Written by @/enhypen
.✦ ݁˖ 𝓷avi. 19. she/her. ⸝⸝⸝ 𝕯𝔢𝖘𝔦 ⸝⸝⸝ Sagittarius. ⳽ⲱⲉⲉτ venôm : ᥱᥒhᥲ ♪
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@wonscrchy
Written by @/enhypen
.✦ ݁˖ 𝓷avi. 19. she/her. ⸝⸝⸝ 𝕯𝔢𝖘𝔦 ⸝⸝⸝ Sagittarius. ⳽ⲱⲉⲉτ venôm : ᥱᥒhᥲ ♪
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1. M.list | 2. Taglist | 3. WIPS
@wonscrchy, 2026. Requests are close for now.
— ᨳଓ . HAPPIEST BIRTHDAY SAM!!!!
Happiest birthday to the one who somehow makes every single day brighter just by existing ❤️ Happy Birthday Sam!!
I genuinely don’t think you realize how much I love and appreciate you. Having an online best friend like u feels so unreal sometimes and im honestly so lucky that life somehow made our paths cross bc of our favorite K-pop group 😭 Who knew one shared obsession would turn into such a beautiful friendship?
Out of all the random people on the internet, I found YOU anddd I think that’ll always be one of my favorite things everrr. Its crazy how someone who lives away can still become one of the closest people to my heart. Distance honestly means nothing when the connection is this real.
Thank you for staying. Thank you for listening to my endless rants, matching my energy, making me laugh when I feel horribleeee & always understanding me in ways most people don’t. Every late night conversation, all those random ahhh voice notes, every little “are you okay?” from you means more to me than you’ll ever know <3
I swear some of my happiest memories are literally just us talking nonsense together 😭 From fangirling over our enhypen, thirsting over them, to sending each other the dumbest memes ever to exist omg, everything feels fun with you. Even the smallest moments become special bc it’s YOU.
You’ve seen sides of me that most people really haven’t, so instead of judging me, you stayed and loved me anyway, awhhh :(( That’s something I’ll forever be grateful for. You make me feel safe, understood, and genuinely cared for and not everyone gets lucky enough to find a friendship like this
I really wish I could be there with you today. i wish i could surprise you, hug you, celebrate with you properly and spend the whole day laughing together. One day we WILL meet TRUST and i already know it’s going to be one of the happiest moments ever. We’re going to talk nonstop, take the cutest pictures, scream over enhypen songs together snd probably cry because “omg we finally met” 😭❤️ Fuck i can’t wait
Please please never forget how loved you are. I know life can get exhausting and overwhelming sometimes but i hope you always remember that there’s someone here who cares about you deeply and will always support you no matter what. I’ll always be proud of you for how strong you are, even on days when you don’t feel strong yourself
I hope this year gives you everything youve been wishing for. I hope you heal from things you don’t talk about, smile more genuinely, meet good people, make beautiful memories and achieve every single thing your heart desires. You deserve happiness in the purest form possible
Sam,Thank you for coming into my life. You’ve made such a huge difference without even realizing it. some people come into your life temporarily but you’re someone I want beside me for a very, very long time and i bet we will baby.
I love you so much Sam, more than words can ever explain. I’ll cherish you forever and ever. No matter how much time passes, no matter where life takes us, you’ll always be one of the most special people to me ❤️
Happy Birthday once again to my favorite person ever @swiftjay23 ❤️
— Just friends, really?
⸝⸝ The kind of thing you spent a year trying to forget—the kind of him walks back into your life. And you tell yourself you won’t let him in again. But it’s Jungwon. He never really asked for permission before. ⸝⸝
pairings : Jungwon x reader
WC : 3.3k
warnings : Jungwon is lowk toxic, pure smut, unprotected sex(no), strong language, consumption of alcohol, cheating (from readers end), dry humping, marking, oral(f. rec), overstimulation, backshots, cum eating, praise kink, pussy!slapping, spanking, jungwon mentions reader cheating alot, squirting, jungwons a muncher, so much degrading. Not proofread!
Navi : sorry i lowk rushed this. Been so long since i posted smth here. The next fic will be a full length one trust! Likes and reblog for a kiss <3
Masterlist
Life had a way of circling back just to ruin you properly.
Your friends and you had decided for a night out, alongside with your boyfriend, cheap vodka burning down your throat while you laughed a little too loud and pretended you were okay. And for a while it really did work. The music was loud enough, the alcohol strong enough, the distractions just enough to keep everything buried where it belonged.
Until he walked in. Yang Jungwon.
You see, jungwon and you go wayyy back, a whole lot of bullshit to be honest, cause Jungwon wasn’t just someone you used to know. He was the kind of mistake that rewrites you.
He was your “situationship.” your almost, your never-defined something that somehow meant everything One year ago, you could have sworn he was it.
You built what ur heart wanted out of fragments and he let you.
Jungwon never said he loved you, he just said, “you’re mine.” And somehow, that cut deeper…meant more. Broke worse.
Because out of nowhere, he was gone from your life like you were nothing more than a phase he outgrew.
Now, just what the fuck was happening? Why were you with him when you should’ve been with your boyfriend?
You remember hours blurred together in alcohol and noise, laughter echoing louder than it felt. But through all of it, you could fucking feel him.
Every few minutes like clockwork. Jungwon’s eyes on you, heavy and an expression you never really quite understood.
It was like he was memorizing you all over again—or reminding you that he never forgot. That alone made your skin too tight, the air too thick. You shifted in your seat, fingers tightening around your glass.
Why was he looking at you like that? No. Don’t start. Don’t let him in again.
But you did, you let him in again. Somehow, that’d always be the case no matter how much you deny that you don’t want him back, yet your body and heart still craves him.
Your back hits the door before you even realize how fast he moved. The impact knocks the breath out of you as Jungwon kicks the door shut behind him, the sound echoing too loud in the tight space. And then he’s there, right there, crowding into you, leaving no room to step away.
Jungwon’s gaze locked onto yours, sharp and unrelenting like he’d already made up his mind the second he saw you.
Sitting there in that dress. Smiling at someone else. Letting another man’s hand rest where his used to. Something dark flickered in his eyes—possession, anger. It was almost laughable to him.
How you chose safe.
How you let yourself be held by someone who didn’t know how to break you open, someone who would never touch you like he could, never leave marks that lasted longer than a night.
Because Jungwon never did things halfway and the way he was looking at you now, told you more than enough.
No matter how far you ran, how carefully you rebuilt yourself—he still saw you as a girl who was once his. Well maybe, in the most dangerous corner of his mind—still is.
He cages you in with both arms, hands flat against the surface behind you, his body sealing you in. Then he moves closer, easing his thigh between yours, forcing them apart without breaking eye contact.
Jungwon exhales shakily, the breath uneven against your skin. His forehead brushes yours as he closes his eyes for a second, “Just friends, really?” He huffs out a laugh, shaking his head. Now, this might sound weird without context, so here it is.
The whole night out soon turned into reckless confessions, “Never have I ever” turning messier with every round. Five rounds in and the table was loud, hazy—everyone teetering somewhere between tipsy and drunk.
Soobin leaned in close, his voice soft against your ear. “It’s late, babe… you wanna head out?” His fingers brushed a strand of hair behind your ear before he pressed a quick kiss to your cheek.
Your body reacted before your mind did. Your eyes flicked straight to Jungwon like a muscle memory. But he wasn’t looking at you. He was staring at Soobin. Staring—sharp. His jaw tightening, gaze darkening in a way that made your stomach twist.
Jungwon’s expression shifted—possessive, almost feral, like he was holding himself back from doing anything irreversible….every instinct in him was screaming to close the distance, to tear through whatever stood between you and remind you—physically, undeniably, of what you once were to him.
Of what, in his mind, you still were. Then his eyes snapped to yours. A challenge.
‘This?’ they seemed to say. ‘This is what you chose?’
Your brows pulled together, your chest tightening. You forced your attention away, grounding yourself back in reality.
“No, Soobin… I’m fine, really,” you said, though it took a second too long to answer. You turned to him but his attention was not on you—back and forth between you and Jungwon.
“Do you both know each other?” The question landed too suddenly. Your breath hitched, but you swallowed it down before it showed. From the corner of your eye, you caught Sunghoon shifting in his seat, the tension at the table thick enough to notice now.
Jungwon didn’t look away from you. “No, baby,” you said, steadying your voice. “We’re just friends… yeah.” The lie slipped out smoother than it should have. You’d had practice after all. Soobin studied you for a moment, searching for cracks—but you didn’t give him any.
Jungwon laughed, this bastard laughed.
Low at first, then louder—enough to draw everyone’s attention. He dropped his gaze, dragging a hand down his face, teeth catching the inside of his cheek.
If only you knew how far that restraint stretched.
Because in his head, the line between past and present had already blurred. Whether you admitted it or not didn’t matter to him, hah! not really. You could stand there and call him nothing, reduce everything you had to a lie but it didn’t erase the imprint you left behind.
Or the one he left on you.
Jungwon looked up again straight at you. A slow, knowing smirk tugged at his lips. “Yeah,” he said lightly, voice laced with something only you could understand. “Just friends.”
But his eyes said something else entirely.
Now, back to the present. Your lips parted, eyes nearly rolling to the back of your head when you felt his cock perfectly aligned against your wet core.
This was so wrong. You had a loving boyfriend, everything about this screamed wrong at full volume. "You really went for someone else," Jungwon murmurs into the hollow of your throat, hands on your hips to urge you on, to grind your dripping cunt down harder against the muscle of his thigh. "argh, jungwon—” A broken cry leaves your lips as your back arches off the door as he slings your leg around his waist, thrusting up in process.
"You'll never belong to another man—not while I breathe."
He shifts his hips again, his lips come in contact with your neck, as his mouth trails a line of fire down to your collarbone. His breath hitches as he trails kisses from your pulse point down to the soft hollow beneath your jaw, each touch feather-light yet incendiary. You moaned then, tilting your head back to give him better access. His hands clamped on your waist, then moved—one going to cup your ass, the other sliding between you both.
This—this moment, when it was him and you and nothing between your bodies… His tongue scraped the roof of your mouth as he dragged a finger down the center of you, brushing against fabric that was already dark and wet and you gasped, your back arching. “Y/n,” he said against your lips, your name like a prayer in his mouth he’d never get tired of.
"So fucking wet for me." He says under his breath, hooking his fingers and dragging them along your clothed pussy. The slow, undulating thrust of his hips made you feel like you're caught in a snare.
His lips crush your mouth, smearing your perfect lipstick so thoroughly no one would doubt for a fucking second who you belonged to. “God, you were made to drive me insane, y/n.”
His tongue swept your mouth again and everything you ever did with him crawled into your mind, all the memories, fuck. You missed this, missed him.
His teeth scrape the side of your throat again and your pulse thrums violently in anticipa-tion. It mirrors exactly how your feeling, on edge and slightly unhinged at the prospect of breaking every single rule you’ve been holding on to so tightly up until now.
One large hand settled on your hip, fingers splaying possessively over the curve where your dress had ridden up, exposing your skin to the cool air. His knee brushes your pulsating pussy again, “Does he fuck you like i did?” He said as he hooked your right leg over his back and thrusted up in process. “Shut the fuckkkk—” Your words dissolve into a broken moan when his teeth graze hard over your collarbone, biting down just shy of leaving a mark.
“You have no right to talk about him. Not when you know what you did.” You panted, and jungwon stilled, that alone made you whimper. “Yeah? You want me to say sorry, pretty girl?” You glare up at him, the audacity of this man was unreal. Yet here you were, still melting under his touch. “That’s not gonna do anything—” You say softly, your hand trailing up his arm to somewhat calm him. He didn't think he needed that, but it did put his heart at ease.
“I’ll show you just how sorry i am.” Jungwon said before prepping sloppy wet kisses to your shoulder, making his way slowly down to your fingers, then he kneels down on one knee. He looks up, and goddddd, you’re so fucking gorgeous. The mere fucking sight of you makes his heart skip a beat. You’re so unnecessarily beautiful, and it irritates him that he’s not the only one who notices.
"Gonna eat this pretty pussy of yours….gonna show you how sorry I am, yeah?" You opened your mouth, then closed it when his thumb traced a small circle over your soft skin. The flush on your cheeks spread to your neck and chest. His hands find your aching center, pressing his hand flat on your cunt. “do you want me to eat this pretty pussy of yours?” He asked, running his index finger over your entrance.
You moaned in response, “Hmpf! Wonn—” That made him groan. It’s been so fucking long he’s heard that nickname, it sounded so pretty coming from you.
“Fuck, baby. Keep moaning my name.” His hands gripped your ass and jungwon pulled you down until your pussy pressed against his mouth through the thin fabric of your panties.
"Jungwon!” You whined high at the sudden touch, grasping at his hair to steady yourself. “Fucking hell, your body still remembers me.” Now you were reminded of the reason why this was so wrong.
“What would your boyfriend think if he sees you like this? his so called girlfriend crying out someone else’s name?” Jungwon’s tongue flicked out, tracing the outline of you, His finger slips beneath the hem of your underwear, teasing. You shiver, already trembling under him. Jungwon looks up, his teeth grazing your inner thighs as he takes the side of the fabric between his teeth to tug your panties down, exposing your slick folds and you really were soooo wet.
His breath breezes onto your pussy, visiting your clit in a faint tickle as he presses his hands further into your thighs to stop you from shaking. “Pleaseeee!” You cried out, just how long was this jerk gonna keep you waiting? “Already begging? shit, you’re so fucking hot. So wet for me. Gonna fuck you open, make you mine, i don’t care anymore.”
He adjusts his position, leaning down and lowering his face to your awaiting pussy, Without a second thought, he dives home. Licking past your folds into the heat of your core. “Missed this pretty cunt. Bet your boyfriend doesn’t satisfy you the way i do.” And then he drags your juices between your lips to meet your clit, an evidence to the words he just said. Jungwon groans, eyes rolling back into the depths of his skull as he relishes in the taste, the lavish flavor of your pussy after a long time.
“You always taste like heaven, my heaven.” He pulls back to mutter out only to make contact with your pussy as he speaks directly into the flesh, sending off vibrations through your entire body. “Tell me, hm? Does he fuck you like i did? and will he ever love you like i do?” Now, normally, you would have asked what he meant by that, but you were so far gone you didn’t think of anything to say.
Your thighs trembled in his grip as you jerked your hips forward, pushing yourself into his mouth. He groaned in appreciation, face buried deep in your leaking pussy. “Mine, always been fucking mine.” He growls into your cunt as you feel his tongue nudges your glistening entrance, his tongue swirls within the silkiness of your walls.
In the haze of pleasure, you chance a look down at Jungwon, finding his eyes rolling back, half lidded eyes still locked up on you with a flushed expression, eyebrows knitting together as he laps up all the slick you can't seem to stop.
Jungwon watched your face as best he could. Those strange contortions that would be so horrible under any other circumstances. Your lips parting, stretching, your mouth opening in a silent howl. Eyes closed and then suddenly open, staring down at him with real helplessness, mixed with hunger and surprise. The heel of your hand hit the side of his face, it seemed for a moment as if you were going to try to push him off of you.
He could feel you reaching your climax as your clit fluttered around his mouth and he almost stopped because he didn’t want it to end. He slurps, sucking your wetness into his mouth and his thumb pushes into your clit, and he moans as your entrance constricts around his tongue,
“Mine—this pussy’s mine and you know it. only mine. Mine to make a goddamn mess of.” He whined out, air fled your lungs when his tongue delved inside your slick heat as his head twisted, dragging a cry of pleasure from you as one fang grazed your sensitive nub of flesh. The strokes of his tongue were firm and determined.
“Hmmmph!! please—” You buck against his face, fingers twisting in his hair as he devours you—broad laps up your slit, spearing his tongue deep into your clenching hole to taste you. “Won! this is—fuckkkk! wrong. What if someone hears us—” You guys were still at the doorway, knowing how loud you can be—tbh you really didn't care. With Jungwon’s tongue teasing your clit, you wouldn't have cared if an asteroid was heading your way.
"I'll kill them so they can't tell."
You shoved his shoulder then gasped when he suddenly pushed two fingers into you while his tongue and lips kept up their teasing.
"Did you miss this while we were apart?" you got out, your fingernails scraping over Jungwon’s scalp. Jungwon’s lips lightly tugged at your clit, making you gasp again. "Eating your pussy? Fuck yes.”
“Tasting your sweetness, knowing only I make you wet. Fuck yes. Hearing your moans and gasps? Fuck yes." He looked up and his dark eyes took you captive. "You? fuck yes, every goddamn second we were apart."
You swallowed, your eyes watering. You’d tried to learn to hate him while you both were apart but you’d failed. You missed him so much. And now that he was here, now that you were back together, you wondered how you survived it.
“You close— hmmm fuck.” He moaned into your eat, nuzzling his nose into you, enveloping everything out. The slow, long licks don't last for long, shift into sharp, short flicks against your swelling clit. His fingers curl upwards causing you to arch your back as you break out into another helpless whimper, tightening around nothing but the sole thought of his thick fingers nestled inside your cunt.
Jungwon pushed his fingers to the hilt and with-drew it slowly, yanking a loudest moan from you yet. "Do you like being finger fucked like a good little slut?" You squired, but you answer. "Yes—”Your reply came out as a chocked sob. "Please...oh god"
You dip your head back as he drags his fingers out and rubbed a lazy circle on your clit with his thumb before he slammed them back. You jolt, crying out. You fisted his hair hard enough to sting.
"Scream for me, angel." Jungwon pushed a second finger inside you, stretching you. His cock ached to replace his hands. He was so close to loosing it and you haven't even touched him yet.
"Let them hear how badly you've been wanting this." You shake, eyes rolling back. All that while he keeps sucking on your clit, letting his saliva run down your puffy folds, you know what he needs to hear, you know what he wants you to do.
Jungwon groans, the deep noise vibrating against your soaked skin. “Good girl—pussy’s so good…so good for me.” The wet, filthy sounds of his fingers pumping in and out of you told him what he needed to know.
You’re close—so close, right around the edge and when he grazes your swollen clit with his teeth, you shatter with a broken cry. Your juices covering his entire mouth and hands. "You taste so fucking good." He growled, lapping up every drop while you shook and trembled beneath him. He doesn't stop, "Waittt! oh my—" You try to squirm away, your hips buck and heeseung pins them, spreading you open even more.
"Where the fuck do you think you're going? You will take it." Jungwon growled, You're still fluttering around it and releasing your juices right into his awaiting mouth as he slurps up all he can get out of you. This is getting dirtier, nasty, the lower half of his face is completely coated in your essence, chin shiny with your slick but he doesn't care. He keeps going.
Jungwon’s hand slid up your thighs, spreading them wider as he let himself further, alternating between slow and sloppy kisses, teasing without giving. “No—no more, please…” You cry out, legs starting to quiver so much he had to hold you up with his strength. Jungwon nuzzled his nose into your wetness, groaning.
“Shitttt—I want you so badly it might kill me.”
He looks up at you with hooded eyes, pupils blown wide, his stare pinning you in place like he's daring you to even think about stopping. Jungwon’s always been very commanding, every tilt of his chin and heavy breath demanding your obedience. But he knows you're not going anywhere.
He knows you'll be his perfect, obedient girl.
Always ready to please him. Always ready to melt under his touch, always ready to take whatever he gives you like a good girl. “Wonnie! please—I can’t.” He raises his eyebrows, "Yeah?" You nod again, and he nods with you, grinning manically against your cunt. “Yeah, this pretty pussy's gonna gush all over my thigh. Then you're gonna lick up the mess so maybe you'll stop—fucking-pretending," each angry word is punctuated with a flex of his fingers around your hips.
"you and your cunt both fucking crave me."
You were dripping all over Jungwon’s face, and he still couldn’t get enough. He was addicted to the taste of you, to the way you sounded when he buried his tongue inside you and the way your back arched off the wall when you finally came with a full-body shudder.
He waited for your trembles to die down before he touched his tongue to your sensitised clit again and gave it a slow, leisurely lick. You shake your head, “No—no more.” You pleaded, “You’ve taken worse than this, baby. You can take me, i know you can.”
Your body tenses and melts and fucking bursts into flames because it feels so goddamn good, you don't even know what you’re feeling. But you’re feeling good, too good. Jungwon's tongue circles around your cunt, his grip on your ass tightening. "Who does your pussy belong to?" Jungwon removed his fingers from your pussy and squeezed your thighs. "You," You gasped, tugging at his hair.
"Say it again." He said, Demanding. "You! My pussy belongs to you." Your voice broke in a sob as he delivered a stinging slap to your clit. "That's right. It belongs to me, only fucking me. So why did you let him touch what’s mine, hmm?” Slap! He pulls back just enough to breathe, mouth shiny and swollen with your juices. He kept the pressure of his thumb against your clit. “I can’t….oh god.” Your protest split into another moan when he slid two fingers inside you up to the first knuckle all that while keeping his mouth on your clit and slowly worked his way up to the second knuckle before he pulled his fingers out and pushed them back in.
“M—more….so gooood.” You wail, you have no idea what your asking for, every muscle in your body is tensed up, like a metal coil getting wound up way past its breaking point. "More?" he asked. "You want more than what I've already given? You want me to shove my dick down your throat?force you to clean the cum from my cock until I am ready to fuck your tight pussy again?"
And with that, you’re coming—squirting all over him—gushing down on his face as Jungwon growns and moans, nuzzling his nose in your clit. "That's the girl, that's my good fucking girl." Jungwon coos proudly, his voice muffled as he drinks and laps every fucking drop.
“You want more? want me to fuck you brainless?”Shamelessly, you nodded, unable to choke out the words. "Such a slut. My slut. Now, get on the bed so i can fuck you like one.”
And he did as he promised.
He fisted your hair with one hand and gripped your hips with the other hard enough to bruise.
"Remember..." You let out a small cry when he yanked your head back until his mouth was next to your ear, "My name is the only name you're allowed to moan. The only name you're allowed to think about or even dream of." You nod desperately.
The tip of his cock slid against your pussy, making you shudder. He released your hair, pushed you face down on the pillow, and slammed inside you with a single powerful thrust. You scream, crying out. Your body trembling with the first thrust. You were wet enough that he slid in easily but it had been so long and jungwon was sooooo big it was almost painful. He groaned when you clench tight around him, "Fuck, you're tight, baby—you're killing me." He didn’t move, let you adjust to his size. Just after a while when the pain vanished, you look back at him, teeth unclenched enough to let out a low moan as you started grinding back into his length.
Jungwon chuckled, “Dirty little slut.” Five long fingers, wrap around the back of your head and your pussy clenches Jungwon’s cock harshly in response. Your lips part in a husky moan, and Jungwon’s jaw clenches. "If you keep squeezing me—mmh—fuck…you're gonna make me cum, Pretty."
Jungwon’s hand smacked your ass roughly, and the sting adds to the pleasure. "You’d probably like that, huh? You want to be my lil' cumdump?" His hands clutch your hips tightly, forcing you back down onto his fat cock. He moves you up and down his length, using you like his personal cock sleeve, his tip kissing your cervix again and again and again.
You could feel him completely now, hips pistoling into you, forcing you to stay still and feel the way he stretched you open. The same hand coming up and spank! , making you jerk forward before he rubbed the flesh there, smoothing off the sting.
You look back at him, spit falling down to your neck, makeup smudged, new puddle of tears falling down. Fuck, you looked so beautiful, so perfect and so entirely ruined—His. “No matter how far you run, anyone you choose, my name is the only name you scream, the only one who’ll ever be right for you.” The tip of his cock was rubbing so deeply in you, you felt a bulge in your belly. "Fuckfuckfuck—no more, please—” you drop your head on the cushions, the noise being muffled by it. Babbling out nonsense yet you didn't notice the way your hips kept grinding back into his hold because you're fucking greedy and ruined. Jungwon hissed as he felt your walls swallowing him whole.
Goddamn, he wants you so much. Always craving to kiss you, always longing to touch you, always yearning to consume you, always wanting to love you. Like….he hopes, deep down, that after all of this, you’ll forgive him. That you’ll give him another chance and fuck….he so badly wants you to. Because he’d do anything for you if you just ask. The only thing he can't do is let you go.
perm 🏷️ @maewybakes @swiftjay23 @fancypeacepersona @mailovesreading @zoellove @heeunleash @sxno0 @itzkathysblog @clearlyhoonie @kristynaaah @sunggoon69 @stwryun @sagro @chaehrtsj @str4rxy7 @camilleinyourheart @needywwon tl is open guyss!!
© all rights reserved to wonscrchy.
been soooo long since i posted, im so sorry guys life’s been fucking me up alot 😭😭
toxicboyfriend!jake ✶ headcanons
ᰍ৩⠀⠀ֹ ⠀toxicboyfriend!jake x fem!reader⠀⠀ㅋᩚㅋᩚ
warnings : possessiveness, jealousy, emotional manipulation, gaslighting, love bombing, guilt tripping, rough/angry sex, choking, marking, degradation, edging, creampies, overstim, hair pulling, dirty talk, face riding, semi public, spitting
🗯️ JO’s NOTES < 🐻❄️ 3 ! : we only have sunoo and niki ver left what do yall want first ??
toxicboyfriend!jake who charms everyone with his bright smile and playful aussie accent, but behind closed doors becomes controlling and manipulative, making you feel like you’re the problem for wanting basic freedom
toxicboyfriend!jake who guilt trips you constantly with that sweet voice “Baby, I flew all the way here for you and you’re going out with friends? Don’t you care about us at all?”
toxicboyfriend!jake who gaslights you so smoothly “I never flirted with her, you’re just insecure because you know how many girls want me. I chose you, remember?”
toxicboyfriend!jake who love bombs you after every fight with cute texts, surprise dates, and “I can’t live without my pretty girl,” only to repeat the cycle when his jealousy flares up again
toxicboyfriend!jake who gets jealous over the smallest things your male friends, your social media likes, even the way you laugh at a joke that isn’t his then punishes you with cold shoulders or explosive arguments
toxicboyfriend!jake who isolates you by making you feel guilty for having a life outside him “If you really loved me, you’d rather stay home with me than go anywhere else.”
toxicboyfriend!jake who uses his puppy like charm as a weapon, giving you those big sad eyes after hurting you “I’m sorry I just get scared you’ll find someone better than me.”
toxicboyfriend!jake who fucks you with playful aggression that quickly turns mean, pinning your wrists above your head while smiling down at you “Look at you, all spread out for me even after you made me mad so cute”
toxicboyfriend!jake who loves making you beg in that sweet aussie accent “C’mon baby, say ‘please Jake, I need your cock’ louder let me hear how sorry you are”
toxicboyfriend!jake who edges you while teasing you mercilessly, pulling his cock out every time you’re close and laughing softly “Not yet, princess bad girls don’t get to cum so easily”
toxicboyfriend!jake who marks your body with love bites in visible places so you have to cover them up the next day, then kisses each one tenderly afterward like he’s proud of his work
toxicboyfriend!jake who fucks you from behind while pulling your hair, forcing your head back so he can whisper filthy things in your ear “This pussy is mine say it or I’ll stop right now.”
toxicboyfriend!jake who loves creampieing you and then making you keep his cum inside all night, sometimes pushing it back in with his fingers while murmuring “Good girl, keep me inside you.”
toxicboyfriend!jake who overstimulates you until you’re crying, then coos at you in that soft voice “Aww, you can take one more for me, right? Don’t cry, baby.”
toxicboyfriend!jake who enjoys risky sex in semi public places fingering you under the table at dinner with friends or quickies in the car before schedules because the thrill of getting caught turns him on
toxicboyfriend!jake who makes you ride his face when he’s feeling possessive, holding your hips down so you can’t escape his tongue until you’re shaking
toxicboyfriend!jake who switches between sweet and mean during sex calling you “my good girl” one second and “my desperate little slut” the next, the contrast making your head spin
toxicboyfriend!jake who loves spitting on your pussy before eating you out or fucking you, then making you thank him for it
toxicboyfriend!jake who fucks you slow and deep when he’s in a soft toxic mood, grinding against your clit with every thrust while telling you how no one else could ever make you feel this way
toxicboyfriend!jake who uses his fingers to play with your clit while he’s inside you, forcing multiple orgasms until you’re a mess beneath him
toxicboyfriend!jake who enjoys light choking mixed with kisses, his hand around your throat while he kisses you messily, swallowing your moans
toxicboyfriend!jake who makes you look at him when you cum, holding your face so you can’t hide “Eyes on me when you fall apart I want to see it all.”
toxicboyfriend!jake who cums inside you and then cuddles you immediately after, whispering sweet nothings while his hand rests possessively on your lower belly
toxicboyfriend!jake who loves when you scratch his back during rough sex, the sting making him thrust harder as he groans your name
toxicboyfriend!jake who teases your entrance with his cock for so long that you start crying from frustration, only then slamming in fully with a satisfied smirk
toxicboyfriend!jake who switches to the sweetest aftercare cleaning you up gently, hugging you tight, and murmuring “I’m sorry for being jealous you’re my everything, you know that?”
toxicboyfriend!jake who starts the evening sweet, but one notification or innocent interaction sets off his jealousy. He goes from playful to cold in minutes, guilt tripping you until you’re apologizing and promising you only want him
The tension breaks when he pulls you into his lap, kissing you hard. He strips you slowly, eating you out until you’re dripping and begging, then fucks you deep and rough while whispering “You’re mine, baby only mine.”
He makes you cum until your legs shake, filling you up while groaning your name. Afterward he holds you close, stroking your hair and saying “See? We’re so good together when you don’t make me worry.”
You fall asleep exhausted, sore, and full of his cum, already dreading the next wave of his jealousy but wrapped in his warm arms like he’s your safe place
PERMANENT TAGLIST : @wonscrchy @miniij @ni-kichromeheartzz @evansfangz @jakeycakeys @addictedtohobi @babydumplingpandabamboo @simjakeyjake @angelhyuka @nodoubtily @chanchamm @ni-k1ttie @yangw0ni3 @mystgene @enheenie @jeongspetal @mokacoca @8naqvg @cherryhwajoong @k-ra05650 @hsngx @hoonguin
jo never disappoints
JUNO — LEE HEESEUNG | part one
synopsis : living next door to lee heeseung has always been a nightmare loud, cocky, and impossible to ignore until one reckless night at a party leaves you waking up in his bed and running before it can mean anything you try to forget it ever happened, until two lines change everything, and suddenly the one person you can’t stand is the one you can’t escape.
pairing : basketball captain heeseung x neighbourf!reader
trope : accidental pregnancy + forced proximity
word count : 19.6k
warnings : heeseung is a an absolute asshole, accidental pregnancy, alot panic and guilt, abortion / termination discussion, fear of the future, alcohol use, one night stand, dirty talking, cursing, foreplay, dry humping, oral, drunk sex ( consent is present ) , unprotected sex, mild degradation, hair pulling, creampie
🗯️ JO’s NOTES < 🐻❄️ 3 ! : omggg finallyy juno part one is out, hope you have an absolute amazing time when reading. navi did the proofreading for me ilysmm <3333
The bass from the apartment next door was so loud it made your pencil roll off the desk for the third time tonight thump thump thump. Each beat vibrated through the thin wall like it was personally trying to ruin your life.
