ready.
But as the weeks dragged on, it became harder to keep going.
Your hoodie, the one you wore every day like a second skin, was filthy and smelled of sweat and exhaustion. Your body was sore in every possible way.
Your reflection in the mirror was worse than beforeâhollow eyes, sallow skin, dark circles so deep. And every time you saw yourself, you thought the same thing.
You just want to die already.
One night, your phone buzzed. It was a message from Jay.
"Y/N, I'm sorry to bother you, but you haven't been coming to class. I can handle most of the project on my own, but for this reporting, I really need your presence."
You stared at the message for a long time, debating whether to ignore it. But something in you caved. Maybe it was guilt. You replied:Â "Okay. I'll come."
Jay welcomed you into his house again, you ended up on his bed, laptop in your lap as you both worked on the PowerPoint for your report. The room was quiet except for the sound of typing, but every movement felt like a struggle. Your body ached. Your head throbbed. You could barely focus, and every second felt like a fight to stay upright.
It wasn't long before your body gave up.
The laptop slipped from your lap, crashing to the floor as your vision blurred. The last thing you heard before everything went dark was Jay's panicked voice calling your name.
When you opened your eyes, the first thing you saw was a white ceiling.Â
The faint smell of alcohol and disinfectant filled the air, and the sharp tug of a needle in your arm made you realize you were hooked up to an IV. An oxygen tube rested under your nose, and your body felt impossibly heavy, as if all the exhaustion you'd been ignoring had finally caught up with you.
Your gaze drifted down to your bodyâand then you saw it.
You were wearing a hospital gown.
Panic gripped you instantly. Your chest tightened, your breathing quickening as your hands clawed at the fabric.
"No, no, no," you whispered, your voice trembling as your heart pounded in your ears.
Memories of hands grabbing at you, tearing at your clothes, flashed through your mind like lightning. You gasped for air, a faint scream slipping from your lips.
Jay jolted awake from the chair beside you, his eyes wide with alarm.
"W-what's wrong?" he asked, his voice soft but laced with panic. He moved closer, his hands hovering uncertainly like he wasn't sure if he should touch you.
"H-hoodie," you stammered, gripping his arm with weak, trembling hands. Your nails dug into his skin. "Need to cover. Ugly. Ugly."
Jay winced at the pain but didn't pull away. "Hey, hey, it's okay," he said gently, his voice calm and soothing. "You're okay. You're safe. No one's going to hurt you."
"No," you whimpered, shaking your head as tears streamed down your face. "I'm ugly. Don't look." Your hands fumbled to pull the gown tighter around you, but it didn't help. You could feel the scars beneath itâthe raised lines.
Jay hesitated for a moment before slowly reaching out to cover your hands with his. His touch was warm, steady, and he squeezed your fingers just enough to ground you.
"You're not ugly," he said softly, his tone so sincere it made your chest ache.
You shook your head again, your voice breaking as panic surged through you. "You don't understand. You don't know what they did to me. What I look likeâ"
"Calm down," Jay interrupted, his voice steady but still gentle, as if he were trying to anchor you to the moment.
He closed his eyes and turned his head slightly to the side, a gesture meant to reassure you. "I'm not looking, okay? I'm not looking."
His words made you pause, your breathing still uneven but slowing just a little as you clung to his arm. The panic was still there, buzzing under your skin, but his calmness was starting to chip away at it, little by little.
"You're safe now," Jay said, his tone softer this time, "and you're not alone, okay? I'm here. I'm not going anywhere. Just calm down, breathe in, breathe out. You can do this."
You tried to follow his instructions, inhaling shakily and letting the air out in uneven bursts. It wasn't perfect, but it was enough to keep you grounded, enough to stop the tears blurring your vision completely.
Jay's hand was warm against yours, his fingers gentle but firm as he held on. "What do you want me to get?" he asked softly, his voice careful, his head still turned slightly away so you wouldn't feel watched.
"My hoodie," you whispered, your voice weak and pleading. "I need it. Please."
Jay glanced at the IV in your arm, his lips pressing into a thin line. "You have an IV in your skin," he said quietly. "It's still not okay for you to wear your hoodie yet. If you pull at it, you could hurt yourself."
You looked away, shame and frustration boiling under your skin, your fingers gripping the hospital blanket tightly. "I don't care," you mumbled, your voice trembling.
Jay sighed softly, squeezing your hand again to ground you. "I know you don't feel comfortable," he said, his tone gentle but firm, "but if it's too hot or heavy right now, I don't want you to hurt yourself trying to put it on."
You clenched your jaw, swallowing back another wave of tears. "I justâI need to cover up," you said, your voice breaking again.
Jay hesitated for a moment, then nodded. "Okay," he said carefully, "if you're not comfortable in the gown, I can get you a long-sleeve nightgown instead. Something softer. Something that'll cover your arms. Is that what you want?"
You glanced at him, your lip trembling, and nodded weakly. "Yeah," you whispered, barely audible.
Jay gave your hand one last gentle squeeze before slowly standing up. "I'll go ask the nurses," he said softly.
Days had passed, and Jay had stayed by your side, refusing to leave, despite how much of a burden you felt like.
He wasn't overbearing or hoveringâjust quietly there, helping you in any way he could.
He brought you meals, water, even helped you comb through your disheveled hair when your strength failed you. He didn't ask questions about what happened, didn't demand explanations.
His mother visited often, sweeping into the room with an energy that made your chest ache. She came with baskets of fruit, flowers, and small gifts, her arms overflowing like she was trying to smother you with kindness.
On one visit, she hugged you tightly, tears in her eyes, and said, "You need to take better care of yourself, sweetheart. Your life is precious."
Her words pierced through you, bringing a lump to your throat. You didn't have the heart to respond, just nodded, even though deep down you still didn't believe her.
Jay's friends, Sunoo and Ni-ki, had even come to visit. Despite the fact that they didn't know you at all, they acted like you were an old friend.
They brought a snake and ladder board game, and before you knew it, they were sitting cross-legged on your hospital bed, loudly cheering, groaning, and playfully arguing over the dice rolls. Their laughter filled the room, echoing against the sterile walls and spilling over the edges of your heart.
At first, you just watched them silently, your hands resting in your lap, unsure of how to react. But as the game went on, you found yourself drawn inâyour dead eyes softening as you watched them bicker like kids, a faint half-smile tugging at your lips.
For the first time in what felt like years, you felt something other than pain. Just a flicker, but it was there. A tiny seed of happiness.
"What do you want to eat today?" Jay asked, smiling as he sat at the edge of your bed, peeling an apple with practiced ease.
"I want rice cakes!" Ni-ki chimed in, raising his hand like an excited child.
Sunoo rolled his eyes dramatically, crossing his arms. "Yuck! We had rice cakes yesterday!"
Their back-and-forth made you chuckle softly, a sound you hadn't heard from yourself in a long time.
But later, when the room grew quiet again, and it was just you and Jay, that flicker of happiness gave way to something heavier. Guilt.
You glanced at Jay as he sat by the window, scrolling through his phone absentmindedly. His face was relaxed, the sunlight catching the soft angles of his features. He had done so much for youâthings he didn't have to do. And all this time, you had hated him. Misunderstood him.
You had assumed the worst of him, just because he was rich.
You had lumped him in with the monsters who had ruined your life, convinced yourself that he was just another spoiled, privileged kid who wouldn't understand what suffering felt like. But the truth was... he wasn't.
He wasn't the people who had hunted you, mocked you, stripped you of your humanity. He wasn't the people who laughed behind masks, thriving on fear and violence.
Jay had done nothing but help you, even when you were rude to him, even when you pushed him away.
And yet, the guilt didn't erase your pain. It didn't undo your trauma or silence the nightmares that still haunted you.
You still hated the world that allowed the Purge to exist. You still hated the memories that burned like fire in your veins. You still hated yourself for being weak, for surviving when your parents hadn't.
But you didn't hate Jay anymore.
"I'm sorry," you said quietly, breaking the silence.
Jay looked up, tilting his head in confusion. "For what?"
"For... for how I treated you," you admitted, your voice trembling slightly. "For assuming things about you just because of where you come from. I thought you wouldn't care. That you couldn't understand. But... you're not like them."
Jay's expression softened, a small, almost sad smile tugging at his lips. "You don't have to apologize for that," he said gently. "You've been through hell. I get why you'd feel that way."
You shook your head, gripping the blanket tightly in your hands. "No, you don't get it. I was cruel to you. I blamed you for things that weren't your fault."
Jay was quiet for a moment, then reached out, resting a hand over yours.
His touch was warm, steady, grounding. "I'm not perfect," he said softly, his tone sincere. "I won't pretend to know what you've been through. But I want to help."
Your throat tightened, tears threatening to spill over again. You didn't know how to respond, so you just nodded, gripping his hand. And for the first time, you allowed yourself to trust someone. Even if it was just a little.
"The doctor said you have anemia and osteoporosis," Jay's mother said gently, setting her bag down on the small table beside your hospital bed.
"That's why your bones are weak! You'll need to eat more foods with calcium and iron to build your strength and get your blood count higher. We'll make sure you have everything you need."
You stared at her, unsure how to respond. Guilt curled in your stomach, gnawing at you. You weren't her child. You weren't even close to being part of her world. And yet, here she was, treating you so good.
"The hospital bill is covered," she continued, her voice casual, like it wasn't a big deal. But to you, it was.
It was a huge deal. The cost of staying in a place like this was something you couldn't even fathom. You'd spent years scraping by, eating leftovers just to save a few bucks, and here she was, brushing off what could've been monthsâmaybe yearsâof your income.
"You don't need to worry about it," she added, her smile soft and reassuring. "Just focus on getting better. Jay's friend is also my priority."
Jay's friend.
The words hit you harder than you expected. You weren't his friend. You didn't deserve to be called that, not after the way you'd treated him.
"Thank you," you murmured finally, your voice barely audible. It was all you could manage without breaking down entirely.
Jay's mom smiled wider, her eyes crinkling at the corners.
"You're welcome, sweetheart," she said, reaching out to gently pat your hand. "Now, tell meâwhat's your favorite food? I'll have the kitchen prepare something special for you."
You blinked, caught off guard by her kindness. "I... I don't really have one," you admitted quietly, your fingers fidgeting with the edge of the blanket.
It wasn't a lie. You hadn't thought about things like "favorite food" in years. Food, for you, had been about survival, not enjoyment.
"Well, then we'll just have to find one for you," she said, her tone cheerful and determined. "I'll have the staff make a variety of dishes for you to try. And don't worryâif there's anything you don't like, we'll keep trying until we find something you love."
Her words left you speechless. All you could do was nod, the weight of her generosity pressing down on you. It felt so foreign, so undeserved, and yet, for the first time in what felt like forever, you felt... cared for.
Jay, who had been quietly peeling an orange in the corner, finally spoke up. "Mom, don't overwhelm her," he said softly, his eyes flicking to yours. "She's still recovering."
You glanced at him, your gaze lingering for a moment longer than you intended.
His mother waved him off with a laugh. "Oh, hush, Jay. I'm just trying to help." She turned back to you, her smile never faltering. "You're part of our family now, okay? At least while you're here. So don't be shy about asking for anything."
Her words made something in your chest tighten. You nodded again, unable to trust your voice.
Jay's mother spent hours at your bedside, chatting away. She told you stories about Jay's childhoodâhow he once tried to "fix" a birdhouse with peanut butter, or how he dressed up as a firefighter for three Halloweens in a row because he was so obsessed with the uniform.
Jay groaned beside her, his face flushed as he waved her off. "Mom, stop! She doesn't need to know all of that!" he whined, his voice high with embarrassment.
But his mother only laughed, brushing him off with a playful wave. "Oh, hush, Jay. She needs to know how adorable you used to be!"
You couldn't help but chuckle softly, your lips curving into a small, almost shy smile.
Eventually, Jay's mother had to leave, something about a business emergency pulling her away. She hugged you gently before she left, squeezing your hands and promising to visit again soon.
"Take care of yourself, sweetheart," she said with a warm smile. "And if Jay gives you any trouble, let me know."
"I'm right here," Jay muttered, rolling his eyes but grinning all the same.
As the door clicked shut behind her, the room fell quiet again. You and Jay were alone, the silence settling between you like a soft blanket.
"Have you showered?" Jay asked suddenly, breaking the stillness.
You shook your head, feeling a little self-conscious. It had been days since you'd had the energy to even think about something like that.
"Do you want to?" he asked, his voice gentle.
You nodded hesitantly.
Jay smiled, standing up to grab a towel from his bag. He returned a moment later, his hand extended to you. "Come on," he said softly, his voice warm and encouraging.
You placed your hand in his, and he guided you carefully out of the bed. But as soon as your feet touched the ground, your knees buckled beneath you, the strength in your legs giving out entirely.
"Whoa!" Jay exclaimed, catching you before you could fall. Without hesitation, he slipped your arm around his neck, his other arm sliding under your legs.
"I've got you," he murmured as he lifted you effortlessly.
Your cheeks flushed, but you didn't protest as he carried you to the bathroom. His touch was steady, his arms warm and reassuring as he placed you gently into the tub.
"Do you want me to call a nurse to help you?" Jay asked, crouching in front of you. His voice was careful, like he was trying not to overstep.
You shook your head quickly. The idea of a stranger cleaning youâseeing youâmade your stomach churn with discomfort. "I'm not comfortable," you said quietly, looking away.
Jay nodded, his brows furrowed slightly in thought. He didn't push or suggest anything else. He just waited, watching you carefully.
And then, before you could stop yourself, you looked up and met his gaze. "Can you?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.
Jay's eyes widened in surprise, his ears turning red as your words sunk in. "Are you sure?" he asked, his tone soft but serious. "Are you comfortable with me?"
You nodded, swallowing hard. You didn't know why you asked him. Maybe it was because he was the only one who had seen your broken pieces and didn't turn away. Maybe it was because, despite everything, you trusted him.
Jay hesitated for a moment, then nodded. "Okay," he said quietly, his voice steady despite the redness creeping up his neck.
Your hands trembled slightly as you began to strip off the hospital gown, letting it fall away from your shoulders.
You couldn't bring yourself to look at him, your chest tightening as the scars on your body were laid bareâscars from knives, from bullets, from cigarette burns that had long since healed but never truly faded.
For a moment, there was nothing but silence.
You finally glanced up at Jay, only to see his face frozen in a mixture of sadness and anger. His jaw clenched, his throat bobbing as he swallowed hard. His eyes weren't looking at you with disgust or pityâjust pain. Pain that you couldn't quite understand.
"I'm sorry," you said, your voice cracking. You quickly crossed your arms over your chest, trying to cover yourself, to hide the ugly truth of what had been done to you.
"Don't apologize," Jay said softly, his voice strained but firm. He crouched lower, his gaze meeting yours. "You don't have to apologize for this. None of this is your fault."
You bit your lip, tears welling in your eyes as you looked away. "It's ugly," you whispered, your voice barely audible. "I'm ugly."
"No, you're not," Jay said immediately. "Don't ever say that. Don't ever think that."
Jay begins to open the faucet, filling the tub. You felt his hand gently rest on your shoulder, his touch so light it was almost like a question. "These scars," he continued, his voice softening, "they're not ugly. They're proof that you survived."
You turned back to him, tears spilling over as his words sank in. His gaze didn't waver, didn't falter. There was no judgment in his eyes, only sincerity.
His hands were gentle as he worked, brushing over your skin with careful precision, the towel soaking up water from your arms, your back, every part of you. Each movement was measured, respectful, almost as though he was afraid of breaking you.
The silence was heavy but not uncomfortable. Still, the question burned on your tongue, and before you could stop yourself, you asked, "Why are you helping me?"
Jay froze for the briefest of moments, his hands stilling as he rinsed the washcloth. Then he gently reached for your hair, lathering shampoo between his fingers before carefully massaging it into your scalp.
"Why wouldn't I?" he asked softly, his tone calm, but you could hear the edge of emotion beneath it.
You tilted your head slightly, his fingers never missing a beat as they worked through your tangled hair.Â
"Because... people don't just help without a reason," you muttered, your voice barely audible. "Are you pitying me?"
Jay's hands stilled again, his fingers pausing in your hair. For a moment, you regretted asking, but then he sighed softly, his hands resuming their slow, soothing motions.
"No," he said firmly. "I'm not helping you because I pity you."
"Then why?" you pressed, your voice cracking as the question spilled out of you. "Why are you doing all this? Why do you care?"
Jay rinsed the shampoo from your hair, his hands tilting your head back slightly so the water wouldn't get in your eyes. He stayed silent for a moment, as if he was choosing his words carefully.
"Because you deserve to be cared for," he said finally, his voice almost a whisper.
His words hit you like a punch to the chest. You stared at the tiled wall, unable to respond as your throat tightened and your eyes began to sting.
"I'm not doing this out of pity," Jay continued, his voice soft but insistent. "I'm doing this because I want to."
You swallowed hard, blinking rapidly to keep the tears from falling. His words felt foreign, like they didn't belong to you. Like they were meant for someone else, someone who deserved kindness.
"But I'm broken," you whispered, the words trembling as they left your lips. "You don't understand. I'm not... I'm not normal."
Jay's hands paused again, and for a moment, you thought he might agree with you. But instead, he leaned forward slightly, his voice so soft it almost didn't reach you.
"Who cares about 'normal'?" he asked gently, smiling at you.
His words made your chest ache, a strange, unfamiliar warmth blooming beneath the pain. You didn't know what to say, so you didn't say anything. Instead, you let him finish rinsing your hair, his touch as careful as ever.
Jay stayed quiet for a moment, his hand gripping the soap, before his soft voice broke the silence. "Let me brush your body, hmm? Are you okay with that?"
You looked up at him, your eyes still glossy from earlier tears. He was smiling, It was softer, almost hesitant, like he was giving you all the space in the world to say no.
For a second, your chest tightened again. But then you wiped at your tears, nodding, a small, watery laugh slipping from your lips. "Yeah, okay."
Jay let out a breath, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly as he dipped the soap into the water, creating a soft lather. "You don't need to apologize," he said after a moment.
But you shook your head, tears spilling over again as the words tumbled out. "I'm sorry," you whispered. "For being a burden. For being weak."
But Jay stopped what he was doing, his hand resting lightly on your shoulder. "Showing vulnerability isn't weakness," he said softly, his voice steady but warm. "Don't say you're a burden when you're not."
You finally looked at him, your breath hitching at the sincerity in his gaze.
You spent almost a month in the hospital, longer than you ever thought you'd stay. There were stretches of time when you were alone, the quiet pressing against you like a heavy blanket.
Jay still had to attend his classes during the day, and you hated how much that relieved you. Being around him, around his patience and kindness, was almost too much to bear. It made the guilt twist deeper into your chest.
But every night, without fail, Jay came back. He'd shuffle in, his backpack slung over one shoulder, his shirt slightly wrinkled, and his face drawn with exhaustion.
No matter how tired he was, he'd sit beside you for a while, asking how your day had been, what you'd eaten, or if you needed anything.
Then, when he couldn't fight the fatigue anymore, he'd curl up on the couch, a thin blanket thrown over him, and fall asleep with his phone still clutched in his hand.
You'd watch him sometimes, your chest tightening at the sight of him.
Jay's mother visited often, breezing into the room with her warm smile and bags full of food. "You need to eat this," she'd say, setting down a steaming dish in front of you. "It'll help your bones."
The next day, it was something new: "This will boost your blood count!" she'd exclaim, watching eagerly as you took hesitant bites.
At first, you forced yourself to eat out of politeness, but slowly, you began to notice things.
You realized you liked gimbapâthe way the rice was soft and slightly sweet, the seaweed wrapping it all together. You discovered new juices and found yourself craving strawberry milkshake more than anything else.
Jay's mom always noticed. "Strawberry milkshake, hmm?" she teased one afternoon, her smile playful. "I'll make sure to bring more tomorrow."
The warmth of her attention and care settled uncomfortably in your chest. You didn't know how to handle it, didn't know what to do with the kindness she gave so freely. It was foreign, and it made the guilt inside you grow.
After weeks of lying in bed, your body weak and fragile, the day finally came when you managed to stand on your own two feet. It wasn't easy. Your legs shook, your grip on the metal IV stand so tight your knuckles turned white, but you did it. For a brief moment, you felt a flicker of pride.
But then you looked down at yourself. Your pale, almost sickly skin stretched over your bony frame. Faint bruises marred your knees and legs.
You hated looking at yourself like thisâso helpless, so exposed.
Your fingers trembled as you tightened your grip on the IV stand, leaning against it for support. Every movement felt slow and deliberate, like your body was relearning how to move after months of stillness. You shuffled to the calendar pinned on the wall, each step sending a dull ache through your legs, but you pushed through it.
December 13.
You stared at the date, your chest tightening as the weight of it settled on you. Three months. Three months until the Purge.
Your hand instinctively went to your stomach, as if trying to steady the rising wave of anxiety building inside you. You swallowed hard, your throat dry and tight. The memories began creeping in, uninvited, flashing behind your eyes like fragments of a nightmare you could never escape.
You shook your head, closing your eyes to block it out, but it didn't help. The thought was already there, rooting itself firmly in your mind.