You stared at the half finished notes in front of you, frustration bubbling hot in your chest. Midterms were in two weeks. Two weeks and Lee Heeseung, the campus golden boy, basketball captain, and your personal nightmare of a neighbor was throwing another one of his legendary parties like tomorrow didn’t exist.
This was the nth time. The nth damn time since you’d moved in six months ago. With a sharp exhale, you shoved your chair back and stormed out of your apartment, not even bothering to change out of your oversized hoodie and sweatpants. The hallway reeked of spilled beer and expensive cologne.
You could already hear the chaos before you even reached his door. Laughter, glasses clinking, some girl’s high pitched giggle cutting through the music.
You banged on the door harder than necessary. It took a few seconds before someone inside yelled over the noise, “Yoo Heeseung! Someone’s banging at your front door!”The door finally swung open.
Heeseung stood there in all his infuriating glory tall, broad shouldered, black hair slightly tousled like he’d been running his hands through it. His button up was half undone, revealing a silver chain that rested on his collarbones and a glimpse of toned chest. Behind him, the party pulsed with red solo cups, dim lights, and at least half the basketball team.
A pretty girl with long hair and a tight dress was pressed close to his side, her hand resting possessively on his arm. He’d clearly been in the middle of charming her into his bed by the end of the night.
The second his dark eyes landed on you, that signature cocky smirk curved his lips.“Hi, miss morals,” he drawled, voice low and teasing, like he’d been waiting for this exact interruption.
You rolled your eyes so hard it was a miracle they didn’t get stuck. “Can you turn it down? The music is too loud.”
Heeseung didn’t move. Instead, he leaned one shoulder against the doorframe, crossing his arms in a way that made his biceps strain against the fabric of his shirt. The girl behind him shifted, clearly annoyed at the sudden attention shift, but Heeseung didn’t spare her a glance now.
“Miss morals strikes again,” he laughed, the sound rich and mocking. It sent an unwelcome spark of irritation down your spine. “What’s the problem this time, neighbor? Come to bless us with your righteous presence?”
“I’m serious, Heeseung,” you said, voice sharp as you folded your arms tightly across your chest. “Not everyone has the pleasure of partying all night. Others have to actually study to pass their exams whereas others can just have daddy pay for everything when they fuck up.”The words hung in the air between you.
Heeseung’s smirk faltered instantly. His jaw tightened, and he sucked in a sharp breath through his teeth. For a split second, something raw annoyance, maybe even hurt flashed across his face before he quickly shoved it back into that indifferent mask. His eyes darkened, the playful glint gone.
“Whatever,” he muttered, voice suddenly flat and cold. “I’ll lower the volume.”He said, “Thank you,” you replied curtly, refusing to let the small victory show on your face even though your heart was hammering.
Heeseung didn’t say anything else. He simply stepped back and shut the door right in your face with a firm click that echoed down the empty hallway.
You stood there for a moment, staring at the closed wooden door, fists clenched at your sides. The music inside dropped almost immediately, not completely off, but low enough that you could finally breathe. Muffled laughter and voices still filtered through, but at least your walls wouldn’t shake anymore.
“Asshole,” you whispered under your breath, turning on your heel and heading back to your apartment.As you closed your own door behind you, you leaned against it for a second, eyes closed. Why did he always have to make everything so difficult? Why did one look from him always manage to crawl under your skin like this?
You shook your head, forcing the thoughts away. Back to studying. Back to pretending Lee Heeseung didn’t exist. But deep down, you already knew tonight’s silence between you two had just gotten a little louder.
You were halfway through rewriting your notes when your phone buzzed on the desk, the screen lighting up with a new message.
yunjin : you know sunghoon righttt? he’s throwing a massive party after midterms and he personally invited me. pleeease come with me?? i don’t wanna go alone 🥺
You stared at the text, already feeling the familiar dread settle in your stomach. Another party of course. You typed back quickly
you : No thanks im good have fun tho
The two dots appeared immediately.
yunjin : babe come onnnn
yunjin : it’s after midterms!! you deserve to relax
yunjin : sunghoon’s parties are actually fun i swear
yunjin : there’ll be good music, free drinks, and i heard the basketball team is coming too 👀
You groaned, rubbing your temples. The last thing you wanted was to be anywhere near the basketball team especially not after tonight’s lovely encounter with their captain.
you : exactly why I’m not going pass
yunjin : please please please i really like sunghoon and this could be my chance
yunjin : i’ll owe you big time i’ll even help you study for the next round of exams i’ll buy you that expensive matcha you like for a month!!
You leaned back in your chair, biting your lip. Yunjin was relentless when she wanted something. And honestly she had been there for you through every late night breakdown this semester. Saying no felt a little cruel the pleading texts kept coming
yunjin : i won’t leave your side the whole night ( she is lying )
yunjin : we can leave early if you hate it , pretty please with cherries on top?? 🥺🍒
You sighed deeply, already knowing you were about to lose this battle.
you : fine, ONE HOUR that’s it if it sucks, we’re out.
yunjin : YESSSSS!!! you’re the best i love you so much
yunjin : we can dress up together at my place okay , see you tomorrow <33
You tossed your phone onto the desk and dropped your head into your hands. Great, just what you needed. Another night surrounded by loud music, drunk athletes, and the very real possibility of running into the Lee Heeseung again.
You glanced at the wall that separated your apartment from his. The music was still playing faintly, but at least it was bearable now. Just one party, you could survive one party right?
The next morning, the art history lecture hall was already filling up with the usual mix of sleepy students and last minute crammers when you slipped into your regular seat in the middle row.
The faint scent of fresh coffee and old books lingered in the air. Yunjin dropped dramatically into the chair on your right, her long hair still slightly damp from her morning shower, eyes bright with far too much excitement for a 9 am class.
On your left, Soobin settled in quietly, tall frame folding gracefully into the seat. He placed his neatly organized notebook on the desk and pulled out a perfectly sharpened pencil, offering you a soft, reassuring smile.
Soobin was always like this calm, steady, the kind of friend who showed up without making a fuss. He was the complete opposite of the loud, chaotic energy that seemed to follow Heeseung everywhere.
Yunjin, however, was already completely distracted. She was leaning forward, chin resting on her hand, openly staring toward the front rows where Sunghoon sat chatting with a couple of friends. Her gaze was soft and dreamy, a tiny smile tugging at her lips every time he laughed at something.
You nudged her arm with your elbow, voice low and teasing. “You’re oogling him again it’s getting embarrassing at this point.”Yunjin didn’t even pretend to deny it. “I’m not oogling, im appreciating art,” she whispered back, still not tearing her eyes away. “Look at him he’s literally perfect.”
Soobin let out a quiet chuckle beside you, shaking his head as he flipped open his notebook. “Sure ‘appreciating’ that’s why half your notes from last week were just little hearts around his name.” He teased her, to which she replied,
“Traitor,” Yunjin hissed playfully, finally glancing at both of you as her cheeks flushed pink. “You two are supposed to be on my side.”The light banter continued until Soobin turned to you, lowering his voice a little. “Hey, I heard there was a party at Heeseung’s last night, did you survive the noise?”
You let out a long, dramatic groan and slumped back in your seat, the memory of last night’s confrontation still fresh and irritating. “Barely. That idiot had the music blasting so loud my textbooks were literally vibrating on the desk. I had to march over there in my hoodie and sweatpants like some angry neighbor from a sitcom again.”
Soobin listened attentively, his expression patient and sympathetic. He never interrupted your rants or told you to just ignore it. He just nodded along, dark eyes focused on you, making you feel genuinely heard.
It was one of the many reasons you treasured his friendship he was thoughtful, kind, and never loud or arrogant for the sake of it. The polar opposite of Heeseung.
“And of course he answered the door half dressed with some girl hanging off his arm like a trophy,” you continued, voice dripping with annoyance. “Called me ‘miss morals’ like it’s the funniest joke in the world.
Then when I pointed out that not everyone has a rich daddy to bail them out when they party instead of studying, he got all pissy, sucked in this dramatic breath, and slammed the door right in my face. He’s such an entitled asshole.”
Soobin hummed softly, a small frown creasing his brow. “That sounds exhausting, you should’ve texted me you know, i could’ve come over with snacks and we could’ve studied together instead of dealing with his nonsense alone.”
You smiled faintly at the offer, warmth cutting through the irritation. “Next time, maybe at least someone in this building has basic human decency.”
Yunjin finally tore her gaze away from Sunghoon long enough to grin at you. “Heeseung’s just bored and likes getting a rise out of you if you stopped reacting, he’d probably get bored and stop.”
“Easy for you to say,” you muttered, crossing your arms. “You don’t have to live next door to the human equivalent of a walking migraine.”The professor walked in moments later, cutting off any further complaints.
The next hour passed in a blur of projected slides on Renaissance techniques, quiet note taking, and the occasional whispered comment from Yunjin whenever Sunghoon shifted in his seat.
When class finally ended, the three of you packed up your things and joined the stream of students flowing out into the crowded hallway. The air was filled with chatter about upcoming midterms, weekend plans, and the usual campus gossip.
As you walked side by side, Yunjin suddenly looped her arm through yours, her excitement bubbling over again. “So, about Sunghoon’s party after midterms you’re definitely coming, right? And Soobin you should come too! It’ll be so much more fun with all three of us there.”
Soobin blinked, surprised, his eyebrows raising slightly. “Wait you’re actually going?” He looked at you, genuinely shocked. “I thought you hated parties, especially ones thrown by the popular crowd.”
You shrugged, already regretting your decision a little. “Yunjin begged a lot and guilt tripped me with matcha promises. One hour max, if it sucks, I’m dragging her out.”
Yunjin squealed happily and squeezed your arm. “See? She’s coming! So you have to come too, Soobinn please?”Before Soobin could respond, a familiar voice cut through the hallway noise from behind you.
“Can’t imagine miss morals at a party but I’m looking forward to seeing you there.” Your stomach dropped, you didn’t even have to turn around to know who it was.
Heeseung was leaning casually against a set of lockers a few feet away, arms crossed over his varsity jacket, that signature cocky smirk playing on his lips. He must have overheard the entire conversation.
His dark eyes locked onto yours with clear amusement, like he lived for these moments of catching you off guard.
You rolled your eyes so hard it almost hurt, refusing to give him the satisfaction of a verbal response. Heat crept up your neck partly from annoyance, partly from the embarrassment of him hearing your plans.
Yunjin stifled a laugh beside you while Soobin just shook his head quietly, a small, amused smile tugging at his mouth.
Heeseung’s low chuckle followed you as the three of you kept walking, but you kept your gaze fixed straight ahead, jaw tight. God, you really, really hated that guy.Midterms week stretched into a brutal two week marathon, and as an art curator major, you felt every single hour of it in your bones.
Your apartment had become a war zone of curated chaos towering stacks of books on museum exhibition design, printed slides from Art Conservation and Curatorial Practices, mood boards pinned to the wall for your upcoming gallery proposal project, and color coded flashcards scattered across every surface.
Late nights blurred into early mornings as you hunched over your laptop, drafting proposals for hypothetical exhibits while trying to memorize the intricate history of 19th century European collections. Sleep was a distant dream. Caffeine was your only reliable companion.
And then there was Heeseung.
He didn’t blast music or bring girls over every single night that would have been almost predictable. No, he was crueler than that. He chose random days, like he knew exactly how to keep you off balance, turning your already exhausting study schedule into a minefield of unwanted interruptions.
The first time hit on the second night of midterms. You were deep into analyzing a case study on museum ethics when the wall behind your desk started to vibrate faintly. At first it was just low music.
Then came the giggles two distinct female voices, breathy and flirtatious. Heeseung’s deep laugh cut through it all, followed by the unmistakable sound of bodies moving against furniture.
“Fuck, Heeseung you’re so good at this,” one of the girls moaned loudly, the words carrying crystal clear through the thin shared wall. The headboard started thumping a slow, steady rhythm against your wall rhythmic, insistent, growing faster.
You could hear the wet slap of skin, her exaggerated gasps turning into full throated cries every time he thrust.You yanked your noise canceling headphones on so hard the band dug into your temples, cranking the volume until classical music drowned most of it out.
But you could still feel it, the steady bang bang bang vibrating through your desk, through your chair, through your skull. Your cheeks burned with secondhand embarrassment and pure rage.
'Of course he’s fucking some random girl while I’m trying to memorize the difference between Baroque and Rococo curation techniques.' You thought bitterly, stabbing your highlighter across the page. Must be nice to have zero responsibilities except basketball and dick appointments.
It stopped around 2 a.m., but the damage was done. You only managed three hours of sleep before your 8 a.m. lecture.
The next morning, you were running on pure spite and too much coffee when you caught Heeseung in the hallway just as he was stepping out of his apartment. He looked annoyingly fresh — hair still damp from a shower, varsity jacket slung over one shoulder, that perpetual cocky smirk already in place.
You stopped right in front of him, arms crossed tightly. “Keep it down next time,” you said flatly, voice low but sharp. “Some of us are actually trying to pass our midterms instead of auditioning for porn.”
Heeseung raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. “Aw, miss morals heard everything? Didn’t know you were such a light sleeper.” You glared at him, heat rising to your cheeks. “Just tone it down, the headboard banging is ridiculous.”
He chuckled lowly, the sound sending another spike of irritation through you. “Noted.” Then he leaned in slightly, voice dropping. “Though from the sounds of it last night, she seemed to enjoy the banging.”
You rolled your eyes and walked away without another word, his soft laugh following you down the hall.The next disruption came four days later. A random Thursday when you had a massive group project due on modern curatorial strategies.
You’d just settled in with your laptop open to a half finished exhibition proposal when his door slammed open down the hall. One girl this time, but she was even louder.
The moment they got inside, the sounds started again her high pitched whimpers, Heeseung’s low, cocky murmurs “Yeah? You like that? Tell me how much you want it” followed by the unmistakable wet sounds of them going at it on what sounded like his couch first, then migrating to the bed.
The headboard slammed against the wall so hard your framed print of Van Gogh’s Starry Night rattled. Her moans turned into broken sobs of pleasure, each one punctuated by Heeseung’s grunts and the filthy slap of bodies. “Harder fuck, right there, Heeseung don’t stop—”
You ended up studying in your bed instead, laptop balanced on your knees, pillows stacked around you like a fortress. Headphones on full blast. Still, every thrust made the wall tremble.
Every moan crawled under your skin and made focusing on your notes feel impossible. By the time they finally finished (or at least quieted down) around midnight, your eyes were burning and your proposal was only half done.
You hated how your body reacted sometimes not with attraction, but with pure, simmering resentment that made your stomach twist.That same night, after the noises finally stopped, you grabbed your phone in a fit of exhausted anger and texted him.
you : keep the noise down, some people are trying to study for actual grades, not coast on basketball talent and daddy’s money
His reply came faster than you expected. A picture popped up first. A close up selfie of Heeseung lying in bed, shirtless, messy hair, lazy smirk on his face, with the caption
heeseung : sorry, miss morals hard to stay quiet when they scream my name like that
heeseung : next time i’ll try to fuck quieter or maybe you can just join and tell me how to do it right?
You stared at the message, face flaming with a mix of rage and disbelief. You immediately blocked the image from your mind ( and definitely did not linger on the way his abs looked in the dim lighting ) before typing back a single furious reply
you : delete my number, asshole
The worst random night came during the final stretch, just three days before your last exams.
You were pulling an all nighter on your capstone project a full digital mock up of a contemporary art exhibit you’d spent weeks perfecting when the noises started again around 11 p.m. This time it was two girls.
Their laughter spilled into the hallway first, then straight through your wall. Heeseung’s voice was low and teasing, the kind of filthy charm that probably worked on every girl on campus.
Soon the bed was creaking loudly, headboard banging in a frantic rhythm while both girls moaned in tandem one breathy and high, the other deeper and more desperate.
“Heeseung oh god, yes fuck me like that—” mixed with wet, obscene sounds that left zero doubt about exactly what was happening next door. The wall vibrated so intensely your coffee mug slid an inch across the desk.
You sat there in your oversized hoodie and sweatpants, staring at your glowing screen, jaw clenched so tight it ached. Every moan, every dirty encouragement from Heeseung, every rhythmic thud felt like a personal attack on the one thing you actually cared about your future.
Your grades, your dream of curating real exhibitions someday. While I’m over here trying not to fail out of the only thing I’m good at, you thought, fingers flying angrily across the keyboard, he’s over there living his best life with a rotating cast of girls screaming his name.
You wore the headphones until your ears rang. You even tried white noise apps, earplugs underneath nothing fully blocked it. The sex noises went on for nearly two hours that night, loud and shameless, until they finally quieted around 1:30 a.m.
By the end of the two weeks, you were running on fumes dark circles under your eyes, caffeine shakes in your hands, and a permanent knot of irritation lodged in your chest whenever you passed his door.
The random nights had been spaced out just enough to feel like psychological warfare instead of constant chaos.Heeseung never once toned it down. Never once seemed to care that someone on the other side of the wall was actually trying to build a future that didn’t involve daddy’s money or NBA scouts.
When Friday morning finally arrived and your last exam was over, you dragged yourself back to the apartment building, shoulders heavy with exhaustion. The hallway was quiet for once. Heeseung’s door looked innocently closed.
You unlocked your own door, stepped inside, and immediately collapsed face first onto your bed, still in your clothes midterms were done.But the resentment toward the boy next door had only grown sharper and Sunghoon’s party was tonight. You groaned into your pillow one hour in and out. Just don’t kill Heeseung on sight.
You took the quickest shower of your life, and changed into the first comfortable outfit you could find—a simple black crop top that showed just a sliver of your midriff and your favorite pair of dark jeans—comfortable, practical, safe.
You texted Yunjin that you were ready to head over to her place to “get ready together,” secretly hoping she wouldn’t make a big deal out of your clothes—big mistake. Yunjin’s apartment was only two blocks away, and the second you stepped inside, she took one look at you and gasped like you had personally offended her.
“No no absolutely not,” she declared, hands on her hips, eyes scanning you up and down with pure horror. “You cannot go to Sunghoon’s party looking like that.”
You glanced down at yourself, confused. “What’s wrong with this? It’s cute it’s comfortable.”“Cute? Comfortable?” Yunjin repeated, already dragging you toward her bedroom like a woman on a mission.
“Babe, we’re going to a party, not the library. You just survived two weeks of hell tonight you’re supposed to look hot, not like you’re about to give a museum tour.”
Before you could protest, she flung open her closet and started pulling out clothes with frightening speed. She held up a black mini skirt dangerously short, made of soft leather like material and a sheer black button up shirt that was practically see through.
“Try these,” she ordered, shoving the hanger into your hands. You stared at the outfit like it might bite you. “Yunjin, no way, that skirt is barely legal and the shirt is see through i’m not wearing that.”
“Yes way, you are,” she sang, already pushing you toward the bathroom. “You agreed to come to the party that means you’re under my styling jurisdiction for tonight go change now”
You argued the entire time you were changing. “This is ridiculous! im going to freeze, people are going to stare i look like I’m trying way too hard—”
But Yunjin was relentless. The second you stepped out in the mini skirt and sheer shirt ( with a black bralette underneath so you weren’t completely exposed ), she clapped her hands and squealed.
“Oh my god, yes! Look at you!” She spun you around in front of her full length mirror. The skirt hugged your hips and ended high on your thighs, making your legs look longer.
The sheer shirt draped softly over your shoulders, the black bralette visible underneath in a way that was teasing but not outright scandalous. “You look insane like, dangerously hot.”
You tugged at the hem of the skirt, cheeks burning. “I feel naked. Can't I at least wear the jeans over this or something?”“No,” she said firmly, already sitting you down in front of her vanity. “We’re doing makeup now sit still.”
For the next twenty minutes, Yunjin worked her magic. Winged eyeliner sharp enough to cut glass, soft smoky eyes, a touch of highlighter on your cheekbones, and a bold red lip that made your mouth look fuller. She even styled your hair into loose, effortless waves that framed your face perfectly.
When she finally stepped back, she let out a satisfied sigh.“Anyone would worship the ground you walk on looking like this,” she said, grinning proudly. “Trust me tonight, you’re not the stressed out art curator girl who yells at her neighbor. You’re the girl who turns heads even Heeseung won’t know what to do with himself when he sees you.”
You rolled your eyes, but a small flutter of nerves mixed with reluctant confidence settled in your stomach as you looked at your reflection. The outfit was way bolder than anything you’d normally wear, but you had to admit it looked good.
“Fine,” you muttered, smoothing down the skirt one last time. “But if I hate it, we’re leaving early and if Heeseung says one word about ‘miss morals’ in this outfit, I’m pouring a drink on him.”Yunjin laughed and linked her arm with yours. “Deal now let’s go make Sunghoon’s party unforgettable.”
You and Yunjin barely made it out of her apartment before your phone buzzed with a text from Soobin saying he was already waiting downstairs. The three of you had agreed he would drive so none of you had to worry about getting home later.
The elevator ride down felt too short. Your heart was already beating a little faster than usual partly from the unfamiliar outfit, partly from the knowledge that you were actually going to a party after surviving two brutal weeks of midterms.
The black mini skirt kept riding up slightly with every step, and you kept tugging nervously at the hem while Yunjin wouldn’t stop complimenting how good you looked.
When you stepped out of the building into the cool evening air, Soobin’s car was parked right in front, engine idling. He was leaning casually against the driver’s side, scrolling through his phone, but the moment he looked up and saw the two of you approaching, his eyes widened noticeably.
Especially when they landed on you. Soobin froze for a second, his usual calm expression cracking into pure, genuine shock. His gaze traveled slowly from your loose waves and sharp winged eyeliner, down to the sheer black shirt that subtly revealed the black bralette underneath, then to the dangerously short leather like mini skirt that made your legs look endless.
He blinked once, twice, before quickly clearing his throat and straightening up, ears turning a light shade of pink.“Wow” he said, voice a little higher than his normal soft tone. “You both look really nice like, really nice.”
Yunjin grinned triumphantly, looping her arm through yours and squeezing. “See? Told you! Even Soobin is shook, she looks hot, right?”
You felt heat creep up your neck and quickly crossed your arms over your chest, suddenly hyper aware of how different you looked from your usual oversized hoodie and jeans self.
“It’s all Yunjin’s doing. She basically held me hostage in her room until I changed. I tried to wear my normal clothes and she acted like I committed a crime.”
Soobin gave a small, shy laugh, rubbing the back of his neck as he opened the back door for both of you like the gentleman he was. “No, it really suits you, you look great tonight.” His compliment was sincere and gentle, making the awkwardness feel a little softer. “Ready to go? Sunghoon’s place isn’t too far from here.”
The car ride was filled with easy, light chatter that helped calm your nerves. Yunjin sat in the front passenger seat, already buzzing with excitement about seeing Sunghoon, while you sat in the back, occasionally tugging at your skirt and staring out the window at the passing streetlights.
Soobin kept the conversation flowing comfortably, light complaints about how brutal midterms had been, predictions about how wild the party might get, and Yunjin’s endless teasing about how
Sunghoon had “personally invited” her. Every now and then Soobin would glance at you through the rearview mirror, still looking a little flustered whenever your eyes met.
Before you knew it, Soobin was pulling up to a large off campus house that was already pulsing with loud music and flashing colored lights. Cars lined both sides of the street, and groups of people were laughing and chatting on the front lawn, red cups in hand.
The three of you climbed out of the car, and the heavy bass from inside immediately hit you like a wave. The night air smelled like a mix of cheap beer, sweet perfume, and fresh cut grass. Yunjin practically bounced on her heels with excitement as the three of you walked up the pathway toward the front door.
Sunghoon was standing right at the entrance, playing the perfect host in a simple black shirt and jeans. His sharp, handsome features broke into a warm, genuine smile the moment he spotted your group approaching.
“Hey! You guys actually made it,” he greeted cheerfully, voice carrying easily over the noise from inside. His eyes lingered on Yunjin for an extra beat, a soft grin tugging at his lips. “Yunjin, glad you came and you brought friends, nice.”
He gave Soobin a friendly nod and then turned his attention to you, eyebrows raising slightly in pleasant surprise as he took in your bold outfit. “Hey! you clean up really well. Welcome to the party, hope you guys have fun tonight.”
You managed a small, polite smile, still feeling slightly out of your element. “Thanks for inviting us.”Sunghoon handed each of you a red solo cup filled with something fruity and strong smelling a sweet cocktail that had a sharp kick of alcohol when you took your first cautious sip.
“Drinks are flowing inside help yourselves to whatever you want. There’s food in the kitchen, beer pong in the living room, and dancing. Pretty much everywhere enjoy!”
Yunjin thanked him brightly, her cheeks already a little flushed with excitement, and steered you and Soobin further into the crowded house. The interior was packed wall to wall with people.
Students were laughing loudly, dancing in the middle of the living room, playing intense games of beer pong, and making out in dimly lit corners. The music was loud but not yet overwhelming, colorful lights flashing across the walls and bodies.
For the first few minutes, the three of you stuck close together, weaving through the crowd while sipping your drinks. Soobin stayed protectively near your side, occasionally leaning down to say something quiet and reassuring whenever he noticed you looking a bit overwhelmed by the chaos.
Then you felt it. That familiar, annoying prickle on the back of your neck, like someone was watching you. You turned your head slightly, and there he was.
Heeseung was leaning casually against the wall near the staircase, a red cup dangling from his fingers. He was surrounded by a small group of his closest friends—Beomgyu laughing at something on his phone, Jake with his usual bright smile, and Jay nursing his own drink while scanning the room.
Heeseung looked effortlessly good tonight in a black button up with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, exposing his toned forearms, and dark jeans that sat low on his hips. His hair was styled in that signature messy but perfect way.
The moment his dark eyes found you across the crowded room, his conversation with the guys stopped mid sentence.
His gaze dragged slowly and shamelessly down your body, taking in the short black mini skirt that hugged your hips and thighs, the sheer shirt that teased the black bralette underneath, the way the outfit accentuated your curves before snapping back up to your face.
For once, his usual cocky smirk didn’t appear instantly. Instead, there was a flash of genuine surprise, followed by something darker, more heated, and appreciative.
He pushed off the wall and started walking straight toward your group, completely ignoring whatever Beomgyu was saying behind him.
“Well, well, well,” Heeseung drawled when he was close enough, his voice cutting smoothly through the music. His eyes were still shamelessly roaming over you. “Look who decided to show up. Miss morals in a mini skirt i almost didn’t recognize you damn.”
You felt your stomach twist with that familiar mix of irritation and unwanted warmth. Before you could even open your mouth to snap back, Yunjin jumped in defensively, stepping slightly in front of you with a bright but sharp smile.
“Excuse me, Heeseung? She looks amazing, and she doesn’t need your backhanded compliments,” Yunjin said, tilting her head with fake sweetness.
“Unlike some people who only know how to throw loud parties and bring random girls over during midterms, maybe focus on your own game instead of commenting on her outfit.”
Heeseung chuckled lowly, clearly amused by Yunjin’s quick defense, but his eyes never left you. Jake, Beomgyu, and Jay were now watching the exchange from a few feet away, Beomgyu smirking like he was enjoying the show and Jake looking mildly entertained.
“Relax, Yunjin,” Heeseung replied smoothly, taking a sip from his cup. “I’m just saying that she cleaned up dangerous tonight, didn’t think our neighbor owned anything shorter than ankle length. Beomgyu, Jake, Jay back me up here. She looks good, right?”
Beomgyu grinned and raised his cup in a lazy toast. “Yeah, she do be looking fire tonight.”Jake nodded with a bright laugh. “For real, new look suits you.”Jay just shook his head with a small smile, staying quiet but clearly entertained.
You rolled your eyes, lifting your red solo cup to your lips to hide the flush creeping up your cheeks. “Don’t start with me tonight, Heeseung i’m only here for one hour, and I’d rather not spend it dealing with your nonsense.”
Heeseung tilted his head, that signature cocky smirk fully back in place now as he took another slow step closer. The way he was looking at you made the noisy room feel suddenly ten degrees warmer.
“Gonna dance tonight, or are you just here to supervise everyone else’s fun like usual, miss morals?”
You didn’t even give Heeseung the satisfaction of a proper reply. Instead, you flipped him off with a sharp middle finger, turned on your heel, and grabbed Yunjin’s arm. “Come on, let’s go.”
Yunjin laughed loudly, clearly proud of your reaction, and let you drag her deeper into the crowded house while Heeseung’s low chuckle followed behind you. Beomgyu, Jake, and Jay were already teasing him in the background, but you refused to look back.
For the first half hour, the party actually felt manageable. You stuck close to Yunjin and Soobin, sipping from your red solo cup and people watching from a quieter corner of the living room.
The music was loud, the lights flashed in rhythm with the bass, and the alcohol slowly started to loosen the tight knot of stress that midterms had left in your chest. Then Sunghoon appeared again.
He approached your group with that easy, charming smile, eyes mostly locked on Yunjin. “Hey want to dance?”Yunjin’s face lit up like he’d just offered her the moon. She turned to you quickly, squeezing your hand. “You’ll be okay for a bit, right? I’ll be right back!”
Before you could even answer, she was gone, disappearing into the sea of bodies on the dance floor with Sunghoon’s hand on her waist, now it was just you and Soobin.
You tried to keep the conversation light, but the longer you stood there, the more the party energy started to pull at you. The drink in your cup was strong and sweet, and after two weeks of pure academic hell, the idea of letting loose felt dangerously tempting.
“Fuck it,” you muttered under your breath. You downed the rest of your drink in one go, the burn sliding warmly down your throat. Then you grabbed another cup from a passing tray and started sipping again. Why not? Midterms were over. You deserved this.
Soobin noticed and raised an eyebrow, but he didn’t judge. He stayed beside you, chatting quietly, making sure you weren’t completely alone. But after a while, you started feeling guilty. He was sweet, always listening, always there and here he was babysitting you instead of enjoying the party.
“Go talk to your friends,” you told him, giving him a gentle push toward a group of guys waving at him from across the room. “Seriously, Soobin i’ll be fine, i don’t want you wasting your night stuck with me. Go have fun i’ll text you if I need anything.”
He hesitated, looking concerned, but you begged him with your best pleading eyes until he finally nodded. “Okay but stay safe, text me if anything feels off.”
Once Soobin walked away to join his friends, you let yourself drift toward the dance floor. The alcohol was hitting nicely now a warm, fuzzy buzz that made the music feel better and your body lighter.
You moved to the edge of the crowd first, swaying gently, then slowly worked your way deeper into the pulsing bodies.
You didn’t notice him at first. But Heeseung had been watching you the entire time. From the moment Yunjin disappeared with Sunghoon, his eyes had followed you. He watched you down your drinks. He watched you convince Soobin to leave.
And now he watched as you finally stepped fully onto the dance floor, hips moving to the heavy beat, the short black mini skirt riding up just enough to draw attention, the sheer shirt catching the flashing lights.
Heeseung set his cup down and started moving through the crowd toward you, slow and deliberate. When he was close enough, he didn’t just grab you like most guys would. Instead, he leaned in slightly, voice low and surprisingly respectful against the loud music.
“Hey can I dance with you?”
You turned your head, alcohol making you bold. Your eyes met his, and for once, you didn’t immediately snap at him. The buzz in your veins, the way he was looking at you like he couldn’t look away…it made something reckless spark inside you.
You nodded “Yeah okay.” Only then did Heeseung step closer. The moment he did, the space between you disappeared. His body pressed lightly against yours at first, hands hovering respectfully before you started moving together.
The music was sensual, slow and heavy, and your bodies naturally fell into rhythm. It didn’t stay innocent for long. Heeseung’s hands gradually grew bolder one sliding to your waist, the other brushing up your side, fingers grazing the sheer fabric of your shirt.
You moved closer, hips rolling against his, the short skirt brushing against his thighs. His touch grew hotter, palms sliding down to grip your hips, then slowly roaming over the curve of your ass, pulling you flush against him.
The air between you thickened. Your breathing grew heavier. Every brush of his body sent sparks through your skin. Heeseung leaned in, lips brushing the shell of your ear as he spoke, voice low. “fuck, not being able to kiss you right now is actual torture.”
The words hit you like a shot of pure heat. The alcohol, the weeks of built up tension, the way his hands felt all over your body everything crashed together in one reckless moment.
You didn’t think, you just acted. turning your head as you grabbed the front of his shirt, and crashed your lips against his.
The kiss was messy, desperate, and instantly wild. Heeseung groaned into your mouth the second your lips met, one hand flying up to cup the back of your neck while the other tightened possessively on your waist, pulling you even harder against him.
You kissed like you were angry at each other—teeth clashing, tongues sliding hot and deep, lips moving with raw hunger.
Heeseung kissed like he’d been waiting for this exact moment. His mouth was demanding, devouring, tilting your head to kiss you deeper. You moaned softly against him, fingers threading into his hair and tugging, which only made him kiss you harder.
The dance floor disappeared around you. The music faded into background noise. There was only the heat of his body, the taste of alcohol on his tongue, and the way his hands roamed greedily over your curves sliding up your back under the sheer shirt, gripping your hips, pressing you so close you could feel exactly how much he wanted you.
The makeout was crazy sloppy, passionate, breathless. You bit his lower lip, and he responded with a low growl, sucking on your tongue before kissing you even harder.
Your bodies moved together to the beat, grinding slowly while your mouths stayed locked in a heated battle.
When you finally pulled back for air, both of you were panting, lips swollen and shiny. Heeseung’s eyes were dark, pupils blown wide as he stared down at you like he wanted to devour you right there on the dance floor.
“Shit” he breathed, forehead resting against yours. “You’re going to kill me tonight.”The kiss finally broke, both of you breathing hard, lips swollen and glistening under the flashing party lights.
Heeseung’s forehead rested against yours, his hands still gripping your hips like he was afraid you’d disappear if he let go.
His eyes were dark, pupils blown with want, and the way he looked at you sent another rush of heat straight through your body.
You didn’t think. The alcohol, the weeks of hating him, the way his hands had felt all over you everything made you reckless. You leaned in closer, voice low and breathless against his ear. “Wanna go back to your apartment?”
Heeseung pulled back just enough to look at you, a dangerous smirk tugging at his swollen lips. For a split second, surprise flashed across his face, but it quickly melted into pure hunger.
“Fuck yes”
He didn’t waste another second. His hand slid down to grab yours firmly, fingers lacing tight as he started pulling you through the crowded dance floor. People moved out of the way as Heeseung cut a path toward the front door, his grip on you possessive and urgent.
You barely had time to register anything else Yunjin and Soobin were somewhere in the house, but right now, none of that mattered.The cool night air hit your flushed skin the moment you stepped outside, but it did nothing to calm the fire burning in your veins.
Heeseung’s car was parked a little down the street. He didn’t let go of your hand the entire way, and the second you reached the passenger side, he opened the door for you with surprising speed before rounding the car and sliding into the driver’s seat.
The moment the doors closed, the tension exploded again. Heeseung started the engine, but you were already growing impatient. The short drive back to your apartment building felt too long. Every red light, every stop sign made the ache between your legs worse.
You kept stealing glances at him his jaw tight, hands gripping the steering wheel, the way his shirt was slightly undone from your earlier tugging. At the third red light, you couldn’t hold it in anymore.“Fuck this,” you muttered.
Before Heeseung could react, you unbuckled your seatbelt, climbed over the center console, and straddled his lap in one swift motion. The mini skirt rode up high on your thighs as you settled on top of him, your hands immediately cupping his face as you crashed your lips back onto his.
Heeseung groaned loudly into the kiss, his hands flying to your waist to steady you. The kiss was even wilder than on the dance floor desperate, messy, all tongue and teeth. You rocked your hips against him, grinding down slowly at first, then harder, feeling him harden beneath you through his jeans.
His hands roamed greedily, one sliding up under your sheer shirt to palm your breast over the bralette, the other gripping your ass and pulling you tighter against his growing bulge.
“Shit you’re driving me crazy,” he muttered against your mouth between kisses, voice rough and wrecked.
You moaned softly, grinding down harder, the friction sending sparks through your entire body. The car windows started to fog up as you moved together, lips never leaving each other for long.
Heeseung’s tongue slid against yours, deep and filthy, while his hips bucked up to meet your movements, the steering wheel pressing into your back.
You were completely lost in him hands in his hair, tugging, lips sucking on his bottom lip, hips rolling in desperate circles when the sharp sound of honking suddenly pierced through the haze.
Once, twice, then a chorus of angry car horns blaring behind you reality crashed back in.
You pulled away from the kiss with a gasp, lips shiny and swollen, breathing ragged. The light had turned green, and the cars lined up behind you were laying on their horns, some drivers shouting out their windows.
Heeseung let out a breathless laugh, his hands still gripping your thighs tightly. His eyes were dark, hair messy from your fingers, lips red and kiss bitten.“Fuck,” he rasped, voice hoarse. “We’re gonna cause an accident if you keep this up.”
You quickly scrambled back into the passenger seat, heart pounding, cheeks burning with a mix of embarrassment and lingering arousal.
Your skirt was hiked up dangerously high, and you tugged it down with shaky hands while Heeseung adjusted himself in his seat, clearly struggling to focus on the road.
He shot you a heated sideways glance, smirk returning as he pressed the gas pedal.“Almost home,” he said, voice low and promising. “Try not to jump me again until we’re inside or don’t. I'm not complaining.”
The rest of the short drive was torturous. The air in the car was thick with tension, both of you stealing glances, the memory of your grinding still fresh and electric.
When Heeseung finally pulled into the parking spot outside your shared apartment building, he killed the engine and turned to you, eyes blazing.
The second you were both out of the car, he grabbed your hand again and practically dragged you toward the entrance, the promise of what was about to happen hanging heavy between you.
The second the door to Heeseung’s apartment slammed shut behind you, all restraint vanished.He had you pinned against the wood before you could even catch your breath, mouth crashing back onto yours in a filthy, open mouthed kiss.
His hands were everywhere one sliding up under your sheer shirt to palm your breast roughly, the other gripping your ass and yanking your hips flush against the hard line of his cock already straining in his jeans.
“Been thinking about this since you walked in wearing that tiny fucking skirt,” he growled against your lips, biting your bottom lip hard enough to make you moan. “Look at you acting like such a good girl all semester and now you’re begging to get fucked in my bed.”
You didn’t deny it you couldn’t. The alcohol and weeks of pent up hatred had turned into pure, desperate need. You tugged at his shirt buttons, popping a few open in your haste, and Heeseung chuckled darkly before ripping the rest off himself.
The shirt hit the floor. Yours followed a second later, then your bralette, leaving your tits exposed to the cool air of his apartment.
Heeseung’s mouth was on your neck instantly, sucking a mark right below your jaw while his hands squeezed your breasts, thumbs flicking over your nipples until they were hard and aching. “So fucking pretty when you’re needy like this,” he muttered, voice low and rough. “Bet you’re already soaked for me, huh?”
You whimpered when he shoved the mini skirt up around your waist and cupped you over your panties. His fingers pressed against the soaked fabric, rubbing slow circles over your clit.
“Shit you are dripping already.” He smirked against your throat. “Such a dirty little secret you’ve been hiding, miss morals.”
You didn’t have time to snap back. Heeseung dropped to his knees right there in the entryway, hooked your panties to the side, and buried his face between your thighs without warning. His tongue dragged a long, nasty stripe up your pussy, groaning at the taste of you.
“Oh my god—” Your head thunked back against the door as he licked and sucked like a man starved, two fingers sliding inside you easily because you were so wet.
He curled them perfectly, pumping fast while his tongue flicked mercilessly over your clit. The sounds were obscene wet, sloppy, loud and he didn’t care. He ate you like he wanted to ruin you.
You came hard on his tongue within minutes, thighs shaking, fingers yanking at his hair as you cried out his name. Heeseung didn’t stop until you were trembling and pushing at his head, then he stood up, lips shiny with your arousal, and kissed you deep so you could taste yourself.
“Bedroom now,” he ordered.
He didn’t wait for you to walk. He grabbed the back of your thighs and lifted you like you weighed nothing, carrying you down the short hallway while your legs wrapped around his waist.
Your skirt was still bunched around your hips, panties shoved to the side. You could feel his cock pressing against your soaked core with every step.
The second he kicked his bedroom door open, he dropped you onto the bed. You barely had time to bounce before he was stripping the rest of his clothes off. His jeans and boxers hit the floor and his cock sprang free—thick, hard, and already leaking at the tip.
Your mouth watered at the sight. Heeseung climbed over you, caging you in with his arms. “You want this?” he asked, voice dark, one hand stroking his cock slowly as he looked down at you. “Tell me you want it.”
“I want it,” you breathed, reaching down to wrap your hand around him. “Fuck me, Heeseung.”That was all it took.
He shoved your legs apart wider, lined himself up, and pushed in with one long, brutal thrust. You gasped at the stretch, nails digging into his shoulders as he bottomed out inside you, so deep you swore you could feel him in your stomach.
“Fuck, so tight,” he groaned, forehead dropping to yours. “Taking me so well already.”Then he started moving hard fast and filthy.
The headboard slammed against the wall with every thrust, the same wall that separated your apartments. The irony wasn’t lost on you, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care.
Heeseung fucked you like he’d been imagining this exact moment for months.Deep, punishing strokes that made your tits bounce and your breath hitch.
He grabbed one of your legs and hooked it over his shoulder, folding you in half so he could fuck you even deeper. The new angle made you cry out, the wet slap of skin on skin echoing through the room.
“Look at you,” he rasped, eyes locked on where his cock was disappearing inside you. “Taking every inch like a good little slut, who would’ve thought the girl next door gets this fucking nasty?”
The degradation was light, just enough to make your pussy clench harder around him. You moaned louder, hips trying to meet his thrusts.
Heeseung’s hand slid between your bodies, thumb rubbing tight circles on your clit while he pounded into you.
“Come on, baby. Come on my cock again, wanna feel you squeezing me.” You shattered for the second time, back arching, walls fluttering around his thick length as your orgasm crashed through you. Heeseung fucked you through it, hips never slowing, chasing his own release.
“Fuck— I’m close,” he growled, voice strained. “Where do you want it?” He asked, “Inside,” you gasped, still riding the high. “Come inside me.”
Heeseung cursed loudly, thrusting a few more brutal times before he buried himself to the hilt and came hard. You felt every pulse, every hot spurt filling you up as he groaned your name against your neck, hips jerking through the aftershocks.
For a moment the only sounds were both of you breathing hard, bodies slick with sweat.
Heeseung stayed inside you for a long minute, forehead pressed to yours, before he finally pulled out slowly. A trickle of his cum leaked out of you onto the sheets, and he watched it with dark, satisfied eyes then collapsed beside you.
Instead of pulling away, Heeseung immediately reached for you. He wrapped one strong arm around your waist and tugged you against his chest, your back flush to his front in a tight, warm hug. His other hand gently pulled the duvet up over both of you, cocooning your naked bodies in soft warmth.
You were still sticky with sweat and cum, thighs trembling, but the way he held you possessive yet surprisingly gentle made something soft flutter in your chest despite everything.
Heeseung pressed a lazy kiss to the back of your shoulder, his breath warm against your skin.“Stay,” he murmured, voice already thick with sleep as he tightened his arm around you. “Just stay.”
Exhausted, fucked out, and strangely comforted by his warmth, you let your eyes drift shut. His steady heartbeat against your back and the heavy duvet wrapped around you lulled you quickly into sleep, safe in Heeseung’s arms for the night.
ꪆ୧ ─── ドラマ. next morning !
The first thing you registered was the pounding in your head. Your eyes fluttered open slowly, the dim light filtering through unfamiliar curtains making everything feel hazy. The digital clock on the nightstand glowed red 4:28 a.m.
Your mouth was dry, throat scratchy, and a dull throb pulsed behind your temples the unmistakable aftermath of too many drinks and not nearly enough sleep. You shifted slightly under the heavy duvet, and that’s when you felt it.
A warm, solid body pressed against your back. An arm draped heavily over your waist, holding you close skin against skin. The faint scent of cologne, sweat, and something distinctly masculine filled your senses.
Your heart slammed against your ribs. Memories from last night crashed over you like ice water.
The party, the red solo cup dancing. Heeseung’s hands all over your body on the dance floor. The reckless invitation. The car ride where you’d climbed into his lap like you had no shame.
The way he’d pinned you against his door, dropped to his knees in the entryway, fucked you hard on his bed until you were crying out his name. The filthy sounds. The way he’d filled you up. The way he’d pulled you against his chest afterward, hugging you tight under the duvet as you both drifted off.
You had fucked Lee Heeseung
You had fucked your loud, cocky, insufferable neighbor the basketball captain you’d spent months complaining about, the one who called you “Miss Morals” like it was the funniest joke in the world.
Mortification burned hot through your entire body. Your stomach twisted violently. What the hell had you been thinking? The alcohol had stripped away every ounce of common sense, and now you were lying naked in his bed, his cum still faintly sticky between your thighs, his arm wrapped around you like you belonged there.
Heeseung was still sound asleep behind you, breathing deep and even, his chest rising and falling steadily against your back. His face was relaxed in sleep no smirk, no cocky grin but you knew the second he woke up, everything would change.
He would never let you live this down. The teasing would be relentless. “Miss morals” would turn into something far worse. He’d smirk every time he saw you in the hallway, make dirty little comments about how loud you’d been, how desperate you’d sounded begging for him.
The walls between your apartments were thin he’d probably bring it up every time you complained about his noise again. Your life next door would become a living hell.You couldn’t stay here.
Panic clawed up your throat. You had to leave before he woke up. Before this became real. Before he opened his eyes and looked at you with that knowing, satisfied smirk.
Carefully, so carefully, you lifted his arm from your waist. He stirred slightly but didn’t wake, murmuring something incoherent under his breath. Your heart hammered as you slowly slid out from under the duvet, the cool air hitting your naked skin and raising goosebumps.
You moved like a ghost around his room, gathering your scattered clothes as quietly as possible. Your sheer black shirt, the black bralette, the dangerously short mini skirt, your panties all crumpled on the floor where they’d been tossed in the heat of the moment.
You dressed as fast as you could, fingers trembling as you buttoned the sheer shirt and tugged the mini skirt down your thighs. Your hair was a mess, makeup probably smudged, but you didn’t care. You just needed to get out.
Barefoot, shoes in hand, you tiptoed toward the bedroom door. Every creak of the floorboards felt deafening. You glanced back once at Heeseung still asleep, one arm now stretched across the empty space where you’d been, dark hair messy against the pillow.
A strange, unwelcome pang twisted in your chest, but you shoved it down hard. This never happened.
You slipped out of his bedroom, quietly closing the door behind you. The living room was dark and silent. You navigated through the unfamiliar space, heart racing, until you reached the front door. The lock clicked softly as you turned it.
The hallway was empty and dimly lit when you stepped outside. The cool air felt like freedom. You didn’t even bother putting your shoes on yet you just hurried the few steps to your own apartment door next door, fumbling with your keys until they finally slid into the lock.
The moment you were inside, you locked the door behind you, leaned against it, and slid down to the floor, breathing hard.
Your body still ached in the best and worst ways. Thighs sore, a faint bruise forming on your hip from his grip, the ghost of his touch lingering everywhere. You could still feel him inside you, still taste the heat of his mouth.
You buried your face in your hands, mortified beyond words. What had you done?You had slept with the one person you couldn’t stand and now you had to live right next door to him, pretending it never happened.
Because if Heeseung ever found out you’d run away like this, the teasing would only get worse much, much worse. You spent the rest of that early morning in a haze of denial.
Your phone vibrated then again. You reached for it with a heavy sigh, squinting at the bright screen.
yunjin ( 3 new messages )
yunjin : babe where did u go?? one second u were dancing and then u disappeared 😭
yunjin : sunghoon said he saw u leave with someone?? pls tell me ur okay
yunjin : im worried call me when u wake up!!
soobin ( 4 new messages )
soobin : hey, you okay? you left pretty suddenly last night without telling both of us yunjin’s freaking out a bit
soobin : let me know if you got home safe
soobin : if you need anything or want to talk, i’m here no pressure
soobin : hope you’re resting well ❤️
You stared at the messages, throat tightening. The kindness in Soobin’s texts and Yunjin’s worried energy made fresh tears prick at your eyes. They had no idea what you had done. No idea you had spent the night in Heeseung’s bed, letting him touch you, kiss you, fuck you like you’d lost all common sense.
You typed back with trembling fingers, keeping it short and vague
you : got home safe, just drank too much and needed to leave early sorry for worrying you guys i’m okay, just tired talk later ❤️
You sent it and immediately turned your phone on silent, burying your face in your hands the memories wouldn’t stop replaying. Heeseung’s hands on your hips, his mouth on your neck. The way he had groaned your name when he came inside you.
How safe and warm his arms had felt when he pulled you under the duvet afterward. You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to push it all away this never happened.
After sliding down your front door and sitting on the cold floor for what felt like hours, you finally dragged yourself to the shower.
You scrubbed your skin until it was raw, trying to wash away every trace of Heeseung his scent, his touch, the sticky evidence of what you’d done between your thighs. The hot water did nothing to erase the soreness or the vivid flashbacks that kept playing on loop in your head.
By the time the sun came up, you had made a decision this never happened. You would bury it so deep that even you would start to believe it. No one needed to know. Not Yunjin, not Soobin, not even yourself on most days.
You would go back to normal go to classes, focus on your art curator projects, complain about the noise next door like always. And most importantly, you would avoid Lee Heeseung at all costs.
ꪆ୧ ─── ドラマ. flashback !
Heeseung stepped out of his apartment with a half empty water bottle in hand, planning to grab the last box from his car before the evening practice. The hallway was quiet until it wasn’t.
A girl came rushing around the corner, arms overloaded with a massive cardboard box that completely blocked her line of sight. She collided straight into his chest with a startled gasp.
The box flew out of her hands and crashed to the floor, spilling books, notebooks, and what looked like art supplies everywhere across the hallway carpet. Heeseung instinctively reached out and grabbed her arms to keep her from stumbling backward.
She looked up at him, flushed and clearly annoyed, strands of hair falling across her face from the chaotic move. She was pretty, sharp eyes, determined expression the kind of girl who didn’t seem impressed by campus status.
A smirk tugged at his lips before he could stop it.“Easy there, neighbor,” he drawled, voice laced with amusement. “You always run into people like you’re trying to tackle them, or am I just lucky?”
She blinked, then quickly crouched down to gather her scattered belongings, avoiding his gaze.“Sorry,” she muttered, tone tight and clipped. “Didn’t see you.”
Heeseung crouched down as well, picking up a thick book on museum curation that had slid toward his foot. He turned it over in his hands, raising an eyebrow.“Art stuff, huh?” he asked casually. “You moving in next door?”
“Yeah just today,” she replied shortly, snatching the book back from him with a little more force than necessary.
He stood up first and leaned against the wall, arms crossing over his chest as he watched her struggle to reorganize everything into the box. Most girls would have smiled, maybe even recognized him as the basketball captain.
This one? She looked like she already wanted nothing to do with him.“I’m Heeseung,” he said, flashing his most charming grin. “Lee Heeseung, your new neighbor. Need help carrying that? Looks heavy.” He offered,
“I’m good thanks,” she answered without even looking up, standing quickly and slinging the tote over her shoulder.
Heeseung didn’t move out of the way. Instead, he tilted his head, studying her with open curiosity. There was something refreshing about her indifference that it made him want to push a little harder.
“Just so you know,” he added, voice dropping into a teasing tone, “The walls here are pretty thin, try not to be too loud when you’re studying or doing whatever it is, serious art curator girls do at night.”Her eyes finally snapped up to his, narrowing with clear irritation.
“I’ll keep that in mind,” she said flatly. “And maybe you can try keeping your parties down some people actually have to study to pass their classes.”
Heeseung let out a low, genuine laugh that echoed down the empty hallway. She had bite and he liked that.
“Welcome to the building, miss morals,” he called after her as she turned toward her door, the nickname slipping out naturally. She didn’t respond. She fumbled with her keys, unlocked her apartment, and slipped inside without another word, the door shutting with a firm click.
Heeseung stood there for a moment longer, still grinning to himself. The girl next door already hated him, and he hadn’t even thrown his first party yet. This was going to be interesting.
The gym echoed with the sharp squeak of sneakers and the rhythmic bounce of basketballs. Afternoon practice was in full swing, but during a water break, Heeseung leaned against the bleachers, towel draped over his shoulders, a cocky grin already plastered on his face.
Jay tossed him a bottle of water. “You look way too happy for someone who just ran suicides.”Heeseung laughed, taking a long sip before wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “Can’t help it ran into the new neighbor again this morning.”
Beomgyu perked up immediately, spinning the ball on his finger. “The girl next door? The one who already hates your guts?”
“miss morals herself,” Heeseung confirmed, his smirk widening. “I was just leaving for practice when she came out, i told her the walls are thin and she should try not to be too loud at night. You should’ve seen her face, she looked like she wanted to throw her coffee at me.”
Jake, who was stretching nearby, let out a loud laugh. “Dude, you’re obsessed! that’s like the third time this week you’ve mentioned her.”
“I’m not obsessed,” Heeseung shot back, but his grin betrayed him. “It’s just too easy. She gets so worked up over the smallest things. Last week I had a couple of people over, nothing crazy and she banged on my door at midnight like the apartment was on fire, called me an entitled asshole who only passes because ‘daddy pays for everything.’”
The group burst into laughter. Sunghoon shook his head, amused. “She’s got balls, most girls on campus would be throwing themselves at you the second they find out you’re the captain.”
“Exactly,” Heeseung said, tossing the towel aside. “That’s what makes it fun, she doesn’t give a single fuck who I am. No flirty smiles, no asking for tickets to games, nothing. She just glares at me like I personally ruined her life by existing next door it’s hilarious.”
Beomgyu grinned mischievously. “So what’s your plan? Keep annoying her until she moves out?”
“Nah,” Heeseung replied, bouncing the ball once. “I’m just getting started, next time the music’s on, I might turn it up a little louder to see how long it takes before she comes marching over again. Bet she’ll have that cute little angry face on.”
Jake, who had been quietly listening while stretching his hamstrings, suddenly straightened up with a knowing look.“Don’t you think you’re in love with her or something?” he asked casually, but loud enough for the whole group to hear.
The gym went quiet for half a second before the guys exploded with laughter and teasing whistles. Heeseung nearly choked on his water. “What the fuck, Jake?”
Jake shrugged, completely unfazed. “Think about it, she’s literally the only girl who doesn’t give a shit about you no ego stroking, no chasing after the basketball star. She treats you like any other annoying neighbor and instead of leaving her alone, you keep poking at her like a kid with a new toy. That sounds like a crush to me.”
“Bullshit,” Heeseung scoffed, but his ears turned slightly red. He dribbled the ball harder than necessary, trying to play it cool. “I’m not in love with her, she’s just entertaining. It's fun watching her get all riled up, that’s it.”
Jay raised an eyebrow, smirking. “Sure ‘Entertaining.’ that’s why you bring her up every single practice.”
“Exactly,” Jake added with a grin. “If she suddenly started being nice to you, you’d probably be bored in a week but because she ignores you and calls you out, you can’t stop thinking about her.”
Heeseung pointed the ball at Jake threateningly, though his smirk was fighting to stay hidden. “Keep talking and I’ll make you run extra laps, Sim.”
The team laughed again, but Jake just held up his hands in surrender, still smiling. “I’m just saying, man. One day you’re gonna realize you’re not annoying her because it’s funny, you’re doing it because you like the way she fights back.”
Heeseung rolled his eyes and turned away, dribbling the ball toward the court to end the conversation. But as practice resumed and he sank a clean three pointer, Jake’s words lingered in the back of his mind longer than he wanted to admit.
Maybe there was a tiny bit of truth to it. Or maybe he just really, really enjoyed getting on your nerves.
The laughter from the team slowly died down as practice resumed. Heeseung shook off Jake’s teasing comment, channeling the slight irritation into sharper shots. He sank another clean three pointer, the ball swishing through the net with satisfying precision.
For a few minutes, the court felt like the only place where everything made sense no annoying neighbors, no complicated feelings, just the game. Then the gym doors swung open with a loud bang.
Everyone turned as a tall, sharply dressed man in a tailored coat strode in, his presence immediately sucking the casual energy out of the room. Coach paused mid instruction, nodding respectfully.
Heeseung’s stomach dropped the moment he recognized the figure his father. Mr. Lee didn’t smile. He never did when he showed up unannounced like this. His eyes scanned the court with cold calculation, lingering on Heeseung with clear disapproval.
“Take five, boys,” Coach called out, sensing the shift in atmosphere. Heeseung wiped the sweat from his brow and walked over, jaw already tight. “Dad what are you doing here?”Mr. Lee stopped a few feet away, arms folded behind his back. His voice was low but carried easily across the quiet gym.
“I came to see if my son is actually putting in the work that’s supposed to get him into the NBA,” he said flatly. “From what I’ve been hearing, it doesn’t look like it.”Heeseung’s friends lingered nearby, pretending to drink water but clearly listening.
“I’ve been at every practice,” Heeseung replied, keeping his tone even. “Coach said my shooting percentage is up this week—”
“Don’t make excuses,” his father cut him off sharply. “Your brother Heedo was never this distracted at your age, he was laser focused top scorer captainfull ride to the best program in the country. And you? You’re out here laughing with your little friends during water breaks, probably thinking about parties and girls instead of the game.”
Heeseung’s grip tightened on the basketball until his knuckles turned white.“I’m not distracted,” he said through gritted teeth. Mr.Lee stepped closer, voice dropping into that familiar, cutting tone that always found its mark.
“You’re good for nothing if you can’t even focus on what matters. All that talent wasted because you’d rather play around and act like some campus king. You think the scouts care about your popularity? they don’t, you will never be enough if you keep this up and you will certainly never be better than your brother.”
The words landed like punches. Heedo — the golden child. The one who had already made it pro overseas. The one their father never stopped comparing him to.Heeseung’s jaw clenched so hard it ached. He wanted to snap back, to defend himself, but years of this had taught him it was useless. His father never listened.
Mr. Lee straightened his coat, expression unchanging. “Fix it or don’t bother coming home for the holidays, i didn’t raise a failure.”Without waiting for a reply, he turned and walked out of the gym, the heavy doors swinging shut behind him with a final, echoing thud. The silence that followed was uncomfortable.
Heeseung stood there for a moment, staring at the floor, chest tight with anger and something heavier he refused to name. The team slowly went back to practice, but the energy had shifted. Jake shot him a concerned look, but Heeseung ignored it, dribbling the ball harder than necessary as he moved back onto the court.
Inside, the familiar bitterness churned.His father’s words echoed louder than any cheering crowd ever could. You will never be enough. You will never be better than your brother. Heeseung sank another shot, but this time it didn’t feel satisfying.
All he could think about was how easy it was to annoy the girl next door because at least when she glared at him and called him an entitled asshole, he felt something other than this hollow, crushing weight.
The heavy gym doors swung shut behind Mr. Lee, leaving an awkward silence in his wake. The team tried to resume practice, but the atmosphere had soured.
Heeseung stood frozen for a few seconds, staring at the spot where his father had been. The familiar sting of those words good for nothing, never enough, never better than your brother settled heavy in his chest like lead.
Jake jogged over, clapping a hand on his shoulder. “Hey, man don’t let him get to you, your dad’s always been like that you’re killing it out here.”
“Yeah,” Beomgyu added, spinning the ball on his finger. “Ignore him, you’re the one who’s gonna make it to the NBA, not Heedo.” Jay nodded. “Come on, let’s run some more plays we’ll crush the next game.”Heeseung forced a half smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Yeah sure.”
He went through the motions for the rest of practice dribbling, shooting, defending but he was quiet. No cocky jokes no teasing his teammates no loud laughter. Every time someone tried to pull him into conversation or hype him up after a good play, he gave short, one word replies and kept his head down. The usual spark was gone.
Even Coach noticed, shooting him concerned glances but saying nothing.The moment practice officially ended, Heeseung grabbed his bag and left first, ignoring the calls from his friends asking if he wanted to grab food. He needed air. He needed to get away from the echoes of his father’s voice.
He walked aimlessly for a while, the cool evening air doing little to clear his head. Eventually, his feet carried him toward the small café just off campus the one with decent coffee and quiet corners where he sometimes went to think.He pushed open the door, the bell jingling softly, and scanned the room out of habit and then he saw you.
You were sitting alone at a corner table near the window, surrounded by textbooks, notes, and your laptop. Your hair was tied up messily, a pen between your teeth as you frowned at something on the screen. You looked focused serious and annoyingly cute in that concentrated way of yours.
A small, familiar spark ignited in his chest the one that always appeared whenever he spotted you. Before he could think better of it, Heeseung walked straight over and slid into the seat across from you without asking.You looked up, startled at first, then your expression quickly shifted into pure annoyance.
“What the hell are you doing here?” you asked, voice sharp but low enough not to disturb the other customers. You closed your laptop slightly, glaring at him. “This is my table, go sit somewhere else.”
Heeseung leaned back in the chair, crossing his arms, that signature smirk slowly returning despite the heavy weight still sitting in his stomach. Seeing your irritated face felt lighter somehow. Easier than dealing with everything else.
“Relax, miss morals,” he said, voice teasing. “I’m not here to ruin your precious study time. Just saw you and thought I’d say hi to my favorite neighbor.”
You rolled your eyes so hard it was almost impressive. “Favorite? We barely tolerate each other and I’m trying to work unlike some people who can afford to slack off because ‘daddy can pay for everything.’”
The jab should’ve stung more, especially after his father’s visit, but instead it made Heeseung’s smirk widen. There, it was that fire. That complete lack of care for who he was or what people usually said to him. You didn’t tiptoe around him. You didn’t try to impress him. You just called him out.
It felt strangely nice. Not in a romantic way, just refreshing ( liar liar liar he is totally in love with her ) He leaned forward slightly, resting his elbows on the table. “Ouch straight for the throat today. What are you working on that’s got you so grumpy? Another museum thing? Planning to curate an exhibit called ‘Why Heeseung Should Shut Up’?”
You gave him a flat look, clearly not amused. “It’s for my capstone project and yes, if it helps keep loud neighbors quiet, I might include a whole section on it.”
Heeseung chuckled softly, the sound genuine even if it was quiet. For the first time since his dad had shown up, the tight knot in his chest loosened just a fraction. He realized something in that moment. Your company wasn’t bad.