You couldn't go back to the same cycle of fear, of waiting for someone to find you, to break you all over again.
Your chest rose and fell rapidly as you tried to steady your breathing, gripping the IV stand as it was the only thing keeping you upright. You felt caught in between two versions of yourselfâthe girl who cowered in fear, and the one who had spent months preparing to become something worse.
"You're standing."
The voice startled you, and you turned your head sharply, your grip tightening on the IV stand.
Jay was standing at the doorway, his hand on the handle, staring at you with that familiar wide smile that somehow made the heaviness in the room feel a little lighter.
"My mother said you like strawberry milkshake, so I brought you one," he said, stepping inside and walking toward you, his eyes soft with pride as he glanced at your trembling legs. "Here, let me help."
Before you could say anything, Jay gently took your hand and guided you back to the bed,
"I think I should discharge," you said quietly, the words barely escaping your lips.
Jay blinked, his smile fading slightly. "Why? You're not well yet. Are you thinking about the bills? You shouldn't. I told you, that's already taken care of."
You shook your head, staring at the strawberry milkshake in his hand as he popped the straw into the cup. He handed it to you, the smell of sweet strawberries wafting up and tempting your senses, but you couldn't focus on it.
"The Purge," you said finally, your voice trembling as you gripped the cup tightly, your knuckles turning white. "It's coming again."
Jay froze for a moment, his expression softening as he crouched down in front of you, his eyes level with yours. You could feel his gaze searching your face, waiting for you to continue.
"They... they're coming," you mumbled, your voice breaking. Your chest started to rise and fall rapidly, your breath coming in short, uneven gasps. "I don't know what they'll do this time."
Jay reached out instinctively, his hand resting gently on top of yours, steadying the trembling that had begun to spread through your fingers.
"They always find me. No matter where I go. They... they enjoy it. It's a game to them." Jay's jaw tightened, his eyes darkening as he listened.
"They won't find you this time," he said firmly, his voice filled with a quiet determination. "I won't let them."
You stared at him, your chest tightening as you tried to find the words to respond. Instead, you looked down at the strawberry milkshake in your hand, the straw still untouched. Slowly, you brought it to your lips, taking a small sip. The sweet, familiar taste spread across your tongue, and for just a moment.
Jay stayed crouched in front of you, his hand still resting lightly on yours as he watched your expression soften just slightly after taking a sip of the strawberry milkshake.
"Y/N," Jay said after a pause, his voice careful.
You glanced at him, your grip tightening slightly around the cup in your hands. "What is it?"
Jay shifted, sitting back on his heels but keeping his gaze level with yours. "Have you ever thought about talking to someone? You know, a therapist? Someone who might be able to help with... everything you've been through."
Your breath hitched, and you stiffened slightly, your shoulders tensing as the words sank in. "I don't need that," you muttered quickly, looking away from him. "I'm fine."
Jay tilted his head slightly, his expression soft but unconvinced. "I don't think you're fine," he said gently, his tone lacking any hint of judgment. "And that's okay. You don't have to be fine. After what you've been through... no one would expect you to be."
Your chest tightened, your fingers digging into the cup as you tried to swallow the lump forming in your throat. "I don't want to talk about it," you said, your voice trembling slightly. "Talking won't change anything. It won't make the memories go away."
"I know," Jay said softly. "It won't erase what happened. But maybe it could help you carry it. You've been carrying all of this alone for so long, Y/N. Maybe it's time to let someone else help."
"I can't," you whispered, shaking your head. "I don't know how to... to say it out loud. I don't even know where I'd start."
Jay's hand tightened slightly on yours, grounding you as he leaned closer. "You don't have to start anywhere specific," he said quietly.
"You just have to take it one step at a time. They won't push you to talk about anything you're not ready for. It's not about fixing everything all at onceâit's about helping you find a way to live with it."
You looked at him, your vision blurred by unshed tears, and for a moment, you hated how much his words made sense. You hated how right he was, how kind he was being, how much he cared when you weren't sure you deserved it.
"I don't know," you said finally, your voice barely above a whisper. "I don't know if I can do it."
Jay nodded, his eyes warm and understanding. "That's okay," he said softly, his voice steady and reassuring.
"You don't have to decide right now," he continued, his hand lightly squeezing yours. "I just want you to know it's an option. And if you ever want to try, I'll be there with you. I'll help you find someone. You don't have to do it alone."
You stared at him, his words settling in your heart like a soft weight. Slowly, you nodded, a small, shy smile tugging at your lips. "Thank you," you whispered,
January came, and you were finally discharged from the hospital. It felt strange being back in the world after so much time spent in bed, but Jay made it easier.
In the weeks after your release, you returned to your small apartment, but more often than not, you found yourself spending your nights at Jay's home.
His mother insisted, always greeting you with a warm smile and asking how you were feeling. "It's better to keep an eye on you," she'd say, ushering you to the dinner table, where she'd pile your plate with food.
You had stopped studying, deciding to focus on working full-time instead. Jay had suggested a restaurant he knew, and before long, you found yourself settling into a routine. The work was tiring, but it kept your mind busy, and slowly, the spark in your eyes began to return.
Your nightmares didn't disappear, but they became easier to bear with Jay by your side. Whenever you woke up crying, shaking from the images that haunted you, he was always there.
"Shhh, it's okay," he'd whisper, pulling you into his arms and holding you close. His chest was warm and steady against your cheek, and his hand would rub soothing circles on your back as he whispered, "I'm here, love. I've got you."
You didn't know where he got his patience. No matter how many times you woke him in the middle of the night, trembling and crying, he never got frustrated. He never made you feel like a burden.
And maybe that's why, before you even realized it, you fell in love with him.
It wasn't a dramatic realizationâno grand moment or spark. It was slow and steady, like the warmth he gave you every day. It was in the way he smiled at you, in the way he stayed even when he didn't have to.
You wanted to be better for him. You wanted to be strongânot just for yourself, but for him, too. That's when you decided to take his advice. You were going to try and talk to a therapist.
One evening, you were lying on his chest, his heartbeat a steady rhythm beneath your ear. His hand played idly with your hair, his fingers brushing through the strands like it was second nature. The room was quiet, the only sound coming from the soft hum of the heater, and you felt so at ease it was almost strange.
You tilted your head slightly, looking up at him. His eyes were closed, his lips relaxed in a small, peaceful smile. Something about the moment felt so natural, so intimate, that it made your heart swell.
Without really thinking, you leaned closer, nuzzling into the crook of his neck. You felt him shift slightly beneath you, but he didn't stop you. The warmth of his skin was comforting, and before you could second-guess yourself, you pressed a soft kiss to his neck.
You felt his body tense under you, his breath hitching ever so slightly. His fingers froze in your hair, and for a moment, you thought you'd made a mistake.
"Y/N," he murmured, his voice low and shaky, like he wasn't sure what to say.
You lifted your head slightly, meeting his wide eyes, your cheeks burning. "Iâ" you started, but the words caught in your throat.
Jay's lips parted, his gaze flicking between your eyes and your lips.
You bit your lip, "I'm sorry," you whispered, your voice barely audible.
His expression softened immediately, his fingers brushing your cheek. "Don't be," he said gently. "Just... tell me. Is this what you want?"
You hesitated for only a moment before nodding again. "Yes," you breathed, your voice trembling.
Jay's hand slid to the back of your neck, pulling you closer until your lips were just a breath apart. "Me too," he whispered, and then he kissed you.
It was soft, tentative at first, like he was afraid of breaking the moment, but when you kissed him back, his grip on you tightened slightly, his lips pressing more firmly against yours.
When you finally pulled away, both of you breathless, he rested his forehead against yours, his hand still cradling the back of your head.
Your tongue traced a slow, deliberate line down to his neck, and when you sucked gently at the sensitive skin there, he groaned, low and deep, the sound sending a rush of heat through you.
"Y/N," he murmured, his voice shaky as his hands found their way to your waist. You grabbed them, guiding them more firmly against your body as you shifted, straddling his lap.
Jay's eyes widened for a fraction of a second before his gaze darkened, his lips parting slightly as you leaned down to kiss him again. This time, the kiss wasn't soft âit was full of need, your lips moving hungrily against his as your hips rolled against him.
You gasped into his mouth, the heat pooling low in your stomach as you felt the tension building between you. Your breath came in heavy pants as you pulled back just enough to whisper, "I love you."
Jay's hands slid under your clothes, his fingers brushing against the bare skin of your waist. His touch was warm.
"I love you," he said back, his voice low and full of something raw, his head tilting back slightly as your movements sent a shiver through him.
You didn't stop. Your hips pressed into him again, a slow, deliberate grind that made him bite back a groan, his head falling back further as his grip on your waist tightened. His eyes fluttered closed for a moment, his breath coming out in a shaky exhale.
His hands moved to the hem of your shirt, pausing as his eyes met yours again. "Can I?" he asked softly, his voice laced with tenderness.
You nodded, your heart racing as he carefully lifted the shirt over your head. His eyes roamed over you, taking in every inch of exposed skin, and you felt a familiar pang of self-consciousness.
You instinctively moved to cover yourself, your arms wrapping around your torso, but Jay stopped you gently, his hands warm and steady as they held yours.
"Don't hide," he whispered, his voice so soft it made your chest ache. "Please don't hide from me."
Your breath hitched as his hands released yours, moving slowly to trace the lines of one of the scars on your shoulder. He leaned down and pressed his lips to the scar on your shoulder, the gesture so tender it sent a jolt through your entire body.
 He kissed it again, slower this time, before moving to another scar on your arm, his lips lingering as if to erase the pain it carried.
You couldn't stop the tears that spilled over, your hands trembling as they clutched at his shoulders. "Jay..." you whispered, your voice cracking.
"I see you," he murmured against your skin, his hands steady as they held your waist. "I see all of you, and I love every part of you."
His lips brushed against the scar on your collarbone, then another on your ribs, each kiss more deliberate than the last.
Jay's eyes softened as he whispered, "You're so beautiful, I love you."
The sincerity in his words made your heart race, your breath catching in your throat. You didn't know how to respond, your chest tightening with emotions too overwhelming to name. Instead, you leaned forward, capturing his lips in a kiss that spoke all the words you couldn't say.
His hands slid up your back, his touch firm yet tender as he pulled you closer, your bodies pressing together. The kiss deepened, slow and consuming, his lips moving against yours with a passion that sent heat coursing through your veins.
Then, with a flick of his fingers, you felt the clasp of your bra come undone. The cool air brushed against your skin.
A soft moan escaped your lips as his hand cupped your breast, his thumb brushing over your nipple, teasing and flicking it in a way that made your back arch involuntarily. Jay groaned against your mouth, the sound low and deep, sending a wave of desire pooling low in your stomach.
He gently guided you to lay down, his lips never leaving yours until he moved to your jawline, then your neck, leaving a trail of heated kisses in his wake.Â
He stopped at your left breast, his warm breath ghosting over your skin before he wrapped his lips around your nipple, sucking gently.
The sensation made you gasp, your fingers tangling in his hair as you arched into him. His tongue flicked over the sensitive peak, sending jolts of pleasure through your body, while his right hand gripped your other breast, kneading it with just the right amount of pressure.
You let your head fall back, lost in the feeling, soft moans spilling from your lips as your body responded to his every touch. His name escaped your lips like a prayer, and he hummed against your skin, the vibrations adding to the heat building within you.
Just when you thought you couldn't take any more, his right hand began to travel lower. His fingers slipped beneath the waistband of your panties, and you felt his touch move in slow, deliberate circles.
A gasp tore from your throat as his fingers teased you, his touch light but enough to make your hips lift in desperation. "Jay," you breathed, your voice trembling with need, your body aching for more.
"You're so perfect," he murmured, his voice rough and heavy with desire. His lips returned to yours, as his fingers continued their slow, torturous motion, building a fire within you that you couldn't extinguish.
When his finger slowly slid inside you, your breath hitched, your chest pressing into his as you wrapped your arms tightly around his neck. The sensation was overwhelming, every nerve in your body alive with heat as he moved inside you, testing your limits.
Jay's forehead rested against yours, his breath heavy and warm against your lips. "I'm going to add another one, baby," he said, his voice low and filled with lust. "Can you take it?"
You nodded quickly, your hands clutching at him, your voice trembling as you whispered, "I can take it for you."
He groaned at your words, his jaw tightening as he stared at you with darkened eyes. "Fuck, don't say stuff like that," he muttered, his voice almost a growl.
Without wasting another second, he slid a second finger inside you, stretching you in a way that made your back arch. The pace of his movements quickened, the slick sound of his fingers filling the room as your walls clenched around him. The pleasure built fast, sharp and electric, making your breath come out in broken gasps.
Jay leaned down, his lips trailing along your collarbone, then down to your chest again. His mouth latched onto your breast, his tongue flicking over your nipple, adding another layer of sensation that made your head spin.
"Jay," you whimpered, your hips moving on their own, grinding into his hand as his fingers curled inside you, hitting a spot that made stars explode behind your eyes.
"You're so good," he murmured against your skin, his free hand gripping your waist to keep you steady as his mouth moved between your breasts, leaving heated kisses in his wake.
"I'm gonna cum," you whined, your voice high and desperate as the pressure in your stomach coiled tighter and tighter.
Jay didn't let up. His tongue teased your nipple, licking it in slow, deliberate strokes that made you shudder, while his thumb suddenly found your clit, pressing and rubbing it in perfect rhythm with his fingers.
The combination was too much. Your body shaking uncontrollably as the pleasure crashed over you in waves. "Jay!" you sobbed, your hips lifting off the bed as your orgasm hit, leaving you trembling and breathless beneath him.
He didn't stop right away, his fingers and thumb slowing just enough to help you ride out the high, his lips never leaving your skin. "That's it," he whispered, his voice full of pride and adoration. "You're so beautiful like this."
Your hands clutched at his shoulders, your chest rising and falling rapidly as you tried to catch your breath. When his fingers finally slipped out of you, you whimpered softly, feeling the loss of his touch.
Jay kissed your forehead gently, his hands soothing over your sides as he pulled you into his arms, holding you close against his chest. "I've got you," he murmured, his voice soft again, filled with affection. "I've got you."
"I was preparing for the Purge this year," you said quietly, staring at your hands instead of your therapist, Ms. Jisoo.
"A self-defense plan, or something more?" she asked gently. There was no judgment in her voice, just calm curiosity.
"Something more," you admitted, biting your lip as your fingers fidgeted in your lap.
Ms. Jisoo nodded softly, giving you space to speak. "Do you still think about it now, after falling in love?"
You paused, her question lingering in your mind. "I don't know," you said after a moment. "I've been so focused on him... on how he makes me feel. The only thing I know for sure is I want to be a better person for him. Not... this."
You hesitated, your voice trembling. "Not some mentally unstable girl who can't even sleep through the night without waking up screaming."
Your chest tightened as the words left you, the guilt clawing at your throat.
Ms. Jisoo leaned forward slightly, her voice gentle and steady. "Wanting to heal for someone you love is a wonderful thing, Y/N. But it's okay to want to heal for yourself too. That doesn't make you weak, and it doesn't mean there's something wrong with you."
Her words softened something in your chest, but the guilt was still there, heavy and sharp. You bit your lip harder, tears welling in your eyes.
"D-Do you think I'm a monster?" you asked suddenly, your voice breaking. "For thinking about purging this year? For even wanting it?" You finally looked up at her, tears spilling as you waited for the answer you feared most.
Ms. Jisoo's expression stayed calm, warm, and understanding. "You're not a monster," she said gently, her voice soft as she stares at you.
"You're someone who's been hurt. Someone who's been through things no one should ever have to experience. It's okay to feel angry. It's okay to feel hate. Those feelings don't make you a monster. They make you human."
"But they feel so wrong," you whispered, tears streaming down your face. "Wanting it feels wrong."
"They're not wrong or right," she said softly. "They're just feelings."
You sniffled, wiping at your face with trembling hands, but her words didn't fully settle the storm inside you. After a moment, you looked back at her, hesitating before asking the question that had been on your mind for so long.
"Do you... agree with the Purge?"
Ms. Jisoo blinked, caught off guard by the question. She leaned back slightly, her hands folding in her lap as she thought about her answer.
"No," she said after a moment, "I don't. I don't think violence solves anything. And I don't think people should have the right to hurt others, no matter what the law says. The Purge... it brings out the worst in people. It allows fear and hate to fester. And I've seen how much it hurts peopleâpeople like you."
Her gaze softened, and she leaned forward slightly, her tone quiet. "But I also understand why you feel the way you do. The Purge forces people to live in fear, to carry anger and pain that they shouldn't have to carry. It's normal to feel conflicted. It's normal to feel angry."
You swallowed hard, her words sinking into you like drops of water on dry ground. "So... I'm not wrong for feeling like this?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.
"No," she said firmly. "You're not wrong. You're human, Y/N. And humans feel messy, complicated things. There's no shame in that."
You nodded slowly, your voice barely above a whisper. "I don't know what to do with myself. I keep thinking and thinking about what I should do to live freely... but nothing feels right."
Ms. Jisoo smiled gently, her expression steady and reassuring. "It's okay to feel lost, Y/N. Healing doesn't come with a map or a timeline. But you're taking steps forward, even if they're small. Just keep going. You'll find your way."
By the middle of February, your days had settled into a rhythm. You managed your job at the restaurant, worked through your therapy sessions every week, and spent most of your free time with Jay and his mother.
Their home felt warm, almost like a haven, and you found yourself doing small things to show your gratitudeâbuying Jay his favorite snacks, surprising his mom with flowers or something she'd mentioned in passing.
They never expected anything in return for their kindness, but doing those little things made you feel like you were giving back in some small way.
One evening, the restaurant was hosting a group of high-class businesspeople who had reserved the entire dining area. The room buzzed with laughter and chatter, the expensive suits and gleaming jewelry making you feel out of place as you carried trays of food to their table.
As you placed the dishes on the table, your eyes drifted to a middle-aged blonde woman sitting at the center. Her hair was perfectly styled, her tailored suit fitting her like it had been made just for her. She held a glass of wine delicately, twirling it in her hand as she laughed with the others.
Your breath hitched.
A memory slammed into you with the force of a freight train.
Gunshots. Screams. Blood splattered across the ground. You could see the flash of a machete. Hear the sound of a head rolling across the dirt. Your chest rose and fell rapidly, your throat tightening as the room spun around you. The scar on your arm felt like it was burning.
"Excuse me?" a man's voice pulled you back to reality, his tone polite but firm. "Do you need anything else?"
You blinked, your breath still shaky as you tried to steady yourself. The blonde woman's laughter had faded, and now she was looking at you, her piercing eyes sharp and almost bored, like she was trying to place where she'd seen you before.
You struggled to keep your hands from trembling as you clutched the tray tighter. "I-I'm fine," you stammered, inhaling deeply to keep your composure.
But it didn't help when one of the other women at the tableâa brunette with diamond earringsâreached for your arm, pushing up your sleeve to reveal the long scar that ran down the length of it.
"God," the woman said, her voice dripping with disgust. "What a nasty scar you have." Her fingers brushed the raised tissue, making you flinch involuntarily. "How'd you even get this?"
You froze, the room seeming to go quiet as her words echoed in your ears. You couldn't breathe, couldn't think. You wanted to rip your arm away, but your body felt paralyzed, like you were trapped in that night all over again.
And then, you heard yourself asking, "Are you Ms. Wilson?"
The words felt foreign on your tongue, your voice shaky as you stared at the blonde woman.
She raised an eyebrow at you, her expression amused. "Yes, why?" she asked, taking another sip of her wine. "Do I know you?"
You almost laughed. Of course, she didn't remember. People like her never did.
Your grip on the tray tightened, your knuckles white as your mind raced. You remembered her nowâher face, her voice, the way she had smiled behind the mask as she watched you and the others run for your lives.
And she didn't even remember you.
"No," you said, your voice steady despite the storm raging inside you. "You don't."
Her head tilted slightly, her sharp eyes narrowing as if she were trying to place you, but after a moment, she simply shrugged and turned back to her companions, already dismissing you from her mind.
Your heart pounded in your chest, your nails digging into the tray as you tried to contain the rage bubbling up inside you.
You turned on your heel, your legs trembling with each step as you left the dining area. The walls of the restaurant seemed to close in, the air thick and suffocating.Â
Your breaths came in short, shallow gasps as you pushed through the kitchen doors, your tray clattering loudly onto the counter.
Gripping the edge of the counter, your knuckles turned white as you stared down at the cold, stainless steel surface. You willed yourself to calm down, to pull it together, but your heart was racing, your chest heaving as the memories refused to let you go.
You muttered something about not feeling well to your manager, barely hearing his reply as you left the restaurant.Â
You didn't go to Jay's home like you usually did. Instead, you walked to your own apartment, your feet moving automatically, your head swirling with thoughts you couldn't control.
When you finally closed the door behind you, something inside you broke. You let out a scream, raw and primal, nails digging into your throat as if you could claw the pain away. Tears streamed down your face, hot and endless, blurring your vision as sob after sob wracked your body.