In fact, sitting here watching you get all annoyed and snappy at him felt better than sitting alone with his father’s words ringing in his head. It was simple predictable in the best way. You gave him a reaction real, unfiltered and for a few minutes, it made everything else fade into the background.
He loved annoying you. Not because he wanted to hurt you but because when you pushed back, it reminded him he was still here. Still capable of feeling something other than pressure and disappointment.
“Fine,” he said, raising his hands in mock surrender, though he made no move to leave. “I’ll behave for now but only if you tell me what that exhibit is actually about.” You narrowed your eyes suspiciously, clearly debating whether to kick him out or just ignore him. Heeseung waited, smirk still in place, secretly hoping you’d keep arguing with him a little longer.
ꪆ୧ ─── ドラマ. heeseung’s pov !
Heeseung woke up to a heavy, unfamiliar silence.
His eyes opened slowly, the soft gray morning light filtering through the curtains. His body felt sore in places that reminded him immediately of last night a dull ache in his shoulders, the faint stickiness between the sheets, the faint scent of sex still hanging in the air.
He turned his head to the side the bed was empty. The spot where you had been lying was cold, the pillow slightly dented but untouched now. No clothes scattered on the floor no shoes by the door nothing.
Heeseung sat up slowly, rubbing his face with both hands. The memories came back in quiet, unflinching flashes the party you in that short black skirt.The heated dancing that turned into something reckless.The desperate makeout in his car while horns blared behind you.
How he’d carried you inside, how urgently you both had moved against each other against the door, then on this bed.The way you had moaned his name.The way he had finished inside you.
And how, afterward, he had pulled you close under the duvet, your back against his chest, both of you falling asleep in silence.
Now you were gone. He glanced at the clock. 7:23 a.m. You must have woken up in a panic sometime in the early hours and slipped out while he was still asleep. The realization settled in his stomach like a stone heavy, uncomfortable, and strangely final.
Heeseung let out a long, tired breath and swung his legs over the edge of the bed. He sat there for a moment, elbows on his knees, staring at the floor. This was a mistake, a stupid, drunken mistake.
You had always made it clear how much you couldn’t stand him. The constant complaints about his noise, the glares in the hallway, the way you called him entitled behind his back.
Last night had been nothing more than too much alcohol and bad judgment on both sides. You waking up and running away only confirmed it.He didn’t blame you. If anything, he felt a quiet wave of regret wash over him. He should have known better.
He should have stopped things before they went that far. Now things between you two were already tense, this was going to be even more awkward.
Heeseung stood up and walked to the bathroom. While the shower heated up, he looked at himself in the mirror. There were faint scratch marks on his shoulders and a small bruise near his collarbone. Physical proof that last night had really happened.
He stepped under the hot water, letting it run over his face and shoulders. It never happened, he told himself. That was the only way forward.He would forget about it. Pretend the entire night was a blur he couldn’t quite remember.
No teasing no comments in the hallway no bringing it up ever again. You clearly wanted to erase it, and honestly so did he. The last thing he needed right now was more complications in his life especially with someone who lived right next door.
After the shower, he got dressed in a simple black t-shirt and sweatpants. He made coffee in the kitchen, moving on autopilot. The apartment felt too quiet now.
Heeseung leaned against the counter, sipping the bitter drink, and stared at the wall that separated his place from yours.From now on, things would go back to normal. You would keep avoiding him like you always did.
He would keep his music at a reasonable volume when he remembered. And neither of you would ever speak about what happened last night. It was better this way, cleaner and simpler.
He finished his coffee, rinsed the mug, and set it in the sink. Last night was a mistake and as far as Heeseung was concerned, it was already forgotten.
For the next two weeks, you turned your life into a carefully orchestrated mission of avoidance while your body slowly started betraying you in ways you couldn’t ignore. The mantra remained the same this never happened.
Every morning began the same way. Your alarm went off at 6:15 a.m., pulling you from restless sleep. The moment you sat up, a familiar wave of nausea rolled through your stomach, not violent, but persistent and queasy, making the room feel slightly off balance.
You’d sit on the edge of the bed for a few minutes, breathing slowly through your nose, waiting for it to pass. Some mornings it did. Others, you’d rush to the bathroom and dry heave over the sink, nothing coming up except bitter bile and a metallic taste that lingered on your tongue.
Once the worst of it subsided, you’d quickly get ready, choosing simple, comfortable clothes that wouldn’t draw attention. Then came the listening part. You’d press your ear to the front door, heart beating a little too fast, straining to hear any sound from Heeseung’s apartment next door.
If you caught even the faintest click of his lock or the low murmur of his voice on a phone call, you’d wait sometimes ten minutes, sometimes twenty pretending to reorganize your bag or check your notes until the hallway was silent again.
Leaving became a tactical exercise. You slipped out as quietly as possible, taking the side staircase instead of the main hallway whenever you spotted his car in the parking lot. The fatigue hit hardest during these moments.
Your legs felt heavier than usual, and by the time you reached campus, you were already drained, needing to sit down in the library for a few minutes just to catch your breath. Coming home was even more stressful.
You started timing your returns obsessively. If practice usually ended around 6 p.m., you’d stay late at the library or in an empty classroom, working on your capstone exhibition proposal until you were sure Heeseung was either out with friends or already inside. One evening, the dizziness caught you off guard.
You had just turned the corner into your hallway when the world tilted slightly. You had to lean against the wall, breathing shallowly, while a strong wave of nausea made your stomach churn.
The faint scent of someone’s dinner cooking nearby sent you rushing the last few steps to your door. The moment you got inside, you barely made it to the toilet before vomiting actual, forceful vomiting that left you trembling on the cold tile floor.
You told yourself it was stress. The constant hyper vigilance. The lack of proper sleep. The emotional weight of pretending that night had never occurred. But the symptoms kept creeping in, growing harder to dismiss.
Smells became your enemy. The aroma of coffee from the café near campus, which you used to love, now made your stomach revolt. You switched to plain crackers and ginger tea, keeping a secret stash in your bag.
Even the scent of your own shampoo sometimes triggered a gag reflex. Food tasted strange too salty, too sweet, or completely off. You lost interest in meals altogether, surviving on small portions that you could keep down.
The fatigue settled deep in your bones. You’d come home from classes, collapse on the couch, and wake up hours later feeling like you hadn’t rested at all.
Your breasts felt tender and slightly swollen, brushing against your shirt making you wince. Mood swings hit at random. One minute you were focused on your work, the next you felt inexplicably teary or irritable. All of this made the avoidance even more draining.
One Thursday night, your timing failed you had stayed late at the library, hoping Heeseung would already be inside. When you finally dragged your tired body back to the building, the hallway lights felt blindingly bright.
Just as you reached your door, fumbling with your keys, you heard the unmistakable click of his lock opening.Panic surged through you. Your hands shook so badly that the keys nearly dropped. You managed to slip inside just as his door opened, pressing your back against the wood, heart hammering wildly.
You held your breath, listening to his footsteps pass by. The moment they faded, the nausea hit like a wave. You barely made it to the bathroom before throwing up again, knees weak, tears stinging your eyes from the force of it.
Afterward, you sat on the bathroom floor with your forehead resting on your knees, breathing shakily. This was getting worse.You were exhausted from the constant calculation when to leave, when to return, which route to take, how long to wait in the stairwell. The thin wall between your apartments felt like a constant threat.
You’d hear him moving around sometimes. The low sound of his music ( mercifully quieter these days ), the murmur of his voice when he was on the phone, the occasional laugh. Every sound made your stomach twist with anxiety and unwelcome memories.
You became hyper aware of everything. You avoided cooking anything with strong smells. You did laundry at 2 a.m. when you were sure he was asleep. You even changed the time you took showers, worried the sound of running water might coincide with him coming home.
Yunjin and Soobin noticed the changes. “You’ve been canceling plans a lot,” Yunjin said during one quick lunch. “And you look really tired, are you sure you’re okay?”
“I’m fine,” you lied, forcing a weak smile while fighting the nausea brought on by the smell of her food. “Just stressed about the capstone deadline it’s taking everything out of me.”
Soobin watched you quietly, concern clear in his eyes, but he didn’t push. Inside your apartment, the symptoms continued to build.
Mornings were brutal. You’d wake up with tender breasts and that persistent queasy feeling. Some days the vomiting was so bad you had to keep a small bucket discreetly by your bed.
The fatigue made it hard to focus during lectures. You'd find yourself zoning out, head heavy, fighting the urge to lay your head on the desk. Yet you refused to connect the dots .It’s just stress, you told yourself repeatedly. The avoidance the guilt the lack of sleep.
You pushed through, continuing your careful dance of avoidance. You timed every exit and entry with military precision. You became an expert at predicting Heeseung’s schedule ( she should become a dispatch employee )
You kept your headphones on to drown out any sound from next door. You buried yourself in your art curator work, sketching exhibition layouts late into the night until your eyes burned.Two full weeks passed in this strange limbo.
You were pale, exhausted, and constantly on edge. The nausea came in unpredictable waves. The fatigue made simple tasks feel monumental. And the fear of accidentally seeing Heeseung in the hallway kept you trapped in this self imposed isolation.
Deep down, a small, terrified voice in the back of your mind whispered that something was very wrong. But you silenced it the same way you silenced every memory of that night this never happened.
You would keep avoiding him. You would keep pretending everything was normal.Even as your body screamed louder and louder that nothing was normal anymore.
One ordinary afternoon, everything shifted. You were sitting in the small campus café with Yunjin and Soobin, the three of you squeezed around a corner table. Yunjin was dramatically slumped in her chair, one hand pressed to her lower stomach, complaining loudly.
“Ugh, my period is literally killing me today,” she groaned, stirring her iced latte with a pout. “Cramps are so bad, I can barely sit straight why does it always hit the worst during the worst season? I swear my uterus hates me.”
Soobin chuckled softly, offering her a sympathetic smile. “Do you want me to grab you some painkillers from the convenience store?” You tried to smile and nod along, but the words barely registered.
Her period is killing her…..
The sentence echoed in your head like a siren your own period. You mentally counted the days. It should have come a full week ago. Seven days late. Maybe more.
You had been so caught up in avoiding Heeseung, dealing with the constant nausea, fatigue, and vomiting that you hadn’t even noticed the date slipping by. Your heart started beating faster.
You pulled out your phone under the table and quietly opened your cycle tracking app. The screen glowed with the familiar calendar. A bright red notification stared back at you
period : 7 days late
You stared at the words until they blurred. No no, no, no. You tried to push the thought away immediately. It had to be stress. The irregular sleep, the constant anxiety of avoiding Heeseung, the vomiting all of it could easily throw your cycle off. That was normal right?
But then the symptoms started flashing through your mind like warning lights. The persistent nausea every morning. The vomiting that left you weak on the bathroom floor. The crushing fatigue that made it hard to stay awake in lectures.
The dizziness, sensitivity to smells, tender, swollen breasts. Your stomach dropped, could you be pregnant?
The word felt foreign and terrifying in your head. No. Absolutely not. You wouldn’t get pregnant from one night. One reckless, stupid night. People had unprotected sex all the time and nothing happened.
You were on the pill…wait, were you? You had been so stressed with midterms that you couldn’t even remember if you had taken it properly that week. The thought made bile rise in your throat again.
Across the table, Yunjin and Soobin were still talking something about upcoming assignments and a group project. Their voices sounded far away, like you were underwater.You couldn’t focus on a single word they were saying. Your mind was spinning, heart pounding so hard you were sure they could hear it.
Yunjin waved a hand in front of your face. “Hello? Earth to you! you’ve been spacing out the entire time are you okay?”You blinked, forcing yourself back to the present. Your mouth felt dry.
“I—yeah, sorry just tired,” you mumbled. “Guys, I think I’m gonna head home early today my head’s killing me.”Soobin frowned, concern clear in his eyes. “Do you want me to walk you back?”“No, it’s fine,” you said quickly, already standing up and grabbing your bag. “I’ll text you later promise.”
You left the café before they could protest, walking fast, then almost jogging once you were out of sight. The nausea was back, stronger now, mixing with pure terror. Your hands were shaking as you headed straight for the small convenience store two blocks away.
Inside the store, you felt like every camera was watching you. You moved quickly through the aisles, heart hammering, until you found the family planning section. There were several pregnancy test kits.
You grabbed the most reliable looking one with trembling fingers, not even reading the brand properly. The cashier gave you a neutral look as you paid, but you couldn’t meet her eyes.
Bag clutched tightly to your chest, you practically ran the entire way back to your apartment building. You took the side stairs again, praying Heeseung wasn’t around. The moment you were inside your own apartment, you locked the door twice and leaned against it, breathing hard.
You pulled the kit out of the bag with shaking hands. The box felt heavy dangerous. You read the instructions carefully, twice. Pee on the stick. Wait three minutes. One line = not pregnant. Two lines = pregnant simple but terrifying.
You went to the bathroom, heart pounding so loudly it echoed in your ears. You followed every step exactly, hands trembling so badly you almost dropped the test. When you were done, you placed the stick on the counter and set a timer on your phone three minutes.
You paced the small bathroom, arms wrapped tightly around yourself. Every second felt like an hour. The nausea was back, but this time it had nothing to do with morning sickness. It was pure fear.
What if it was positive?
What if you were actually pregnant with Heeseung’s baby?
The thought made your knees weak. You slid down the wall until you were sitting on the cold tile floor, staring at the test on the counter like it was a bomb about to go off.The timer was still counting down.
Two minutes left. You hugged your knees to your chest, eyes fixed on the small plastic stick that now, held your entire future in two little lines. You were so scared.
The timer on your phone hit zero with a soft chime that felt deafening in the small bathroom. You stayed frozen on the cold tile floor for several long seconds, knees drawn to your chest, staring at the pregnancy test lying face up on the counter like it was a live grenade.
Slowly, you pushed yourself up on shaky legs and stepped closer. One line was already dark and clear the control line. The second line was faint at first, but unmistakable. A pale pink line slowly darkening right beside the first one.
two lines = positive
You blinked hard, once, twice, as if the result would magically change if you stared long enough.“No…” you whispered, voice cracking. “No, that can’t be right.”Denial crashed over you like a wave. You snatched the test off the counter and held it closer to the light, turning it at different angles. Maybe it was a faulty test.
Maybe the line was an evaporation line. Maybe you had read the instructions wrong. You grabbed the box again and reread the instructions three more times, your hands trembling so badly the paper shook.
But no matter how many times you checked, the two lines stared back at you, clear and undeniable. It was positive. You were pregnant. The reality slammed into you all at once.
Your knees buckled. You sank back down to the bathroom floor, the test still clutched tightly in your hand. A sob tore out of your throat before you could stop it. Hot tears spilled down your cheeks as the full weight of what this meant crashed over you.
You were pregnant with Heeseung’s baby. The boy you couldn’t stand. The neighbor you had spent months avoiding. The one person you had sworn to pretend never touched you.
A broken sound escaped you half sob, half laugh of pure disbelief. Your free hand moved instinctively to your stomach, pressing lightly against the still flat surface. There was a life growing inside you right now. A tiny, real consequence of one reckless, drunken night.
The crying came harder. You curled in on yourself, forehead resting on your knees as sobs wracked your body. All the symptoms you had tried to blame on stress the nausea, the vomiting, the fatigue, the dizziness suddenly made perfect, terrifying sense.
You were going to have a baby. And the father was the last person on earth you wanted to be tied to. After several long minutes, the tears slowed, leaving you drained and hollow. You wiped your face with the back of your hand, staring blankly at the two pink lines.
You made a decision right there on the bathroom floor. You were not telling Heeseung anything, not a single word.He didn’t need to know. He would never know. Telling him would only make everything worse the teasing, the drama, the forced proximity, the endless complications with someone you already couldn’t stand.
You could barely handle living next door to him as it was. Bringing a child into that mess was unthinkable. This was your problem. Your body, your choice. You would handle it quietly. You would get rid of it.The thought made fresh tears sting your eyes, but you forced them back. There was no other option.
You were still in school, chasing your dream of becoming an art curator. Your life was barely stable right now. A baby, especially one with Heeseung as the father would ruin everything.
You stayed on the floor for a long time, clutching the test, letting the weight of the decision settle over you.
Eventually, you stood up on unsteady legs. You wrapped the test in toilet paper and hid it deep in the trash can under some tissues. You washed your face with cold water until the redness in your eyes faded a little.
You looked at your reflection pale, exhausted, terrified and whispered to yourself “This never happened.” You would schedule an. appointment. You would end this quietly.You would move on with your life and never speak of that night again.
But as you turned off the bathroom light and stepped into your silent apartment, the weight in your chest felt heavier than ever. You were pregnant. And for the first time since that night, the wall between you and Heeseung felt like it was closing in.
The decision sat heavy in your chest like a stone. You weren’t going to tell Heeseung. You were going to end this quietly and move on with your life. The very next morning, you tried to make the appointment.
You sat on your bed with your laptop open, hands shaking as you searched for clinics near campus that offered termination services. Your stomach was already churning with nausea again, but you forced yourself to focus.
You found a few options a women’s health clinic downtown and a Planned Parenthood branch about twenty minutes away. You clicked on the booking page for the first one. The form asked for your name, date of birth, contact number, and reason for visit.
Your fingers hovered over the keyboard for a long time. You couldn’t do it. Every time you tried to type your real information, panic surged through you. What if someone recognized your name? What if the clinic called or sent confirmation texts while you were near Heeseung?
What if the appointment somehow got back to campus gossip? The thought of walking into a clinic alone, explaining your situation to a stranger, and going through with it made your throat close up.
You closed the laptop without saving anything. You told yourself you’d try again tomorrow when you felt calmer. But tomorrow came and went. Then the next day. And the next. Meanwhile, the symptoms grew worse.
The nausea was no longer just morning sickness it hit you at random times throughout the day. The smell of food in the cafeteria made you gag. Even walking past the coffee shop near campus triggered violent waves that left you rushing to the nearest bathroom.
You started carrying saltine crackers and a small bottle of ginger ale everywhere, but they barely helped anymore.
Vomiting became more frequent. One afternoon during a lecture, you had to excuse yourself midway through and barely made it to the restroom before throwing up.
You returned to class pale and sweaty, mumbling something about food poisoning when Yunjin looked at you worriedly.
Fatigue wrapped around you like a heavy blanket. You fell asleep in the library twice that week, waking up with your cheek stuck to your notebook. Simple tasks like climbing the stairs to your apartment left you breathless and dizzy.
Your breasts were constantly tender, and your mood swung wildly one moment you were numb, the next you felt like crying over nothing. Yunjin and Soobin started noticing. During lunch on Thursday, Yunjin set her chopsticks down and stared at you.
“Okay, something is seriously wrong,” she said, voice firm but concerned. “You’ve been looking like a ghost for days, you barely eat anything, you keep disappearing to the bathroom, and you look exhausted even when you say you slept are you sick? Is it stress? Talk to us.”
Soobin nodded, his gentle eyes filled with worry. “You’ve been canceling plans and spacing out a lot. If something’s going on, you don’t have to deal with it alone. We’re here.”You forced a weak smile, pushing your untouched food around your plate. The smell of it was making you nauseous again.
“I’m okay, really,” you lied, voice quieter than usual. “Just… really behind on my capstone. The deadline is stressing me out more than I thought. I’ll be fine once I catch up.”
They didn’t look convinced, but they let it drop for the moment. Still, you could feel their eyes on you for the rest of the meal. Even Heeseung started noticing something was off.
You had managed to avoid direct contact with him for weeks, but it was impossible to hide everything when you lived next door.
One evening, you were coming home later than usual after another failed attempt to book the appointment online. You felt dizzy and nauseous, moving slowly up the hallway with your keys already in hand. As you reached your door, Heeseung’s door opened.
He stepped out, wearing a simple black hoodie, hair slightly messy like he’d just come back from practice. His eyes landed on you immediately.
You froze for half a second, then quickly turned your face away and fumbled with your lock, trying to get inside before he could say anything. But Heeseung didn’t tease you this time.
Instead, he paused in his doorway, brow slightly furrowed as he watched you. You looked pale. Thinner. There were dark circles under your eyes, and the way you moved seemed off fragile.
He opened his mouth, then closed it again. For once, the usual cocky remark didn’t come.“You good?” he asked quietly, voice lacking its normal edge.
You didn’t answer. You finally got the door open and slipped inside without looking at him, shutting it quickly behind you
Heeseung stood there for a moment longer, staring at your closed door with a strange, unsettled feeling in his chest. Something wasn’t right with you. He could see it.But after everything after that night you both had silently agreed to forget he didn’t know if he had the right to ask.
Inside your apartment, you leaned against the door, breathing hard. Fresh tears stung your eyes as another wave of nausea hit you. You slid down to the floor, hugging your knees. You still hadn’t been able to book the appointment.
The symptoms were getting worse every day, your friends were worried and now even Heeseung had noticed something was wrong. You pressed your forehead to your knees, whispering to yourself again and again
“This never happened… this never happened…” But the lie was starting to feel impossible to keep. Heeseung had noticed. For the past two weeks, it had become painfully obvious that you were avoiding him like the plague.
At first, he thought it was the usual the cold shoulder after that night you both had silently agreed to forget. But it quickly went beyond that. You timed your movements with military precision.
He would hear your door open and close at odd hours, always when he was either inside or already gone. You took the side stairs. You left earlier than usual in the mornings and came back much later at night.
Even at university, catching a glimpse of you had become nearly impossible. You seemed to disappear into the library or empty classrooms the moment practice ended.It was clear you were doing everything in your power to never cross paths with him.
Heeseung told himself it didn’t bother him. He had decided to forget that night too. No teasing. No bringing it up. Just normal or as normal as things could be when you lived right next door
But something was wrong. You looked terrible lately. He first noticed it in passing the dark circles under your eyes, the way your shoulders seemed to slump with exhaustion. Then it got worse you moved slower.
Your face was paler than usual. You barely left your apartment except for classes, and even then you looked like you were running on empty.
One evening, after a long basketball practice, Heeseung was walking back to the apartment building, gym bag slung over his shoulder. The sun had already set, and the streetlights cast long shadows on the path. That’s when he saw you.
You were a few meters ahead, heading toward the entrance. Your steps were unsteady, one hand pressed lightly against the wall for support.
Even from behind, he could tell something was very wrong. Your posture was slumped, your breathing looked shallow, and you looked like you were barely holding yourself upright.
Heeseung’s stomach tightened. He quickened his pace without thinking and caught up to you just as you reached the building door.“Hey,” he said, voice low and serious, no trace of his usual teasing tone. “Are you alright?”
You turned your head slightly, eyes glassy and tired. The moment you recognized him, your expression hardened.“I don’t have time for your teasing right now, Heeseung,” you muttered weakly, trying to push past him toward the elevator.
Heeseung felt a flash of annoyance, not because you were dismissing him, but because he was genuinely worried and you clearly didn’t believe it.“I’m not teasing,” he said, more sharply than he intended. “You look like you’re about to pass out.”
You didn’t respond, just kept walking toward the elevator. Heeseung followed, stepping in right after you. The doors closed, trapping the two of you in the small space. The silence was thick and uncomfortable. He could hear your breathing too fast, too shallow.
When the elevator reached your floor, you stepped out first. But the moment your feet hit the hallway, your legs buckled. You swayed dangerously, one hand reaching out blindly for the wall as the world spun around you. Heeseung moved fast.
He dropped his gym bag and caught you before you could hit the floor, one arm wrapping around your waist, the other supporting your back. Your body went limp against him for a few terrifying seconds.
“Shit—” he muttered, heart pounding. “Hey, stay with me.” You were half conscious, mumbling something incoherent about being fine. Heeseung didn’t waste time arguing. He adjusted his grip and lifted you carefully into his arms in bridal style, your head lolling against his shoulder.
Your apartment was right next to his. He fumbled for a moment with your keys ( which had fallen from your hand ) until he managed to unlock the door. He carried you inside, kicking the door shut behind him, and headed straight for your bedroom.
The room was neat but clearly lived in textbooks stacked on the desk, a half finished sketch on the table, a small trash can near the bed. Heeseung gently laid you down on the bed, pulling the blanket over you. Your face was pale, forehead slightly damp with sweat.
He stood there for a moment, unsure what to do. You looked so small and fragile like this. Nothing like the fiery girl who used to bang on his door and call him an entitled asshole.
Heeseung grabbed a glass of water from the kitchen and placed it on your nightstand. Then he pulled up the chair from your desk and sat down beside the bed, watching you carefully.
Your breathing slowly evened out. The tension in your face relaxed as you slipped into a deeper sleep. Heeseung stayed there, elbows on his knees, running a hand through his hair. He didn’t know what was going on with you.
He didn’t know why you looked so sick. He didn’t even know if you’d want him here when you woke up. But right now, leaving you alone didn’t feel like an option. So he stayed quietly waiting.
Until your breathing became steady and deep, and he was sure you were fully asleep. Heeseung stayed. He told himself he’d only wait until you fell into a proper sleep, but the longer he sat there watching your pale face and shallow breathing, the harder it became to leave.
You looked exhausted, truly exhausted in a way that went beyond simple tiredness. Dark circles under your eyes, lips slightly chapped, skin lacking its usual color. Something was clearly wrong, and the protective instinct he didn’t know he had kept him rooted to the chair.
After almost an hour, when your breathing had deepened into steady, even inhales, Heeseung stood up quietly. He couldn’t just sit there doing nothing. He moved silently through your apartment, careful not to make noise.
Your kitchen was small and neat, but the fridge was nearly empty a few bottles of water, some crackers, and not much else. Heeseung frowned. No wonder you looked so drained. He opened the cupboards and found rice, a couple of eggs, and some ginger.
Simple gentle on the stomach. He decided to make congee something light that his mom used to make for him when he was sick.
He worked quietly, chopping what little he could find, boiling water, and stirring the pot on low heat. The smell of ginger and warm rice slowly filled the small apartment. He hoped it would help when you woke up. Maybe it would make you feel a little better.
He kept glancing toward the bedroom every few minutes, making sure you were still resting. Almost two hours later, you started stirring.
Heeseung was just turning off the stove when he heard movement from the bedroom. He poured some congee into a bowl, added a bit of water to make it lighter, and was about to bring it to you when
You bolted upright in bed, eyes wide with sudden panic. The smell of the food hit you like a wave. Your face went even paler, hand flying to your mouth as nausea surged violently. Heeseung’s eyes widened. “Hey—”
You didn’t wait. You scrambled off the bed on shaky legs and ran straight to the bathroom, barely making it in time.
Heeseung followed right behind you, worry spiking through his chest. He reached the bathroom door just as you dropped to your knees in front of the toilet and started throwing up violently.
“Shit—” He moved quickly, kneeling beside you without hesitation. One hand gently gathered your hair, holding it back from your face. His other hand rubbed slow, soothing circles on your back. “It’s okay I’ve got you, just breathe.”
You retched again, body trembling with the force of it. Heeseung stayed right there, murmuring quiet reassurances, his hand never stopping its gentle motion on your back.
When the worst of it seemed to pass, he reached over and flushed the toilet, then grabbed a clean towel from the rack and dampened it with cool water.“Here,” he said softly, handing you the towel. “Wipe your face.”
You took it with trembling hands, still breathing hard. Heeseung stood up briefly to get a glass of water from the sink and brought it back to you.“Small sips,” he instructed, crouching down again. “Don’t drink too fast.”
While you rinsed your mouth and took careful sips, Heeseung’s eyes wandered around the small bathroom, looking for anything that might help. His gaze landed on the trash can beside the sink. Something white and plastic was poking out from under some tissues.
Curious, he reached down and pulled it out, it was a pregnancy test. Two distinct red lines stared back at him clear, unmistakable, and positive. Heeseung froze.
His brain short circuited for a second. The test felt heavy in his hand as the reality sank in. Positive you were pregnant. He slowly turned his head toward you. You were already looking at him.
Your eyes were wide with pure terror, face drained of all color, lips parted in shock. You looked caught completely and utterly caught like the worst secret in the world had just been ripped open. The glass of water trembled in your hand.
Heeseung’s mouth opened, but no words came out at first. His gaze flicked between the test in his hand and your terrified expression.
The pieces clicked together horribly fast the avoidance, the exhaustion, the vomiting, the way you looked like you were barely holding yourself together for the past two weeks.
This wasn’t just stress this was because of that night because of him. Heeseung swallowed hard, his voice coming out quieter than he expected.
“…Is this yours?” The bathroom fell into a heavy, suffocating silence. You were still staring at him, tears already gathering in your eyes again, looking like you wanted the floor to swallow you whole.
Heeseung didn’t know what to say. He only knew that everything had just changed. Heeseung stared at the two red lines on the pregnancy test for what felt like an eternity.
The bathroom was deathly quiet except for your shaky breathing. When he finally looked up at you, your face was pale, eyes wide with pure terror, tears already spilling down your cheeks. He swallowed hard, his throat tight.
“…Are you pregnant?” he asked, voice low and rough. You didn’t speak at first. Your lips trembled as fresh tears rolled down your face. Then you gave a small, barely noticeable nod.
Heeseung felt something twist sharply in his chest. He looked back down at the test, then at you again. His next question came out quieter, almost hesitant.
“Is the baby mine?” The moment the words left his mouth, your face crumpled completely. You broke into heavy, broken sobs, shoulders shaking as you tried to cover your mouth with one hand.
“I’m sorry…” you choked out between cries. “I’m so sorry… I didn’t want this to happen, i never meant for any of this, it was just one stupid night and I— I’m planning on getting rid of it. I won’t bother you with any of this, i won’t get in your way. You don’t have to worry about anything, i’ll handle it quietly.”
Heeseung’s expression shifted the instant you said those words. Hurt flashed across his face raw, unguarded hurt. His brows drew together, jaw tightening as he processed what you were saying.
The idea that you were planning to terminate the pregnancy without even telling him felt like a punch to the gut. His hand holding the test lowered slowly to his side. You kept crying, words tumbling out faster now, desperate and apologetic.
“I’m really sorry. I know you didn’t ask for this. I didn’t ask for this either, i’ll take care of everything. You can just forget about it…i promise I won’t drag you into anything.”
Heeseung stayed silent for a long moment, staring at you as you sat on the bathroom floor, looking small and devastated.
The hurt in his chest mixed with something heavier confusion, disbelief, and a strange ache he couldn’t quite name. Finally, his voice came out low and strained.
“and you didn’t bother telling me?”
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SO GOOD SO GOOD SO GOOODDDDDDD.
holy shittt i need him so bad
BABY NAVI I MIDD U
I MISS YOUUU TOO COME BACKKKK
NAVI MY SEXY LADY ILY
BIA MY CUTIEEE ILYSM
"𝔍𝔲𝔰𝔱 𝔠𝔬𝔪𝔢 𝔬𝔳𝔢𝔯 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔟𝔦𝔱𝔢 𝔪𝔢" I might js have to icl 😳✌️
Yo my doors open come over 🤤🤤🤤🤤
Are we getting a Jungwon fic anytime soon? 👀
YES YES!!! posted it here :3
.ᐟ DIRTY LITTLE SECRET — Y.JW
⤷ To every girl who likes dark romance or who like villains instead of heroes—lay back down and take it like a good girl.