You stumbled to the target board you had set up on the wallâthe one you used for practice, for preparationâand grabbed a knife. With a sharp, angry cry, you hurled it at the board. It hit the target right in the head.
You screamed again, louder this time, grabbing anything within reach and throwing it across the room. A glass shattered against the wall. A stack of books tumbled to the floor. You didn't care.
When you finally collapsed onto your bed, your body was trembling, your chest heaving as you cried into the pillow. The tears wouldn't stop, your sobs loud and broken as you curled into yourself, trying to escape the weight pressing down on you.
At some point, exhaustion took over, and you fell asleep, your face damp with tears.
You jolted awake when the bed shifted beneath you. Your heart leapt into your throat, your body tensing instinctively, but then you saw himâJay, sitting beside you, his worried eyes scanning your face.
"You didn't come home," he said softly, his voice full of concern.Â
"I was worried. Your manager said you took an early leave." He reached for your hand, holding it gently as his thumb brushed over your knuckles. "Did something happen?"
His voice was so calm, so steady, and it only made your tears resurface. You watched him lift your hand, pressing a soft kiss to your fingertips. The tenderness in his actions broke you all over again.
Your eyes watered, and before you could stop yourself, you threw your arms around him, burying your face in his chest as you cried. Your sobs were muffled against the fabric of his shirt, but he didn't say anythingâhe just held you, his arms wrapping around you tightly, protectively.
"It will never go away," you choked out between sobs, your voice muffled against his chest. "I don't know how to heal when this Purge still fucking exists."
Jay tightened his hold on you, his hand moving to the back of your head as he gently stroked your hair.Â
"I'm so sorry," you cried, your voice breaking. "For always being like this."
"Shh," he murmured softly, pulling you into his lap. His arms wrapped around you, holding you close. "You don't have to apologize, love. Don't ever apologize for how you feel."
You buried your face in his shoulder, shaking your head. The words of comfort should've helped, but all they did was amplify the storm inside you.
"Do you want to talk about what happened?" Jay asked, his voice low and patient.
You shook your head, gripping him tighter. You couldn't bring yourself to say it. Not now. Not yet.
He didn't push. He just held you, his hand running up and down your back as you cried into him.
And then, as the room grew quieter, your emotions spilled into something else. The ache in your chest shifted, giving way to a deeper, more desperate needâthe need to feel alive, to feel connected, to escape the weight of your mind, even if only for a moment.
Your lips found his, and he kissed you back without hesitation, his hands tightening around your waist. The kiss was slow at first, gentle, but soon it grew hungry, fueled by the raw emotion lingering in the air.
It wasn't long before your knees dug into the mattress, your body arching beneath him as he moved inside you. The pain and weight of your emotions blurred into the pleasure of his touch, every thrust sending a wave of heat through your body.
"A-ah! Fuck, slow down!" you gasped as he hit a spot inside you that made your toes curl.
"Felt so good," Jay groaned, his breath hot against your ear as his body pressed flush against yours. His lips found the nape of your neck, leaving wet, open-mouthed kisses as his fingers kneaded your breasts, sending sparks of sensation through you.
You threw your head back, your arms giving out beneath you as he pressed deeper. "Jay," you whimpered, his name tumbling from your lips as your body trembled with every movement.
"Love you," he groaned, his voice rough with desperation. "Fuck, a-ah, I'm gonna cum."
"Inside me, please," you begged, your voice barely above a whisper, but he heard you.
Jay's body fell against yours as he pushed deeper, his breath hitching as his release overtook him. The feeling of him filling you pushed you over the edge, your orgasm crashing into you so intensely that tears pricked your eyes.
Your cries of overstimulation mixed with his groans, his hips moving in small, desperate thrusts as he fill inside you. Finally, he collapsed beside you, pulling you into his arms, his chest rising and falling as he caught his breath.
His lips pressed soft kisses along your forehead and temple, his hand trailing to your stomach, where his fingers traced gentle patterns on your skin.
"I love you," he whispered, his voice so full of sincerity that it made your chest ache.
You turned your head, catching his lips in a soft, lingering kiss. He kissed you back, his thumb brushing against your cheek.
"Spend the Purge at our house," he said after a moment, his forehead resting against yours. "You'll be safe there. I'll protect you. I promise."
His words should have comforted you. They should have been enough. But as you stared into his eyes, full of love and hope, you felt your chest tighten.
Because no matter what Jay did to protect you, no matter how much healing you tried to find, there was one truth you couldn't ignore.
No matter how hard you fought it, no matter how much you loved him, you're still broken, and lost.
March 21, 3:00 PM
You wiped the tables methodically, trying to focus on the task, but the air in the restaurant was tense. All eyes were glued to the TV mounted on the wall, where the announcement of the Annual Purge was being broadcast. The monotone voice of the announcer echoed through the room, describing the rules and restrictions for the night.
Your manager came up to you, his voice urgent. "Hey, take an early leave. Go home and get ready. You shouldn't be out when the sirens start."
You nodded, offering him a faint smile. "Thanks, I'll head out soon."
After finishing up and helping close the restaurant, you walked back to your apartment. The sun was dipping lower in the sky, casting long shadows over the streets. As you set up a small barricade in your apartmentânothing fancy, just furniture pressed against the windows and doorsâyou heard a car honk outside.
Peeking out, you saw Jay leaning casually against his car, waiting for you with that familiar warm smile.
You felt a wave of comfort wash over you at the sight of him. Smiling back, you hurried outside, throwing your arms around his neck and pressing a soft kiss to his lips.
"Let's go home?" he asked, his voice calm and full of care.
You hesitated, glancing back at your apartment. "I need to grab a few things first," you said.
Jay nodded easily. "Of course. Take your time."
After changing out of your work uniform, you slipped into a white off-shoulder dress that reached your kneesâsomething simple yet elegant. You'd never worn it before, and even the soft fabric against your skin felt foreign. Paired with Mary Jane shoes and a pair of cute white socks.
When you stepped into Jay's car, he looked up at you, his eyes widening slightly. "Wow," he murmured, his gaze softening. "You look beautiful."
You felt your cheeks warm as he leaned in, holding your jaw gently and pecking your lips. "What's with the outfit today?" he teased, laughing lightly.
You smiled faintly, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. "I just thought... maybe I'd wear something different. Something nice."
Jay laughed again, his hand reaching out toward your thigh, but you subtly redirected it, placing it over yours instead. He didn't seem to mind, intertwining his fingers with yours as his other hand rested on the steering wheel.
March 21, 4:30 PM
The house was buzzing with noise by the time you arrived. From the top of the stairs, you peeked down and saw six boys piling in through the entrance, bags slung over their shoulders as they greeted Jay's mother.
"Oh, it's Jay's friends!" his mother exclaimed warmly, hugging them one by one.
You recognized Ni-ki and Sunoo, the only ones you'd met before. The rest were strangers to you, their confident voices filling the house as they exchanged jokes and pleasantries.
"Hi, Mrs. Park! I hope you don't mind if we spend the Purge here at your house!" said a tall man with an easy smile.
"No problem, Heesung," Jay's mother replied, her voice full of affection. "What about your parents and sisters?"
"They're at a party," another boy replied casually. "Some politician's mansion. They love that kind of thing."
Your breath hitched, the words hitting a nerve.
What a nice life to be rich, you thought bitterly.
"Hey," Jay's voice pulled you from your thoughts. You turned to see him standing beside you, his brow furrowed slightly. "Are you okay?"
You forced a smile, one you'd perfected over the years. "Yeah, I'm fine. Your friends are downstairs."
Jay studied you for a moment longer, but then he smiled, intertwining his hand with yours as he led you down the stairs.
The boys were loud and full of energy, laughing and teasing each other as they set their bags down and unpacked their things. Jay's mother fussed over them, offering snacks and asking about their families.
"This is Y/N, my girlfriend," Jay announced proudly, pulling you close by your waist.
The room fell quiet for a brief moment, and you could feel their gazes on you.
"Oh my God, you're a thing now?" Jay's mother gasped, her hands clasped over her mouth.
"Isn't it obvious?" Jay replied with a laugh.
One of the boys stepped forward, introducing himself. "Hi, Y/N! I'm Heesung. This is Jake, Sunghoon, and Jungwon. I guess you already know Ni-ki and Sunoo."
You offered a polite smile, nodding as they all greeted you.
As the evening went on, you stayed mostly quiet, helping Jay's mother prepare food while the boys joked around. Jay noticed your silence, slipping his arms around your waist from behind as you worked in the kitchen.
"Hey," he murmured against your ear. "You're safe, okay? You don't need to worry."
You turned to look at him, your heart heavy with emotions you couldn't express. "I love you," you said softly, staring into his eyes.
Jay smiled, pressing a kiss to your lips. "I love you more," he replied, glancing at his watch. "It's already 6:30. I need to barricade the house."
You nodded, watching as he started to walk away. Then, impulsively, you called out, "Jay."
He turned back, his eyes soft. "Hmm?"
Walking up to him, you wrapped your arms around his waist, hugging him tightly. His hands found your face, gently brushing his thumb across your cheek as he looked at you with worry. "Are you anxious, baby?" he asked softly.
"No," you whispered, your voice trembling slightly. "I just wanted to say I love you again."
Jay let out a soft laugh, leaning down to kiss you. "Love, I'm just barricading the house, not purging." He kissed your forehead tenderly, his lips lingering for a moment. "Now, let me lock everything down so we'll be safe, okay?"
You nodded, stepping back reluctantly as he disappeared toward the storage room.
Jay walked through the dim hallway leading to the storage room when he heard footsteps behind him. Glancing over his shoulder, he saw Sunghoon catching up to him, a casual smirk on his face as he slung an arm around Jay's shoulder.
"Yo, bro," Sunghoon said casually, falling into step beside him. "No offense but, you sure about that girl?"
Jay frowned, shrugging off Sunghoon's arm. "Why? What are you talking about?"
Sunghoon shrugged, shoving his hands into his pockets. "She just... seems like a lot. I mean, no offense, but she looks like she's difficult to handle."
Jay's brows furrowed deeper, his steps slowing as he turned to face Sunghoon. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"
"Look, we care about you," Sunghoon said, raising his hands as if to calm him. "Have you seen her scars? Her face? She's clearly been through some shit. Is she even healed from all that?"
Jay's jaw tightened, his teeth clenching as anger flared in his chest. He stepped closer to Sunghoon, his voice low and dangerous. "Watch your mouth."
"Chill, man, I'm just saying." Sunghoon grabbed Jay's arm in an attempt to reason with him. "That girl's got baggage, and I'm telling you, she's going to be a lot of problems for you. She's not stable, bro. You can't tell me you haven't noticed."
Jay didn't let him finish. His hand shot out, grabbing Sunghoon by the collar and shoving him back against the wall. "Say another word, and I swear I'll make you regret it," he growled, his voice dripping with rage.
Sunghoon's eyes widened slightly, but he didn't back down. "I'm trying to look out for you, Jay," he said, his tone firm. "You're my friend. I don't want you getting hurt."
Jay released him with a sharp shove, his chest heaving as he tried to control his temper. "Don't ever talk about her like that again," he said coldly, his eyes burning with anger. "You don't know a damn thing about her."
He turned on his heel, ignoring Sunghoon as he walked into the storage room. His hands trembled slightly as he pressed the button to activate the lockdown. The sound of metal walls sliding into place filled the air, sealing the house and cutting off the world outside.
"Jay, listen to me," Sunghoon said, his voice following him into the room. "I'm serious. There's something off about her. Just think about it, man."
Jay didn't respond. He slammed the door shut behind him, shutting Sunghoon out both literally and figuratively.
Returning to the living room, Jay found the rest of his friends lounging on the couches, laughing and exchanging stories. His mother was tidying up nearby, a small smile on her face as she listened to their chatter.
"Where's Y/N?" Jay asked, his eyes scanning the room.
"I think she went to your room," Ni-ki said, glancing up from his phone. "She said she wanted to sleep early."
Jay nodded, his shoulders relaxing slightly. But before he could take another step, Sunghoon appeared at his side again.
"Man, I'm trying to talk to you," Sunghoon said, his voice laced with frustration.
Jay's patience snapped. Without thinking, he turned and landed a punch squarely on Sunghoon's jaw, sending him stumbling backward.
The room fell silent as the others jumped to their feet.
"Jay! What the hell are you doing?!" Jake shouted, stepping between them.
"I'm just trying to give him advice about his girlfriend!" Sunghoon snapped, holding his jaw as he glared at Jay.
"Are you seriously saying that fucking nonsense while my girlfriend is in this house?!" he shouted. "How dare you even say that shit in front of me?!"
Sunghoon raised his hands in defense, but Jay wasn't done. He stepped closer, pointing a finger at him. "You've known her for, what, an hour? And you think you have the right to judge her? To judge us? Fuck you, Sunghoon!"
"Jay, calm down," Heesung said cautiously, stepping between the two of them with his hands outstretched, but Jay wasn't having it.
"You don't get to judge her just because of what you think you see!" Jay growled, his voice trembling with anger. He shoved Heesung and Jake off as they tried to hold him back.
"Get the fuck off me!" he barked, storming out of the living room. His footsteps pounded against the floor as he made his way up the stairs, leaving everyone behind in stunned silence.
Jay climbed the stairs two at a time, his anger still simmering beneath the surface. He pulled out his phone, swiping through his notifications until he found a message from Dr. Jisoo that he had missed earlier.
Dr. Jisoo:Â Good afternoon, Mr. Park. I just wanted to check in on Y/N since she's missed her last three sessions. Please keep an eye on her, especially todayâit's a particularly triggering event for her. Thank you.
Jay felt a wave of dread wash over him, his heart sinking into his stomach. He quickened his pace, practically sprinting to his bedroom.
"Y/N?" he called, pushing the door open.
But the room was empty.
Panic set in as he checked the bathroom, the closet, all of the room, even under the bed, but you were nowhere to be found.
He bolted back down the stairs, his voice frantic as he called out for you. "Y/N?! Where are you?!"
His mother stepped into the hallway, her face pale with worry. "What's wrong, Jay?"
"She's gone," he said, his voice shaking. "Did anyone see her leave?!"
Everyone in the living room exchanged confused looks, shrugging helplessly.
"Y/N?!" Jay shouted again, his voice echoing through the house.
Jay froze as the broadcast echoed through the house, the robotic voice chilling him to the bone.
"This is not a test. This is your emergency broadcast system announcing the commencement of the Annual Purge sanctioned by the U.S Government.
Weapons of class 4 and lower have been authorized for use during the Purge. All other weapons are restricted. Government officials of ranking 10 have been granted immunity from the Purge and shall not be harmed.
Commencing at the siren, any and all crime, including murder, will be legal for 12 continuous hours. Police, fire, and emergency medical services will be unavailable until tomorrow morning, until 7 a.m., when the Purge concludes.
Blessed by our New Founding Fathers and America, a nation reborn. May God be with you all."
The final words echoed in his ears as the sirens blared, signaling the start of the Purge.
His heart pounded, his chest tight as he pieced everything together. The missed therapy sessions, how quiet you had been all day, the way you hugged him like it might be the last time.
You weren't in the house.
You were out there.
Jay turned on his heel and sprinted to the storage room, his mind racing as panic surged through him.
He yanked open his closet, grabbing the bag he had packed weeks agoâjust in case. Inside were the essentials: a shotgun, a pistol, extra ammunition, and a knife. He tossed the bag over his shoulder, his hands trembling as he loaded the pistol, cocking it with precision.
"Jay, what are you doing?!" his mother cried, standing at the door with tears streaming down her face.
"Unlock the barricade and lock it again after I leave," he said coldly, his voice devoid of the warmth she was used to.
"Jay, you can't! It's dangerous out there!" she pleaded, stepping closer.
"Unlock it!" he snapped, his voice sharp, though his eyes betrayed his inner turmoil. "Please, Mom. I have to go."
"No," Sunghoon interrupted, stepping forward and grabbing Jay's arm. "You're not thinking straight. She left, Jay. She chose to go out thereâ"
Jay swatted his hand away, pointing the pistol directly at Sunghoon's head. The room went silent.
"Jay!" Heesung shouted, stepping forward.
"Come any closer, and I'll blow his fucking head off," Jay growled, his jaw tightening as his finger hovered near the trigger. "You don't get to stop me. None of you do."
Sunghoon raised his hands slowly, his expression shifting to one of caution. "Alright, man. Just... relax, okay? I'm just trying toâ"
"Shut up," Jay hissed, the tension in his body radiating outward. His voice lowered, trembling slightly. "I told you to stay out of this. She's out there, and I'm going to find her."
He turned his gaze to Ni-ki, who was frozen near the security console. "Ni-ki," Jay said firmly. "Unlock the barricade. Now."
Ni-ki hesitated, looking at Jungwon and Jake for guidance, but neither said anything. With a shaky hand, Ni-ki pressed the button, and the sound of the metal walls lifting reverberated through the house.
"Jay, please," his mother sobbed, grabbing his arm as he stepped toward the door.
Jay paused, his resolve faltering for just a moment as he looked at her. "I'm sorry," he said softly, leaning down to kiss her forehead. "But I can't stay here knowing she's out there."
Tears streamed down her face as she nodded, her voice trembling. "I understand, be safe. Please."
"I will," Jay said, stepping out the door. "Lock it the second I'm gone."
The metal walls began to descend behind him as he walked to his car, his mind racing with questions. Where could you have gone? Why didn't you tell him? Were you safe? Were you scared?
Sliding into the driver's seat, he tossed the bag into the passenger side and gripped the steering wheel tightly, his knuckles white. His eyes scanned the darkened streets, the occasional scream or gunshot in the distance reminding him of the stakes.
Without hesitation, he pressed the gas pedal.
You walk slowly down an unfamiliar road, your steps unsteady. You just keep walking and walking, unsure of where you're going or why. You don't understand yourself anymore. You thought everything was finally okay. What more could you ask for?
You have a loving boyfriend who always tries to make you smile. His mother cares for you like her own. You eat three meals a day. You're seeing a therapist. And you even have a safe place to hide on Purge Night.
So why do you feel like this?
Why do you feel so broken when you should feel whole?
Why are you out here, in the middle of the street, on the most dangerous night of the year, with just a knife strapped under your dress?
You wonder if Jay has noticed you're gone. He probably has by now. Your chest tightens at the thought of him pacing back and forth, calling your name.
Your lifeless eyes stare ahead as you walk deeper into the quiet street. It's so still, unnaturally still. No trucks rumbling down the road. No gangs or masked figures in sight.
"Kill me already!" you scream into the emptiness. Your voice echoes down the road, but there's no answer. Not a single sniper or purger takes the bait.
Then, a distant cry catches your earâa plea for help. You turn toward the sound and walk toward it, your grip tightening on the handle of the knife hidden beneath your dress.
As you approach, you see a young girl sprinting toward you, clutching her bleeding waist. Four people in masks are chasing her, laughing like it's some sick game.
"Man, we just want to purge!" one of themâa womanâcackles. That laughâit burrows into your memory like a needle.
The girl stumbles, and when her eyes meet yours, there's desperation written all over them. She collapses at your feet, her blood soaking through your white dress as she clings to you.
"Please... help me," she gasps.
Her words are cut off by a gunshot. Blood splatters across your face as a hole appears in her forehead. Her body falls limp, her grip on your dress loosening.
"My fucking soul feels cleansed!" the woman says with a twisted laugh. The others laugh with her, like a pack of hyenas.
"Up nextâ" the woman starts, raising her pistol toward you.
But you're faster.
In one fluid motion, you pull out your knife and hurl it at her. It pierces through her mask and into her skull. She drops instantly, blood dripping from the blade.
The remaining three hesitate, stunned. That's all the time you need. You yank the knife from the dead woman's head and dash toward the others, slicing the nearest one's throat in a clean arc.
The man in the joker mask fumbles for his gun, but you grab the dead body beside you, using it as a shield. Then, you throw the knife again, this time hitting his chest.
He stumbles back, gasping for air, as you snatch his gun from his weakening grip. Before he can even hit the ground, you fire a shot straight into his skull.
Now, there's only one left.
The last purger, wearing a cat mask, drops to his knees and pulls the mask off, revealing a trembling man. He raises his hands in surrender, tears streaming down his face.
"P-please... spare me. I-I just wanted to purge this year," he stammers, his voice cracking.
You glare at him, the weight of your actions and emotions swirling inside you.
"How many innocent people have you killed in all the purges you've been a part of?" you ask, your tone icy.
His lip quivers. "P-probably 70â"
Before he can finish, you pull the trigger.
The gunshot echoes through the street as he collapses, lifeless.
Silence fills the street once more as you stand there, your white dress soaked in blood, surrounded by bodies. You don't know how long you've been standing there, staring at the carnage.
Then, it happens.
A soft laugh escapes your lips. It bubbles up from your throat, quiet at first, but it grows louder, sharper, until it echoes down the empty street. It's not a happy laugh. It's hollow, bitter, unhinged.
You bring a hand to your face, your fingers brushing against the blood splattered across your skin.
You really have lost yourself, haven't you? Or, did you found it now?
You hate the Purge. You hate the monsters it creates. You hate the people who thrive on it, the ones who laugh, who kill, who hurt.
So why are you here, in the middle of the night, doing the exact same thing?
Tears prick at your eyes, but they don't fall. You just stand there, your shoulders trembling as the weight of everything presses down on you. You feel nothing. And that terrifies you most of all.
You crouch down, wiping your knife on the dead woman's clothes, smearing blood across the fabric.
Your hands tremble slightly, it's not fearâit's something else. A quiet storm you can't name.
Once the blade gleams clean, you tuck it back into the thigh strap beneath your dress. Grabbing the fallen gun, you check the chamber and reload it. The satisfying click of the cocked weapon echoes as you straighten up and continue walking.
The street stretches ahead, eerily quiet except for the distant sounds of chaosâgunshots, screams, and the occasional rumble of an engine.
Three figures suddenly sprint toward you from the shadows. They glance at you, wide-eyed, as they pass by, their faces pale with fear.
Ahead of you, three figures suddenly appear from the shadows. Their faces are pale with fear as they sprint past you. One of themâa panicked old manâstumbles and grabs your arm, his grip shaky.
"Miss, don't go that way!" he says, his voice hoarse and desperate. "That group's rounding people upâthey're psychos!"
His words barely register. Your gaze drifts past him, toward the direction he came from. A cold calm washes over you as he keeps tugging at your arm, pleading.
A large truck screeches to a halt in front of you, its headlights blinding. The old man panics, letting go of your arm and bolting down the road. He doesn't get far. A sharp crack rings out, and he collapses mid-stride, a bullet tearing through his back.
You don't flinch.
The truck door swings open, and several masked figures step out.
One of them grabs your arm, yanking it behind your back as another snatches the gun from your hand.
"Blessed be the New Founding Fathers of America," one of them says, leaning close to your face.
You smile. Not a kind smileâa bitter one. "Blessed be them," you whisper back.
Then, without warning, you jerk your head forward, slamming it into the man's nose. He stumbles back with a grunt of pain, clutching his face as blood pours through his fingers.
Before the others can react, you twist your arm free and yank your knife from its strap. The blade flashes in the dim light as you slice upward, catching one of them in the throat. They gargle and drop to their knees, clutching at the wound.
Another lunges at you, swinging a metal pipe. You duck under the blow, driving the knife into his ribs. He gasps, his body jolting as you twist the blade, blood spraying onto your dress.
You screamâwhether it's from rage or something deeper, you're not sure.
The sound rips from your throat as you yank the knife free and stab again, and again, and again, until his body goes limp.
Behind you, the first manâthe one whose nose you brokeârecovers quickly. He raises his gun, aiming it directly at your back.
You're too focused, too lost in the heat of the moment to notice him.
The loud crack of gunfire fills the air, but it doesn't come from his weapon.
The man's body jerks violently as a burst of bullets tears through him, and he collapses to the ground, lifeless.
Your breath catches in your throat, and you spin around.
Your wide eyes locking onto the figure standing behind him.
"Jay," you whisper, your voice barely audible.
He steps forward slowly, his shotgun still in hand. His expression is unreadable, his eyes flicking over the bodies surrounding you before settling on you.
You brace yourself for the anger you expect to see in his face. For him to yell at you, demand answers, maybe even tell you he's done with you.
But he doesn't.
Instead, he stops in front of you, his gaze softening as he raises a hand to your face. His thumb brushes gently across your cheek, wiping away the streaks of blood smeared there.
"Are you okay?" he asks, his voice full of worry. "Are you hurt?"
You can't speak. Your lips tremble as tears blur your vision. Slowly, your hand rises to hold his against your cheek.
"I'm sorry," he says quietly, his voice heavy with guilt. "I'm sorry for not noticing sooner that you weren't okay. I should've known."
His words hit you like a punch to the chest, and you shake your head, your tears spilling over. "W-what are you doing here?" you manage to say, your voice shaking. "It's dangerous."
Jay smiles softly, leaning down to press a gentle kiss to your forehead. "I could say the same thing to you, love," he murmurs, pulling you into a warm, protective embrace.
His arms wrap around you tightly, holding you like he's afraid to let go. You bury your face in his chest, your tears soaking into his shirt.
"I can't let my girl be out here alone on Purge Night," he whispers into your hair.
You pull back slightly, looking up at him, your smile shaky and uncertain. "Y-you're not angry?"
Jay shakes his head slowly, his warm hand cupping your face as if to anchor you. "No, baby. I'm not angry," he says softly.
Your lips tremble, the guilt clawing its way up your throat as you look into his eyes. "I... I'm a monster, Jay. Look at what I did," you whisper, your voice cracking.
His thumb gently strokes your cheek, his gaze never leaving yours. There's no judgment there, no fearâjust a quiet understanding that makes your chest ache.
"I don't think I'm normal anymore, Jay," you say, your voice barely audible as tears spill freely down your face. "I don't even know what I'm feeling right now. I don't know who I am anymore."
You start to sob, the raw emotion pouring out of you like a dam breaking. Jay leans forward, pressing his forehead against yours, his other hand sliding to the back of your neck to hold you steady.
"I love you," he whispers into the space between you. "No matter what. No matter what you've done, no matter what you want to do... I love you."
His words hit you like a wave, and your sobs come harder, your body trembling in his arms.
"You always ask if you're normal," he continues, his tone soothing as he brushes a stray tear from your cheek. "But I already told you, love. Who cares about normal? Normal doesn't matter to me. You matter to me."
His arms wrap around you tighter, pulling you against his chest.
"If this is what you need to do to heal, then I'll be here," he whispers into your ear. "And I'm sorry if I ever made you feel like you couldn't say this to me. I'll always understand, love. Always. Just... don't do this again without me knowing, okay?"
You nod against his chest, your sobs muffling into his shirt.
"I'm such aâ" you try to speak, but the words get caught in your throat, your cries making it impossible to finish the sentence.
Jay shushes you softly, his hand rubbing slow circles on your back. "You're not. You're not anything bad, baby. You're just... hurting."
You pull back slightly, your hands clutching his shirt as you look up at him, your voice trembling. "I hate it, Jay. I hate what I've become. I'm not me anymore. It terrifies me."
His hand moves to cradle the back of your head, and he presses a soft kiss to your hair. "I know," he whispers. "But I'll be here. I'll be with you through every terrifying moment, love."
For a long moment, the two of you just stay like thatâhis arms holding you close, your head resting against his chest as your breathing slowly evens out. The tension in your body begins to ease, though the storm in your mind still churns.
Jay pulls back slightly, tilting his head to meet your gaze, his smile growing softer but never losing its warmth.
"Are you enjoying yourself right now?" he asks, his voice light and genuine, almost teasing.
You blink at him, surprised by the question, but the answer bubbles up inside you before you can stop it. A faint smile begins to form on your lips, something that feels both wrong and inexplicably right.
"Yes," you admit quietly, your voice steadier than before. "I think I am."
Jay's smile widens just a little, his thumb brushing against your cheek again as if to ground you.
"That's all that matters," he says softly, his voice filled with a calm acceptance that makes the tension in your chest ease.
Then, his eyes flicker toward the carnage surrounding youâthe lifeless bodies, the blood that stains the street, and your hands, still trembling but steady enough to hold the knife.
"What do you want to do? Hmm?" he asks, his tone curious yet understanding, as if ready to follow wherever your answer leads.
You take a deep breath, feeling the weight of the gun in your hands and the heat of the night pressing against your skin. Your lips curve into a determined smile, and your answer comes without hesitation.
"I want to kill purgers," you say, your voice clear and sharp, your eyes shining with a fire that you hadn't felt in years.
Jay doesn't flinch or waver at your words. Instead, he nods, stepping closer to you and holding out his shotgun. "Here," he says, his voice calm as he hands it over.
You take it, your hands steady now, and your eyes glint as you examine the weapon.
"Is this a SPAS-12?" you ask, running your fingers along the smooth barrel.
Jay chuckles softly, watching the way your gaze flickers with excitement.
"Yeah. My dad gave it to me," he replies as he takes your free hand in his.
"Come on," he says, tugging you gently toward his car. "Let's get out of here. It's dangerous to stay in one spot too long."
You follow him, practically bouncing on your heels as you intertwine your fingers with his. As the two of you approach the car, a question bubbles up, one you hadn't thought to ask before.
"Where's your dad, anyway? I've never met him," you say, glancing at him as he unlocks the driver's side door.
Jay shrugs lightly, opening the door for you.
"He's overseas," he explains as you climb in. "He's been busy. A lot of countries are starting to plan their own versions of the Purge, and he's consulting on security systems for them."
"Wow," you mutter, settling into the passenger seat as Jay slides in beside you.
He starts the car, the engine rumbling to life as he glances over at you. "You ready?"
"Is this car bulletproof?" you ask, running your hand along the interior with a raised eyebrow.
Jay smirks, shrugging. "I don't think so, but who needs bulletproof when we've got each other?"
You giggle, the sound light and unexpected, even to yourself.
As he presses the gas pedal hard, the car lurches forward, and the thrill of speed courses through you.
The windows are down, and the cool night air rushes past you as you cock the shotgun, the familiar click of the weapon sending a chill down your spine.
You lean halfway out the window, scanning the streets for purgers, your eyes narrowing when you spot a group down the road.
"Hey, fuckers!" you shout, your voice carrying across the night.
Jay glances over at you, his grin widening as he watches you. "Careful with my car, love," he teases, though there's nothing but pride in his tone.
You don't respond, too focused on your target. Raising the shotgun, you take aim and fire. The blast rings out, and one of the masked figures crumples to the ground.
Jay chuckles, gripping the steering wheel tightly as he drifts the car in a sharp circle, giving you a clear view of the rest of the group.
You take the opportunity, cocking the shotgun again and pulling the trigger, your laughter bubbling up as another purger falls.
Jay's eyes are on you the whole time.
There's a softness in his gaze, even amid the violence. A quiet love that seems to radiate from him as he smiles, the chaos of the night fading away for him.
There's just you, him, and the shared thrill of the hunt.
March 22, 4:00 AM
The two of you stand on the rooftop of an abandoned building, the city stretched out before you in ruins. Fires burn in the distance, their orange glow painting the night in an eerie light. Screams and gunshots echo faintly through the air, but up here, it almost feels quiet.
Jay's arms wrap around you from behind, pulling you against him as he rests his chin on your shoulder.
"When I first saw you, I thought you were the prettiest girl I'd ever seen," he says softly, his voice low in your ear.
You snort, your lips twitching into a faint smile. "I smelled like shit, Jay. I looked like skin and bones. Where's the 'pretty' in that?" you ask, a chuckle escaping you.
Jay presses his lips to your neck, his voice a murmur against your skin. "You were pretty then. You're pretty now. You've always been pretty."
"You should hate me," you whispered, your voice barely audible over the distant crackling of fires below. "For leaving. For running away."
Jay's grip tightened, his hands pulling you closer as his forehead pressed against the back of your head. "I could never hate you," he murmured. "Not when I know what you've been carrying."
You opened your mouth to argue, to push back
"I don't deserve you," you admitted, your voice cracking as the weight of the night caught up with you.
Jay let out a soft laugh, the sound warm and reassuring. "You don't get to decide that," he said, his tone teasing but full of affection. "That's my call, and I'm not going anywhere.
You tilt your head slightly, giving him more access, your breath hitching as he kisses the sensitive spot just below your ear. His lips linger, soft and warm, before his tongue flicks against your skin, sending a shiver down your spine.
A quiet moan escapes you as he nips at your neck, his teeth grazing your skin before he soothes the bite with a kiss. "Jay..."
His hands begin to roam, one sliding up to cup your breast, squeezing gently, while the other dips beneath your dress. His fingers brush over the fabric of your panties, teasing the sensitive bundle of nerves there.
"You're really doing this?" you sigh, half-laughing even as your body arches into his touch. "In the middle of the purge?"
Jay chuckles softly, his lips still pressed against your neck. "We're standing on a rooftop, watching the world burn," he murmurs. "Seems like the perfect time to me."
His fingers move with more purpose now, slipping past the fabric of your panties and brushing against your wet folds. You gasp, your body trembling against him as he slides one finger inside you, curling it just enough to make you bite down on your lip.
"You know," Jay whispers, his voice low and rough as his free hand kneads your breast, rolling your nipple between his fingers. "I'm not normal either."
You barely manage to form a response, your mind clouded by the pleasure building inside you. "W-what do you mean?"
Jay bites gently at your neck again, his lips curling into a grin. "Watching you out there... gunning down those purgers... smearing blood all over that cute little dress..." He groans, his hips pressing into you so you can feel just how hard he is.Â
"Fuck, it turns me on so much. You looked so beautiful. So fucking dangerous."
His confession sends a jolt of heat straight through you, and your legs almost buckle as he slides another finger inside you, his pace increasing. His other hand slips beneath the neckline of your dress, tugging it down just enough to expose your chest as he palms your bare skin.
"Jay..." you gasp, your head falling back against his shoulder as his fingers work you over, pushing deeper and curling just right.
"You're so perfect like this," he whispers, his voice breathy and filled with adoration as he watches your face twist with pleasure.Â
"The way your body moves, the way you moan for me... I'll never get enough of you."
His thumb brushes over your clit, sending a shockwave of pleasure through you. You grip his arms, your nails digging into his skin as your body starts to shake.
"F-fuck, Jay," you cry out, your voice muffled as he kisses your temple.
"That's it, baby," he encourages. "Let go for me. Let me see you lose yourself."
You're barely holding on, your body trembling as he picks up the pace, his fingers sliding in and out of you relentlessly.Â
The pressure inside you builds and builds until it snaps, a wave of heat and pleasure crashing over you as your orgasm takes hold.
You cry out, your hips bucking against his hand as you ride out the high, your walls clenching around his fingers. Jay doesn't stop, his movements gentle now as he works you through it, his lips pressing soft kisses to your neck and shoulder.
When the aftershocks finally subside, you collapse back against him, your chest rising and falling as you catch your breath. Jay wraps his arms around you tightly, holding you close as he presses a kiss to your temple.
"I love you," he whispers, his voice soft and sincere. "Now, let me eat."
Before you can respond, he gently turns you, guiding your back to the cool metal railing. His hands are steady on your waist
"Park Jongseong!"
He crouched, his teeth hooking the edge of your panties and dragging them down, baring you inch by inch. The fabric pooled at your knees before his face dove between your thighs, his tongue parting you
He worked his way up to your clit, licking slow, teasing circles that made your knees threaten to buckle.
His grip tightened on your waist, firm hands pulling you closer, urging your hips to rock against his face.
Your right leg lifted, hooking over his shoulder for balance, your fingers threading into his hair to anchor yourself. You tugged, hard, grinding yourself against him. His groan reverberated through you, the vibrations sending shockwaves straight to your core.
"Jongseong!" you sobbed, your voice breaking as the intensity overwhelmed you. Your grip on his hair tightened, your body trembling.
Abruptly, he pulled away, leaving you breathless and desperate.Â
Before you could protest, his hands were on your shoulders, pushing you down. You hit the rough ground with a muted thud, your palms scraping against the coarse surface.
You barely had time to process the sensation before his hands were on your hips, lifting you up.
"Need to be inside you, baby."
You heard him groan softly, the sound of him stroking himself before he pressed against your entrance.
The stretch as he slid inside you was slow, deliberate, every inch a sensation that left you gasping. You clenched around him instinctively, earning a hiss from him as he threw his head back, savoring the feeling.
"Faster," you whimpered, your voice trembling with need. Your hands scrambled to reach his, gripping the one on your waist.
"My baby wants more?" he laughed, a dark, almost mocking edge to his tone.
Before you could answer, he gathered your wrists in one hand, pulling them behind your back and holding them there. His pace quickened, his hips snapping against yours with bruising force.
You screamed, your voice raw, your body pliant in his grasp.
He didn't stop, didn't relent, even as your cries turned to desperate whines. You felt yourself teetering on the edge, your body trembling violently. But just as you were about to fall over, his movements faltered.
"No!" you cried out, shaking in his hold, trying to move, to chase the release that hovered just out of reach. His hand slid to the back of your neck, pressing you down firmly.
"Don't move," Jay ordered, his voice low and commanding. "I'm still enjoying the view."
You sobbed, your body trembling, your desperation mounting. "Please! I'll be good, I swear, please!"
He growled low in his throat, his hips slamming forward again, harder, rougher, making you cry out.
Gunshots echoed faintly in the background, but they felt distant, irrelevant. All that mattered was the man above you, his hands pinning you down, his movements relentless.
Your mouth fell open as you felt him twitch inside you, his pace faltering before he suddenly flipped you onto your back. Your legs went limp, draped over his shoulders as he sank into you again, his face hovering inches from yours.
Your focus locked on him, the way his brows knit together, the way his jaw clenched, the way his sweat-dampened hair clung to his forehead. He was beautiful in his rawness, primal and consuming.
"I wanna cum," you whimpered, your hand reaching for your clit, desperate for release, but he slapped it away with a sharp look.
"Hold it, love," he commanded, his breath ragged. He leaned down, his mouth latching onto your breast, his tongue swirling around your nipple before he bit down, hard.
You screamed, tears streaming down your face as your body writhed beneath him.
"Can't hold it anymore," you sobbed, shaking your head, your pleas growing more desperate.
"Just a little longer," he whispered, his voice a strained plea of his own. His thumb found your clit, pressing down in firm, maddening circles, even as his hips drove into you faster, harder.
The moment came like a tidal wave, crashing through you with a force that left you breathless, your body spasming around him.
"A-ah fuck!" you screamed, your voice breaking.
His rhythm faltered as you tightened around him, pulling him over the edge with you. He buried himself deep, his groan low and guttural as he came, filling you completely.
"Jay, can't!" you whimpered, your body oversensitive, trembling as he continued to move, chasing the last echoes of his high.
"Fuck, I love you," he muttered, his voice thick with exhaustion
Finally, he stilled, collapsing beside you. His arm looped around your waist, pulling you close.
"You're not falling asleep on me, are you?" he teased, his voice soft.
"Tired," you mumbled, pouting with your eyes half-closed.
"What happened to killing purgers all night?" he asked, his tone light, teasing.
You cracked one eye open to glare at him. "It's morning," you grumbled.
Jay chuckled, his fingers gently smoothing down your dress as best as he could. His eyes lingered on you, softening as you murmured sleepily against his ear.
"I wanna kill Ms. Wilson next year," you whispered, your voice faint.
His lips curved into a small, knowing smile. He kissed your forehead softly, his breath warm against your skin. "Anything for you, love."
You hummed in response, your body melting further into his hold. "I hate how the Purge is so right," you mumbled, your words fading into the quiet dawn. "It really did cleanse my soul."
March 22, 6:45 AM
The sun hung low on the horizon, casting a pale golden glow over the city. The streets were eerily still, a grim quiet settling over the aftermath of the Purge.
Jay carried you carefully to his car, his movements slow and deliberate as he set you down in the passenger seat. For a moment, he lingered, crouching beside you. His hand brushed a stray strand of hair from your cheek, his fingers ghosting over your peaceful expression.
You had found yourself, hadnât you? Maybe not in the way most people would expect, but in a way that felt undeniably true to you.
Your eyelashes fluttered, your eyes opening just enough to glance at him groggily. "What time is it?"
"6:45," Jay replied softly, his voice low. "The Purge is almost over."
You nodded weakly, your head tilting back against the seat as your eyes drifted closed again. But before sleep could take you, they snapped open once more, and you turned your head to him.
"Why? Whatâs wrong?" Jay asked, his voice laced with gentle concern.
You smiled sweetly, your lips curving in a way that made his heart skip.
"Kiss me."
His lips twitched into a chuckle, but he leaned down without hesitation, pressing his lips to yours.Â
"I love you," you whispered as your eyes closed again, this time surrendering completely to sleep.
"I love you too," Jay echoed, his voice just above a whisper. His hand lingered on your cheek for a moment longer before he straightened up, gripping the steering wheel as he started the car.
The streets stretched out before him, empty and silent now, save for the faint echoes of distant sirens. The Purge had ended.
Jay chuckled softly to himself, glancing over at your sleeping form in the passenger seat. You looked so peaceful now, your lips slightly parted, your head resting against the window. It was hard to believe that just hours ago, the two of you had been surrounded by blood.
"Next year, huh?" he murmured under his breath, a small, knowing smile tugging at the corner of his lips.
Jay definitely needed to watch his back next year.
But with you by his side, what could any purger do?
There was no telling what the two of you were capable of.
synopsis: âHow do you know if someone is flirting with you?âÂ
It was Heeseungâs question to you, and you were left with no option other than to show how you do it.
my's note: this is from an old prompt i had. nothing much, just some fluff and highkey desperate (and long) smut... and bestfriends to lovers đ€i feel like i lost the plot while i was writing it, but yeah! hope y'all enjoy it
warnings: childhood best friends to lovers, fluff, kinda miscomunication?, reader blushing/turning red!, SMUT - so minors DO NOT interact!, unprotected sex (donât do it!!!), desperate hee (in many ways lol), hee is sensitive and edges himself, very slooooow and unnecessarily detailed smut, reader is not a virgin but it's her second time!! / lmk if i missed something!