⸝⸝ Jungwon was off limit, your brother’s best friend, the one person you were never supposed to want. But four years of stolen glances turned into smth worse. One night alone was all it took to blur the line between you. You call it friends with benefits, pretend it’s just physical, But what Jungwon feels for you isn’t simple desire. It’s darker than love. Colder than obsession. And the worst part? You’re already too deep to run. ⸝⸝
༘⋆ Pairings : Brother’s bestfrnd!jungwon x reader.
WC : 22k+
༘⋆ Warnings : Dark themes! Strong language, explicit smut, violence, consumption of alcohol and cigarettes, slow burn(?), Dacryphilia, Mutual obsession, Jungwon & reader are down bad, Heeseung as your brother, Stalking, smoking, fwbs, Unsettling topics, Angst, heartbreak, fluff, mention of bloods, Featuring eunchae, all enhypen members, porn with plot. lmk if i missed smth!
༘⋆ Smut warnings : Porn with plot, p in v(both protected and unprotected) Dom!jungwon, sub!reader, fingering, unprotected!sex(wrap it up), orgasm denial, multiple rounds, multiple orgasms, humiliation, degradation kink, spitting kink, praise kink, filthy sex, jungwon picks up ur brother’s call between it, power dynamics, manhandling, overstimulation, sub!won but only for his girl, riding, cock slapping, cock warming, grinding, dry humping, masturbation, dirty talk, name calling, begging, breast play, oral(both), pussy slapping, spanking, standing doggy, multiple sex scenes, public sex(parking lot), cum eating(sorry), gagging, mirror sex(oops), belly bulge, squirting, impregnation kink!
A/N : guys i’m finally DONE with this holy shit 😭 i did NOT expect it to get this long. at some point my hands were literally just typing on their own. jungwon is actually insane in this one… like the obsession?? yeah. i’ve got two more wips sitting in my drafts right now so those will probably be posted here soon too. i really hope you guys enjoy this one. thank you for reading and supporting me <3 reposts are always appreciated.
You knew Jungwon was off limits.
When your brother, Heeseung, first introduced you to him when you were, like, sixteen, you fucking knew it. And it's common knowledge that the age of sixteen is when the slightest attention causes your brain to go nutty. Crushes are like life or death. Your hormones are out of control, and you believe that every lingering look is a cosmic sign. You fell for it. Of course you did. But you had to choose him out of everyone you could have fallen in love with.
You did, of course. Because Jungwon wasn't just a random schoolboy.
The golden rule: don’t even fucking look at your brother’s friends like that. Before you had a chance to dream about it, it was off limits and off the damn market.
So you told yourself it was temporary. Just some hormonal, dramatic, dumbass teenage phase. You’d grow out of it. You’d wake up one day and he’d just be… normal. Not the guy who made your stomach flip like you were on a broken rollercoaster. Not the guy whose voice alone made your chest tighten.
Except you never grew out of it.
The day he introduced himself is still fresh in your mind. There was something guarded in his dark eyes, something carefully concealed behind a soft yet unreadable expression. He barely blinked, simply watching you as though he were committing your face to memory. At first, he wore a polite smile—gentle, almost too damned beautiful to be true. Being that attractive while standing in your own living room ought to have been prohibited.
Your heart nearly pounded out of your chest when you shook his hand. His palm was warm against yours, steady and firm. He held your gaze without wavering, and he didn’t let go immediately. The only thing that shifted was his smile—it faded slowly, as if he had caught himself revealing too much. The slightest smirk appeared before he withdrew, and you swear, you fucking swear you saw it.
Two years older. That was it. Only two. However, that felt enormous, mature, and dangerous at sixteen. You finally understand what "raw and older" actually means now that you're twenty. After four years of pretending you don't think about him in ways you really shouldn't, the phrase has a different impact.
It would remain a fantasy, you assured yourself. Finally, your desire to fuck him would only ever exist in your imagination. Every time he visited, you would push that filthy little thought to the back of your mind, that you would eventually find it funny. Fall in love with someone safer and easier. However, you are now twenty years old, still figuring things out, Still broke bruh. And still a total idiot when it comes to Jungwon.
Both of you grew up. His shoulders grew wider, his jaw sharpened, and his confidence became quieter. You also changed; you were no longer a child, and you no longer hid behind big hoodies and awkward silences.
What didn’t change? Your feelings.
They didn’t just stick around. They Deepened, got worse, man, way fucking worse. They grew up with you. Less teenage crush and more slow-burning obsession that crawls under your skin and refuses to leave.
It was driving you insane. He was driving you insane.
Because how the hell are you supposed to get over someone who looks at you like that?
The way his eyes stay on you for a second too long when you're wearing shorts. You notice even though it's not clear enough for others to notice. You're always aware. When you pass him on your way to the kitchen, his eyes follow the curve of your ass and hips. His clenched jaw gives the impression that he is physically stopping himself from fucking you on the kitchen counter.
He occasionally clenches his fists, too. As if he's preventing himself from snatching you and destroying everything else that stands between you both.
And the worst fucking part? Because what if it’s not just you? What if he feels it too? The tension in the air whenever you’re alone is thick enough to choke on. Every eye contact makes you lose your sanity.
You hate it. You crave it. You’re back to that hopeless stage of wanting a taste.
A nip. A lick. Anything.
You’ll take anything he allows you to have. Even if small, You’ll fucking gobble it all down and store it in that nook inside you that's disturbingly filled with him.
⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯—
It’s Friday night, and your brother’s friends are over again. At first, the house felt alive in that chaotic, boyish way—controllers clicking, loud debates over nothing, and the occasional shove that almost turned into wrestling. They were playing games, yelling over each other, arguing about scores like five years old. For a while, it was almost entertaining.
But now the energy has curdled. The pizza boxes lie open and forgotten on the coffee table, No one’s really talking anymore—just half-finished sentences and exaggerated sighs. The vibe has completely died.
Heeseung’s friends are a bunch of fucking weirdos—no surprise, considering your brother is one too. They’re loud, and somehow always sticky. They argue over the dumbest things, laugh like hyenas at jokes that barely qualify as humour and treat your house like it’s their personal headquarters. Half the time you swear they share one collective brain cell.
Still… you’re glad they’re around.
As irritating as it gets having them over 24/7—shouting down hallways, blasting music at ungodly volumes, at least your life isn’t painfully boring. There’s always something happening. Someone getting pranked. Someone fake-fighting. Someone dramatically announcing they’re “never coming back” only to show up again the next day. They’ve blurred into something more than just your brother’s friends. They’re like extended family now—annoying, invasive, loud family, but family nonetheless.
Except one person. Jungwon.
He doesn’t quite fit into the “extended family” category. Not in the way the others do. While they sprawl across the couch and treat you like a younger sibling they can tease, Jungwon keeps a certain distance. He’s there, but never fully tangled in the noise. He doesn’t look at you the way the others do.
He looks at you differently.
Jake bursts into the living room with a football tucked under his arm. “We’re going to the turf. Night match. Loser buys food.” Sunghoon is already halfway to the door. “Jungwon, you coming?”
Jungwon is sprawled back on the couch, hoodie on, head tilted against the cushion looking as if he hasn’t slept in days. He rubs the back of his neck. “I’ve had practice all week. I’m dead. I’ll pass.” Heeseung pauses, eyeing him. “You sure?”
“Yeah. I’ll just chill.” Heeseung shrugs, then looks at you. “Y/n, I’ll probably come late. Maybe morning. Lock the doors. And Jungwon—” his tone shifts, protective big-brother mode kicking in, “keep an eye on her.”
You roll your eyes dramatically. “I’m not a kid, you know.” Jake whistles low. “You kind of are, though.” You glare at him. “Shut the fuck up, dickface.” Jake gasps like you’ve stabbed him. “I raised you better than this.”
“You absolutely did not.” Laughter fills the hallway as they grab their shoes and head out. The front door shuts. Then the gate clicks.
And now there’s silence. Not the awkward kind, the heavy kind. The house is big, spacious enough to swallow sound, but it suddenly feels smaller. Tighter. Especially when you remember it’s just the two of you here.
That thought alone makes your thighs press together before you can stop yourself. And then the unfiltered thoughts start pouring in. Not new, Definitely not the first time.
This doesn’t usually happen. Well—maybe once. But your mom had been home that time, moving around in the kitchen, the clatter of dishes acting as some thin thread of restraint. This time, though? Your parents are out of town, celebrating Valentine’s Day somewhere by the beach. So romantic. So annoyingly wholesome.
Which leaves you here, Alone. With Jungwon.
He’s still on the couch, scrolling through his phone like nothing’s changed. Like the air hasn’t shifted. Like you’re not standing down the hallway fighting the urge to do something reckless.
That annoys the hell out of you.
You lean against the wall for a second, watching him. He looks calm, relaxed, completely fucking unaffected.
And you hate that. So you plan to change it.
This is it. If there’s ever going to be a moment where you figure out whether he feels the same way as you do, it’s now.
You walk off casually and change. You slip on a two-piece nightwear set. The top is a black tank top with thin straps. The bottom is a pair of black shorts with a drawstring waist and a white stripe around the hem that cling to your hips and ass and the curve around your thighs—no bra underneath. Innocent. Deadly.
When you walk back into the living room, he doesn’t look up at first. You sit on the opposite end of the couch. He scrolls. You shift slightly, tucking one leg under you. Nothing, This asshole.
You stretch your legs out slowly, crossing them at the knee. The fabric rides up just enough. He glances up.
And for a split second, Jungwon freezes—just long enough for you to catch it. It’s subtle, but you see it. His jaw tightens. His breath stutters. His eyes flick down to your bare legs, then snap back up like he’s just touched smth that burned him.
Your pretty legs out on display only for him to notice, he doesn’t know that though. He wants nothing more than to wrap those legs around his shoulders and fucking devour you.
And suddenly he can feel his jeans tightening, fabric going unforgiving in all the wrong ways.
Some people would think it’s fucking stupid to react to something so simple. Bare skin. A pair of shorts. An absentminded stretch. But they don’t understand. They don’t realize the effect you have on him. You don’t even try, and that’s the worst part.
Jungwon has always prided himself on control. On not wanting what he can’t have—she’s off-limits, she’s your friend’s sister, this is a bad fucking idea, don’t even go there. Anything other than reality feels like a sin.
But you mess with his head in ways he hates admitting.
You make him want to punch walls, To flip tables, To smoke more than he should just to dull the edge of whatever the hell this is. You make him clench his fists so hard his knuckles ache. You make him lose his cool, and he never loses his cool. Not over anything, Not over anyone.
And the worst, most terrifying part?
He has this sick, gut-twisting feeling that if you ever looked up at him, tilted your head just right, and said please—soft and sweet and unaware of what it’d do to him, he’d be fucked. Completely and utterly fucked.
He’d give you anything. Every damn thing.
Then he looks back down at his phone like nothing happened, always so fucking controlled. You almost smile at that.
You lean further into the couch, arm draped casually over the backrest, fingers brushing the fabric like you’ve got all the time in the world. “So you’re really that tired?”
“Yeah,” Jungwon says, still not looking at you. “Exhausted.”
“Mhm.” Silence settles again, You shift slightly, crossing one leg over the other. Very slowly, veryyyyy practiced. The hem of your shorts rides up, His scrolling falters for half a second. You tilt your head. “You don’t look tired.” He replies almost immediately, “I am.” He clears his throat.
It’s hot, watching him hold himself together like that. If you really wanted to, you could ruin it in seconds. You could stand up, close the distance, and straddle his lap. You could feel the way he’d tense under you, hands hovering in air, unsure whether to touch or push you away—Okay no.
“Is it hot in here?” you ask lightly. “No.”
“Feels warm.”
“It’s normal.” You hum, then lean forward slightly, reaching for the remote. The shirt shifts, revealing your waistline, Jungwon exhales slowly through his nose, setting his phone face down beside him. His gaze doesn’t leave you this time.
“You’re very bored,” he says. You smile, “Maybe.”
“So you’re going to annoy me?” You tilt your head. “Annoy you? I’m just sitting.” His gaze moves down to your thighs, slow, taking in the shorts. The way you’re sitting. The way you’re watching him watch you.
He leans back, eyes finally settling on your face—and fuck, you’re so fucking pretty it almost annoys him. There have been nights, too many, where he’s found some quiet corner of his house, door locked, jerking off at the thought of how you’d look between his legs.
“Jungwon..” How every muscle tightens at the whisper of his name. It sounds so sweet coming from your mouth, like it was the sound of salvation instead of ruin.
You were the only person who’d ever said his name like that. His hands curled. The icy blast of water pommeled his skin but did nothing to quell the desire raging inside him. The smell of honey and your perfume swirled in the shower.
You had seared so deep into his consciousness that you were all he could smell. All he could feel. And, even when he closed his eyes, all he could see.
The need in his groin pulsed harder, goddamit. He bit out a low curse before he reached and fisted his cock, It was hard and swollen and already dripping with pre-cum. His movements were rough, almost angry as he worked himself towards a much needed release.
All these years, he could’ve kissed you if he wanted. He could’ve fisted your hair and branded you with his mouth until he proved that there was nothing wrong about the dark fire that burned between you both.
The only thing that'd held him back was a fine thread of self-control, woven from fuck ass logic and the faintest shreds of his long-destroyed conscience. He was well aware of the fact that, should either of you break, Jungwon would be condemning not only himself but you to hell.
He would touch you with bloodied hands and kiss you with a deceiver's mouth and you, without realizing it—would crawl willingly into bed beside a monster.
Part of him wanted you so badly he didn’t give a damn what it cost. The other part, the one that still resembled something human, wanted to hide you somewhere far away. Somewhere even he couldn’t reach you. Because he knew himself too well. If he ever lost control—if he ever came looking—there wouldn’t be a place, a person, or a god capable of stopping him.
He would tear the world apart piece by piece just to get you back.
It was a paradox, as were all things in his life that related to you. But if the thread had snapped…like now. Jungwon closed his eyes, his grip tight and his breath hardened. You could’ve been beneath him now, your nails clawing his back and his name a moan in your mouth….
He swallowed, shaking the memory off before it got out of hand. He didn’t know if this was right, or when the right time would come to make a move, but if you kept testing him like this, he’d just show you because once he claimed you as his, he would do it so fucking thoroughly there wouldn’t be a shred of doubt in either of your minds as to who you belonged to…or who he belonged to in return.
“You think I don’t see what you’re doing?” Jungwon says, voice low, but there’s tension in it now. “But I’m not doing anything.”
“You changed.”
“I’m in my own house.”
“That’s not the point.” You uncross your legs slowly. “Then what is?”
He's leaning forward now, bent elbows propped against his thighs, hands clasped in front of his chin. There's nothing bored or stony about him right now.
No, he's in pure heat and restrained hunger, and you love that You’re the person who's put that look in his eyes.
His jaw tightens slightly. “You’re testing my patience,” he says.
You don’t deny it because that’s exactly what you’re doing. Jungwon’s always been a persistent bastard. Impossible to read. He never shows what he truly feels, never lets anything slip, and maybe that’s why your heart’s been stuck on him for so long. Maybe that’s why he never leaves your fucking mind.
It’s been four goddamn years. Four years of glances that linger too long, of tension that never breaks, of teasing comments here and there, of almosts.
He doesn’t blink and somehow that only makes the heat in your lower stomach burn hotter. “You think because no one’s home you can just… push?” He said in a perpetually tired voice, “Push what?” you ask softly, tilting your head. His nostrils flare slightly.
Jungwon stands up so suddenly the couch dips from the shift in weight. He walks around the coffee table and stops directly in front of you. The movement alone makes you straighten without thinking.
“Don’t play dumb,” he says quietly. You have to tilt your chin up to keep eye contact. “You know exactly what you’re doing.”
“That’s what you think?” You stretch back against the cushions, feigning boredom, though every inch of you is hyperaware of him. He’s so close you can feel the heat rolling off him, and it’s driving you insane. “Sounds like a you problem.”
“You changed on purpose,” he says quietly. You shrug one shoulder. “I wanted to be comfortable.”
“You weren’t wearing that earlier.”
“And?” He exhales sharply through his nose. You can see the restraint wearing thinner by the second. You shift again, just slightly, drawing one knee up onto the couch so you’re angled toward him. Your gaze drifts over his body slowly before returning to his eyes.
Jungwon was aware that your eyes wasn’t sexual—or maybe it was. His groin continued to tighten in spite of that. It was straining his pants so badly, it hurt.
You say softly, "If it bothers you, I can go change." You don't get up to stand. He presses his hand to the couch's back. "Stop," he commands. "Stop what?"
“Talking like that."
“Like what?"
“Like you don't know what you do to me.” The words are heavier than you anticipate. They are no longer teasing. Not sarcastic. Simply put, honesty. "Then tell me," you say softly, maintaining eye contact without breaking first. "What do i do to you?" That's it. His expression changes, He looks at you for a long moment, as if he's considering every potential result and consequences that could come later.
You open your mouth to press once more, to say something else that will make him snap. He cuts you off.
“Fuck it."
Low and final, the words escape him in a breath. Then he moves, His firm yet cautious hand moves from the back of the couch to your jaw harshly, forcing your face up, There’s no hesitation in his moments—You can tell, he’s been waiting for this to happen.
Jungwon slams his lips onto yours. You answered by meeting his kiss with a firmer one of your own. He felt your fingers curling into his hair, fingernails scraping along his scalp and everything inside jungwon relaxed and the nervousness uncoiled from his gut. A warm buzz of energy sunk through his flesh down to the very core of his soul. This was right. This was always where he needed to be.
He places his hands around your waist as he pulls you closer, goosebumps swarming every part of your body he touches. You throw your arm around his neck as jungwon pulls you up, Fingertips pressing under your top, drawing gentle circles against that small stripe of bare skin that makes you break the kiss with a gasp.
He claimed your lips in a punishing kiss again. Your blood burned at the onslaught, and when his tongue forced into your mouth, you yanked a fistful of his hair in retaliation until he hissed out a pained growl.
“Fuck,” he curses under his breath. “Jump.” Jungwon orders, rough and impatient.
And you do. Of course you do. Because you’ve waited too long to second-guess it now—years of longing, years of pretending, years of convincing yourself you didn’t love him. It was always him.
Love? You… loved him?
He catches you easily, like he knew you would leap. His hands drag down your back, slow and possessive, fingers spreading as they settle low on your waist. When your legs lock around him, He squeezes your ass, his grip tightens, spinning you once, holding you up like you belong there.
You make a soft, helpless noise when he pulls you closer, grinding into you while keeping you lifted. He walks you to your room without pulling away, breathing heavy through the kiss. He fumbles with the lock, pushes the door open, and once it clicks shut behind you, he pins you against it. The impact steals your breath, your gasp swallowed by his mouth.
Jungwon let out a low groan at the sound that slipped from you, the noise going straight to his head. Your gasping moan is all he needs to hear to devour you like he’s starving and your his Michelin-rated meal.
He cages you in with both arms, hands flat against the surface behind you, his body sealing you in. Then he moves closer, easing his thigh between yours, forcing them apart without breaking eye contact.
He leans in but stops halfway, like something invisible pulls him back. Maybe it’s the weight of what this is. Maybe it’s the way the world would look at the two of you and call it wrong. And maybe it is wrong.
But it feels right. Painfully right.
Jungwon exhales shakily, the breath uneven against your skin. His forehead brushes yours as he closes his eyes for a second, “We can’t… I can’t,” he says, voice strained. “Don’t you understand what this means? I can’t show you… I can’t want you.” The words sound like they hurt him to say.
Then lifts his hand to tilt your chin up with his thumb, forcing you to look at him. His eyes aren’t cold or controlled anymore—they’re conflicted, raw. “This can’t happen, y/n.”
“I know,” you whisper, your voice barely there. “But I don’t care what comes next.”
Jungwon’s eyes darken at your words as his hand comes up to grip your jaw. “God, you drive me so fucking crazy I can barely breathe sometimes.” His thumb drags down slowly, tugging at your bottom lip. “What I’d give to be the only man you ever looked at like this,” he rasps, fingers threading through your hair as he tilts your head back, exposing your neck like a goddamn offering.
He doesn’t kiss you this time. Instead, he leans in slowly, dragging his nose slowly up the soft curve of your neck, burying himself in the scent of your skin. “I terrify you?” he murmurs against your throat. You nod, small and shaky, and he breathes you in deeper, like that answer only fuels something inside him. “You have no idea what you do to me.”
Your fingers curl into his shirt. Your pulse is everywhere. “Tell me,” you whisper. His hand tightens slightly in your hair, keeping your head tilted back, his mouth hovering just above your skin. His breathing is uneven now, rough at the edges.
"I had so many chances, so many nights I should've said fuck it and taken what I wanted, and I blew every single one." His grip tightens in your hair as his forehead drops to yours and he breathes you in once more, like a dying man getting his last taste of heaven. "And now..."
Your lips parted, eyes nearly rolling to the back of your head when you felt his cock perfectly aligned against your wet core. “Now i’m gonna take exactly what i’ve been walking away from.” with that, his mouth is on yours—No softness, all teeth. It’s sloppy, messy, and so fucking hot.
You slip your hands down his body, feeling him, reaching exactly where you wanted to. His hard cock was straining against his briefs, and you stroked your hands along his length against the fabric. He felt so thick — the thought of him forcing that monster inside you, alone made you whimper. He leaned down, kissing you deeply as you continued to stroke him.
"Tell me what you want," Jungwon murmurs into the hollow of your throat, hands on your hips to urge you on, to grind your dripping cunt down harder against the muscle of his thigh. “argh, jungwon—” A broken cry leaves your lips as your back arches off the door as he slings your leg around his waist, thrusting up in process.
He pull back slightly so he can look into your eyes. When you don’t say anything, He shifts his hips again and demand, "Answer me, what do you want?” You moan and then says, “God please—fuck me—oh my god, Jungwon!” You whined, "Shit, i love the idea of being your god.” he groaned, pushing his hips forward.
You panted when his thumb pressed between your legs, brushing against fabric that was already dark and wet. You exhaled in a rush until there was no air left, embarrassment washing over you at the thought that now he must know exactly how much you wanted this.
“So fucking wet for me.” He says under his breath, hooking his fingers and dragging them along your clothed pussy. The slow, undulating thrust of his hips made you feel like you’re caught in a snare.
“Tell me what you want, y/n, come on, be a good girl.” He asked making you glare up at him slightly, “Why don’t you fuck me and we can find out?” You scrunched your nose.
Jungwon chuckles low under his breath before scooping you up again, and you yelp in surprise at the sudden movement. He carries you the few steps to the bed and tosses you onto it with more force than necessary, your body bouncing slightly from the impact. You glare up at him, hair a mess, heart racing.
Rude.
"Take off your underwear." He said, you blink, once, twice, then you slipped your hand into the waistband of your panties and shimmied them down until they pooled on the floor as you threw them. Heat rose to your cheek, because he could see how wet you really were.
Your panties completely drenched, Your thighs slick with your juices. Still, You were turned on enough to brush past your embarrassment.
He leaned over you, arms braced on either side of your head and for a second, it felt like the world had shrunk down to just this—his shadow, his heat, his steady gaze on your cunt.
His eyes ravenous as he soaked you in. Between his hungry stare and your current position, you felt so small. “Spread your legs wider, let me see that pretty pussy dripping for me.”
Heat rose up your cheeks at his words but you did what he asked. Spreading your thighs wider, He didn’t take his eyes off your face until you looked away, blushing. Only then did he allow his gaze to fall slide down to your cunt.
Wet, pulsing, throbbing, waiting to be filled. His cock strained even harder, snarling him to take you and make you his until it was clear to every single person who you belonged to. Me. Jungwon thought.
You shudder under his gaze because he was looking at you so intensely without doing anything. You closed your legs slightly, covering yourself but he stopped you with a grip on your wrist. “You don’t need to cover yourself infront of me.”
“I don’t…I’m not…” You sighed, your throat moved again with a visible swallow. “It’s been a while since someone saw me like this.” Possessiveness burned in his gut, ofc he knew you must’ve been naked infront of others men before—just as he knew he wanted to do nothing more than peeling their skin off and leave them to rot under the sun for daring to lay their eyes on you.
No one would ever be worthy of you.
“Define a while.” He said, “Years.” Jungwon tsked, he wanted to press further, demand the name of every fucking man who’d touched you so that he could pay them a follow-up visit.
Jungwon finally had you in his hands, and he wasn’t going to rush any stop along the way. “You’re fucking drenched, doll.” Lust rendered his voice and he dipped his hand under your thighs, spreading your legs wider before slipping his fingers through your wet folds.
Your head fell back and a moan slipped from you when he lazily played with your clit, circling and rubbing the swollen bud until your juices slicked his fingers.
Your moan is his new favorite melody as your orgasm floods your body, the taste of your energy tingling along his tongue like the sweetest sparkling wine. It nearly brings him to his knees, and he hasn’t even touched you yet, not properly.
Suddenly desperate for more friction, You grab Jungwon’s face and pull him into you, kissing him harder. You hear him groan, feeling him harden against your belly. "Jungwon," You whined, the last half of his name coming out with a shiver as he began to kiss your neck. Your hands dug into his hair, pulling him closer. "Stop toying with me."
"As you wish, pretty girl," He whispered into your ear as he slid his finger lower and into you. You were so damn hot and wet and perfect.
"Tell me this is all for me, Y/n.” He pleaded, stroking you while his palm grinded against your clit. Now that he could feel you, actually feel you, he needed to feel you come around his fingers as soon as possible.
“Tell me, y/n.” He growled, pressing a firm thumb to your clit, his touch as brutal as his command. “Yes—yes, Yours—It’s always been you.” The words exploded out of you, shaky, raw, filtered, followed by a needy moan when jungwon rubbed his thumb over you.
Jungwon smiled at that, dangerously beautiful before his mouth crashed over you, swallowing your gasp and ensuing moan when he fisted your hair hard enough to make your eyes water.
Jungwon pulled back enough so you could see him, and you watched as he shed his clothes, Broad shoulders, perfectly sculpted muscles, abs one could grate cheese on. Absolute masculine perfection. Your core pulsed as your eyes ate him up, biceps you’d like to bite on, a deep V-cut that led down his….Holy fuck.
Jungwon’s body could serve as the mold for greek god statue, his body was even more perfect up closer….and a long thick cock that looked like it could wreck you with little effort.
Fuck. Your mouth dried at the sight of it, thick, hard, with a bead of pre-cum glistening at its tip. The throbbing between your legs intensified until it was the only thing you could feel, hear. Jungwon moves to peck your lips, His grip on your hips tightens and he presses down, grinding his cock against your folds, rolling it in circles until your both gasping into each other's mouths.
“Y/n would be the death of me.” He thought, he’d had known it the moment he set his eyes on you and his prediction was playing in real life as he devoured you.
Four years of watching and waiting and wishing, None of that mattered when he tasted how sweet you were or felt how perfectly your curves fit in his palms, like you was tailor-made for him. It had all came down to this and it was better than he’d imagined.
Your arms wrapped around his neck, You tasted like honey and sugar, and at that moment, it became his favourite taste in the world. It wasn't a sweet kiss. It was hard, demanding, borne out of years of pent-up frustration and tension, but you matched him inch for inch.
“Fuck, look at you.” He says, rubbing his thumb over your bottom lip before trailing it down to the end of your shirt. Ripppp! Fabric gives way with a sharp, brutal sound, and you can only blink at him as he lets the ruined shirt fall from his hands.
“Before i take you, i need you to know one thing,” His one hand reached around and parted your thighs, slipping his fingers past your slippery folds. The other closed around your throat, He squeezed hard enough to cut off your breath for several beats before he loosened his grip. You gasped in a lungful of air.
Then he yanks you closer by your hair, a cry of pain leaving you until you felt his lips next to your ear, “Every inch of you…will be mine after i’m done with you.” Your cunt clenched around his fingers, “Yes.” You whisper.
You wanted to fill every inch of your soul with this man.
“Say it, who do you belong to?”
“You.” You moan out, “I belong to you.”
"That's right" Jungwon slipped his fingers out of your pussy and thrust them into your mouth. You could already taste yourself, the tension thick on your tongue. He hummed in approval when you licked your juices off without hesitation.
"I love how much you like your own juices. Maybe you'll lick them off my dick when we're done. Would you like that? Do you want to suck your come off my cock?
He could come just by watching this. There was a good chance he would say, “I want to worship you." You shuddered. And then he did, starting with your toes and working his way up your calves to your thighs.
Your fingers moved to his hair as he neared, and he stopped long enough to flick his tongue through the wetness there. You roll your eyes back so hard you almost see white.
Jungwon was taking his time—slow, painfully slow. You wanted him, Now. You wanted him inside you.
Without any warning, He slides two fingers over your clit, and then in one motion, he pushes one finger deep inside your pussy. Your back arches off the mattress and a strangled scream falls right out of you.
You try to close your eyes, but he grips your jaw harshly, angling your face so you have no choice but to look at him. “Eyes on me. Want to see you fall apart, want you to watch me finally fucking worship this cunt.” Jungwon pushed his fingers to the hilt and with-drew it slowly, yanking a loudest moan from you yet.
“Please…” You whimper, “I need….i need—” He pushed a second finger inside you, dragging them in and out. Enough to bring you to the edge but not enough to tip you over. “What do you need?” “I need to come—please, Won—”
You moaned, jungwon stilled. “What did you call me?” He lifted his head and you stared back at him, “Won…” You repeated in a whisper. Fuck. He exhaled a sharp breath before you dip your head back as he drags his fingers out and rubbed a lazy circle on your clit with his thumb before he slammed them back. You jolt, crying out. You hold the sheets while the other fisted his hair hard enough to sting.
“So hot and so fucking good for me.” You chase the building pressure. Rocking into his fingers and riding his hands with wild force until he pauses, leaving you breathless.
The wet, filthy sounds of his fingers pumping in and out of you told him what he needed to know. “That’s my girl, look how fucking good you’re taking me. Goddamn im proud of you.” He growled, looking down at the way his fingers disappear into your perfect cunt. “Come for me doll, Make a mess on my fingers, soak my hand.” You don’t hear him, because you feel like you could take his entire fist by now, that’s how wet you were.
And when jungwon curled his fingers just right—You clench around him hard, body tensed up as you go to close your legs but Jungwon’s other hand finds your thighs and prevents you from closing them. He slows down the pace of his thrusts and you physically wince when he pulls them out—You were so close.
He chuckles, and spreads your legs as open as he can get. He trails his wet fingers up your body before leaning down and spitting—right on your clit. Making everything slicker and dirtier, “Ask. Ask me to make you come. Beg for it.”
Then he gives you no time, no warning, again. And slams two—no maybe three fucking fingers inside you and starts pumping in and out, curling the tips upward, meeting every inch you alone couldn’t. “Oh—Please—gonna come.”
Jungwon’s mouth drops to your ears. “You’re gonna come for me, doll? I want to feel it. I want every second of your pleasure to belong to me. Say it. Tell me it’s mine.”
Your inner walls stretched around every delicious thick inch of his fingers. Your back arched off the bed, a moan spilling past your lips. Jungwon pulled out before shoving inside again, with the same maddening slow pace. His lips quirked with a smile as you lost all sense of everything around you, spreading for him, wide and eager. "Yeah, open those beautiful thighs. I want to see your pink cunt dripping for me. That's my girl."