âHow do you know if someone is flirting with you?â
The question lingered in the air longer than Heeseung expected, but he wouldnât blame you at all.
It was a quiet, calm Saturday afternoon. None of you had work to do or studies to draw your energy. While your back lazily rested on your couchâs armrest with your legs propped up in a triangle, Heeseung was laid on the ground after blaming the couchâs fabric for being too heated for his skin, his head opposite to yours.Â
Far enough to miss your instant confused expression.Â
âHuh?â You murmured with a frown, trying to figure out if you heard it correctly before diverting your attention from your phone to catch a glimpse of Heeseungâs plain eyes looking up at the ceiling.Â
He had shifted his position to a relaxed one with a hand behind his head and the other resting on his stomach, the quiet motion of up and down following his gentle breathing. It could easily soothe your nerves to watch him serenely exist like that in the world, an opposite to his normally chaotic and teasing demeanor.Â
âHow do you know if someone is flirting with you?â Heeseung repeated his question once again, and you were sure now you had heard it right. It didnât make you less puzzled though. âLike, I think I struggle to recognize whatâs just a normal interaction and whatâs a flirt.â
Your eyebrows were sky high as you skeptically eyed Heeseung, not believing a single word coming out of his mouth as your body stiffed a little.Â
Growing up together as friends was just a quarter of your story with Heeseung.
Your moms were the typical best friends that surprisingly gave birth around the same time, resulting in you and Heeseung becoming as close as siblings due to your families proximity, although the thought of being Heeseungâs sister haunted the depths of your mind terribly nowadays.
Of course you wouldnât mind being considered in that position when you were younger; Heeseung annoying ass bothering you all the time with the subtle hair pulls under the excuse of trying to grab your attention, or poking your sides to start a little fight that he always won, or the times he simply feigned to go for a whisper as in telling you a secret just to blow air in your ear and elicit a scream from you, were a huge behaviors proof he had somewhat sibling energy.
Your constant smacks on his shoulders and chest, along with your not-so-gentle bites on his arms, and your giggles whenever you pranked him by tossing flour at his direction when cooking together worked well to establish a strong base to that idea.
However, as you both started to grow up, things changed accordingly to your ages.
You were expectedly very comfortable around each other, and the touches once aiming to bother, switched to casual, caring ones, still having a faint of that light-hearted taunt.
Heeseung would often be seen removing an eyelash from your cheek, his fingertips brushing against your skin softly as you kept talking normally.
Or intertwining your hands when going back from school, so you wouldnât fall whenever you tripped â and you did quite regularly.
Or, when you sat together, Heeseung would make sure to have your thighs resting on his lap so he could settle his warm hands on top of it, casually caressing your skin while watching whatever you choose to.Â
It was great and heartwarming to have him like that, taking care of you even with the slightest teasing alongside genuine intentions â Heeseung struggled to demonstrate his feelings openly, so giving you princess-like treatment with a hint of his usual playful banter was his way to show how much he loved you.
Eventually, puberty hit him, and hit undoubtedly hard.Â
The little kid who used to follow you around just to annoy had become the taller, handsome, and effortlessly cool teenager, surrounded by friends and making girls squeal over even the slightest interaction with him, leaving you to wonder when everything had changed that much.
You didnât expect Heeseung to keep being friends with you the way he was before as time passed, but surprisingly he would often be choosing you over the others, such as hanging out during lunch time with you, doing his schoolworks only with you, spending a part of his pocket money with sweets for you and taking you home everyday â you lived near to each other, nonetheless he would always guide you to your doorâs porch before kissing your forehead and saying his farewell.Â
At some point you realized your body was reacting similarly to how girls who had a crush on Heeseung would describe when he was around; an urge to scream and giggle just because he smiled, heart pounding hard in your chest after watching him slicking back his sweaty hair while playing basketball with the boys, hands trembling with the thought of being alone for too long with him in your room.
You were starting to act awkward, your hormones messing with your head enough to leave you scared as shit, questioning what you and Heeseung were, because the definition of friendship wasnât making any sense, seemed lacking, insufficient for what you truly, wholeheartedly wanted from Heeseung.
So your most sane decision at the time was to push him towards other girls randomly, sharing how much in love a friend of yours was with him and how worthy, pretty and intelligent she was. Or how the cheerleaderâs leader would fit him perfectly and they would become the schoolâs model couple.
The sting in your heart was tough to deal with when he started to pick up some of your ideas and openly flirt with the said girls, sharing each step with you how friends constantly did, but you would one hundred percent rather to handle the pain of never having Heeseung as your boyfriend than the hurtful thought of losing him for good.
Then Heeseung started dating, and the girl was extremely jealous of your friendship.Â
Though you swore she had nothing to worry about, Heeseung, once again, chose you, dumping the girl just a few weeks after because she said bad things about you, added to the fact that she had a list of reasons why he should end the friendship, something Heeseung would never, ever think about doing.
Despite your mind playing tricks after hearing that people could misinterpret the way Heeseung behaved with you â apparently he would be playing with your hair and giving you headpats quite too oftenly, barely keeping his hands away from you â, you tried to maintain things safely where they should be, focusing on getting over your foolish crush on Heeseung and moving on.
Eventually, little by little the so cherished friendship started to teeter the edge that crossed the line of just friends, and the casual moments started to hold a special place inside your chest.
Heeseung made no effort to help you as well, offering big and gorgeous smiles whenever he saw you as if you were everything he wanted. Laughing graciously when you hugged him so you could hear and feel his chest vibrating with it. Doing his silly little dances to cheer you up in the middle of your living room and, mostly, singing songs with his angelical voice for you to sleep during late phone calls.Â
You were so terrified of reading beyond reality.
Was it really that deep?, you would question yourself when your head rested on your pillow at night, the phantom of Heeseungâs presence permeating your room after a game day together, the shared chuckles and teasing prolonging your fast heartbeats as a sweet reminder of your feelings, feelings that you never really managed to bury somewhere else other than on the tip of your tongue, craving for the release you never gave.
The friendship continued the same through the years, or, at least, you both tried to. The emotional bond that tied you two together worked almost perfectly, if you got to keep your voice silenced, if you got to keep the real feelings inside your chest, away from the possible reality.
Heeseung would be eager to share his adventures with you, from the everyday moments, like when he made a shot with his back turned to the hoop and scored, to the more secretive and sexual escapades, the ones you would rather not hear about but had to in order to support your friend spot.
It felt like a punch to the gut when Heeseung talked about his first kiss and the others that followed, each revelation stirring a mix of emotions you couldn't quite shake off, not when you wanted him to be your first kiss as well.
When you both entered college last year, once more things shifted a little.
Heeseung and you began to frequent very different places. While you gravitate towards the quiet spots, such as the library, the coffee shop, or the shade of a tree on campus to read a book in your silent, mellow atmosphere, Heeseung was willing to attend every single party he got to know about, having girls constantly kissing him in front of everyone, caring little to nothing about the talks or if the night would end up in his room.
But he never really committed to anyone.
You wondered what was the reason that held him back, considering the amount of good opportunities he had; the offers were abundant, and the line of admires long to make a curve down the square. Surely he would find the love of his life among that many options, and you had convinced yourself you were far faded from the running.
So, the question felt out of place.
âAre you really gonna try to make me believe that you donât know when a girl is flirting with you?â You propped yourself on the couch to full face Heeseung, arching an eyebrow. âYou? Of all people?â
Heeseung rolled his eyes with a sigh and a smirk, pushing himself up to sit with crossed his legs, fully aware of what you were referring to. âDonât even start with this shit.â
You chuckled dryly, struggling to contain the bitter taste dissolving in the depths of your throat, the knot was extremely hard to swallow, to know he had fucked who knows how many girls through his life and you, on the other hand, barely had a boyfriend.
It might sound like envy, but you were just frustrated for not being any of those girls.
âWhat shit? The âlast weekend I slept with three girlsâ shit?â You faked a deep voice to mimic Heeseung, together with his usual cocky smile before deadpanning into a feigned teasing expression.
The episode happened a few days ago, right when you accidentally eavesdropped on him and his friends chatting while playing video games in your shared living room.
It was the typical boysâ talk that you had no intention of listening to, but unfortunately you had just reached the doorâs knot to open it, then each word that came out of Heeseungâs mouth traveled straight into your ears, making your stomach drop in an unexpected pain.Â
You rushed to your room, cheeks heating and tears stinging your eyes, on the verge of breaking down after hearing what he had said.
Of course you knew Heeseung was sexually active. His room was right next to yours, and though he tried to keep it quiet, the girl he once led in after mistakenly thinking you werenât home hadnât bothered to be discreet.
You were fully aware of his private life, the quarter that had you screaming, crying, nearly pulling out your hair and breaking some of your belongings in jealousy because it wasnât you.Â
âY/N,â Heeseung called out seriously, accidentally bringing you back from your spiral thoughts. âYou, more than anyone, know I was joking,â he averted his eyes from you, the prominent area of his cheeks heating as he added. âI literally lost my virginity not even six months ago.â
Now it was your time to roll your eyes, because yes, Heeseung did in fact lose his virginity on that said date, but he never stopped having sex ever since and it annoyed you so fucking much. While you struggled to even kiss a boy, Heeseung was out there living the best of life. Without you.
For years, you thought you hated his behavior because you couldnât be like him, nonchalant about your crushes as if they were nothing much. You had to literally force your body not to shake when kissing someone, had to hide your sweaty palms and how all your instincts yelled for you to run away when sharing intimacy with someone.
But the actual reality was simpler. You werenât envious of him. You didnât want to be like Heeseung.
You wanted Heeseung.
âWhatever you say,â you muttered with a dry chuckle and dropped back on the couch, grabbing your phone to keep scrolling on tiktok, ignoring how hot your face felt after.
Heeseung grunted, his eyes darting towards your face as you absentmindedly watched videos. The boy was oblivious to the real whirlwind happening inside your chest, especially because on his side of the story, he was fighting so fucking hard to contain himself.
Every. Single. Second.Â
You were the prettiest girl he ever had the chance to lay his eyes on, with the bestest personality that complemented his own just right, with the most melodic voice and laughter that made his whole world slow down in order to make his breathing ability harder. And he really wished it actually slowed down, to allow him to enjoy and appreciate every passing moment with you even deeper.
Fuck, Heeseung was unable to tell when the butterflies in his stomach started to dance along the beat of your constant presence, but the day you asked if your lipgloss was cute definitely played a big role on it.
Heeseung had a vivid memory of how gorgeous you looked wearing your brand new dress for your fifteenth birthday party, styling your strands with a hair bow and prepping your face with makeup that only accentuated your already beautiful features.
And then you turned on your heels, cheeks painted with a faint blush, big, wide, innocent eyes colored with a soft shade of brown, and your lips, oh, your fucking plump lips with a shade of a light pink gloss adorning it, screaming for his own mouth to be pressed there.
âDo I look cute? Does my gloss look cute?â
The question was simple and very common. Heeseung always answered yes to them, because he would always think you were pretty, even when waking up with your puffy face and half-lidded open eyes squinting because of daylight.
But there you were, making Heeseung focus intentionally more on your, now, kissable lips, on your sweet, tempting, fucking gorgeous lips.
Ever since that day Heeseung had to keep you closer to drift his nasty thoughts away.
It was controversial and maybe hypocritical. He should have done the opposite, to avoid you, to keep you as far as possible, but he simply couldnât, because in that very moment he found himself addicted to you, addicted to the idea of tasting what he had come to crave as his main life goal.Â
Having you near meant not dealing with the thought of other guys that had experienced what he longed the most, because with you, everything that filled Heeseungâs mind was the present; your presence, your cheeky smiles, your clingy hugs, your scent, you, as a whole.
It was so fucking tough and hurtful to hear about your little crushes, it fumed his chest with angry flames that spread rapidly, with no sign to have a firefighter strong enough to put the fire out.
You werenât like him, or at least the part you allowed him to have access didnât compare to even one percent of what he lived, but Heeseung strongly envied those who had the chance to be the reason behind your shy giggles and blushed cheeks.
Along the chat about flattering boys that stole your heart, you would also ask him why he didnât date anyone, your curious gaze making him stutter in place. To internally scream and squirm to prevent the words from escaping his mouth â words that would form the sentence that, without a doubt, would change the trajectory of your relationship â was the only suitable option.
Itâs your fault, idiot. Itâs because none of them are you.
Heeseung always opted to laugh away and give an open answer; âdidnât find the right oneâ was his favorite.
In fact, watching you grow up was harder than dealing with some of the questions you threw at him. One moment, you were just the little girl he loved to tease, someone he considered his best friend, and even like the little sister he never had
Heeseung would watch you laugh at his jokes, chase you around scaring you, and protect you from the world when necessary. But then, out of nowhere, you started to change.
You were suddenly a full-grown woman, carrying yourself in a way that left him speechless, not knowing how to react, with boobs and shit.
Ok, that was not exactly what made his life around you harder, nonetheless, it was inevitable the way you physically evolved began to hold a distinct place in Heeseung's mind, blurring his cohesive thoughts with a frightening ease.
Being a teenager while having a hot friend was difficult, no one ever taught him about it.
He felt nasty every time he dared to touch himself while thinking about your body; how your mildly exposed chest, when wearing tight shirts, hinted at what was beneath it. How the soft curves of your belly and hips drew his attention in a way that got his fingertips tingling in craving to hug it, to have it under his touch.
Whenever he achieved his climax, your cute name falling from his lips in a quiet whisper, the following regret flooded his chest within a wave of remorse that he couldnât control at all. For good minutes he even considered saying sorry to you within a text, without giving a proper explanation, but he would always choose to keep that hidden truth away from your acknowledgment in every instance possible.
Besides his strong, flaming desire, Heeseung loved you with all he had.
You were his best friend, the one and only, the girl who knew his deepest secrets and welcomed them without judgment, that laughed at his stupid jokes and held him closer when he needed comfort.
You knew that when he was a child, he would wet the bed because he had nightmares about clowns. You knew he would eat ramen in the middle of the night, hiding it from his parents and blaming his older brother. You knew that, despite him bragging about his skills, he was terrible at candy crush â and you loved to tease him about it, because who the hell is bad at candy crush?
You didnât seem to care about his flaws, like the aggressive way he treated things around him when the accumulated stress snapped â never at you, though. Or the fact that he would procrastinate as much as possible to clean his room, to do laundry or wash the dishes. Or that he would always eat while watching TV at maximum volume, and scream loudly while playing league of legends even when late at night.
Heeseung loved you, yet, it wasnât enough to keep him safely quiet, relentlessly making his body ache for you. What started as the warmth of a deep connection slowly blossomed into something more â more intense, more real, and yet, somehow, delicate, like a fragile flower that could easily be shattered.
Heeseung would treat you like a queen because he thought you deserved to be one, and in the valleys of his heart, he wished for you to let his presence be part of your happiness, to share all the intimate moments, to become a part of your world in a way that was more than just a friend.
So that was the reason Heeseung started this whole thing of asking you about flirting. He was patient, however the urge to be yours and have you completely was swelling not-so-slowly, and he found an unexpected way to maybe drift you both through that invisible boundary line he wished to cross for so long.
There was no actual curiosity behind his question, it was pure and genuine longing and quiet hope for you to, perhaps, reciprocate those confused feelings that only led his heart to decide that he loved you.
And he loved you with his whole soul.Â
âCome on,â Heeseung groaned after zoning out, now pushing his body to stand up before taking the seat next to you by scooching your legs away.Â
You looked at him over your phone, frowning, your heart still pounding hard in your chest after going thoughtfully over the topic he just brought, pretending to spend your time on the screen when, actually, your head was filled with anxious and fearful thoughts.
Even so, you kept a straight face.Â
âWhat?â
Heeseung sighed, shoulders dropping in something close to defeat and you took your time to move and sit on one of your legs, the other on the ground, casually hanging as you bounced it in order to expel your nervousness.
You didnât notice your friend had tracked the motion for a quiet second, immediately understanding you had shifted your demeanor in a way he couldn't pinpoint yet, but he had a hunch about it. A suspicion that got his heartbeats notably increasing.
But you saw the exact moment he switched as he gathered the best of his decency to lock eyes with you, guiding the plan forward with excellency.
âCould you, please, for everything we have been through, for our beautiful friendship, and because you love me so, so much, answer my question?â
The drama in Heeseungâs voice was blatant and got you fighting back a grin that threatened to break free. His big-doe eyes flashing you an innocence you wittily figured out as coaxing, added to how he slowly batted his eyelashes, tilting his head only enough to look extra adorable, even curving his bottom lip to pull into a slight pout that had your attention lingering longer than you wanted.Â
Once Heeseung learned that his charming eyes were one of your greatest weaknesses, he wasted no time to take advantage of it, oftenly catching you off guard by using his secret weapon to achieve certain goals, offering a soft, yet penetrating gaze that got your knees faltering in place.
He didnât know with precision what made you so easy to pursue whenever he used that trick, nonetheless it was a big benefit either for simpler favors or big other things, like using your credit card to buy a collector figurine he didnât have the money to buy during that time.
In that moment, however, Heeseung just wished for you not to catch the flicker of apprehension in his eyes, or the barely contained excitement that danced behind the facade of calmness and fake purity, because he didnât aim to get something expensive or use your bathroom just to explore your good amount of skincare.Â
His only objective was to cross that friendship line, to ruin it, and, if he was lucky enough, have you enjoying it as you both do so.
You pursed your eyelids and then cocked your head to the side, incredulous. âSeriously?â A chuckle echoed from your parted lips, softening your expression to endearing amusement since it pretty much worked all the time, even after you became fully aware of his tactic. âUsing bambi-eyes and shit?â
Heeseung nodded with admirable speed, his entire behavior was almost infantile, resembling a shameless child about to get a pricey toy after playing the good kid for his parents, although he definitely did no good. He had a smirk on the very corner of his mouth, and his eyes glossed with complete feigned innocence.Â
You damned yourself for being such a sucker for that boy, for allowing him to have that much power over your whole existence.Â
And with that, you accepted your fate, your defiance. You had no idea of what was going to happen, let alone what the hell Heeseung wanted to know exactly. Yeah, girls flirting, but in which way? And why?
âFine,â you rolled your eyes, placing your phone away on the side table. Heeseung smiled brightly and shifted on his seat, his whole body now facing you, expectantly. You flashed a hesitant look, cheeks already flaming hot in a strange anticipation, not even bothering to chase for his gaze properly. âWhat do you wanna know?â
âOk!â Heeseung nearly buzzed, his body jolting slightly as if electricity ran through it, revealing his excitement. âIâll repeat the question so it wonât get weird, alright?âÂ
You allowed your throat to let out a small hum, nodding and eventually daring to glance up for a little, meeting the view of Heeseung's eyes beaming with something close to thrilling and mischievous.
A cold, yet silent shiver ran through your torso and you had to control yourself not to tremble when he glazed his gaze with yours, in a magnetic manner that left you with nothing but the necessity to oblige.
Though you had heard them quite a lot from the past few minutes, the following words didnât ease your heart to weigh less; the amount of times wasnât enough to get used to how they sounded to you.
âHow do I know a girl is flirting with me?â
The air felt extremely thick, rarefied even, as if you were up on the clouds, out from any equipment of protection as you body travelled near to get out from the atmosphere, heavy in your lungs.Â
Heeseung struggled to read your reaction at first. Silence. Pure lack of sounds, only a blank and slightly confused expression facing him.
It wasnât like he was fully expecting you to partake in his idea, even though he planned to account for every possible outcome variant to achieve at least a fraction of his goal.
And yet, he didnât have a clear objective. Perhaps he simply wanted to plant a seed of hope, mixed with a âwhat if?â, hoping you would realize his feelings ran far deeper than just friendship. And, if luck was on his side, that you might reciprocate â or at least begin to entertain the possibility.
He wanted to ruin that friendship, because he believed you could â no, should â be lovers instead.
You gulped down the lump forming in your neck, praying for some god to help you to release your nerves as soon as possible, otherwise the possibility of having a heart attack wouldnât just be a fantasy; it would be a reality.
Although every cell in your body seemed to resonate with joy to step onto that untraveled road of your friendship, you couldnât help the urge to run, to escape, to get away from that topic and move on with your life.Â
For sure you both had conversations about similar concepts, but nothing close to personal-sexual subjects. Nothing similar to Heeseung asking you directly how flirting happens.Â
âI thinkâŠâ You sighed, fidgeting with the rings in your fingers. âIt depends on the personâŠâ
That reply was more open than Heeseung wanted, however, he didnât press.Â
Your tone was thoughtful, your gaze drifting to a random spot on the wall behind Heeseung and then you frowned, trying to recall how your other girl friends behaved whenever their crushes were nearby to give him a proper answer.
Heeseung studied your beautiful features intently, momentarily losing sight of his original purpose; his focus hovered longer on your lips, the same ones that taunted his self-control every single day, the same ones he dreamed about having attached to his own, the same ones he nearly said âfuck itâ and kissed.
Instead, keeping the natural and respectful approach and also using your words, he rephrased his question, bold and curious to explore furthermore.
âHow do you flirt, then?â
You blinked your blurred, distant eyes back to Heeseung, widening them once you noticed not a single hint of hesitation within his speech, not even a drop of wavering as he held eye contact. Your furrowed eyebrows showed deep uncertainty, and Heeseung added, struggling a bit to sound firm, gesticulating with his nervous hands.
âLike, could you demonstrate?â
It hadnât clarified anything. In fact, it only made everything more doubtable and chaotic, eliciting a tilt of your head and an even deeper frown.
What on earth was he talking about? Out of nowhere? With no precise context whatsoever? You hadnât bought into his questioning from the start, especially because of how charming that guy in front of you could easily be, no shame at all. And now this â completely sudden and utterly unsubtle.
Heeseung hadnât laid the groundwork before dropping this delicate bombshell in your lap.
âHow do I flirt?â You retorted, emphasizing and pointing to yourself, dumbfounded.
âYeah, like,â he shrugged, as if it was just a normal question to make to your best friend. âHow do you normally flirt with your crushes?âÂ
You shook your head, your hands freezing in the air, your spinning head barely catching the mocking tone when Heeseung said crushes. âNo, like, I got that part,â you clutched your fists, narrowing your eyes, lips suddenly drying. âButâŠâ
The tension clung in the silence and you could feel your heart ringing in your ears, almost ripping out from your rib cage. Your hands slowly dropped to your lap, resting there as you tried to find a recompose path out of that situation.
âButâŠ?â Heeseung prodded, leaning ever so slightly closer, his curiosity palpable as much as his boldness.
âDo you want me to flirt with you?â You blurted out, struggling to understand the whole picture, a blend of dread and excitement swirling in your stomach that you failed to contain.
Heeseungâs breath rigged, apprehension heavy in his voice, afterall, that simple interaction had the strength, the weight of changing things between you two for good â and he was painfully aware of it.Â
âItâs not like, flirt flirt,â he attempted to clarify himself, though it was clear he was growing increasingly nervous with each passing second. âI just wanna see how girls do it. And youâre a girl, as far as I know.âÂ
Heeseung was trying to sound nonchalant, to ease the tense air with his remarkable teasing smirk, as casual as ever, but the atmosphere had noticeably shifted and you werenât sure about your thought process during that moment.Â
You grabbed one of the couchâs pillows behind you and threw over him, both of you sharing a laugh that seemed a bit too forced to be real.
A rush of heat crept up your neck as you silently fumbled for the right words when the playful banter settled, leaving room for the reality of Heeseung requesting you to purposely flirt with him.
You also grasped with caution the way Heeseungâs gaze lingered on your figure, how it followed the movement of your teeth pressing on your bottom lip, how he mirrored your decision to wet the area with the tip of your tongue as well, drawing your attention towards his own attractive lips, planting, in your mind, a dangerous seed that had you considering a deeper, promiscuous touch.Â
The whole moment felt like walking a tightrope in high heels and you were terrified of what might happen if you stumbled. Your friendship was too precious for you to lose it over a stupid mistake. But, God, why did it feel so tempting to surrender to it?
Heeseung looked at you with adoration and eagerness, his body surprisingly relaxed, or at least you read it like that, as if the scenery was as simple as one plus one, as though he had everything under control.
Little did you know he was extremely, ridiculously, intensely anxious of what cost he would have to be paying in order to not destroy everything. If you paid close attention, you would probably see his gray shirt moving to the strong beats of his heart, loud enough to make him wonder if he was going to survive the outcome.
Another sigh trailed off your mouth as you scratched the back of your neck, clearly torn between the open choices in front of you. You could easily opt to ignore that and shove Heeseung away with some joke, or perhaps answer his question without thinking too intensely about it; you could fake it, hiding your real feelings in a dialogue made up from your head.Â
Or you could let your friendship fade into the depths of your lustful desire of having Heeseung for yourself as a whole man, shameless flirting with him the way you always wanted to.Â
And then, it clicked. He was offering you the perfect opportunity, the perfect project to subtly guide your decisions, all while pushing you towards the inevitable conclusion: you were about to ruin that friendship.
âFuck it,â you muttered under your breath to yourself, and right after your sharp, determined gaze met his, leaving no chance for any possible retort. âI think we need to fantasize a scenario, then.â
Heeseung raised an eyebrow, clearly amused by the shift in tone but too intrigued to ask questions. âWhy?â he smirked, leaning in slightly. âDoes the scenario where you flirt with your best friend in your living room not quite match the vibe?â
You forced an exaggerated look of disgust, but it was more for show than anything else. Neither of you was fooled by your performance. âNo, it doesnât.â
Heeseung chuckled, the tension slowly melting between you two. But even as the laughter filled the air, the uncertainty of what was coming next buzzed in the back of your mind, tempting you to run. Yet, your heart, much to a surprise, was urging you to stay, to follow this dangerous path wherever it might lead.
âOk. So let's just picture we're in a clubââ Heeseung started, straightening his posture.Â
âI don't go to clubs.â You quickly deadpanned, eliciting a small âohâ from him.
âRight.â He agreed, frowning while trying to think of another situation. âSoâŠâ
You sighed in defeat, biting your lip briefly before saying.Â
âI'm your classmate and I have a huge crush on youâŠ?â You blurted out in one breath, yet hesitant, feeling your entire face heat up with embarrassment.
Especially because the said scenario had already played out before, making it easier to go along with â or worse, making it feel way too realistic.
âNice! That's a good one.â Heeseung replied, his voice carrying a cheerful tone that had you scrunching your nose at his obliviousness, though it wasnât entirely his fault that you were harboring bottled-up feelings for him. âSo what would you do?â
You toyed with your bottom lip, grazing it lightly with your teeth as you tried to quell your nerves, all while struggling to ignore the way your friend sounded urgent, excited, and unmistakably eager. It was as if the entire script had been meticulously crafted long ago. As if he genuinely and wholeheartedly wanted you to flirt with him and walk past the friends line.
Dangerously close.
Before you voiced out, you cleared your throat not to waver on your words. âSo, since we're classmates, we'd probably see each other everyday...â
Heeseung nodded, his bambi-eyes following your every movement as you shifted on your seat slightly. âYeah.â
âAs a girl with a crush on you, I'd try my best to stand out somehow and grab your attention first. And the most common way isâŠâ You paused, casting a wary glance towards Heeseung, as though your next words carried a weight too immense to risk uttering lightly. âEye contact?â
After some time, locking eyes with Heeseung became an increasingly challenging task because it meant having the opportunity to take in every detail of his impossibly attractive face.
The faint mole on his forehead and the ones near his nose were like tiny stars adorning a beautiful sky; that very nose that made you want to squeal from how adorable and rounded its tip was, all while provoking thoughts far too indecent to entertain.
His constant parted lips carried an unique charm, naturally inviting with their slightly reddish hue. At times, they took on a deeper tone, whether from the way Heeseung pressed them together whenever he entered the deep concentration state or nibbled at them to suppress a laugh after teasing you.
If you dared let your gaze wander further, you would notice the sharp point of his chin and, just below it, his prominent Adamâs apple â a mesmerizing detail you never imagined could have such an effect on you. The subtle movement of it bobbing up and down held your focus captive as though it had the power to dictate your every subsequent action.
A sigh slipped from your lips before you even realized the silence that had overtaken you, nor the way Heeseung, with his warm brown eyes, oozed affection and attentiveness your way.
âYouâre not making eye contactâŠâ Despite his observation, there wasnât a trace of reprimand in his tone. It was soft, like a summer breeze brushing against your skin, gentle yet impactful enough to make your eyes widen as you leaned back in surprise.
You hadnât even noticed how close you had unconsciously leaned towards him.
âSorry,â you muttered after clearing your throat, redirecting your gaze to a random spot in Heeseungâs lap. Yet, contrary to what you expected, he shifted forward, closing the distance further, his knees nearly brushing against yours.
You looked up at him, confusion and apprehension flickering in your expression, ready to ask why he was coming so close, but he left no room for your question.
âDoes the proximity of the girl interfere with flirting?â
His tone was low, soft even, each word drawn out with deliberate care. It carried a designed tenderness that nudged the borders of unexplored intimacy between the two of you, crafted perfectly to unbalance your soul.
Breathing became difficult as your heart raced, your body begging you to flee.
âNânormally, itâs not this close.â You cursed yourself for stuttering, but how could you not? How could you remain composed when Heeseungâs voice carried an intimacy you had never heard before? You had never seen this side of him, never had him like this.
Your gaze latched onto the way his long eyelashes fluttered with each deliberate blink, the way his tongue darted out to wet his lips, and the way his breath mingled with yours as he leaned impossibly closer.
âYeah?â He murmured, his eyes dipping briefly to your lips in a silent, daring plea to let actions replace words. âThen why are you this close?â
You desperately tried to come up with a coherent response, perhaps to point out that it was he who had closed the gap. But your mind had abandoned rationality, leaving you to stumble over a weak, âBâBecause you sat there, you idiot.â
You broke eye contact abruptly, reality crashing over you like a tidal wave. The sheer weight of the moment urged you to shift away, to reclaim your space and calm the chaos in your chest.
But Heeseung wasnât ready to let you go.
With surprising swiftness, he shifted his body upright and gently pulled your arm so you could get onto his lap, his hands holding you firmly yet carefully in place.
âNo,â he murmured, shaking his head softly as his voice dropped an octave, steady and soothing, eliciting an immediate gasp from you. âI want to know how girls flirt when theyâre this close.â
You found yourself awkwardly sitting sideways on his lap, blinking in confusion, hesitation etched into every line of your expression. All you could manage was a whispered âWhat?â that answered or replied nothing at all, it simply materialized into words something that reflected your genuine state.
Your breath hitched as Heeseung leaned in even closer, the heat of his body melding with yours like he was a powerful devil coming from the gates of Hell. His gaze, now tinged with something more potent that torn in between desire, yearning and an unspoken question, stirred something wild within you.
And for a fleeting moment he hesitated, the weight of the uncharted territory between friendship and something deeper making him pause and analyze his possibilities, the small shift on his gaze betraying him. But as his fingers tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, his hand lingering on your cheek, his thumb brushing against your skin, his resolve solidified.
âYouâre so beautiful,â he whispered, his words as soft as the pad of his thumb tracing the curve of your lips. He gently tugged at your bottom lip, leaving you breathless, lips parted, and trembling. âIâm sorry for the way I went about this,â he added, his voice feather-light, his warm breath caressing your skin. âBut I couldnât think of another way to put us in this exact moment.â
Your body froze, your mind unable to fully process what was happening. One moment, Heeseung was your charming best friend who eventually became your lifelong crush, the next you were on his lap, in a compromising position and with your faces inches apart.
You were suffocating in the heavy atmosphere, unsure of how to respond to the rush of emotions crashing over you; it left you in a state of emotional overload, in shock, utterly overwhelmed.
And then, with a softness that cracked the air between you, that broke your tensed nerves and fluttered your chest, you saw his eyes falter, waiting for a sign, a proper answer for his following question.
âCan I kiss you?â
Instead of answering with words, you closed the remaining space yourself, your lips meeting in a collision of longing, and, so far, unspoken feelings that were buried deep in both of your souls, now lingering in the atmosphere as a quiet, yet delectable high voltage cursing over your body that you struggled deliciously to drift through.Â
Torn in a conflict of decisions and a mutual desire, you had finally tasted what had been tempting you for so long. The softness, the warmth, the way Heeseungâs lips fit so perfectly against yours, tailored to match you as if they were meant to be.
Crossed everything you had imagined, now buzzing like a soft echo of reminiscences from when kissing Heeseung equated to a fever dream, to impossible, unattainable.Â
Your body seemed to float in contact to soft clouds that gently embraced you; and then you realized that it was Heeseung holding you tenderly, kindly tracing the curves of your waist in a position that, now, was anything but comfortable.
Even so, the world outside felt like it didn't exist anymore. There was only the two of you, kissing with your breaths mingling intimately, with quiet sounds of contentment slipping out between that touch, one you had longed for far too long to waste the seconds that followed.
You deepened it, seeking Heeseung's tongue with yours almost desperately. The shock of the encounter of the two warm muscles was intoxicating, leaving you completely weak, and had you not been sitting, you would have easily fallen to the ground.
Kissing Heeseung at that moment felt like a relief. Relief in knowing that you were both on the same page when it came to the shared connection. Relief in realizing that his mouth desired you as much as yours craved his.
It was comforting to acknowledge how your body fit into his, in every possible way.
And it was then that you became aware of how your hands had automatically found their way into the soft strands of Heeseung's hair, pulling him just enough to draw the small grunts he released each time you did.
Your heart skipped a beat when Heeseung pulled away, tugging your lower lip with a soft bite. You opened your eyes slightly to search for an answer, fearing that regret had hit him like a powerful, striking bolt, but the truth was: he just needed to breathe in order to stay grounded and aware of what had just happened.
Shit. He was completely fucked, because now he knew how incredible it was to hear your breath hitch, to feel your fingers glide across his goosebumped skin with a tender, tempting touch, almost filthy, as your mouths melded together in an unprecedented rhythm.
He knew what it was like to have you intimately, and losing that feeling started to be his most intense fear.
Heeseung hadn't noticed, but there was a faint frown on his forehead that stirred conflicting emotions in you. He breathed heavily, almost panting while searching for air in his lungs. His eyes lowered, hypnotized by your parted lips, which willingly offered themselves to him.
It felt like a sweet indulgence, completely exposed, like someone on a strict diet, almost forbidden from indulging in the delicious taste of your mouth.
One simple kiss and he was completely undone, in the most delightful way possible. And beyond that, he began to crave you even harder. Dangerously harder.
âWhatâs wrong?â You asked, a mild frighten cursing through your veins, your voice barely above a whisper as your fingers continued to caress Heeseung's neck.
Your hooded eyes tried to pull an explanation for why he had stopped so suddenly.
He let out a low chuckle, a sound deep enough to make you shiver inside, sending a strange energy straight to between your thighs that made you unconsciously clench your legs, as your panties started to damp.
Heeseungâs hand, resting there, immediately noticed, making him smirk and lift his gaze. âYou,â he sealed his lips with yours, âare unreal,â followed by another small kiss and, once again, a pause to admire you.
Heeseung looked at you with passion and tenderness, but mostly with desire. He wanted you.
No.Â
He needed you.
You swallowed hard as you met his piercing gaze before he stood up, making you rise with him. Standing, he grabbed you by the waist and, still smiling, kissed the corner of your lips without any proper explanation.Â
Your hands felt awkwardly frozen in mid-air, near Heeseungâs chest, as if you forgot how to function as a human being. To ease your visible tension and also taking some advantage of the moment, Heeseung lowered his mouth and planted a sweet trail of small, wet kisses down to your neck.
Your head immediately tilted to the side, almost as if he had typed the right password to gain free access to explore your body, his large hands cupping your ass with just the right balance of respect and desire. While you allowed him this closeness, he was careful not to overstep, not when you both had only just begun to unravel that delicate part of your... friendship?
Gradually, you let yourself go, questioning less and following the flow deliberately; your hands now resting on Heeseungâs broad shoulders while he continued his project of driving you insane with his kisses.
âHeeâŠâ You sighed softly when his teeth grazed a particularly sensitive spot near your ear, too sensitive to keep you quiet, weak enough to make your knees nearly give way involuntarily.
âDonât call me like that, babyâŠâ Heeseung murmured softly against your skin, the vibration of his voice aligning with the tremor in your core, the endearment compelling you to clutch your eyes closed. Before you could even think of apologizing, he continued. âOr else Iâll get harder. And this fucking boner is already annoying me.â
For a brief, considerable second, you couldnât comprehend his statement, your eyes opening in pure confusion as you stared at him, silently asking for an explanation. But Heeseung remained hidden in your neck, and you could even feel the ghost of his mischievous smile tracing your skin, rendering your mind incapable of thinking about anything other than his inebriating presence.
Then, he thrusted forward, just enough to press his hips against your body while gripping your waist to prevent you from stumbling back, and you felt it.
The layers of fabric between you two did nothing to mask the clarity of his intentions, not when he subtly, but unmistakably, demonstrated what he was referring to â a bulge sufficiently big to elicit a jolt of a quiver through your being, firm and clearly starting to grow painfully hard as Heeseung began to repeat that move.
So you had that effect on him? You turned him on? That was an unexpected delight. The warmth of it made you squirm in sudden discomfort, wishing you could feel it in a different way â one with fewer clothes.
Heeseungâs lascivious kisses on your neck switched to sloppy-messy ones, merging with the subtle grind of his hips against yours as he seeked for the smallest release to his thirst. The sensation made you let out a soft, almost teasing moan, provoking his restraint to the brim.
âFuckâŠâ he groaned, faltering by the way you were letting him grind shamelessly like a dog in heat, still fully clothed. âTell me to stop, please..." His voice was ragged, like an aching, shaky plea that made his movements halt, since his focus turned inward in order to find some self-control.
But didnât give such a command. Instead, you opened the door, not-so-silently inviting Heeseung deeper into the moment, into you. You couldnât care less about your friendship, not when you craved to have your said best friend touching you intimately, to have his length twitching inside you while fucking your senses out of you as if his life depended on it.
You shook your head, a sly smile curving your lips when you whispered right in his ear.Â
âTake me to my room, Hee.â
His desperation thickened as he surrendered to the overwhelming warmth between you two, a vocal groan cursing through his throat when he maneuvered easily your body by grabbing your thighs, inciting you to wrap your legs around his waist as he busied his mouth in yours, messily guiding both of you to the your room.Â
You found support on his shoulders and giggled in between the sloppy kiss, but you couldnât quite enjoy the feeling of his strong grip surrounding your body with precision for too long, as your back quickly reached the soft mattress of your bed.
Heeseung's big figure towered over you, scooching up as a way to help you both find a comfortable position until your head was touching one of your pillows, lips still attached to each other in pure hunger.
You wondered if putting your feelings into words would add to the moment, but nothing truly needed to be said. The unspoken tension you shared with Heeseung had carried your relationship this far â this wasnât the time to disrupt it with confessions of the obvious. Not when you had him kissing you so intensely, so voraciously, as though he were utterly parched and you were his only source of relief.
It felt exhilarating to have Heeseung this needy, his body reacting to every subtle motion of yours. You rolled your hips gently against his, seeking mutual friction in a desperate bid for release.
Your fingers wandered through his disheveled hair, occasionally trailing down his subtly muscular arms â the very arms that had always been your weakness.
Heeseung wasnât bulky or overly built, but he had a lean, breathtaking frame, with just the right amount of definition in certain places. Supporting his weight on the bed, you could feel the tension in his arms under your touch, muscles tightening even more each time your hands dared to drift lower, grazing his back, your nails lightly scratching.
The slight scrape drew delicious sighs from him, each one lost in the fervor of your kiss.
Heeseungâs free hand explored wherever it could reach, teasingly brushing beneath the hem of your shirt, as though waiting for your silent permission to go further. And you took your cue right away.
âHeeâŠâ you broke the intense, breath-stealing kiss to murmur his name, your voice soft, your eyes barely open as the world around you seemed heavier, hotter.
He reacted instantly to the familiar nickname, though now it carried a filthy weight that would linger with him forever. His hips pressed against yours in a motion that sent a shockwave through your core, the direct contact of his pelvis with yours setting you alight.
Lifting his gaze to meet yours, he found pure, unrestrained lust staring back at him. The words that followed made him falter, disbelief flashing across his features at the reality of what he had craved for so long finally coming true.
âI want you,â you whispered, eyes tenderly, yet oozing with desire looking at his brown orbs.
Heeseungâs jaw tightened as he swallowed hard, his expression shifting to something taut, focused. He studied you with care, searching for hesitation, for any trace of doubt in your plea. But he found none, only mutual desire, raw and unfiltered.
A breath of laughter escaped him, quiet and disbelieving, as his lips, swollen and glistening with your shared kisses, curved into a cheeky, yet content and relieved, smile.
âDonât laughâŠâ You whined, squirming beneath him in a feeble attempt to escape his teasing gaze.
âIâm sorry,â he said with his voice low, gravelly, making you shiver. âItâs just⊠This feels like a dream.â
Heat rushed to your cheeks and you failed to hold back a smile. âSo, youâve dreamed about me?â
âEvery single day, Y/N,â Heeseung admitted, his eyes dropping to your lips once again, heavy with yearning, with need.Â
He looked intoxicated, or maybe hypnotized. Whatever it was, he felt as though his body had transcended reality itself. Because even in his dreams, he never imagined having you like this â so real, so wholly his.
âTell me that againâŠâ A delicate plea. âPlease,â a desperate beg.
âWhat?â You whispered back in confusion, your eyelids feeling heavy with the proximity of the moment, making it difficult to keep admiring the tempting view of Heeseung slowly falling apart.
âThat you want me.â
Heeseungâs perfume had taken over you, invading your senses completely like a flood, and you were the one feeling drunk right now, as a deep goosebump ran through your spine hearing â understanding â his request.