Your breath hitched as he began kissing your inner thighs like they were your mouth, swirling his tongue, nuzzling his nose, making you open your legs wider. You grabbed one the pillows and moaned into it loudly. A hand reached from between your legs, grabbing the pillow and tossing it on the floor. “Look at me when i’m fucking your pretty pussy, doll.”
He increases the pace of his pumps while he lowers his head and sucks your nipple into his mouth. Jungwon groaned. You tasted even better than he’d imagined. He licked and sucked on your nipples while he savagely fucked in and out of your tight, clenching pussy. “No—please.” You beg, shaking your head, he’s been at it for god knows how long and you still hadn’t came a single time.
He grazed his teeth over your nipple. "You need to come? Hmm?" You whisper, "Y-yes." It came out as a half plea, half moan. You were wrecked. Hair a mess, your face streaked with tears, your skin slick with sweat and hot with arousal. His tongue, hot and wet, comes out and swirls around the pebbled flesh of your nipple, teasing you, and his fingers dig into your skin as he goes back for more, nibbling the whole breast.
Then he lifts his head and dragged his mouth on your neck until he reached your ear where he whispered, “Come for me like the slut you are.” Jungwon pinched your nipples and fucked his fingers into you with the hardest thrust yet, and you exploded, your mouth falling open in a soundless scream while your cunt strangled his fingers. Pulling him in more, he winced.
“Fuck—Cunt’s gripping me so tight like you don’t want me to let go. Yeah? Fuck, doll.” He watches as you shudder under him, your release slipping down your thighs and onto the mattress.
He didn’t give you any time to recover before he lowered his head again and gently scraped his teeth over your clit before he sucked on it. Between that and the finger fucking, You were dripping all down your thighs, and he lapped every drop up like a man starved. So fucking delicious.
Air fled your lungs when his tongue delved inside your slick heat as his head twisted, dragging a cry of pleasure from you as one fang grazed your sensitive nub of flesh. The strokes of his tongue were firm and determined.
He licked and sucked. “Shit, look at this, off-limits yet still dripping for me.” Then he feasted, feeding from you as desperately as he had at your throat. You were lost. Your body tried to follow, but the hands at your hips held you in place.
“Stay still. Let me eat, this is a twelve course meal—I won’t stop until i’m satisfied.”
Jungwon grabs your ass as he licks a stripe down from your hole, spreading them open with his tongue to find your clit. He rolls it between his lips, and finally finds a spot that had you bucking your face into his mouth. He pulls back just enough to say—“Want you dripping for me, soaked in every fucking drop.”
You whine loudly, “Gonna devour you, gonna kneel infront of you and eat you out until you can’t fucking remember how to breathe.” He growls into you, yanking your hips down onto the mattress with his strength, leaving you nowhere to go, all you can do is just lay there like a good girl and take what he gives you.
You screamed as white-hot pleasure blazed through you once more, Every thought and memory incinerated, leaving only mind-numbing pleasure in their wake. You come in a toe-shuddering state on his tongue, and jungwon wastes no time gulping it all down till his chin and nose is shoving into your hole, like he’s the one getting off of this. He pulls back to breathe, and gasps against your cunt so much you think he might actually suffocate. “Fuckfuckfuck, so fucking good—shit, baby.” Then goes back to dip his face into your pussy, enveloping all he can get with his mouth, You bet his chin is covered by your essence because he’s literally nuzzling his face into you. And your screaming so loud that you think you know your throat would be sore tomorrow.
You didn't get a chance to catch your breath before Jungwon draped your legs over his shoulders, went back to sucking hard on your clit, and you yelped at the overload of sensation. It was too much. You tried to pull away, but his hands clamped around your thighs like iron bands, forcing you to hold still until your body convulsed and came apart. "I said, eyes on me. All you need to do is watch me eat this beautiful fucking cunt until you understand just how much I want you—have wanted you." Jungwon growled.
All you could feel was how he was sucking on your pussy and thrusting his tongue inside you until your vision went hazy. You writhed and whimpered, sliding halfway off the bed—almost, until your legs on his shoulders and his crushing grip on your ass were the only things keeping you from falling apart.
You cry out—his name, you think and he groans against you like he needs this as badly as you do. He takes his time. Alternates teasing and giving. One finger inside you, Then two, Curled just right. His tongue never stops, never lets up. You’re shaking, begging, on fire. Your thighs tremble around his head.
As his tongue works you in destructive, tormenting circles, you feel his voice in your mind. “Am obsessed with this pretty cunt—Can’t—can’t stop, fuck—” Jungwon moans against you, drunk on you, the sound vibrating all over your body. He pumps his fingers with rhythm to his mouth, You’re close again—what the fuck—you don’t even know if your orgasm even stopped.
After another three orgasms courtesy of his mouth, You lose count, and even when you think you can't possibly come again, he wrenches even more from you.
"No more," You sob, unable to even prop yourself up on your arms to look down at him. Instead, you pull at his hair until he finally wraps his hands near your inner thighs, looking up at you, "But I felt you squeeze my tongue as you came, like you were milking it. My cock is jealous." He licks up the fluid on your thighs and groans. "Don't you want to feel me deep inside you? How hard and thick I am, stretching you, making you full?" Jungwon says, sucking your clit in a gentle suckle, and you cry out when you feel his teeth tugging your entrance, flicking and rubbing one last time before he pulls off of you with a wet pop after hollowing his cheeks around it at last.
Jungwon pulls back, finally releasing his hold on you, and the sudden absence of his touch makes your body feel weak. Drained. Like everything in you has been wrung out. You’re trembling slightly, breath uneven—from all the previous orgasms.
He shifts onto one knee above you, steady and composed in contrast to how wrecked you feel. Your vision is blurred with tears, lashes damp, the aftershocks of how good he fucked you still making it hard to focus. You can’t quite look at him properly.
“Eyes up here, doll.” Jungwon smiles wickedly, his stare burning into you and you meet his gaze. With one hand, he skims his thick tip, letting his hand slide over his cheft. He doesn't let you look away once as he works himself over. “Touch yourself, show me how you do it.” He smirks and licks your wetness off his fingers slowly.
You gulp and your fingers reach to your swollen pussy, you wince, You were so wet that your fingers were slipping. Then you slowly rub them in circles, the sound of your fingers working you open hits him first, then your scent—Fuck me. That smell—He can taste you in the air like he’s already inside you.
Your stomach ripples when he takes your panties from the floor, Jungwon grunts as he picks up the pace, angling his wrist and sliding the bunched-up panties up and down his shaft. “Tell me.” He grunted, “Who do you think of when your fingers fucking your tight cunt?” You shuddered as your head tilted back and your eyes fluttered close. “You.”
You hear jungwon moaning, the sound of his hands stroking his length up and down echoes in the room with your sound of whimpering. “What am i doing to you?” You moaned even louder, you don’t know when Jungwon closed the distance between you both and griped your chin in one hand, forcing your lips to part. “What. am. I. doing. to. you?” His voice only lowered further, “Fucking me.” you gasped. He was now close enough to smell your arousal and hear the slick sounds of your fingers sliding in and out of your pussy. “While I'm bent over the table and I can see you behind me in the mirror. Pulling my hair. Taking me from behind. Filling me with your cock."
You admit it, because it’s the truth. Every time Jungwon looked at you longer than he should, something inside you snapped tight. It made you want to cross the room and crash your mouth against his, reckless and unthinking, just to feel something real. That’s how far gone you were—crazy over him, crazy over this, crazy over whatever the hell he did to you without actually touching you.
It was humiliating. And intoxicating.
You never thought he’d drag it out of you like this, force the confession from your lips in such a raw, stripped-down way—but fuck, it was hot. The way he watched you unravel.
You didn’t care anymore. Not about pride. Not about consequences. You only knew that you wanted more. And more. And more. And fuck he wasn’t even inside you yet.
“You’ve got such a filthy mouth, maybe i should do something about it hmm?” Jungwon gripped your wrist, stopping your moments, forcing you still. “Get on your knees, now.” You did, who are you to disobey? You almost limp when you get and sink down the floor. Jungwon’s cock throbbed at the sight under him. You, kneeling on the floor with your legs tucked underneath you. Knees together, body upright. You looked so beautiful it made his chest hurt. God, he didn’t deserve you.
“I’m going to fuck you exactly how you need to be fucked.” He fisted your hair and tugged it back until you were staring up at him. “Tap my thigh if it’s too rough.” You nodded to which he said, “Open your mouth.” Jungwon slipped the tip of his cock inside your mouth, until he buried himself all the way down your throat.
“Fuckkkk.” His moan was rough, echoing through the room, Probably the whole damn house. He didn't care. The entire world centered on the feel of your mouth, the slide of your tongue as you kept moving your head, working him with artful perfection. But he kept myself still. he didn't tug on your hair. He didn't fuck your mouth. Not yet.
You blinked up at him, eyes watering at his size, he was so big you gagged with only half of his dick in your mouth. You trap him inside your mouth, flicking your tongue over the ridges of his digits, started licking and sucking—slowly at first, but quickly building up to a rhythm that had you bobbing your head up and down his dick. “That’s it, suck that cock like a good little whore.” He fisted your hair and used it as a leverage to yank you down on his length more causing you to gag as you hallow your mouth around his digits.
Slowly, he started thrusting himself into you, faster and faster until the only sounds were his ragged breath mixed with you chocked-gurgling. “That’s a good slut, good fucking girl—just there—shit.” He withdrew until just the tip remained and plunged down in one sharp thrust. You gagged again, new puddle of tears falling down your cheeks, the heat in your belly stoking hotter.
“Everytime i’m not with you, i want you to think about this.” He groaned, “You on your knees, gagging on every inch of my cock while i ruin your tight little throat.” You whimpered, your nipples and pussy were so sensitive and he started fucking your mouth so mercilessly, all you could do was try suck in breaths through your nose before jungwon bottomed out again. “Fuck doll, let me hear you struggle.”
You squirmed and tried to ease the ache in your jaw, but he was so big. Eventually, however, when your throat opened up, and he was able to slide even deeper into your mouth.
“That's it.” Jungwon rasped, “Every inch, just like that, i knew you could take it.” You moaned at the praise, You couldn't see properly through the tears clouding your vision, but the buzz between your legs had grown too loud for you to ignore. But you couldn’t as he slammed his hips forward so hard, your whole body jerked back at the impact.
You claw at his thighs, finally rolls his hips once, twice— and then, with one last powerful thrust, he lets go, coming inside your mouth. You choke, swallowing hard as his hips tremble against your face. “Good fucking girl.” Jungwon yanked himself out of your mouth.
"Your mouth looks so pretty full of my cum." He squats down, swiping two fingers across your tongue, dragging them over your chin and throat. He continues the descent down your chest, circling each one of your. nipples, leaving a glistening trail of moisture in his wake. "Bet your tight little cunt would look even better filled up."
He lifted you up and threw you on the bed, and pushed your legs wider with his knee. His hands come down to touch your aching, overstimulated pussy, and you jolt. Even the slightest touch of him is way too fucking much right now. You grip his biceps, “Please…” Jungwon laughs, low and vicious, “You want to serve me, doll? you want me to fuck you?” You barely nod, you catch a glint of smth dark in his eyes, as jungwon rubbed his thumb over your entrance, He smirked before his palm landed where his thumb had been. Delivering a sharp slap right to the centre of your aching core.
Your whole body jerked and you spiked with pain-pleasure so hard you instinctively tried to scoot away from his hold, but Jungwon yanked you to him by your ankles, glaring. “You’re so wet, baby. Did sucking my cock make you this wet? You filthy, filthy girl.” Jungwon removed his hand, “Who does your pussy belong to?” He asked, snd you whispered “You..” While griping the sheets so hard your knuckles turned white. “Say it again.” Jungwon said, and your voice broke out in a sob before he delivered another slap to your clit.
“Hmm yeah, That’s right, me.” Slap! “This is for all the times you ignored me.” Slap! “Fuck, you’re so wet, doll.” Slap! “All for me, yeah?” Slap! You were shaking, completely sobbing as razor sharp sensation spiked through you. “And this…” The hardest one of them all, the one which made you arch your back off the bed, Slap! “Is for driving me fucking crazy.”
A pleading sob fell out of your mouth when Jungwon yanked your head so that his mouth hovered near your ear “Tell me why i can’t stop thinking about you, hmm? What the fuck do you do to me, doll?” You shake your head, unable to form a response or make sense of the pain and pleasure ricocheting you.
“You’re mine, been mine since i saw you.” Slap! “You live in my head all the fucking time, even if i don’t want you to…And god, i want to punish you for driving me so damn insane. Every. Single. Day.” Jungwon’s low snarl rumbled down your spine and made your toes curl. You heard the faint tear of a foil wrapper, You didn’t say anything nor did you say a word when he positioned you over his cock.
You blink, looking down, your mouth sliding agape, gaze held where his cock is covering almost your entire stomach. “What the fuck…” You whisper, “Don’t worry, it’ll fit.” He gives himself a few long pumps, “Your tight pussy will take and love every second of it.”
He says then leans down to kiss your neck, “So, how much do you want, baby?” His lips brush past the corner of your mouth, “Seven inches, eight, or all nine?” He pushes inside slowly, the care and smugness in his voice sends a shiver through you. “All of it.” You say, your voice trembling with need. He slides in what feels like another inch, the stretch is so much it makes your head fall back.
“I can feel how wet you are, already soaking my cock with this perfect pussy.” He let you adjust first because Jungwon was so fucking big, it was literally painful. “Hold the sheets.” That was the last warning he gave you before thrusted inside, driving so deep and hard into your pussy with each upward thrust. You were so wet he slid in almost frictionlessly. He could feel your pussy stretching and struggling to take his size.
You cried out, Your mind emptying of any thoughts except the sensation of his cock pounding into you and the slide of his skin against yours. He captured your cry when he pulled you down and thrusted up. Your eyes snapped open, and your breath caught at the sudden stretch, pleasure.
The headboard of the bed banged against the wall with each thrust. Your eyes fluttered close from the sheer overload of sensation, “Gonna fuck you over and over until you’re so full of my cum, you can’t think about anything but me stretching you open.”
Your eyes flew open when jungwon gave your hair another sharp tug, “Open your eyes, Y/n.” His other hand gripped your throat harder. It felt horrifyingly right, like you were made to wear his fingers around your neck.
You were prepped enough yes, but nothing could've prepared you for what happened. He struck as fast as a viper, sinking his fangs deep into your throat at the same moment he thrust into you. The twisting shock of pain and pleasure stole your breath and fixed your wide eyes on the ceiling—his eyes burned through yours as he resumed his thrust, feeding his cock into you inch by inch until he was buried to the hilt.
He moved from your neck and tugged gently at yours earlobe with his teeth, “Whose cock, doll?” He asks, “Yours.” You whimpered and managed to say it , but even that faded into a string of moans when Jungwon picked up the pace and settled into a punishing rhythm. “Knew you’d take me beautifully, baby. You were made for this cock.” You’re close; He can tell by the way your writhing below him, by the way your breath hitches when the end of his cock brushes against your G-spot, by the way your face twists with ecstasy when he gets deeper.
He removed the hand cradling your head and slips it between you, thumb rubbing against your swollen bundle of nerves until your whole body is arching and your jaw drops. “Scream for me, sweetheart.” The wet and filthy sounds of his dick pumping into you was enough to let him know you were super close. But he wanted to hear you longer.
The volume of your moans grew louder, but you held back. “Come for me, doll.” His mouth grazed your lips, “And when i tell you to scream, I want you to fucking scream. Or i’ll bend you over and spank your ass raw until you beg me to let you scream.” A wicked smile replaces his expression when he feels you clench around his cock.
"You're such a greedy stut. Pushing me past my limits, making me fuck this cunt harder than I want to. You love this, don't you? Are you going to come all over my cock, Doll?” Jungwon snarls, You moan at the feeling of fullness, a small bulge visible on your lower stomach, poking out, Jungwon reaches and presses against it so hard, you cry out in pain. “Shit—look, so fucking full, stuffed full of my cock, you like this, don’t you?”
Your entire body tightens as you cry his name into his shoulders, nail sinking into his back so deep he’d be surprised if you hadn’t drawn blood. “Gonna fill you with so much of my cum it leaks out of your body—Fuck, you’re going to feel me tomorrow.” Jungwon pounded you into the mattress, his thrusts so rough the bedsprings squeaked.
A tingling sensation blossomed at the base of your spine. You reached up to play with your nipples, your breaths coming out in short pants. You were close. So close. You were going to—
Ring ring ring!
The ring of a incoming call stopped the both of you followed by a Jungwon’s voice. "Hello?" Your eyes flew open. You gaped at Jungwon, who stared down at you with a calm expression as he listened to whoever was on the other end of the call. “Yeah, what’s up? Yeah, No, she’s not here.” Your mouth falls open as realisation hits you—It was heeseung, your freaking brother and Jungwon was still inside you. On the other end, Heeseung’s voice is loud even through the speaker. “Why did it take you so long to answer?”
Jungwon runs a hand through his hair, forcing his voice to stay normal. “Was in the kitchen. Didn’t hear it.” This was wrong, so fucking god in so many levels but fuck you could feel every hard inch of him buried between your thighs. You opened your mouth to tell him to cut the call but he shot you a warning look and pressed the fingers of his free hand into your hip, silencing you.
“You guys good?” Heeseung asks. “She locked the doors?” Jungwon glances at you for a split second. “Yeah. All good.”
“And y/n?” Your stomach drops. Jungwon doesn’t even hesitate. “She’s asleep.” Your eyes widen instantly, and unintentionally you grinded your hips up, desperate for more friction. This was so wrong but you cursed your brother for calling at the wrong time, You were about to come. His eyes flared and his grip tightened before he slid out of you slowly. He muted his end of the call and hauled you off the bed with one arm while he carried his phone in the other.
"What are you doing?" You wrapped your legs around his waist while heeseung, on the other end of the line kept talking, Jungwon put you next to the couch. "Bend over and spread your legs.” Oh my god, why was this turning you on even more? You trembled but obeyed, placing your hands on the armrest, arching your back, and spreading your legs until every inch of you was backed up on him.
Satisfaction curled in your stomach when you heard his sharp intake of breath. There’s shuffling on the other end. “Already? It’s not even that late.”
“She was tired,” Jungwon replies smoothly. “Knocked out like twenty minutes ago.” Another pause, You could see your reflection in the large glass window opposite the couch, Face flushed, Your breasts hanging heavy and full, the bite mark he gave you, Behind you, jungwon stood, he tilted his head and gave your ass a squeeze.
Your soft moan turned into a squeal when he slammed into you hard enough that the couch scraped forward an inch. “Don’t make a sound.” He warned. Heeseung starts speaking again, “Alright. I’ll probably be late. Maybe morning. Make sure everything’s locked.” There was smth about this that was turning you on so much, maybe knowing that your brother had no idea what was happening on the other side of the call.
Jungwon’s thrusts picked up his pace until you were no longer gripping the armrest, your face buried in the cushions, your rock hard nipples and swollen clit rubbing against the fabric as he fucked you so viciously your feet lifted off the ground. All the while, he continued his call, taking it off mute only when he had to speak. “Yeah. Got it.”
You had no clue what they were another talking about anymore, too lost in a fog of lust to make sense of anything. An unbidden yelp erupted from your throat when he hit a spot that caused your back to bow. Jungwon fisted your hair and tugged your head back until you were half-upright again, looking up at him with tear-filled eyes while his other hand closed around your throat. A warning and a reminder rolled into one. Don't make a sound.
“And Jungwon?” You could hear heeseung’s voice, “Yeah?” You were trying your best to stay quiet, you really were. Another sob of pleasure, one that had Jungwon releasing your hair so he could cover your mouth and muffle your whines.
So wrong. This was so wrong, but you couldn't bring yourself to care as Jungwon grabbed your shoulder and arched your spine backwards, bending you nearly in half. “Mmhph pffh!” You moaned against his mouth before you hear your brother speaking again.
“If anything happens, call me.” A beat. “Nothing’s happening,” Jungwon says looking at the reflection of you in the mirror, Your cry of release drenched the air, but muffled by his hands as you came in a shuddering, toe-curling orgasm that vibrated against his body.
Heeseung hums suspiciously. “Okay. Night.”
“Night.” The call ends. The second the screen goes dark, he releases your mouth, “That’s the good girl, didn’t i tell you to not make a noise?” Jungwon fucked you harder, deeper, the couch screaming with protest—it had slid halfway across the floor by now, “Or did you want your brother to hear how good im fucking you.” When you couldn’t respond, he chuckled, “That’s right, i’m the only one who gets to hear how much you love my cock in this tight pussy.” Another louder whimper. Your cunt clamped around him even tighter than the first time, and a building orgasm ripped through him with such sudden, unexpected force it rendered him speechless for a moment.
“I’m the only one who gets to see you like this.” His voice turned harsh, “You.” Thrust! “belong.” Thrust! “to.” Thrust! “Me.” Thrust! He whispers low, You were on fire, skin blazing, tears and drool pooling on the couch beneath you, but it all burned so nicely you never wanted to stop and Jungwon didn’t, instead he kept fucking into you until your next orgasm rolled in. He feels so damn good, all hard and full and gliding in and out in confident thrusts that make you keen. Slower, then building up, up, up until it crashed over you.
“Such a good little slut, ass out, pussy filled just the way i liked it—damnit.” And when Jungwon finished with you, You’d come so hard so many times you were a boneless wreck at this point. You slumped forward on the couch, collapsing.
You both lay there, breaths heavy in the sudden quiet, before he pushed himself off you and tossed his condom in the nearby trashcan.
You watched him in silence, the whatever the fuck you did hitting you. You’d had sex with Yang Jungwon, Your brother’s best friend, your ultimate crush. Not just any sex, Hard, toe curling, brain-melting sex. Sex where you begged for more and more and still feel it in the after effects.
Oh my god. Your stomach dropped. What have i done?
The room is quiet in a different way now.
“She’s asleep?” you whisper harshly. He looks at you, then at the phone, then back at you. “What was I supposed to say?” he mutters. “That i’m buried balls deep inside your sister?” You shove his shoulder. “Yah!” He exhales slowly, tension creeping back in. “Exactly,” he says quietly. And suddenly the room feels ten times more dangerous.
After minutes of silence, The air feels different. The kind of silence where both of you are replaying what just happened, frame by frame.
You’re lying side by side, staring at the ceiling. Your fingers are loosely intertwined, almost absentmindedly, like neither of you consciously decided to hold hands. You clear your throat first. “So.” He huffs softly beside you. “So.”
You turn your head slightly to look at him. His hair’s messy, eyes still adjusting to the dim light, expression unreadable. “Do you regret it?” you ask, softer than you intended. He doesn’t answer immediately. Then he turns to face you fully. “No,” he says simply.
You study his face for signs of doubt. There aren’t any. “Do you?” he asks back. You shake your head. The silence that follows next is comfortable, surprisingly. Just two people lying too close, pretending their hearts aren’t beating a little louder than usual.
After a while, he nudges your shoulder lightly. “We’re still alive. That’s good.” You snort. “Barely.”He smiles faintly at that, and the tension eases.
⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯—
Morning comes too quickly and it’s worse. Not because you woke up alone. Wait. Alone? Was it a dream? Did you imagine the whole thing? What the fuck? Your eyes snap to the digital clock on the nightstand. 9:03. Shit. You’ve been out for too long.
You push the sheets off and sit up, moving slowly. You climb out of bed and head to the bathroom to wash your face, cold water helping you wake up. When you straighten and take a step, you immediately regret it. Because no—it wasn’t a dream.
The dull, aching soreness in your lower half answers that question for you. You try walking normally, but your legs feel weak, unsteady, so you end up limping slightly, putting more weight on the one that hurts less. Every step reminds you of last night.
Then you hear it—the faint clatter of dishes downstairs. And something smells good. Really good. You follow the sound and the scent, moving carefully down the stairs.
And there he is. Jungwon. In your kitchen. Shirtless. Cooking. Like he belongs there. You stop at the bottom of the stairs and just stare. Holy fuck.
Something shifts inside you—sudden. Like you’ve just unlocked a kink you didn’t even know you had. Because you can’t think of a single thing sexier than a man standing in your kitchen, bare chested, moving like he owns the fucking place. The slow roll of his shoulders, the flex in his back when he reaches for something—it does something filthy to your brain.
And it’s not just any man. It’s Jungwon. Which makes it ten times worse. Ten times hotter. Ten times more dangerous.
You shouldn’t be looking at him like this. Shouldn’t be imagining the heat of his skin under your hands while he stands there so casually, like he isn’t ruining you just by existing.
But fuck. He looks sinful.
The sculpted muscles of his back flexed as he reached for the salt beside the stove, every movement slow and deliberate without him even trying. His hair was more tousled than usual, soft strands falling over his forehead like he’d just rolled out of bed and decided to ruin you for the rest of the day. Sunlight streamed through the windows, washing over his skin and turning it into something warmer—bronzed, almost glowing.
A strip of black sweats sat low on his hips, just visible enough to be distracting. The fabric clung in all the wrong-right ways, riding low enough to make your imagination spiral straight into dangerous, very X-rated territory.
You watched him in silence, caught off guard by the quiet ease in the way he moved. There was nothing rushed about him—every motion smooth, almost effortless. You’d always imagined he survived on pizza and beer the way he did back in school, careless and lazy about anything domestic.
But this? This was different.
It was attractive. So fucking attractive. He was attractive. The kind that made it hard to look away, even when you knew you probably should.
Shamelessly, You ogled at his body, watching as the muscles worked beneath the skin. At least, it was shameless until he turned around and caught you staring.
He tilted his head when he caught you and let out a low chuckle. “Morning, doll.” Heat rushed straight to your face. “M-morning,” you managed, hating the way your voice betrayed you. Fuck my life.
His smile only widened at that—Slow. He raised a brow, eyes dragging over you in a way that made your stomach flip. “You look a little flushed, doll. You sick?” A pause. Then, softer—teasing. “Or was last night too much for you?”
The smirk that followed was downright criminal. God. This ridiculously hot, cocky, infuriating bastard. “Shut up,” you shot back, way too fast. “My vibrator does a better job on its lowest setting than you.” The words leave your mouth before your brain can catch them. Oh no.
Too much. Way too much information. And definitely too rude. Jungwon’s eyes blazed hotter, something sharp flashing behind them. “Oh yeah?” he says quietly.
He closes the distance in a few steps, stopping right in front of you. He looks down, fingers coming up to grip your chin, forcing your gaze to stay on him. “That so?” His voice dips lower. “Funny. I remember someone begging me let her come.”
Your eyes widen. Heat floods your face again as you swat his hand away and quickly move past him, hopping up onto the kitchen counter instead. You cross your arms like that’ll do anything to save your dignity. Jungwon just smiles. Not a big smile. Just that satisfied curve of his lips that clearly says, I win. God, he’s such a jerk.
He goes back to the stove like nothing happened, plates the food, and sets one in front of you before taking the seat across from you. The two of you eat in silence. He’s still shirtless. And you’re painfully, incredibly aware of it.
“So..” You start, breaking the silence. Heart beating too loud. “So,” he echoes. “That happened….” Jungwon snorts at that.
“Yeah.” You rub your face with your hands. “Okay, we need to talk.” His shoulders tense slightly. “About what?” He questions, placing his spoon down. “About the fact that you’re my brother’s best friend.” He winces. “Ah. That.”
“Yes, that.” He turns to face you fully. “I’m aware.”You gulp, “If he finds out, he will actually bury you somewhere.”
“Probably.” You nod seriously. “So we need… structure.” He blinks. “Structure.” You repeat, “Yes.”
“Are we starting a company?”
“Shut up.” You fidget with your fingers, trying to organize your thoughts, which are not cooperating. Because here’s the problem: You’re not pretending it didn’t mean anything. It did, obviously. And you’re far too gone to act like you can just go back to normal.
Because if this was what it took—if this was the price for him standing closer, talking to you like this, looking at you like you were something he wanted—then you’d take it. You’d take all of it. Even if it meant sneaking around. Even if it meant doing things you swore you’d never do. Even if it meant this could shatter you later.
You don’t care. Not when it’s Jungwon.
He’s been your crush for years, and somewhere along the way that harmless, stupid little crush twisted into something darker. Something heavier. You weren’t just into him—you were fucking obsessed. Obsessed with the way he made your stomach drop just by saying your name. Obsessed with the way his eyes lingered a second too long. Obsessed with the way he could ruin your entire mood—or fix it—with one look.
It screamed bad idea. It screamed don’t do this. It screamed you’re going to regret it. But you craved it anyway.
When did you get this far gone? When did wanting him turn into needing him? When did you start justifying every reckless thought with a quiet, desperate it’s worth it? Fuck. This is such a bad idea.
And the worst part? You’re the one that started this.
You finally turn back to him. “We should set rules.” He stares at you like you’ve just proposed a legally binding contract. “Rules,” he repeats slowly. “Yes.” He crosses his arms. “This sounds dangerous.”
Hey, don’t look at me like that. Yes, it was stupid. Obviously it was stupid. But “rules” after sex? That could only mean one thing, and you knew it. You knew it the second the word even formed in your head.
The only reason you were spiraling like this was because you didn’t want it to be a one-time thing. You didn’t want to wake up and have it reduced to a mistake. You wanted more. More of him. More of the way he looked at you like you were something he’d been holding back from touching for years. More of the way he made you feel wanted—like you weren’t just the annoying little sister in the background.
And the way he fucked you yesterday? That alone was enough to make your body crave him all over again. It wasn’t just physical. It was the intensity. The way he said your name. The way he lost control. That doesn’t feel like something casual. It can’t be.
But you can’t just walk up to him and ask him to be your boyfriend. God, you don’t even know if he actually likes you like that. Maybe it was just heat. Maybe it was just tension snapping after years of pretending it wasn’t there.
And then there’s the biggest problem of all. He’s your brother’s best friend. That fact alone should’ve been enough to stop you. Enough to make you back off, put distance between you, pretend nothing happened.
Instead, here you are, hoping these aren’t “rules.” Hoping he doesn’t tell you this can’t happen again. Because if he does? You don’t know how you’re supposed to go back to pretending you don’t want him.
You finally snap out of thought and reply back, “It’s practical.” He raises an eyebrow. “You’ve never been practical in your life.” You scoff, “Excuse me?” You raise your eyebrows, “You told Jake to shut the fuck up yesterday.”
“He deserved it.” He chuckles, shaking his head. “Fine. What are these rules?” You hold up a finger. “One. Only sex. Nothing else.” He studies you carefully at that. Just looking. “Okay,” he says after a beat.
“Two,” you continue, pretending your heart isn’t beating slightly faster, “no catching feelings.” That one lingers. Jungwon tilts his head slightly, then lets out a quiet laugh.
“You’d end up falling for me before I ever do, doll.”You narrow your eyes immediately. “In your dreams.” He steps closer, just enough to make it irritating. “You’re already halfway there.”
“You’re delusional.”
“You’re defensive.” You push his shoulder lightly. “Shut up.” He grins, but there’s something careful in his expression now. Because you both know the truth. This isn’t casual. It never was. You didn’t fight this hard for “nothing.” You didn’t spend weeks pushing and pulling just to treat it like a random accident.
Suddenly you blink at Jungwon and hold out your hand. “Pass me the pen and paper.” He frowns instantly. “What? Where did that even—why?”
You roll your eyes and click your tongue. “Just give it to me.” He reaches across the table and slides the pen and notepad over to you. His brows stay slightly furrowed as he leans back in his chair, arms folding over his chest while he watches you.
You don’t explain. You just start writing. Jungwon tilts his head, eyes narrowing as he tries to read it upside down. “What are you doing?” You ignore him, focused, lips pressed together in concentration as the pen moves across the page.
He exhales through his nose, half amused, half concerned. “Why do I feel like I should be worried?”
⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯—
Friends With Benefits Rules (According to Two People Who Are Already in Too Deep)
1. It’s just physical.
(No lingering looks. No remembering the exact way he says “doll.” Strictly physical. Obviously. Sure.)
2. No catching feelings.
(They both caught feelings years ago. This rule is decorative.)
3. No jealousy.
(If Jungwon talks to another girl, y/n does not care. If y/n laughs at another guy’s joke, Jungwon absolutely does not glare.)
(They both will fail this immediately.)
4. No sleepovers.
Unless it’s “too late.”
5. No talking about the future.
No “what are we?” No “what if someone finds out?”
(Denial is key)
6. No bringing up the brother.
That topic does not exist. The word “Heeseung” is banned within a 5km radius.
7. No acting like a couple in public.
No subtle touches. Just here and there sometimes…..is fine.
8. Most important rule:
If either of them says, “This was a mistake,” The other one is allowed to kiss them mid-sentence.
⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯—
Jungwon stares at the list like it has personally offended him. His eyes scan each line slowly, jaw tightening for a second before he suddenly lets out a laugh—head thrown back, shoulders shaking. A real one. Not the smug little huffs he usually gives you. A genuine, unguarded laugh.
And even though you’ve heard it before, it still melts something inside you every single time.
It’s beautiful.
He looks back at you, eyes still bright from laughing. “God,” he mutters, dragging a hand down his face, “this is going to be fun.” The way he says it makes you bite your lips.
Jungwon pushes his chair back and stands. You track every movement without meaning to—every step he takes until he’s right in front of you again. Too close.
Before you can react, his hand comes up and grips your jaw, rough, tilting your face up toward him. He leans down slowly, until his lips hover near your ear. The warmth of his breath sends a sharp shiver down your spine.
“Then let me add one more,” he murmurs. His grip tightens slightly, possessive. “No other man than me is allowed to touch you.” His voice drops lower. Darker. “Let alone even fucking look at you.”
You’re two people standing in front of something that’s already too big to pretend it doesn’t exist.
“I swear to God, doll, if I find out you’ve let some man touch you, I will deliver his hands to you in a box.” His voice doesn’t rise. It drops colder.
“And I do not. Fucking. Bluff.” He means it.
There’s no playful edge to it, no teasing smirk softening the threat. The kind that settles heavy in your chest. Jungwon wasn’t the type to make empty promises. If anything, he undersold what he was capable of.
He was crazy over you—crazy enough to rip the eyes out of anyone who dared look too long, or who had the privileges to even look at you. You were his. You had been from the moment he first saw you standing in your own living room, too young to realize the weight of the way he stared.
From that day on, something in him decided and you never even noticed.
You didn’t know that he kept track of you. Not in an obvious way. Not in a way that would set off alarms. But he knew things, things like your schedule, your friends or the names of people you talked to. He knew about your past relationship—every detail of it. And when he found out your ex had put his hands on you the wrong way? Something in him snapped.
He had wanted to kill him, actually kill him.
Jungwon was obsessed. Far more than you ever were. What you felt was infatuation, craving, heat. What he felt was possession. It wasn’t just obsession. It was maddening.
You didn’t know there were eyes tracking your movements, memorizing your patterns, noting who stood too close. They were his. Always his. And in his mind, none of this was twisted instead he called it romantic because he cared. Because he protected what was his.
Jungwon was a very, very dangerous man. You just had no idea.
You tilt your head slightly, forcing a small smirk onto your face despite the way your pulse stutters. “Jealous?” you murmur. “I’m pretty sure I wrote a rule that said ‘no jealousy.’” You look up at him, challenging.
God, you have no idea what you’re stepping into. This is going exactly how he wants it to.
Jungwon bites his lower lip slowly, his tongue pressing against the inside of his cheek as he studies you. There’s something calculating in his gaze now. Darker.
“No one is allowed to touch what I’ll be touching,” he says quietly. “I don’t share.” Your stomach drops at the certainty in his tone.
“Mmh?” you hum, forcing lightness you don’t fully feel. “And how exactly would you know who’s touching me?” His lips curl. “I have my ways.”
You raise a brow, scoffing softly. “What are you, a stalker?” He steps closer. Too close. His shadow swallowing you whole. “I’m worse, y/n.” Jungwon replies, There’s no smile this time. Just truth. His grip on your chin tightens, enough to hurt.
“Till then,” he murmurs, voice low and steady, “you’ll be my dirty little secret.”
His thumb drags slowly along your lower lip, eyes locked onto yours like he’s memorizing the way your breathing changes, the way your pupils dilate. There’s something possessive in the way he looks at you—like he’s already decided your place and is just waiting for you to realize it too.
“A secret,” he repeats softly, almost to himself. “Hidden where no one can see. No one can touch.” His jaw tightens slightly. “They don’t get to have you,” he says, quieter now. “They don’t even get to know.” The air feels heavier.
“And when I’m ready,” he adds, leaning closer, his forehead almost brushing yours, “I’ll decide what you are to me.”
He presses a quick kiss to your forehead—soft, almost tender. Then another to your lips. And just like that, he pulls away, leaving you there, breath uneven, head spinning. What the fuck was that?
You’re still trying to process it when his voice cuts through your thoughts. “Oh,” he says casually, already halfway across the room. “Your brother will be here soon.” Your heart stutters.
He glances back over his shoulder, eyes glinting with something dangerous. “Wouldn’t want him knowing what I did to you, right?” His gaze drops pointedly to your neck. You follow it. And your breath catches.
Your skin is a mess of marks—dark, blooming bruises scattered across your throat and trailing downward. Some are deep purple, almost black at the center, fingerprints of his mouth pressed into you. Others are red and raw, teeth-shaped crescents that overlap and blend into flushed skin. Faint smudges of pink and angry crimson trace along your collarbone, disappearing beneath the neckline of your shirt.
They aren’t subtle. They’re possessive. Proof.
Your fingers hover over one of the darker bruises, and even the light touch makes your skin throb. The marks continue lower, scattered across the curve of your chest, layered like he couldn’t decide where to claim you first.
Jungwon watches your reaction with quiet satisfaction. “I look good on you,” he murmurs.
Then he turns away again, leaving you standing there with your pulse racing and his imprint burned into your skin.
⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯—
By afternoon, the house feels different. It’s 4:30 in the afternoon. The sun hangs low. Light stretches across the living room floor in long rectangles, catching dust in the air and turning it soft. The sun beginning to dip. Evening inching closer.
You’ve both freshened up—covered what needed to be covered, fixed your hair. The marks on your neck are hidden under a hoodie now, though you’re hyper-aware of them, like they’re still glowing beneath the fabric.
When the door swings open and Heeseung walks in with his friends, their noise fills the house quickly. Laughter, them kicking their shoes off. Familiar chaos.
You’re seated on the couch by then, legs tucked under you, time to act normal. Jungwon sits at the other end, relaxed, scrolling on his phone like he hasn’t ruined you less than twelve hours ago.
Heeseung drops onto the armchair. Jay and the others spread out—some on the floor, some leaning against the wall. The conversation flows easily. You join in, teasing, arguing.
It feels almost normal. Almost. Jay notices it first.
The way Jungwon’s eyes keep drifting toward you, glance when you laugh, then a slow look when you shift positions, faint tightening of his jaw when you lean too close to one of the guys to hear them better. Jay catches it.
And then he catches you doing the same thing.
The way your eyes flicker to Jungwon when he speaks, the way your posture straightens when he moves, the way there’s a split second too much eye contact whenever your gazes meet.
It’s subtle but not to him. It’s obvious to Jay. Probably obvious to everyone in the room except you and Heeseung. Jay leans back into the couch, eyes narrowing slightly as he studies Jungwon.
“Hey,” he says casually, cutting into whatever story Heeseung was telling. “Jungwon.” Jungwon doesn’t look away from you immediately. That’s the first mistake.
Then Jungwon blinks and shifts his gaze to Jay. “What?” Jay tilts his head. “You good?” Jungwon frowns faintly. “Yeah. Why?” Jay shrugs. “You look distracted.” There’s a beat of silence.
Sunghoon snorts. “He’s always distracted.” Jay doesn’t laugh though, His eyes stay on Jungwon. “Not like this,” he says lightly. Jungwon’s expression doesn’t change, but something in his posture tightens. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
Jay’s lips twitch. “Means you’ve been staring at the same spot for the past twenty minutes.” Your heart skips. Heeseung looks between them, confused. “What are you even talking about?”
“Nothing,” Jungwon answers smoothly. Jay hums. “Yeah. Nothing.” There’s a challenge in his tone. Jungwon meets his gaze, a look which means stop it.
Jay raises a brow slightly, lowering his voice just enough that it feels private, even in a crowded room. “You wanna tell me what’s going on?” Jungwon’s jaw shifts. “Nothing’s going on,” he repeats.
Jay studies him for another second, then leans in a little closer. “Right,” he says quietly. “Because the way you’re looking at y/n is totally friendly.” Jungwon’s expression hardens just a fraction. “Careful.” Jay smiles faintly. Not scared. Never scared of him. “That’s what I’m saying,” Jay replies. “You should be.” He leans back again, satisfied, but his eyes don’t leave Jungwon’s face.
Jay was a royal pain in Jungwon’s ass. Not just because he wasn’t afraid to push him—but because he was observant as fuck. He read people too well. And he knew Jungwon better than anyone in this room.
Better than you. And right now? Jay knows something’s changed. I mean, come on.
Jay had spent years around the both of you. Years of late nights, shared houses, random hangouts, He wasn’t stupid. He knew when something changed. And something had definitely changed.
He’d known for a long time that Jungwon had a thing for you, never obviously tho but it was there—in the way he’d go quiet when you entered a room, in the way his mood shifted depending on yours, in the way he watched more than he spoke.
Jay never asked him why, never asked him how it started, never even confronted him about it. He didn’t need to cause he saw it.
And, lowkey? He’d wanted it to happen. Wanted the two of you to just stop pretending and get together already. It made sense in his head. The tension had always been there, simmering under the surface. But wanting it and it being possible were two very different things.
Heeseung was a persistent bastard. Protective to a fault. A good brother—too good. The kind who would smile and joke around but would lose his mind if he thought someone crossed a line with his sister, you.
And if he found out what was happening between you and Jungwon? God. Jay genuinely didn’t know how that would go. Heeseung might surprise them. He might try to understand or he might not. It could swing either way.
And that uncertainty? That’s what made this whole thing dangerous.
⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯—
Two Years Earlier — 5:40 PM
The café was warm, The soft hum of conversations and the hiss of the espresso machine filled the background. You sat across from Eunchae— Your bestfriend, your ride or die, your unpaid therapist, your brutally honest voice of reason. She was sharp-tongued but soft-hearted, the kind of girl who would drag you for your bad decisions and then hold your hand while you fixed them.
Eunchae watched you over the rim of her drink, “So,” she sang lightly, dragging the word out. “How’s your undying, embarrassingly persistent crush on Jungwon doing these days?” You shot her a glare. “Eunchae. My boyfriend is literally about to get here. Please shut up.”
She rolled her eyes dramatically and took another sip. “Girl. We both know you don’t love him for shit.” You exhaled slowly, staring down into your cup.
That wasn’t fair…but it also wasn’t wrong.
Your boyfriend—Soobin was perfect. Four years older, mature, handsome in that soft, comforting way. Polite to everyone, the kind of guy parents adored and the kind of guy girls envied you for having. Hey, you did like him. You did.
He was sweet, you know, remembered small details, held doors open, texted good morning every single day without fail. So why did your chest feel so heavy?
“Don’t say that,” you muttered. “I do like him.” Eunchae leaned forward. “Like isn’t love.” You swallowed.
The truth sat ugly in your throat. You felt pathetic. Truly pathetic. Because if you were honest with yourself, you hadn’t started dating Soobin because you were head over heels.
You started dating him because you were desperate, desperate to kill whatever you felt for Jungwon.
You thought maybe if you had someone else—someone good, someone safe—your stupid, reckless crush would finally die.
But it didn’t. It never did.
Jungwon still lingered in your mind at the worst times like a reminder, his stupid comments replaying in your head and every time you saw him, that spark never faded. Now you were stuck.
Stuck lying to Soobin, stuck lying to yourself. Playing the role of a good girlfriend while your heart was somewhere else entirely.
“I’m telling him today,” you said quietly. Eunchae blinked. “You’re breaking up with him?” You nodded once. She studied your face carefully. “Because you don’t love him?”
“Yes.” A pause. “…Or because you love someone else?” Your throat tightened. You didn’t answer.
Eunchae sighed softly. “You’re not a terrible person for feeling things. But you are if you keep stringing him along.”
“I know,” you whispered. “That’s why I have to end it. He deserves someone who actually loves him. Not someone who’s using him as a distraction.” The bell above the café door chimed.
You both turned. Soobin stepped inside, scanning the room until his eyes found you. His face immediately softened into a smile and the guilt hit you like a punch to the ribs.
Eunchae squeezed your hand under the table once. “Do it clean,” she murmured. “No half-truths.” You nodded, heart pounding as Soobin walked toward you. This was going to hurt him but dragging it out would hurt him more.
You couldn’t do it in there. Not with the café buzzing around you. Not with cups clinking and people laughing and Eunchae staring holes into the side of your head like she was trying to telepathically force you to grow a spine.
You sighed and shot her a look. Will you stop? She raised her brows innocently. I’m not doing anything. Just two best friends sharing the same dysfunctional brain cell. But this wasn’t something you could say with an audience.
So you stood up, forcing a small smile at Soobin. “Can we… talk outside?” He blinked, confused but agreeable. “Yeah, of course.”
You didn’t notice the two dark eyes watching you from across the street, didn’t notice the way they followed every step you took as you led Soobin out of the café and into the narrow alley beside it.
You stopped near a stained brick wall, the noise from the café muffled now. Your heart was pounding so loudly you were sure he could hear it.
You didn’t ease into it. You couldn’t. “Let’s break up, Bin.” The words landed heavy between you. Soobin frowned immediately. “What?” He let out a small laugh of disbelief. “Wha—why? What happened? Did I do something?”
Questions spilled out of him fast. You shook your head quickly. “No. You didn’t do anything. I just… I don’t love you anymore. And I don’t think this is right for me.” Silence.
You stared at the ground because you couldn’t look at him. You couldn’t bear to see the hurt. The disappointment. Then you heard it. A laugh.
Low, sharp, wrong, making your head snap up. He was laughing. “What the fuck is so funny?” you asked, confusion twisting into unease.
His smile didn’t reach his eyes. “You fucking bitch,” he muttered, the word landing like a slap. “Who said you get to break up with me, hm?”
Your stomach dropped. This wasn’t him. “What—” You didn’t get to finish. His hand shoved you back hard enough that your shoulders hit the brick wall. The impact knocked the air from your lungs. Before you could react, he planted both hands beside your head, caging you in.
“You don’t get to walk away like this,” he said, jaw tight. “After everything I’ve done for you?” Your pulse spiked. “Soobin, stop. You’re hurting me.”
“Oh, now I’m hurting you?” he scoffed. “After you’ve been playing me this whole time?” You grip his wrist, “I didn’t play you,” you shot back, panic rising. “I’m trying to be honest.”
“Honest?” His grip tightened around your arm. “Who is it?” Your brows furrowed. “What?”
“Who the fuck is it?” he demanded, leaning closer. “There’s someone else, right? That’s why.”
“There isn’t—” He cut you off by grabbing your jaw roughly, forcing your face to the side. His mouth pressed against your neck—not soft, not loving. His teeth sank into your skin hard enough to make you gasp.“Stop!” You shoved against his chest, but he was stronger.
Across the street, hidden in the shadow of a lamppost— Jungwon saw red. Literally.
His jaw clenched so tight it ached. His hands were fists at his sides, nails digging into his palms hard enough to break skin. Every muscle in his body locked.
He watched Soobin’s mouth on your neck. Watched the way you struggled. His breathing turned slow. “You don’t get to mark what’s mine.” Jungwon said in a whisper. The word mine didn’t even feel wrong in his head.
Don’t go. Not yet.
He repeated it in his head like a mantra.
Don’t go. Not yet.
He had been following you. Stalking you like a fucking predator. He told himself it was protection. That it was because he didn’t trust Soobin…. but standing there now, watching another man put his hands on you— He didn’t recognize himself.
You brought this out of him. This violent, possessive, unhinged part. You drove him crazy. He wanted to walk over there and drag Soobin off you, wanted to slam his face into the brick wall until his teeth shattered until no one could recognize him. And he would. Just not yet. Because he needed to see. Needed to know how far it would go.
Jungwon pulled a cigarette from his pocket with steady fingers and placed it between his lips. His eyes never left you.
He lit it. The flame flickered briefly in his dark eyes. He inhaled, once. Smoke curled from his mouth slowly as you finally managed to shove Soobin back with all your strength.
“Get the fuck off me!” you yelled, chest heaving. Soobin stumbled a step but didn’t fall. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, eyes wild.
“You think you’re better than me?” he spat. “You think someone else is going to want you?” Jungwon took another drag. Two. His gaze was no longer just angry, It was cold. His hands flexed at his sides when you stepped back.
“Oh baby… you’re gonna be mine soon.” The thought slid through his head slowly. He watched the way you tried to stay calm, the way you swallowed your fear and still chose honesty. God you looked beautiful.
“I’ll treat you so much better than he ever could”, he said darkly, eyes narrowing as Soobin’s hand grabbed your jaw. “Come to me, doll.”
He’d waited years. Watched you grow into yourself, watched how boys circled you like they had any right, watched you settle for someone safe when what you really needed was someone who would burn the world down for you.
Someone like him.
His gaze dragged over you like a claim already staked. “He doesn’t deserve to touch you. He doesn’t deserve to breathe the same air as you.”
‘I’ll give you everything’ he promised silently from across the street. ‘Everything you don’t even know you want. I’ll protect you. I’ll ruin anyone who tries to hurt you.’
Soobin stepped forward again, but this time you shoved him harder, panic giving you strength. “I said it’s over!” you snapped, voice shaking but loud. Across the street, Jungwon exhaled smoke slowly.
His eyes darkened further. That was enough. And finally—He started walking toward where you were.
Jungwon moves before he can think himself out of it. He pulls his hood up as he steps off the curb, the fabric shadowing his face. Halfway across the street, he slips a black mask over his mouth and nose, fingers steady despite the storm raging in his chest. You can’t know it’s him, not like this.
He takes one last drag from the cigarette, smoke burning down his throat, then flicks it away. It hits the pavement and dies out. That was the last clean second of his plan.
By the time he reaches the alley, Soobin’s hand is still gripping your arm. Jungwon doesn’t speak first. He grabs Soobin by the hair and yanks him back hard making you gasp.
Soobin stumbles, dragged off you so violently he nearly loses his footing. Before he can even process what’s happening, Jungwon’s fist connects with his jaw. The crack of it echoes against brick.
“Why are you harassing a girl?” Jungwon’s voice is distorted under the mask—lower, not recognisable. “Did your mom not teach you anything else?” Another punch.
Soobin’s head snaps to the side, blood already blooming at the corner of his lip. You’re frozen.
You don’t know who this man is. He has his hoodie up and mask on. He slaps Soobin once. Twice. Three times—sharp, humiliating, each one louder than the last.
Soobin lashes out blindly, kicking at his leg. “What the fuck—who are you?!” he shouts, panic breaking into his voice. The masked man chuckles darkly, “Your worst nightmare.”
The words drip with something that makes your stomach twist. For a brief second, his eyes lift, landing on you.
You can’t see them clearly under the shadow of his hood, but something about them makes you visibly tremble. There’s no softness there.
Just rage, His hand lifts again like he’s about to strike Soobin harder— And then it freezes mid-air. Because you’re looking at him. Not grateful but terrified.
His hand slowly lowers to his side. Inside his chest, something drops. Heavy.
You avert your gaze first, heart racing too fast, breath shallow. You don’t know why your body reacted that way. You don’t know why those eyes felt familiar. Jungwon stands there, fists clenched.
You are aware that you’re the only person in the world I’d never hurt, right?
The thought burns through him. He could ruin Soobin. He could break every bone in his face and feel nothing. But you? Your looking at him like he’s a monster.
And for the first time since he stepped into that alley— Jungwon wonders if maybe he is.
⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯—
The room smells like smoke and rust. Soobin is tied to a chair, wrists bound tight behind him, ankles secured to the legs. His head lolls slightly before he jerks awake again, struggling against the restraints, panic finally settling in his bones.
Jungwon stands a few feet away, back turned. He pulls out another cigarette with slow, deliberate movements. Taps it against the box once then twice. Jungwon slips the cigarette between his lips.
Thumb flicking the lighter until a small flame blooms. He leans in, the tip igniting orange, and takes a slow drag. His chest rises quietly, shoulders barely moving as he lets the smoke fill his lungs. He inhales deeply, eyes closing as the smoke fills his lungs. He exhales through his nose, smoke spilling out in thin streams that curl around his face before fading into the air.
Then the chair scrapes loudly against the floor. “What the fuck do you want from me?!” Soobin shouts, voice cracking. Jungwon’s eyes snap open.
He exhales slowly through his nose, wincing at the volume. “Lower your voice,” he mutters. “You’re giving me a headache.” Soobin thrashes again. “You’re insane! Do you know who I am?!”
Jungwon lets out a quiet tsk, turning around at last. He walks forward unhurriedly, cigarette balanced between his fingers, smoke trailing behind him like it does in movies.
“You touched what was mine.” The words are soft. Soobin freezes. “What—what are you talking about? She’s not yours!” Jungwon stops directly in front of him and tilts his head, the movement is almost curious.
“How dare you kiss her in front of me?” he asks, as if genuinely confused by the audacity. Soobin’s breathing quickens. “I didn’t even know you were there—”
“Exactly.” Jungwon crouches down so they’re eye level. He grips Soobin’s jaw suddenly, fingers digging into his skin hard enough to make him wince. The cigarette hovers dangerously close to his face.
“You didn’t even know I was there,” Jungwon repeats quietly. The lit tip presses lightly against Soobin’s cheek—just enough to sting, to sear heat into skin without fully burning. Soobin jerks back with a strangled sound. “You’re fucking crazy!” he gasps. Jungwon’s lips twitch faintly. “I know.”
He stands again, dragging Soobin up by the hair this time. “I swore to myself,” Jungwon murmurs, leaning down close to his ear, “that I’d wipe out anyone who misbehaves with her.”
His grip tightens. “No one deserves her.” His voice drops lower. “Other than me.” Soobin looks up at him—and finally sees it. The madness in his eyes, If looks could kill, he’d already be dead. Soobin’s eyes tremble. Jungwon studies the fear for a moment and mesmerises it.
Then, without warning, he yanks Soobin forward by the hair and drives his knee hard into his face. The crack echoes in the room as soobin goes limp.
Jungwon releases him, letting his body slump against the restraints. Finally, he breathes out, closing his eyes. And there you are, In his mind. Smiling, laughing, looking up at him with that expression you don’t even realize you wear around him.
Jungwon could literally feel his cock hardening at the thought of you, he drags a hand down his face. Fuck, Even now, Even here. Holy mother of lord, He needed help.
Any sane person would’ve looked at him and said it outright—get therapy, get distance, get a grip. But not even professionals would be able carve you out of him. You weren’t just a thought he could untangle or a habit he could break. You were too deep. Too deep in his bones.
You didn’t knock before entering; you made yourself at home, fucked him from the inside out. And fuck—he never once complained. If anything, he welcomed it.
He wanted to kneel at your feet and kiss the very ground you walked on, like a worshipper at the altar of something holy and destructive all at once. You weren’t just a girl to him. You were his religion, his obsession, salvation dressed as temptation.
You were his and not just his in the way boys say it when they’re jealous. His in the way blood knows blood.
In the way a pulse answers another pulse without hesitation. It wasn’t possession born from ego—it was something darker, older, carved into him like a birthmark he never asked for but would never remove. Jungwon didn’t want you beside him. He wanted you intertwined with him, breathing the same air, thinking the same thoughts.
And the worst part? He didn’t feel guilty. He felt certain. Because from the moment you stepped into his life— You were already under his skin and my bro Jungwon had no intention of letting you go. His control slips when it comes to you. He hates that, he loves that.
“You could never be anyone else’s,” he mutters under his breath. In his world, it’s already decided.
You were claimed long before you ever noticed. Claimed by the devil standing quietly in the shadows, watching, waiting. And one day— You’ll understand. You’ll thank him. Because he knows the way your eyes look at him. He knows the silent I want you that lingers there. And it’s torture, absolute torture to stand there and do nothing.
Jungwon opens his eyes again, jaw tightening as he looks down at the unconscious boy tied to the chair. He flicks the cigarette to the ground and crushes it slowly under his shoe.
“Stay away from her,” he says quietly to the still body.
⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯—
Present — 7:02 P.m
You’re sitting cross-legged on your bed, back pressed against the wall, fingers nervously twisting the hem of your oversized tee. Eunchae is sprawled across your carpet like she pays rent here, chin propped up on her hands, staring at you with wide, impatient eyes.
“Okay,” she says slowly. “You said you had tea. And not normal tea. Not ‘I tripped in the hallway’ tea. So speak.” You inhale. And then you tell her everything that happened in the past week.
Jungwon. The sex. The morning after. The stupid rules you wrote like it was some contractual agreement. The way he looked at you. The way he—Eunchae screams. “FINALLY.” You flinch. “Shut up!”
“No!” She bolts upright, pointing at you like you just confessed to a crime she’s been waiting years to solve. “I have BEEN waiting for this day. Do you know how long I’ve suffered listening to you pine over this man?” You bury your face in your hands. “It was not pining.”
“It was pathetic yearning,” she corrects. “With dramatic sighing.” You throw a pillow at her which she dodges it easily. “And wait—wait.” She squints at you. “You had sex. With him. And then you made… rules?” You groan. “It made sense at the time.”
“Oh my God.” She falls back onto the bed beside you. “You slept with your brother’s best friend and your first instinct was to draft a constitution?”
“It’s called emotional damage control!”
“It’s called you being insane.” You glare at her. “You’re supposed to be on my side.” You argue, “I am on your side!” she says, grabbing your shoulders. “I’m just saying this was inevitable. The sexual tension between you two could power a small country.” You try not to smile.
She studies you more closely now, expression softening. “Okay. Jokes aside.” Her voice lowers. “Are you okay?” You hesitate before answering, “…I don’t know.” She tilts her head. “Do you regret it?”
“No.” The answer comes too fast. Then she flicks your forehead lightly. “Okay first of all, if he hurts you, I will personally ruin his life. Second—” she narrows her eyes, “—does he like you?” Your stomach flips. “I don’t know.”
“Does he act like he likes you?” He does, yes. “…Yes.”
“Then congratulations,” she deadpans. “You are in a situationship with unresolved feelings and sexual chemistry. Welcome to hell.” You laugh despite yourself. She bumps her shoulder against yours. “Just promise me one thing.”
“What?”
“Don’t lose yourself trying to win him.” That makes you pause. Eunchae’s expression is serious now, protective in the way only someone who’s known every version of you can be. “You liked him first,” she says quietly. “Don’t let him make you feel small just because he finally caught up.” Your throat tightens.
“…You really think this could be something?” Oh, you had no idea. She smiles, softer this time. “I think it already is.” Then she grins again. “But also? If he fumbles you after all this buildup, I will expose him spiritually.” You shove her. “You’re so dramatic.”
“And you,” she says, pointing at you again, “are finally living your Wattpad dreams.” You both burst into laughter.
Your phone buzzes against the table, the vibration loud in the quiet of the room. It skids slightly against the wood before settling, screen lighting up. You don’t even have to look properly to know who it is. You unlock your phone, Jungwon’s name sits at the top of your notifications, Eunchae leans closer, practically vibrating with curiosity. “Well?” she whispers loudly. You shake your head, chuckling under your breath as you open the message.
Jungwon : Tonight, my place. Midnight.
You’d agreed to keep your communications short, to the point, and vague enough that if anyone saw them, You could explain them away with a creative excuse. His text met all three criteria, but still. What bappened to a good old-fashioned hey, how are you first?
You : Can't. I'm busy.
It was true, You were with Eunchae after all, you can’t just leave her alone here.
Jungwon : Too busy for an orgasm?
You : Your fragile ego
can’t take a no?
Jungwon : love how you keep running your pretty mouth, you know what i’d do if i was there.
You bite back a smile the second you read it. Your tongue presses against the inside of your cheek as you reread it, heat creeping up your neck. Eunchae watches your expression change, her grin widening instantly.
Jungwon : Tomorrow, 10 pm. My place.
Jungwon : PS. Your gonna pay for the fragile ego comment .
Then you see it, your phone lit up a new notification, your brows pulled together when you read the message.
Unknown : Hey y/n.
The area code indicated a Seoul phone number. No, it can’t be.
You : Who is this?
Hope, a bit of fear, and anticipation curled in your stomach. Maybe it’s an old friend. An eternity passed in the next ten seconds for the next reply to pop up, and it nearly made you drop your phone.
Unknown : It's Soobin.
Soobin. Your ex-boyfriend. How did he get your number? Why was he contacting you now after almost three years of radio silence? You never saw him after that incident in the alley.
⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯—
You shouldn’t have agreed to this. That’s the only thought looping in your head as you sit at the small corner table of the café down the street from campus. Your fingers wrap around a cup of coffee that’s long gone cold, condensation dampening the cardboard sleeve. You check your phone again. Three years. Three years of silence, and then suddenly— Can we meet? Just once.
You don’t know what he wants. Closure? Apology? The bell above the café door chimes and your mouth goes dry as you watch Soobin stepping inside. He looks… older, obviously. Broader shoulders, sharper jaw, his hair is styled differently than you remember, longer in the front. He scans the room, and when his eyes land on you, something unreadable flickers across his face before he walks over.
You force yourself not to shrink. “Hey,” he says, pulling out the chair across from you. “Hey.” Awkward silence stretches between you both, “You look good,” he says finally. “So do you.”Another pause, “How’ve you been?” he asks, leaning back slightly. “Fine,” you answer too quickly. “Busy, collage and life…you know, the usual.” He nods. “Yeah. Same.”
He studies your face in a way that makes your skin itch. “So,” he says slowly, fingers tapping the table, “heard you’ve been… around different company lately.” That makes you tilt your head, where did this come from? why does he care? “What does that mean?”
He tilts his head too. “Just heard you’ve been spending time with someone.” You stiffen. “That’s not really your business.”