âI want you,â you repeated, your voice trembling with the weight of confessing something so intrinsic.Â
Heeseung's breath mingled with yours, shaky, weak; the warmth of it ghosting over your lips as he hovered above you was making you dizzy. His gaze burned into yours, holding a quarter of darkness and contrastingly tenderness that matched his impossibly gentle touch on your waist.Â
He moved deliberately, savoring the anticipation building up quite fast, stirring an ache that got your stomach bubbling with expectation and a weird anxiety. You tightened your grip on his hair when the tip of his cute nose brushed against yours and his reddened lips grazed over your mouth.
âAgain, please,â he murmured in a husky whisper; due to the closeness, the movement tickled the skin of your lips and spurred you to lick the area, your tongue caressing both your swollen lips.
You sighed, closing your eyes.
You could feel your core pulsing in need, your skin prickling due to the insufferable tension that grew stronger, ticker, teetering the unbearable within each second, making you wonder how longer you would be able to hold yourself back.Â
The magnetic tension surrounding you two made every breath feel like a desperate beg, igniting a hunger within you so fierce it consumed you.
Felt like the last thing you would ever crave in your life was right before you. But apparently, Heeseung longed to hear you speak a little more before taking any action.
âI want you, Hee,â you said again, quieter this time, though your tone was no less intense â it was even more raw.
Heeseungâs lashes fluttered shut for a moment, absorbing the confession like it was his lifeline. He repeated the motion of rubbing his nose on yours, now tilting his head to the side and groaning. That couldn't be real. You couldnât be real.
He needed one more. Just. One. More.
âOne more, pleaseâŠâ he pleaded, the words slipping out between deep, controlled breaths that did nothing to mask the tremor of desperation in his tone.
âI need you, Heeseung.â
His forehead pressed lightly against yours as he exhaled a shaky breath, his shoulders sagging with the weight of restraint. The charged air between you seemed to thicken, wrapping you both in an intoxicating haze.
Despite the tenderness of the moment, the desire simmering beneath the surface was undeniable â present in the way his hands traced delicate patterns along your waist, in the way his chest rose and fell with the rhythm of yours, in the way his lips hovered, so close yet so agonizingly distant.
âI need you right now, Hee. Please.â
And with your last wish, Heeseung obeyed your command.
Followed by a passionate kiss, one he tried to take his time to appreciate your taste, he also held the waistband of your shorts and, after your silent nod amidst the clash of your mouths when he hesitated, he began to move it down to your thighs, revealing the softness of your bare skin to his curious hands.Â
Thick fingers brushed against your sensitive bundle of nerves, the thin barrier of your panties doing little to dull the sensation. The whimper that followed barely met the real world, swallowed whole by Heeseungâs eager mouth as he drank in your expressive, delicate reactions, savoring every trembling note like a melody meant only for him.
âSo wet.â Heeseung stated the obvious after feeling your arousal sticking across the fabric, playfully tapping just to tease and feel its viscosity.
If the room was quiet enough, he would be able to hear the wet sound of his pats.Â
He dived into your neck since he couldnât keep up with the pace of the shared kiss, not when you were letting out such beautiful noises as he pressed his fingers on your entrance over your clothing piece, taunting that release that seemed far to reach.
âHeeââ You whined in frustration, swinging your hips towards Heeseungâs fleeting touches as well as tightening your grasp on his locks.
âI know, I know,â he chuckled, deep and low. You pouted when he flashed you a charming smirk, matching perfectly with his amused, yet playful eyes. âLet me take care of you, mhm?â
And with that, Heeseung made quick work of removing the rest of your clothing, still caught around your thighs, panties included. He bit his lip, a soft sigh escaping alongside a subtle furrow of his brow in delight as he took in the full view of your pussy, glistening with your wetness â all caused by him.Â
You wanted to close your legs and hide, but he held you open and exposed to his sight. Heeseung could feel his stomach fluttering, tightening with sparkling expectation.Â
Beneath the teasing slowness of his movements, there was a Heeseung teetering dangerously close to the edge of insanity, warring to find some self-control. And it was entirely your fault.
The effect you had on Heeseung was nothing short of surreal. Even the simple act of your consent, given with every piece of fabric he slid away from your body, only served to fuel the fire within his desire, leaving his body, mind, soul, everything he had drunk on the sheer anticipation of what was to come.
âFucking beautiful, baby.â
The compliment was common â Heeseung always praised your good looks. But the endearment slipped past his lips with extra ease, as if calling you baby â his baby â was as natural as a heartbeat, as expected as blossoming flowers during spring.Â
By the way your cheeks warmed, you could tell your entire face was betraying your shyness, especially when Heeseung offered you a genuine, content smile, as if he were expressly happy that you had allowed him to see you in this form.
He still hadnât unclasped your bra and had only removed his own shirt, dragging out painfully the moment of leaving you both naked.
You, on the other hand, couldnât help the small flicker of worry, a strong fear of disappointing Heeseung.
You had only had sex once in your life, with an ex-boyfriend you had trusted enough to take that step, believing that being in a relationship would make it less hurtful and more enjoyable. You were wrong.
Not only had you suffered physically from his lack of care, but you hadnât even come close to reaching your own orgasm.
Heeseung knew the rough outline of that story. He was aware that you werenât a virgin anymore but hadnât asked for too many details. Partly because he hated the thought of someone else being the one to take that from you.
A pang of jealousy lingered, even though, at the time â just a few months ago â he hadnât seriously considered taking such a step with you.
It was only after your breakup, and the frustration that radiated off you, that Heeseung decided to act. He couldnât stand the idea of you putting yourself down, settling for men who gave you less than the bare minimum, when he was right there, longing to give you the world.
âLet me see you too, Hee.â
Your soft request came accompanied by a gentle caress over Heeseungâs slightly flustered cheeks, his lovingly expression hiding the inner battle he was fighting to keep himself composed.
He gave a small nod, standing up from the bed to remove the last of his clothes, granting you the sinful sight of his body, a thin sheen of sweat accentuating the bronzed tone of his skin. Your gaze dropped slowly towards his erection, standing stiff, flushed, with the tip in a darker shade, glistening with leaking precum.Â
âHot,â you murmured quietly, the word barely leaving your lips. But in the stillness of the room, Heeseung heard it.
A small grin tugged at the corner of his mouth, shy and uncharacteristic â a glimpse of the awkward, reserved side of your friend that you loved teasing, the side that wasnât used to receiving compliments and always got adorably flustered when they came.
You giggled, beckoning him with a curl of your finger. âCome here, hmm?â
And who was Heeseung to deny you?
In an instant, he reclaimed his place over your body, his mouth finding its way to the smoothness of your chest, lips grazing and tasting your skin. His hands slid behind your back, intent on finally removing the last piece of fabric that kept you hidden from him, and it took less than seconds for you to whimper, slamming your eyes shut as you felt Heeseung gently nip at your nipple.
âHurry up,â you muttered within a squirm. âPlease, Hee. I need you inside me."
You were quick and precise in expressing your desire, your contorted expression of pleasure blended with frustration making it clear that you didnât want any more delays, especially since he had already dragged things out too much, and you were about to crawl the walls around you to feel him properly.
âCondom?â He murmured against your skin, smiling slightly at your desperation, though he was just as bad, if not worse.
âI donât have it,â you moaned as he bit your stomach while lowering his hot, wet kisses. Your hands tried to find support in anything â the sheets, his hair, his shoulders â in order to ground yourself, while Heeseung seemed too calm for his own good. âBut we donât need it.â
Immediately, Heeseung froze. He stopped and lifted his gaze, scanning your face for any trace of teasing or hesitation in your words, half-expecting you to be joking or playing around, but instead, all he found was the raw, unfiltered desire of your soul exposed before him.
âI trust you,â you whispered in between your heavy breaths, a soft smile tugging at your lips that countered any remnant doubt resting inside Heeseung. You gently caressed his cheek, pulling him back to you, your eyes locking in a quiet promise that only you two knew the meaning. âI trust you, Hee.â
That was the tipping point. You, who had been wondering how Heeseung maintained such control, watched as his tender nearly relaxed gaze vanished entirely, swallowed by a wave of desire, as if pure lust had consumed his state completely.
âDonât say that, love,â a murmur. His voice trembled, just as his arms struggled to hold himself still. He then kissed you intensely, shutting down any possibility of you retorting the pet name, barely giving you time to recognize how your heart skipped a beat.
Heeseungâs hips shifted in the precise motion to bring you closer, to claim you. You shivered.
âIâm going insane, you have no fucking idea.â
Though the choice of words said behind gritted teeth, it was clear Heeseung gravitated towards vulnerability rather than anything harsh; he sounded unsteady, but not in a worrying way. It seemed as if he had surrendered completely to your existence, almost like a personal devotion.
His soft, now familiar lips found home on yours again, pulling you into a singular kiss filled with unspoken emotions, while one of Heeseung's hands gently caressed your waist to keep you still, beginning to position his hardness against your aching hole.
Feeling the distinct pressure in that area generated an unconscious and uncontrollable tension in you, your shoulders stiffening, your hands gripping Heeseung's arms immediately and your mouth stopping properly working as the fear of the pain that would follow from that simple action started to creep up your spine.
âWhat's wrong, love?â Heeseung asked kindly, pausing his movements as he noticed the sudden rigidity in your body; he had only inserted the tip, and you had become completely tense.
âNâNothingâŠâ You shook your head, your eyes clenched closed as you tried to regulate your heartbeat and breaths. So far, there was no burning sensation where Heeseung had placed himself, but still, you were afraid.
By any means he was big, you had gotten a beautiful view of him just a few minutes ago, and although your mouth watered to have him fully inside you, there was a lingering feeling that held your soothness back.
âBabyâŠâ Heeseung murmured softly, his voice carrying a subtle insistence as he sensed the clear discomfort and the blatant lie in your response, his concerned eyes searching for any hint of truth in your contorted expression.
âIâm sorry.â You pouted, refusing to open your eyes, the weight of vulnerability overwhelming you.
âFor what?â He asked, a small trace of confusion in his voice, but he didnât press further. Instead, he offered you the choice to end it without guilt or hesitation. âDo you want me to stop?â
âNo!â You blurted, snapping your eyes open, your pupils wide and searching his face. Your head shook vehemently, your hands gripping his shoulders in a reflexive act of urgency as well as your legs, wrapping around his waist to keep him in place.
âThen what is it, baby?â
Heeseung adjusted his body slightly, his movements deliberate and tender, ensuring he wouldnât press into you too forcefully. He kept his tip brushing against your folds, the sensation teasingly close but never quite crossing the threshold. He silently made the decision not to push you further unless you signaled otherwise.
âItâs justâŠâ You exhaled shakily, your eyes downcast, unable to meet his unwavering gaze. âIâve neverâ I mean, I did have sex once, but it was so painful, and it hurt so much, and I didnât even⊠YâknowâŠâ
You spoke in a flurry, your words tumbling out in a nervous rush, and through it, Heeseung caught the part of the story you had kept hidden and he never dared to ask about. His heart clenched, it became clear that this was a truth that now needed care.
âHe wasnât even that big, but it hurt because he didnât care about me, andââ
âMy love.â Heeseung interrupted, his voice breaking through with a soft, comforting tone. You stopped speaking instantly, blinking up at him with those wide, innocent eyes that held so much unspoken trust. He smiled warmly, a reassuring tenderness in his touch. âIâd never hurt you,â he whispered, his voice firm with sincerity. âAnd Iâd never, ever force you to do anything you donât want.â
âI want you,â you whispered, your voice thick with emotion, needy, desperate even. âIâm just⊠afraid.â
âWe can take it slow, love,â he said, his words a mutual understanding between you both, the promise of patience in his voice.
He slowly began to press his tip into you again, the sensation soft but insistent, giving you time to adjust. You swallowed thickly, your breath hitching as you tried to calm the anxiety racing through you.
There were sounds threatening to escape your throat that you couldn't properly control, so you just let them out.
âRelax, alright? Itâs me. Iâm your best friend. Iâm not going to hurt you. We can stop whenever you want.â
Through reassuring phrases and tender kisses planted over your face â and mainly on your parted lips â, Heeseung deliberately entered you whole, until his dick was being hugged by your clenching walls and his pelvis fully met your body.
You took a deep breath several times. The sensation was uncomfortable, strange; there was an intruder inside you, and you couldn't quite enjoy the so-called pleasure during sex due to it, but as the long seconds passed and your body relaxed, you began to adjust to the weight of Heeseung's length inside you.
And finally you noticed that Heeseung himself had buried his face at the crook of your neck, breathing as heavy as you, completely frozen in place.
âHee?â You called and gave a soft stroke to his hair.Â
âGive me a minute,â the words came rapidly and slurred, like an incomprehensible mumble.
You quirked an eyebrow, trying to find his face to read whatever was happening.
âAre you okay?â
Heeseung groaned. âYes. Itâs justâŠâ He gulped, clutching his eyes closed and grunting a curse, his hands tightening their grip on your waist. âFuckâYou feel amazing, baby.â His breath hitched as his body tensed, muscles flexing under the strain of trying to hold back. âI need a minute.â
âAlrightâŠâÂ
Although you couldnât understand why, you just⊠Waited. But he made sure to add.
âSo fucking tightââ Something about how desperate and lost he sounded close to your ear had your walls clenching even more. âI canâtâ I donât wanna cum right now.â
There was no plausible explanation for the flutter in your chest, let alone the heat that spread across every inch of your skin, hitting your core in a way that was almost overwhelming after hearing his confession.
Knowing that Heeseung was physically unable to move, simply because his release was so close â practically edging himself â made you feel more thrilled than you would ever admit out loud.
As the best of friends â after all, you hadnât defined your relationship yet â, you chose the path of teasing, letting out a light giggle and giving a playful tap on his back as you said, âTake your time, big boy. I'm not going anywhere.â
Heeseung chuckled, though the sound was tinged with frustration and craving, the weight of his restraint still palpable.
Throughout the heated makeout moment, he was already far too affected â though he wouldnât admit it now, having your lips against his had been more than enough to leave him ridiculously hard. The shameless grinding had teased his sensitivity with just the right intensity, pushing him dangerously close to the edge.
Now, finally experiencing the tightness of your pussy enveloping around his cock, it was a unique kind of downfall that made his control slip past his fingers, his entire body shivering as trying to contain himself.Â
âI wannaâ I wanna last longer for you,â a breathy, shaky moan escaped when he tried to move, pulling back just a little to shove back again. âFuck babyâŠâ
Heeseung was on the verge of insanity.
He couldnât find the right explanation to how good your wet, warm interior welcomed him in an addictive sensation of fulfillment, as if he had found the exact place he needed and wanted to be.
However, as he began to set a slow, tantalizing rhythm, not only to himself but for you not to feel any pain, your soft, breathy noises became the driving force behind his every move.
Each sound you made was like music to his ears, embedding itself deeply in his mind and shaping his every decision; they spurred him on, a motivator to remain as steady and deliberate as possible, even as his own restraint threatened to crumble.
Heeseung was vividly avoiding to fall into the depths of his true needs of egoisticaly fucking you hard and fast.
And then, you begged.
âCan you go faster? Please?â
A guttural groan was Heeseungâs immediate response, primal and unrestrained, as if your request alone had sent him reeling like a starving hunter finally closing in on its prey.
He paused for a beat, letting the weight of your words settle between the thick air and then shifted the pace, growing more intense, aiming for a sharper, purposeful motion.
Heeseung straightened slightly, lifting his torso enough to pull his face from the haven of your neck and give himself a clear view of your beautiful pleasured face. His gaze met yours briefly before going downward, to the mesmerizing connection of your bodies moving together â your hips chasing his pounds like your life depended on it.Â
Your hazed sight saw his brows furrowing as well as his pursed lips that reflected his immense concentration. Sweat clung to his skin, a few damp strands of hair got stuck to his forehead while the rest, equally damp, fell forward and lightly brushed your face with every thrust.
That sight was a sinful privilege; watching him completely undone yet intensely focused was enough to leave you breathless. And still, your slightly high-pitched whimpers harmonized with each precise thrust.
You could feel the knot in your stomach tightening, and instinctively, you mirrored that grip in your hands, clutching Heeseungâs hair as you pulled him into a messy kiss. Tongues moved sloppily, chasing each other and swallowing his deep groans along with your incoherent pleas for him not to stop.
A mutual desire began to creep, one that neither of you wanted to escape, a longing as deep as two bodies yearning, painfully, to occupy the same space and merge together. It became evident in the way you clung to him, your arms wrapping around Heeseung's warm, sweaty body, pressing him down, not even caring about the slight pain in your sensitive boobs as you did so.
âI think Iâm close,â you managed to announce amidst the intoxicating chaos of your senses.
There was a thick veil of lust enveloping you both, leaving you utterly dazed; the sensation was surreal, overwhelmingly good, and for the first time you truly understood what people meant when they talked about sex.
Heeseung had heard your voice distant and muffled, since his mind had drifted away, lost in the overwhelming mix of pleasure and the aching pain of edging his orgasm; his leaking precum started to blend with your sticky arousal as both of you reached over the edge.
Your eyes rolled when Heeseung started to pound into a specific spot in you, stirring your mouth to fall open with soft cries slipping past your throat, while your nails dug into the flesh of his back, scratching strong enough to leave marks.Â
Heeseung barely registered it at first, though he would wear those marks proudly once he did. Still, it stung, a faint burn that somehow awakened his primal need to let go. Added to it, your pussy started to pulse and clench tightly against his painfully sensitive shaft. And so, he begged.
âPlease, cum for me,â a small pause to breathe. âPlease, I need you toâ PleaseâŠâÂ
Your eyes fluttered shut and you trembled. Listening to Heeseungâs broken voice asking you for something you couldnât quite control bordered the inexplicable and finally it snapped.Â
You arched your back and went silent immediately, as if the entire world around you disappeared. You could hear and feel the weight of your heartbeats echoing through you, feel the vibrations of your body, hear the faint, distant noises of Heeseungâs moans and curses and the sound of your bodies colliding.
The intensity of your climax had you gasping for air right after you managed to regain a small portion of your consciousness, your legs squirming as the pleasure took over.Â
Meanwhile, Heeseung barely pulled out in time, ensuring he had guided you through your high enough to leave you satisfied.
He would blame himself later for not giving you his absolute best. For now, his focus was on relieving the unbearable, painful tightness in his balls and dick. And so he did, releasing a guttural groan that seemed to resonate from the depths of his soul before spilling out into a delicious sound.
The wave that coursed through his body was devastatingly intense, leaving him trembling and unsteady to the point where his arms briefly faltered in holding him up.
You parted your tired eyes just enough to watch as he came all over your stomach â so much of it that it trickled down onto the sheets beneath you, leaving you completely sticky.
Both of you fought for air, desperately panting as your bodies surrendered, sinking into an overwhelming state of relaxation. A genuine urge to drift into sleep washed over you, your arms falling limply at your sides as your heavy-lidded eyes fought a losing battle to stay open.
You gave up to the exhaustion, watching through half-closed eyes as Heeseung collapsed into the space beside you.Â
âIâm so sorry,â he murmured softly, pressing a tender kiss to your cheek.
You tried to blink away your fatigue, but only managed to respond in a low, drowsy whisper, âFor what?â
âI lost control. I didnât do as well as I wanted to. I ruined your sheets. And⊠youâre all sticky. I know you hate being sticky.â
A quiet giggle escaped your lips at his string of concerns, your body vibrating with a warm, joyous satisfaction at the depth of the bond you shared. It was the expected contrast: Heeseung, overthinking every detail of his performance, and you, utterly smitten, finding his anxieties endearing.
âI loved it, Hee.â
Your praise was genuine, carrying a soft hint of reassurance to ease his insecurity. There wasnât a single part of you that could ever truly mind the things he listed â not even his so-called mistakes.
âYou were gentle and loving,â you continued, brushing a hand against the arm that sweetly wrapped around you, avoiding the result of the earlier moment.Â
Heeseungâs face pressed against yours with his breath tickling your skin â an intimacy you could easily grow used to, but for now, had your heart fluttering.Â
âAnd even when you âlost control,â you stayed here. With me.â
Heeseung hummed with a hint of contentment, a faint smile creeping through his tensed barriers after your comforting words. He shifted like a puppy snuggling into a cozy corner, a gesture he did with you a few times before, but never when you were both so intimately bare in that way.
You both remained silent for a while, absorbing the reality of what had just unfolded.
No openly affectionate words were exchanged. Instead, actions took the lead, allowing you to share an intimate, deeply personal moment guided by mutual pleasure. There was no need for a romantic confession â it felt unnecessary.
Every small gesture during the earlier moment â from Heeseung's steady calmness as he talked you through it, easing your anxiety, to the way you reassured him after the end about how well he did â spoke volumes. It was more than enough to prove that the love between you burned far beyond the bounds of friendship.
Heeseung was lost in thought, exhilarated by having been able to share such a profound connection with you. The mutual desire for each other was undeniable, and no words could ever compare to the overwhelming sensation of, now, not simply having the facility to say he loved you â as he had so often as a friend â but to show it.
To demonstrate to you how every fiber of his being, his soul, his existence, was drawn to you, yearning for you, consumed by you.
âHm, this sticky thing on my stomach is really bothering me,â you broke the silence as the haze cleared and the awareness of your body set in. You pushed his arm aside, preparing to leave the bed and clean yourself up.
âShit,â Heeseungâs eyes widened, and he got on his feet before you could.
As he had mentioned earlier, you hated feeling sticky. He realized might had fucked it up by neglecting to help you clean up, by not providing the aftercare you deserved.
Yet, he couldnât blame himself too harshly; everything about the moment had left him utterly dizzy in the best way possible. It felt like he had lived out a dream once thought unattainable, and the surrealness of it all still lingered.
Your soft, familiar voice snapped him back to reality, reminding him there were consequences to address, and he wanted nothing more than to face each one with you, in every detail, if it meant staying by your side.
âLet me help, okay?â He eagerly offered, reaching out to steady you as you sat up. He barely suppressed a laugh at the grimace that overtook your face as the sticky fluid slid from your stomach to your thighs.
âDonât get me wrong,â you teased as you walked to the bathroom together. âYouâre hot, and all of this was ridiculously amazing, but I really donât like all this cumââ
You didnât get to finish your sentence. Heeseung interrupted, gently but insistently pushing you to sit on the toilet.Â
âPee,â he instructed firmly, yet calm.
You blinked up at him in confusion, one eyebrow raised.
âIt helps prevent infections,â he clarified.
âI know,â you rolled your eyes, staring at him for a moment. He stared back. The scene was unexpectedly comical â both of you naked, exchanging deadpan looks.
âGet out of the bathroom, silly.â
âI donât think thatâs really necesââ
âI canât pee with you here,â you cut him off.
He narrowed his eyes at you but eventually let out a quiet, âFine, fine,â leaving the bathroom with an exaggerated huff, though he didnât bother closing the door.
You giggled at his childish behavior, marveling at the man who had once been your friend. Friend.
It wasnât the right word anymore. Something more significant had blossomed between you, unspoken yet undeniably present.
Once you finished, Heeseung returned to the bathroom and began to bathe you. It was endearing to feel his gentle, careful touch as he cleaned your back, giving you the space to take care of yourself properly.
You helped him wash his hair in return, complaining when he tried to use your expensive shampoo. But you relented when he deployed his infallible tactics: wide, pleading eyes and an exaggerated pout, softly begging, âPlease,â in a tone so whiny it was impossible not to laugh.
Your heart ached with love for this man. The one who had once been your friend and, now, the one with whom you had crossed the line.
When you returned to the bedroom, Heeseung had already changed the sheets, leaving the bed fresh and inviting, ready to welcome you back into its warmth.
âLie down here with me?â You murmured softly.
The sun was already below the horizon, and the air was pleasantly cool. A gentle breeze slipped through the slight gap in the window, rustling the curtains and brushing against your skin, leaving a trail of goosebumps
The warmth of your recent shower made you extra sensitive to the chill, and noticing this, Heeseung moved to close the window before settling into the empty space beside you.
It didnât take long for you to naturally nestle into one another, as though this kind of closeness was second nature. And it was.
You had always been comfortable with affectionate touches â warm hugs and innocent caresses were a constant part of your daily routine, alongside the playful teasing that defined your relationship. But now, something new lingered in the air: a tension, subtle and undeniable, that neither of you seemed brave enough to confront.
It felt as though acknowledging the shift, putting words to the new dynamic between you, might unravel it entirely â like opening Pandoraâs box and being swallowed by its consequences. Neither of you knew what âdatingâ the other would look like, nor could you say for certain that this was even the stage you had reached. The unspoken remained deafeningly loud.
Your heart raced as you melted into the comforting warmth of Heeseungâs embrace. The familiar flutter of butterflies in your stomach now mingled with a bittersweet sense of uncertainty about what lay ahead.
Despite that, you were usually the one to take control in slightly uncomfortable situations â like when Heeseung started bringing certain acquaintances into the apartment you shared, one of whom had wandered into your room uninvited, sparking a minor conflict that Heeseung quickly accepted responsibility for.
âIf you promise to stop ignoring the elephant in the room, I promise to do the same,â you said softly, breaking the silence.
Heeseung had been waiting for you to speak first. You always did. And that thought made a small smile tug at the corners of his lips. Even after everything, you were still... you.
Always you.
He was afraid, of course, that things might change drastically. There was a gnawing fear that the friendship you shared could crumble in the worst possible way. But in moments like this, when you unconsciously reminded him that no matter what, it was still the two of you, he felt a sense of calm.
âGo on a date with me tomorrow,â he murmured suddenly.
You blinked, caught off guard by his directness. His voice was quiet, a little tentative, but firm enough to make you pause. Even with a slight tremor of apprehension at the thought of stepping into the unknown with him, you nodded.
âOnly if itâs not a movie date,â you replied with a light tone.
Heeseung laughed, his chest rising and falling as the sound escaped him, and the sensation of your fingers tracing lazy patterns across his abdomen made him shiver.
âDonât worry,â he reassured you.
You tilted your head to meet his gaze. The way he looked at you, dripping with unfiltered affection was almost overwhelming in the best way. And you knew, just as he did, that the feelings you held for him were reciprocated in full.
You had crossed the line, yes. But now, together, you were venturing into new territory, ready to claim and navigate this uncharted space in your relationship. And somehow, it didnât feel so terrifying when you remembered that, no matter what, it was still the two of you against the world.
synopsis: heeseung had an unusual ritual before every competition as a professional league of legends player. one that his ex-girlfriend could no longer fulfill for him, leaving him desperate enough to ask for your help as his best friend.
tags/warnings: SMUT! MDNI! barely proofread lol, heeseungs a professional gamer⊠idk shit about that tho, youâre his best friend, league of legend mention, oral (m. rec), face fucking, deepthroating obv, praise? heeseung whimpers and whines here and there, name calling bc he calls her a perv hehe, reader touches herself and orgasms bc of his whimpering, cum swallowing, first time writing JUST a blowjob & ball fondling hehe and more probably! [3.3k words]
đ€: im so scared this was only supposed to be like 1k words but i cant shut the fuck up ever.
MINORS & AGELESS BLOGS DO NOT INTERACT!
itâs been awhile since youâve had heeseung linger around your apartment for hours or even days like this. between his time spent with his now ex girlfriend and his professional gaming career, you had rarely seen him. only relying on occasional short lunch meetings or quick coffee runs.
itâs not that his ex disliked you, but more so disliked that you and heeseung happened to be an extremely attractive pair of friends and hated that people would confuse you both as a couple rather than heeseung and her.
you missed your best friend, and it comforted you that he returned those feelings.Â
before heeseung had stepped foot into a relationship with his ex, he would spend half of his time at your apartment. especially when he had a competition that was near.Â
âare you nervous?â you ask him, watching as he packs little things he left at your apartment into a small suitcase for the gaming league. it was only one city away but these sorts of things take an entire weekend.Â
heeseung hums, âiâm confident.â you know heâs not lying either. thereâs not much you know about gaming, or specifically, league of legendsâbut according to your mutual friends, heeseung seems to be a god at the game. yet, he seemed so antsy about something.
âso what are you gonna do about your little pre-competition ritual,â you hope to lighten his mood, easing him of whatever that was on his mind.
âwhat ritual?â
you clear your throat, âoh, um. your blowjob ritual..?â
the question was asked in a light hearted way, but heeseung didnât react in such a way at all. the ritual, as you called it, was something heeseung accidentally created a few years ago when he had first gone pro. his situationship at the time gave him head right before he left as a sexy goodluck and a reminder of what he had waiting for him when he got back, but that day he had carried and won the competition for his entire team.Â
the next year after that he had gotten with his girlfriend and had shyly asked her to suck him off, to which she agreed and it had officially become a routine for every competition, including smaller, less meaningful ones.
âyou okay, hee?âÂ
âcan i ask you something?â he suddenly speaks up, voice way louder than he intended, causing the both of you to cringe at the volume. âs-sorry.. i just need to ask you something.â
you nod slowly, âyeah, anything. is everything okay?â
heeseung thinks for a few moments before speaking again, âitâs a little personal and itâs okay if you are uncomfortable with this and you absolutely do not have to say yes but i need to at least ask you.â
âheeseung just say it.â
âcan you give me a blowjob before my competition this weekend?â
your reaction comes in three stages. the both of you stare at each other in silence for about three minutes before you burst out in laughter, which also lasts about three more minutes. but when you see heeseungs panicked expression, you go silent again.
âwait⊠seriously?âÂ
heeseung swallows before shaking his head timidly. he debated laughing along with you and passing it off as a complete joke but he felt the need to follow through. the room is silent again. your fingers subconsciously play with the zipper on his suitcase as you think about the question he just proposed to you.Â
your best friend, whom youâve experienced half your life with, just asked you if you could give him head before one of his league of legends competitions.
what was the right answer here?
âyou.. you don't have to,â heeseungs heart feels like itâs about to fall out of his chest. why on earth would he ask such a thing to his only female friend? no less, his best friend.
it was a joke. yeah, a joke! oh my god, why would i ask that, you pervert! you shouldâve seen your face! you guys joke like this all the time, this is no different. he could totally play this off coolly.Â
âitâs fucking stupid, i know. but it seriously helps me and you know she would do it for me everytime.â he begins rambling without even realizing it. the air is so thick you would have to take a chainsaw to it. ây-you arenât her, yeah, but i donât knowâit genuinely gets me through the competitions.â
heeseung lets out a shaky breath, âjust forget it. ignore what i said.â
âwell, no heeseung,â you cut him off, âi canât just forget that you seriously asked me something like that.â
âplease donât make this awkward. you can say no and we can forget this happened.â
you could tell heeseung wanted to rip his tongue out, and to see your best friend this distressed over something so silly made you want to drop everything and get rid of those feelings for him.Â
âi mean, i never said no, did i..?âÂ
heeseung looks up, meeting your gaze with a shocked expression, âwhat?â
âyeah,â you nod, âit doesnât hurt to think about it, right? itâs not like youâre asking me to completely fuck youâa blowjob wouldnât hurt us right? especially if itâs going to help you.â
he blinks. heeseung might think youâre going insane, and heâs the one that asked you for the blowjob. no way you were actually considering this for him.
what did he do in his past life to gain such a supportive, pretty best friend.
âso⊠youâll think about it?â your best friend's voice is quiet when he asks, like heâs scared to speak up any louder. âlike, seriously?â
âyeah,â nodding your head, you flash him a reassuring smile. agreeing to suck off your friend before his professional video game competition, a totally normal request.
when heeseung leaves your apartment, you immediately cuss yourself out. why the fuck would you practically agree to that?Â
but when you think about telling the boy no, your heart cracks. why? you donât know. but what you do know is that you would rather die than look at his big sad brown eyes when you tell him you can't give him a special blowjob for his special day.
you were no pro at sucking dick, but you were dedicated to this friendship.
heeseung bounced his leg with nervousness and anticipation. you texted him that you were on the way to his hotel, which wouldâve been normal and completely fine considering you attend all of his comps, but today was different.
you never answered his question.
he wonders if maybe you forgot about it. he also hopes you didnât forget. ever since he asked you the big question, heeseung couldnât get you out of his mind.
every night leading up to today, heâd lie awake staring at his ceiling trying to push every image of you sitting pretty between his legs out of his mind. the feeling of his cock hardening to the thought of you made him want to dive out of the nearest window.
itâs not like he didnât think you were hot or that the idea of being intimate with you disgusted him, but itâs the fact that he promised to never be like every other guy.
the two of you were very close. from cuddling while watching movies to holding hands in a crowded area to heeseung beating up creepy men at dive bars for youâyou both had a tight knit friendship. and he always promised that he would never cross that line. he might be a total loser but he liked to consider himself a gentleman at the same time.
that day, he did. yet you were still attending something that meant the world to him when you couldâve told him to fuck off and die.
four knocks at the door rips heeseung away from his thoughts.
with sweaty hands and knees that felt like jelly, heeseung grips the door knob and opens it, plastering the fakest smile he could muster up. âhey.â did his voice crack? fuck my life.Â
âhi!â you hold up two bags filled with a variety of snacks with a large smile on your face, âi brought some stuff for this weekend.â
he clears his throat and steps to the side, letting you enter his hotel room. heeseung averts his gaze to the ceiling as you walk by him, afraid of letting his eyes stay on youâwhat if he accidentally looks at your ass?
âwhat time does it start today?â you ask, completely unaware of the emotional distress your male best friend was going through. so nonchalant and unmoving. maybe you did forget afterall.Â
heeseung takes a seat at the desk in his hotel room, where he had a temporary p.c. set up in case he needed a practice game. âuhh, itâs at six this time.â
âjeez⊠you guys won't be leaving until late then.â you glance at the clock and back to him. he has to leave very soon. how do you casually start giving your best friend a blowjob within the next fifteen minutes.
âyeah, you know of all people that these things can go for hours. youâre gonna be there for the last few rounds right?â
you nod, wondering if heeseung could notice the way youâre practically gawking at him. was he always this hot? itâs stupid question when youâre fully aware of how attractive heeseung was and currently is. maybe it was the way he was dressed up for his competition tonight, or the way he leaned back on his hands and spread his legs comfortably.Â
the baggy black hoodie that you knew he was wearing by itself with nothing underneath paired with his baggy jeans that sat so perfectly on his hips. you were fully aware that you were checking out your best friend. heâs fucking hot, why else would you agree to do any of this?
you wonder if heâs thought about this as much as you have. is he nervous? is he vocal? how long does it take for him to get hard and how big is he?
âhey,â you donât know where the confidence is coming from, but you find yourself kneeling in front of him with your hands on his knees, âyouâre gonna do great and win this. like you always do. iâll make sure of it.â
heeseung almost chokes on his own spit when you suddenly slip between his legs, âwha- what are you doing..?â
âdid you not want my help? or did you forget?â you ask him, genuine confusion. âi-if you already-â
âno!â heeseung cuts you off, grabbing your hand with his. âi mean, i still do. i just didnât think you were down.â
you rub your other hand up his thigh, fingers mere centimeters away from his crotch area. so close to where he needs you, yet so far. âof course i am. what good are best friends if they canât help each other out?â
heeseungs breath hitches when your hand grazes the zipper of his jeans. he lets go of your other hand and you take it as a cue to keep going.
âjust let me take care of you, hee.â
and for the first time ever, that nickname made his cock twitch.
just the view he had of you sitting pretty between his thighs, hesitant but still full of confidence as you softly palmed him through his jeans was enough for him to be leaking.
âcan iâŠâ you ask quietly, fingers on the button of his jeans. he nods once and gulps as you immediately pop the button open and move to the zipper. it feels like hours before youâre finally pulling his jeans down below his hips.Â
you canât lie and say the bulge of his hardening cock, covered by his calvin kleins, wasnât making your mouth water. you push his hoodie up slightly, the way your cold fingertips hit his lower stomach as you grab the waistband of his boxers has his stomach tensing under your touch. you let out a small gasp when his cock almost springs out of his boxers.
your best friend is packing.Â
heeseung almost chuckles when he catches your reaction.Â
âdonât laugh.â
âiâm not.â
âi can see it!â you argue back.
heeseung rolls his eyes, âplease just continue.âÂ
âi won't if you keep up that attitude. you know we have less than fifteen minutes.â you retort after hearing him scoff.Â
âi can miss rehearsals.â
âheeseu-â
âgod, please let me just fuck your mouth.â
oh my god? were you supposed to be turned on? you bite your lip and look down in his lap, taking his cock in your hand with a soft but firm grip. you lean forward and let spit slowly drip from your mouth as you start pumping him.Â
heeseung lets out a quiet groan and you look up at himâwide eyes that are practically asking, is this good? you continue to gently fist his cock, getting him nice and hard before you start using your mouth on his.Â
âi hope you win.â is all you say before you kiss his tip and sink your mouth onto him.
the boy is practically seeing stars. you just started and heâs already moaning like a bitch. it felt so good, he canât rip his gaze from you, watching the way your lips wrap around him tightly and your cheeks hollow out as you literally suck him in.Â
âfuck, like thatâŠâ his hand finds sanctuary wrapped around your hair, not yet pushing you down on his cock completely, but more so as guidance.Â
you let go out his cock with a pop and continue pumping him with your fist, licking the underside of his base as you make direct eye contact. he lets out a groan and lets his head fall back.
âyou donât have to hold back heeseung,â you mumble, but the lust was evident in your tone. âdonât be gentle, this is for you.â
âholy fuck, donât say that.â you giggle at his response and smile against his tip before taking him back into your mouth. heeseung grips your hair tighter and pushes you further down his cock per your request. he can hear you inhale deeply through your nose as you attempt to take all of him. but of course you canât.Â
you stroke what you canât fit and let heeseungs hand guide you up and down his cock. he uses all self control to not thrust into your mouth. heeseung hisses through his teeth every time your lips tighten around the tip of his dick, feeling somewhat more sensitive than he usually is.Â
a guttural moan rips from his throat when your hand comes up to squeeze his balls, offering a helping hand in making him cum soon. time was ticking. but heeseung did not care whatsoever, especially after that move.
he almost wishes he knew how fucking good you were at giving head before all of this. your mouth was so warm, wet and tight around his cockâhe was in heaven. heeseung genuinely thinks this is one of the best blowjobs heâs ever gotten. his hips buck, suddenly pushing his cock deep inside of your mouth and hitting the back of your throat. you cough around his cock in surprise but it only spurs your best friend on.
maybe it was the fact that youâre his best friend. sure, itâs not taboo by any means, but there are lines that are never to be crossed in these sorts of relationshipsâholy shit, heeseung was on cloud 9.Â
âoh my god,â he whines, âyouâre so good at this. fuckâgod, donât stop.â
his words, his moans, his whinesâthey all send tingles down your spine and straight to your core. you canât deny the throb in your cunt though.Â
you continue to squeeze and fondle his balls as you let heeseung completely guide your head deeper onto his cock, thrusting his hips upwards and meeting your mouth halfway. your other hand grips his thigh, keeping you stable and relaxed as he abuses your throat with the head of his cock.Â
the groan that leaves your mouth when he tugs your hair tighter is accidental, you look up at heeseung. he looks beautiful like this. a pink blush across his cheeks, damp forehead, and hazy eyes. you were surely dripping through your panties now.Â
âyeah? you like t-this too, huh?â heeseung spits out. now youâre almost jealous of every woman heâs managed to pull, because fuck did that just turn you on even more. âwant me to use your mouth however i want?â
you moan in response, nodding your head. heeseung lets out a long exhale as he shoves your head down his cock again. tears line your eyes and threaten to spill over, trying to relax your throat to take him completely.Â
ây-youâre taking me so good, yâknow that? so good, baby.â
immediately, your hand that was once on heeseungs thigh is making its way down and into your shorts. you were soaked.Â
heeseung lets out another choked moan when he notices your hand in your shorts, circling your clit as you let him fuck your throat. how badly he also wishes you would just take those stupid shorts off and let him see exactly what youâre doing, he yearns to see you play with yourself one day.Â
âplaying with yourself while you let me use this pretty mouthâŠâ heeseung groans, lifting your head for a mere second before pushing you down his cock again. your hand tightens around his balls and he almost whimpers at the sensation. âyou like this just as much, fucking pervert.â
you let out a whine, tears falling down your cheeks, you were already so close.
heeseung gets rougher, guiding your head much faster than before. your lips were burning and there was spit completely covering your other hand. but still, you continue to suck and lick at his cock as if it were your last meal, letting him force his way down your throat.Â
ââm so close. so fucking close.â now you're both whimpering. âfuckfuckfuck, gonna cum soon, baby. keep going, please, hahâyou feel so fucking good.â
his words were enough for you to hit your peak, an orgasm washing through your body immediately. youâre squirming and whining, sending vibrations down heeseungs cock.Â
âah, fuck,â he continues to let words fall out of his mouth in the form of broken moans, ây-yeah, âts so good. feels so good.â heeseung suddenly pushes your head all the way down, your nose making contact with the soft hair as the base of his cock, and he cums.Â
thick, hot ropes of cum covering the back of your throat. youâre gagging and choking at the full feeling, wanting to pull back so badly, but he doesnât stopânot until heâs milked dry.Â
after what feels like an eternity, he lets go and you pull back, gasping and coughing but swallowing most of his cum in the process. your hands fly to your neck as you massage it and catch your breath.
heeseung on the other hand was breathing heavily. that was the best orgasm heâs ever had.
âholy fuck.â
you look up at the male, who seemed like he was about to pass out, âhee, you have to go.â your voice is raspy and weak.Â
âi canât.â he responds, out of breath. âthat was amazing. i canât move.â
you stand up and pull him up with you, balancing him when he stumbles forward. âseriously, you have to go now.â now youâre putting his cock away for him, he hisses loudly at the feeling but you ignore it and zip up his jeans. ânow.â
heeseung sighs and looks down at you, âdid you.. get off like that?â
you tighten your lips and nod hesitantly.
âgod. god, youâre amazing.â he breathes out, wanting nothing more than to throw you down on the bed and fuck you until he physically cannot. âplease, please be here when i get back, iâm literally begging you.â
you nod at him, reassuring him that youâll be here when heâs done as you usher him out of the hotel room. âi will, hee. just go.â you suppose this is what best friends are for after all.
âand do not show up to the comp tonight or i will be hard the entire fucking time.â