A faint smirk touches his lips. “Just saying. Be careful who you trust. Some guys don’t show their real face until it’s too late.” Now he was getting under your nerves, surely he didn’t call you here to say this bullshit now, did he? Your nails dig into your palm under the table. “And you would know?” you ask quietly. His jaw tightens at that.
Before he can respond, the bell above the café door chimes again. You don’t look at first, bad idea, but then you feel it. You glance toward the entrance—And your breath catches.
Heeseung walks in first, laughing at something Jay says. Behind them—Jungwon. Jungwon finds your eyes meet instantly. They always do.
For a split second, his expression is soft, the expression he always gives you. Like he didn’t expect to find you here but isn’t unhappy about it.
Then—His gaze drops. To the man sitting across from you. Soobin’s back is to him so Jungwon can’t see his face but he sees enough. You’re with someone else, someone else.
You watch it happen in real time—the soft look drains from his eyes and smth darker replaces it, you watch as his jaw sets.
Your pulse starts pounding in your ears for no reason. “Soobin,” you say suddenly. “Yeah?” He blinks, “You need to go.” He frowns. “What? Why—”
“Just go,” you whisper urgently, standing up slightly. “Please. And don’t look back.” He stares at you like you’ve lost your mind. “What the hell is wrong with—” You shove his shoulder, harder this time. “Just go.” Your eyes flick past him.
Heeseung is scanning the café but Jungwon isn’t cause he’s busy staring at Soobin’s back like he could burn a hole straight through it. Soobin finally exhales in frustration and stands. “You’re unbelievable,” he mutters. “Go,” you repeat.
There’s another exit near the back of the café. Thank God. He hesitates for half a second—Then turns and heads toward it. And he doesn’t look back. You sag in relief, cause if Jungwon had seen his face—more importantly if Heeseung had seen his face—You know exactly what would’ve happened.
Heeseung would drag him down the street without thinking twice. Punch first, ask questions later and Jungwon? You don’t even want to imagine it.
You turn back toward the entrance just as they fully step inside. Jungwon’s eyes lift to yours again. Dark. Possessive, it reminds you of what he said that day. ‘I don’t share.’ You were supposed to meet him today anyway. Just not like this.
⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯—
You barely get a foot inside his house before Jungwon’s hands are on your waist, immediate, pulling you fully in as he shuts the door behind you. A small yelp leaves you, cut short when your back meets the door with a dull thud as the click of the lock follows. His body cages you in, one knee sliding between your thighs, spreading your legs apart with quiet insistence as he keeps you pinned there.
Jungwon buries his face in the crook of your neck, inhaling slowly, His breath is warm against your skin. Then his hand slides up, fingers wrapping around your throat, rough as they tilt your head back slightly, then he squeezes it, Your breath catches, lashes fluttering as the pressure builds for a second.
“Who was that guy, doll?” Jungwon asks quietly, His eyes catch the dim light, Your lungs burn just enough to make it thrilling, and when he finally loosens his grip, you pull in a shaky breath. Adrenaline rushing through your veins. This is exactly what you wanted.
You swallow, looking up at him through half-lidded eyes, feigning innocence even though you’re already falling apart under his touch. “What guy?” you ask lightly, provoking on purpose. Jungwon chuckled quietly and slid his hand down your body, feeling every curve. He's not doing anything yet, and you're already drenched.
"I'm not in the mood to play right now, doll," he said in your ear before gently biting your earlobe. Your eyes sparkled with amusement as you teased, "Jealous much?" However, your playful tone turned into a soft whine as you felt Jungwon's clothed hard-on pressing against you, causing you to instinctively lean back against the wall. His hands held your hips in place as he lifted your leg, positioning you so that you were practically grinding against him, unable to contain the moans escaping your lips.
"Yeah, I'm jealous, fucking hell, I've told you before — you're mine. No one is allowed to even look at your beautiful face," Jungwon said, pulling you close and deepening the kiss. Both of you moaned as he nibbled on your bottom lip. "This face belongs to me. It's mine to admire.” he said, moving his hips against you with each word. Thrust! “mine to kiss.” Thrust! “mine to fuck.” Thrust! “Mine to make a goddamn mess of anytime.” Thrust! "Mine to love and protect." You would’ve asked him what he meant by ‘love’ if you weren’t so soaked up in the moment of his hips as they quickened, bringing you both closer to the edge, you gasped, "Jungwon, please..." the friction of his cock pressing up against you feels so fucking good, feeling a mix of pleasure and punishment, he pinched your clothed nipples, intensifying the sensation.
"Every curve of you is made to fit into my hands. My hands and my hands only.” He lowered his mouth to your shoulder, trailed moist lips to the nape of your neck. "Don't worry," he whispered. "I'm made for your hands, too."
Jungwon then puts both of his hands firmly around your waist, his nails digging into your flesh so painfully that you know you will feel it the next day. He then quickly swings you around, slams your face against the wall, and his whole body is pressed on your back. You could feel him massaging your inner thighs with his cock. He was so damned hard, my god. There is nowhere more excited than the spot between your legs that's freaking pulsing. A small cry escapes your mouth due to the sudden jerk in your head as his hands grabs your hair and pulls you back.
“I should fuck you right here against the wall. Everyone thinks you like it nice but i know better. You’d rather have me tear you apart with my cock.” Jungwon’s voice is raw as he grinds into you. “That’s exactly what you fucking deserve. Maybe then, everyone would know it’s mine.”
He rasps, picks you up, pressing you even harshly into the wall. And this position…..his hands are hooked securely beneath your thighs, lifting you with steady strength. You’re pressed against the wall as your feet leave the ground, and your palms flatten against the surface for balance. You cling to it, fingers splayed, because the only thing holding you up is him — and the wall, which, you’re almost kissing by now.
After that, you feel him harden even more on your ass as he pulls you down on him. You let out a moan. "This shit is turning you on, huh?" He tosses you over his shoulders before you can even react. “Get on the fucking bed, your pussy’s been neglected for too long.” He drops you against the pillows, the impact knocking the air from your lungs slightly, then follows, bracing himself above you, gaze locked on yours.
Without wasting any more time, With quick hands, You find his belt and undo it, throwing it to the ground. He lifts your hips to tug your jeans and panties down your thighs.
He grabbed the back of your neck, pulled you close, and crushed his lips to yours. You wrapped your arms around his neck, your body warm and pliant against his as he plundered your mouth. Jungwon’s heart was a loud drum in his chest, beating in time with the throbbing in his cock. The smell of your perfume and the sounds of your little whimpers filled the room as you clung to him like you both were drowning and he was your last lifeline.
He parted your thighs with his knee, reached between your legs and hummed in approval when he found you slick and wet for him. Jungwon frowned the second you caught his wrist, stopping him mid-motion.
Then you moved, pushing yourself up slowly, pressing a hand flat against his bare chest and forcing him back onto the bed. He let himself fall, more surprised but went with it, eyes tracking you the entire time. You swung a leg over him and settled on his stomach, straddling him, your weight and your juices soaking his hips.
Jungwon blinked, not expecting it. A low, dark laugh slipped out of him, rough around the edges. “Shit,” he muttered, dragging a hand over his face before letting it fall beside him. His eyes trailed up your body, slow and shameless. “You drive me so fucking crazy, doll.” You held his gaze.
There was something about him like this — laid back against the sheets, looking up at you instead of towering over you — that hit different. His jaw tight, eyes darker than usual, lips parted just slightly. You can tell he’s controlling from fucking you so bad right now. But tonight, you wanted to be in control.
You tilted your head slightly, fingers brushing down his chest in a slow line, testing him, Jungwon swallowed. “Don’t start something you can’t finish,” he warned quietly. You smiled down at him, all innocence and sweet composure. Jungwon’s head tilted slightly against the pillow, eyes narrowing in quiet amusement as a slow smirk pulled at his mouth. He didn’t say anything.
Instead, his hand slid down, settling on your ass. His fingers spread, warm and possessive, before giving it a slow, squeeze and—Spank! His palm landed on your ass with such harsh slap it made your whole body jerk upward, your tits bouncing.
"My dirty angel," he said gruffly. "Created to please and torture me. My heaven on earth." Spank! This one made your pulsating pussy throb even harder. “Look how pretty your ass is all rosy from my hand.” Spank! Jungwon said while looking at your reflection in the mirror placed infront of the bed.
Then his free hand slid down to your ankles, fingers wrapping around them before he gave a sudden tug. You let out a small yelp, your balance tipping as you nearly fell backward, but he was quicker—his hands moving to your back, steadying you before you could slip. In one smooth motion, jungwon adjusted his grip and lifted you, holding you securely as your body hovered above his.
You’re flushed a deep crimson, your pulse drumming in your throat as you realize there’s nowhere left to hide; because now he could see how fucking wet you were, Your legs shake, barely holding your weight, as your hair spills over your shoulders.
You look down, hair falling and you swear you just came right there on sight. Jungwon’s gaze is fixated on your dripping cunt like a man starving, like your his fucking meal. He looks hungry, lips already parted, tongue darting out to lick his lips before holding your legs, “Sit on my face, Y/n.”
He says licking your thighs, you whimper, “Sit that sweet pussy down on my mouth. Wrap those pretty thighs around my head and fuck my face, come on doll.” He growls,his breath gently caressing your bare cunt, you slowly lower yourself giving him time but jungwon holds your hips and yanks you down on him. And suddenly his mouth is everywhere— tongue pressing flat against your dripping slit, licking a stripe up and then down your clit, slurping in your pussy, sending your head back, whining.
He licks into you, tongue fucking you deep as he groans, You swear ur seeing stars. Your body tenses and melts and fucking bursts into flames because it feels so goddamn good, you don't even know what you’re feeling. But you’re feeling good, too good. Jungwon's tongue circles around your cunt, his grip on your ass tightening.
You were so close already. He slowed the thrusts of his mouth so he could reach and stroke your clit with his hand. You could feel his smile because his mouth was still buried in you, when your head fell back and your lips parted at the touch.
You were shaking, Completely sobbing as razor-sharp sensation spiked through you. "Who does your pussy belong to?" Jungwon removed his fingers from your pussy and squeezed your thighs. "You," You gasped, clutching the headboard so hard your knuckles turned white.
"Say it again." He said, Demanding. "You! My pussy belongs to you." Your voice broke in a sob as he delivered a stinging slap to your clit. "That's right. It belongs to me, and don't you ever forget it." Slap! He pulls back just enough to breathe, mouth shiny and swollen with your juices. He kept the pressure of his thumb against your clit and slid a finger inside your tight, wet heat.
Your mouth turned into a scream as his tongue licked against your aching center, from your entrance up to your clit, his mouth slowly engulfing your bud, sucking hard before slowing down again. "Did this pussy miss my mouth, baby?" You exhaled roughly. Jungwon flattened his tongue and licked you in a slow swipe.
You can't take it. The pleasure rolls through you; a pleased grumble vibrates in his throat as his tongue pierces you, sending you tumbling over the edge, crying his name. Jungwon’s breathes in you, “Can feel how wet you are for me. Such a pathetic little whore, wanting me to fuck you again. Was last time too gentle for you?" He flicked on your clit—"Jungwon—im gonna—" You cry out, arching your back as much as you’re able to, nearly pulling yourself forward out of the other Jungwon’s grip. “Come on my face, baby. Let go.”
Your mouth opens but no sound comes out but a silent cry. Every single muscle in your body is tensed up, like a metal coil getting wound up way past its breaking point—and your coming—squirting all over him—gushing down on his face as Jungwon growns and moans, nuzzling his nose in your clit. “That’s the girl, that’s my good fucking girl.” Jungwon coos proudly, his voice muffled as he drinks and laps every fucking drop.
Jungwon smiled against your wetness, his hot tongue twisting and circling over your pussy as he took a moment to catch a breath, moving his mouth from you to lick his lips. But jungwon? He doesn't stop, dips his head back into your pussy, your orgasm soaking his nose and chin, but he doesn't care.
Another lightning strike shoots right through you, as jungwon keeps fucking you through your orgasm with his tongue. Your cunt is fluttering around his mouth, still releasing your juices, as he slurps up all the liquid till half of his face is covered in your essence. His tongue moves with more intensity now, flicking over your clit in rapid, circular strokes before sliding down to your folds, his tongue pressing gently against your entrance, You shake your head, it was way too much.
“No—wonnie—too much.” Slap! Jungwon’s hand touched your heat in a smack again. “You take what i give you, you fucking bitch.” You let out a ringing wail, trying to scramble away and push back harder against him at the same time. You couldn't focus on anything, you only knew that you were dripping and burning and every inch of your nipples against the wooden board sent another jolt of heat straight to your throbbing clit.
"You taste so fucking good." Jungwon growled, You choked back a moan, still entirely too sensitive from your previous orgasm, Jungwon let out a string of curses as his teeth pulled on your cunt, “fuck fuck fuck, all mine—Can’t—so good—” Jungwon whimpers, actually whimpers. The overstimulation was finally starting to kick in and tears formed at the corners of your eyes as you cried out Jungwon’s name over and over, too dumb on his mouth on you to say anything else. When your words turned to silent screams and your pussy fluttered around Jungwon’s mouth, You look down at him, panting, trembling, his lips and chin are shiny with your orgasm and he brings his fingers to rub aggressively over your overstimulated clit.
He ran his finger through your folds a couple of times, thrusting against your clit and laughing at how your whole body jolted from the sensitivity. “Come for me, baby—” You flew forward with a startled yelp, coming so hard your whole body went numb. “Shit baby shit, so good, so beautiful. That’s it.” He praised, literally speaking while lapping up every drop. You’re full on sobbing now, but you can't hold back the way your hips twitch up and chase every filthy flick of his warm tongue.
“Yeah baby, grind on my face like a slut, ruin my mouth, doll—oh my—” Jungwon’s voice turns muffled when you sink yourself on his mouth all the way down to the point his nose and whole face is covered in you. He grips your ass, whimpering. “Fuck, y/n—Please—” jungwon whines while you ride your high again on his face, leaving him gasping for air and wanting for more because you’re both greedy and ruined.
Till the time you’re done, he’s fucked out. Breath uneven, eyes rolled back, tears at the corner of his eyes, mouth covered in your essence. He looks beautiful. You lift yourself slowly, legs shaking, your back arching as you lean down toward him. Your lips meet his in a slow kiss, and the faint taste of you lingering there makes heat rise through you all over again. Jungwon whimpers in your mouth—he’s ruined and so entirely yours.
You let your fingers wander over his chest, tracing idle patterns against warm skin before dragging them lower, over the firm lines of his abs. You stay seated on his stomach, legs hooked on either side of his thighs, keeping him exactly where you want him.
His hands come up quickly, gripping your hips like he’s about to take control again, fingers pressing into your skin. You catch his wrist mid-motion and slap his throbbing cock. Jungwon freezes for half a second — then a long, helpless whine leaves him, low and frustrated, his head falling back against the pillow. “Fuck,” he breathes, jaw tightening as he looks up at you. “What’s the hurry, baby?” You ask, a hard strike from your hand came in contact with his aching cock which bobbed at the impact, making him groan.
“Shit—please, doll.” Another slap to his member. A silent moan left his lips as jungwon started to grind his cock in your hand, the base of his erection rubbing on the bridge of your palms. Jungwon’s orgasm was approaching quickly. “Shit, baby—need to be inside you—doll.” You noticed the tell tale signs, with jungwon’s heavy breathing, his mouth hung open as he whimpered and whined, and how his cock twitched often.
“You wanna come inside me, hmm?” Your hands speed up your moments, he gasps, trying so hard to move away from your hands as you relentlessly stroked his cock, grabbing your wrist but having no strength to push you away entirely. "Fuck, doll—What are you doing to me?" You mock, "Making you work for it." He twitches at your touch, head rolling to his side.
“Tell me—wha—what I can do" you don't stop your strokes, "You can be a good boy and beg for me." He looks up with half-lidded eyes, “I want it. Need to be inside you so fucking bad. Need to feel how wet you are for me. Want to—shit want to see how you look when you come. And I swear to God, if you don't let me see those perfect fucking tits, I'm going to lose my mind." Your hairs were covering your breasts, you raise your eyebrows, “You didn’t say the magic word.”
Jungwon groans, “Fuck—i-i’m gonna cum, baby, please—” he rushed out to warn you. You smile wickedly, Something about him like this — under you, actually melting beneath your touch was turning you the fuck on in a way you hadn’t expected. He was usually the one in control. But right now? He looked wrecked, following every small movement of your hands.
The fact that you could make him lose it like this — make him whine, make him curse under his breath, make him grip the sheets instead of you sent heat straight to your cunt. You dragged your fingers lower on his tip just to see his reaction. The power shift was intoxicating. “Need to be in-inside—you, ffuckkk.” He chokes out a long whimper, “Say it like you mean it, wonnie.” You teased, hands wrapped tight around his dick to stop hin from coming. His voice cracks and he whimpers, eyes pleading.
“Need you—baby right now….need to make you come over and over again. Need you to ride me until I'm a fueking mess beneath you. Lemme feel how tight you are, how wet your cunt is—please” He chokes up, his cock clenching around your hands, milking him again with a loud, broken sob. “Let me taste you until you're shaking and screaming. Let me fuck you until I'm so deep inside you that we both forget who we are. Use me. Let me ruin you—or just ruin me. I don't fucking care. Just let me in."
“You can do more better, pretty boy.” Jungwon cries out, fucking cries out—a raw, guttural sound ripped straight from his chest, as his knot swells and locks him in place. “Please—please let me inside you please please—miss—please, i can’t ffuck—” You moan softly at his begging, his whines sending you to subspace. “Please please pleaseeee—wan-wanna cum inside you. Need you in me, d-doll please.” He sobs out between ragged breaths. “Fuck me, you’re gonna fuck me so well, doll—please—aren’t you?” Getting too impatient yourself, your tight pussy finally sinks down onto his cock in one powerful thrust.
Jungwon screams, stars shooting behind his eyes at the raw feeling of his dick inside your cunt. It was so good. You moan softly at the feeling of fullness, “Umm—wonnie—” You say, sitting up and arching your back to give him the view of a lifetime. Then slowly, you pull yourself up, he watches the way his dick spills out of your sweet cunt and you slam down in one thrust, your breasts flying up cus of the impact. “Shi—yes, Ride my dick baby.” He says with half parted lips, hands holding your hips while you start bouncing on his cock. Up. down. up. down.
Jungwon was so big and filled up your tight hole so well, your hands balanced themselves perfectly on his toned chest as you quicken your pace. Your mouth finds his chest, sucking and nibbling at his nipples, ripping the most pathetic whine you have ever heard out of him. His hips thrust upwards, looking for friction when you slow down. He looks up, eyes watering. You reached for his hand, resting it on the bulge on your stomach as you moved on him, the sight was driving him closer to his release, “Fuckk—look at those pretty tits bouncing for me—wanna breed you baby, pleaseee.” Jungwon lets out a low groan, nails digging into your hips so he can keep you there.
You roll your hips like a pro, thrusts get sloppier, moans louder, and when your mouth crashes into his, you slow down, shuddering and cursing as he throbs inside of you as Jungwon comes in thick spurts of cum inside you, his feet and legs shaky from his release. “Wonnie—!” You mouth opens in a whine as he holds your hips up and drags you down on him again and again and again until your seconds away from coming all over once, until your arousal was splattering over Jungwon’s stomach.
“Shit—yeah gonna breed this pussy—doll.” He moans as his lips latch on one of your nipples, sucks on it for god knows how long and lets go with a wet pop. You lifted your hips until you were halfway up his cock slowly, body shaking the entire way. Jungwon thrusted upwards so he was fully inside you again.
At the same time, he straightens abruptly, one arm wrapping behind your back as he turns you over in a single fluid shift, reversing your positions, flipping the balance of control effortlessly. He shoves your head down onto the mattress, yanks your ass up in air only to push your knees forward, bending you in half. Jungwon watch you from behind, fucking mesmerized.
“Such a tight little pussy this is, Y/n. All for me.” He pants near your ear, sliding back until the tip remains and plunged back in, Sweat beaded his skin, falling on your back. Your pussy clenched around him involuntarily, still pulsing from your release, He set a brutal pace. His hips pistoned forward relentlessly, the bed creaks under you both, along with banging of the headboard—thud, thud, thud. “Did you like me begging for you, hmm? You think you can get under my skin, huh?” You clutch the sheets, “hngh-oh my-God, please—Jungwon.”
The sound of skin slapping echoes the room, “Please what? want me to go harder? want me to breed this cunt? want me to fuck you so deep you feel me in your fucking throat?” He rasps, pounding into you as each thrust of his hips makes your body go up, up, and up. Jungwon leans down, his weight pressing you deeper into the mattress, as he reaches around to rub your clit.
“Going around meeting other guys, do you think i don’t know what game you’re playing?” You shake your head before you could form a coherent response his cock drags along your g-spot, making both of you moan out. You were in such euphoria that all of the pleasure almost hurt. Your hips bucked wildly on their own towards jungwon.
“It's my cock you come all over. Even when you wanna meet other guy’s. It's my name you fucking scream.” Every word makes you grip his hands behind tighter, the angle, the frustration, the control, he's destroying you. “And don’t let me find out who he was in the wrong way, doll. You won’t like what that’ll turn me into.” Jungwon growled. His hips never faltered, pistoning forward with that relentless force, thick shaft dragging along your inner walls.
Every withdrawal pulled a whine from you, your pussy clenching greedily around the retreating length, only to be slammed back full when he buried himself to the hilt. “Would fuck you anywhere in this house. Every room, even your brother’s…You’d probably enjoy that, wouldn’t you?” his arm wrapped tightly around your waist, “Answer me, doll.”
“Yes—Jung—wo-won, please…wanna c—cum, cum inside me, wanna be full.” Jungwon’s expression turns feral, God he loves you so much. “Yeah? can’t even talk properly, so cock hungry on my dick, you forgot how to speak huh? Fucking slut.” You nod, and when he hits your g-spot again, you both come at the same time, his seed spilling inside you, dripping down your thighs as he pulls back then says, “All mine.” before shoving his cum back inside you till he’s satisfied you’ve taken all of it.
Jungwon pulls out, the sudden loss of him making your body tip forward. Your arms give out as you drop onto the bed, sheets twisting beneath you while his grip slips from your skin. The mattress dips as he shifts back, leaving you sprawled there, breath uneven, warmth lingering where he’d just been.
Jungwon waits until your breathing steadies, the he gets up from the bed, He disappears briefly, returning with something warm and damp, kneeling beside you on the bed. His touch is careful as he cleans you up. He doesn’t say much, just a quiet “Hold on,” when you shift.
The contrast almost makes you laugh because minutes ago, he was rough, fucking you like a beast now he’s gentle. That’s why you love him.
No matter how he is with everyone else, how rough around the edges whether it’s the way he talks, or the way he takes over when he wants something — he’s never careless with you when it matters.
There’s a difference, with everyone else, he’s confident….almost intimidating you could say. But with you, in the normal moments — the in-between ones, he’s careful, he checks in. Jungwon has always payed attention to small things. He adjusts without you asking.
God. You love this man and he doesn’t even know it. Not yet.
⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯—
This went on for days. Then weeks and within a blink of an eye, a month had passed. A whole month of Jungwon.
A month of tangled sheets, late nights, rushed kisses against closed doors. A month of him fucking you like he’d memorized every inch of your body. A month of sex that didn’t just feel good in the moment, it stayed in the aftereffects, in the way you walked the next day.
Everything felt right but wrong in a way you couldn’t fucking explain. It was good, duh, obviously it was good. Yet something underneath it all felt off. Jungwon wasn’t distant exactly.
He still replied when you texted. Still showed up when you asked him to come over. Still met you halfway when you both decided to sneak out for late drives or stupid midnight convenience store runs but he never texted first anymore, not once.
At first, you told yourself you were overthinking it. Maybe he was busy, maybe smth was stressing him out or maybe he just wasn’t the texting type. But a week passed, then another. No random “what are you doing?” No teasing messages. No late-night “come over.”
Almost like a ghost and that’s when it started crawling under your skin. Did he get bored already? No. That couldn’t be it.
You refused to let your brain settle on that explanation cus hey….you knew what you had. You felt it every time he touched you, every time he pulled you close and muttered “good girl” against your ear, everytime he whispered that you were his, that you belonged to him. People don’t say shit like that and just… get bored. Right?
You still felt him sometimes, phantom touches, his hands on your waist, the weight of him behind you. The feel of his length hitting every spot inside you that curled your toes, the sound of his voice low in your ear.
Fucking bastard, all those promises said in the dark, just to pull back like this? No. He didn’t disappear. He’s just busy. You repeated it so often it started sounding believable. Your brother, on the other hand, wasn’t buying any of it.
Heeseung had been watching you sensed it when he looked between the two of you more now, or the way he’d go quiet mid-conversation if the two of you stood too close.
Fuck he even confronted yoy about it one evening when you were sprawled across the couch scrolling while your mom moved around the kitchen, the smell of dinner filling the house. Heeseung dropped down on the armrest beside you, crossing his arms.
“So,” he started casually. You didn’t look up. “So what?” You said, “What’s going on between you and Jungwon?” Your head snapped up so fast you nearly choked on air. “Wh—what? Nothing’s going on.” He stared at you, unimpressed. “Yeah,” he scoffed. “Sure. And I’m a ballerina.”
“You’re actually insane.” You rolled your eyes, trying to look offended instead of exposed. “Am I?” he shot back. “Because you two look at each other like you’re hiding a body somewhere.”
Your stomach dropped. God please don’t catch on. “That’s dramatic,” you muttered. He leaned closer, lowering his voice just enough so your mom wouldn’t hear. “If he’s fucking around with you, I swear to God—”
“Relax,” you cut him off quickly, heart pounding for a completely different reason now. “Nothing’s happening.” He studied your face, “Don’t forget that you grew up infront of me, y/n. We both know you can’t lie for shit.” He said flatly making you force a laugh. “You’re paranoid.”
But when he finally stood up and walked away, the room didn’t feel normal anymore. Because if Heeseung was noticing? Then something had definitely changed. And you had no fucking clue whether Jungwon was pulling away… or preparing to walk…away??
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On the other side of this mess, Jungwon wasn’t handling it any better. If anything, he was spiraling. The silence he forced on himself felt like withdrawal. His mind wouldn’t shut the fuck up. Every quiet second was filled with you — the absence of your touch, the absence of your laugh, the absence of the way you’d look at him like he was something worth choosing.
He hadn’t realized how used to you he’d gotten. Used to you sitting too close, used to your hands on him, used to your voice softening whenever you moaned his name, used to the way your eyes would blink up at him — beautiful in a way that made his chest tighten.
He was starving, starving to see you, starving to hear your voice, starving in ways that had nothing to do with sex — though God knew he missed that too, missing being inside you, missed the way you’d fall apart under him, the way you’d cling to him like he was the only solid thing in the room but it wasn’t just physical.
It was you and that was the fucking problem. He knew the second he crossed that line with you — really crossed it — that there was no heaven waiting for him, not after the things he thought about when it came to you, not after the way he wanted to keep you, posses you, mark you as his in ways that went far beyond logic.
If he was going to hell, fine, as long as you ruled beside him. That was the sick part. But this feeling growing in his chest now? It wasn’t just lust or anything nor was it ego. It was something heavier.
He realized it when Jay said it out loud. “Bro, I think you should stop meeting y/n.” The words hit harder than expected. Jungwon had told Jay everything, not the details but enough. Enough to admit he liked you, that it wasn’t just messing around. That it had gone too far. Jay didn’t judge him. If anything, he looked almost serious.
“You need to tell her,” Jay had said. “Before it turns into something ugly. If you love her, say it.” Love damn the word stuck…and then Heeseung made it worse cause Heeseung didn’t yell or threaten. That would’ve been easier. He just looked at him.
“Stay away from my sister.” How the fuck was he supposed to ignore that? Heeseung wasn’t just your brother, He was his hyung, his friend, the person who had trusted him enough to bring him into his house, into his family.
“Y/n is too good for you,” Heeseung said quietly. “Too innocent for this world. You know she’s different than us.” Jungwon’s jaw clenched so tight it hurt. “Yes, hyung.”
He saw it then — the way hope drained from his own reflection in Heeseung’s eyes, the way something darker replaced it. Heeseung sighed, running a hand through his hair. “As much as I hate admitting it… she’s never been as happy as she is with you. Do you get what that means?”
He did. He understood the second you told him you trusted him with everything, the second you fell asleep against him without hesitation, the second you looked at him like he wasn’t dangerous.
“Jungwon,” Heeseung continued, softer now. “I’m not trying to tear you apart. But she’s too real for this world. Too sensitive.”
Jungwon nodded. He knew. That was exactly why he was stepping back. Because you weren’t built for half-love. You weren’t built for secrecy and control and the darkness that followed him around like a shadow. You were made to be loved—and he did, honestly. But jungwon was dangerous.
He was selfish, Obsessive, possessive in ways that scared even him. He closed his eyes and there you were again. Always there, in every fucking thought, in every quiet moment, in every decision he tried to make without you.
How was he supposed to stop? How do you stop loving someone after four years of watching them grow? After memorizing their habits? After noticing the way they frown when they’re concentrating or the way they laugh when they’re actually happy?
There was no going back from a girl like you.
Jungwon was dangerous. He knew that. He carried darkness comfortably throughout his entire life that he could live with it.
You, on the other hand, felt like smth untouched. Not weak, but genuine. Soft in the ways that mattered, honest in ways he had forgotten how to be.
Two worlds that were never meant to collide. And yet you did like fate didn’t give a damn. You walked into his life and ruined him without even trying.
Now he was stuck between two choices: Let you go and feel like he was tearing his own skin off. Or keep you and risk destroying something pure with his own hands. The worst part? He didn’t know which option was more selfish cause no matter how much he tried to convince himself he was protecting you… Every night, he still reached for his phone, still typed your name only to erase it before hitting send.
And tonight, Jungwon was going to confront you. He was going to stand in front of you and finally say every fucked-up, buried, aching thing he’d been swallowing for years. He was going to tell you how you ruined him in the best and worst ways, how loving you felt like setting himself on fire just to keep you warm and then he was going to walk away from your life… probably.
Probably. Because even as he rehearsed the goodbye in his head, he knew he was a liar.
Walking away didn’t mean disappearing. It didn’t mean not knowing where you were, who you were with, whether you were smiling or crying. He’d still keep track of you, quietly, from a distance. Making sure you were safe, making sure no one ever hurt you. He’d never stop watching over you — even if he had to do it in silence.
He told himself it was for your own good. That you deserved something softer. Someone who wouldn’t drag you into the dark with him.
But God, the thought of you moving on — of you laughing with someone else, letting someone else hold you made something feral twist inside his chest.
Tonight he’d confess, tonight he’d break both your hearts. And tomorrow… he’d pretend he could survive it.
It had been raining since evening.
The news had predicted it in the morning, so you stayed in all day, curled up in your room while the sky turned darker by the hour. By midnight the rain hadn’t slowed. It poured even more, tapping against your windows, sliding down the glass in restless streams. The whole house smelled like wet soil drifting in through the cracks — your favorite smell in the world. Earthy.
Heeseung was out, probably yelling at his screen while playing his shitty Valorant with his friends. It was almost 12:30. You yawned, rubbing your eyes, staring out at the streetlights blurring under the rain. For a second, you wondered what Jungwon was doing.
And then the doorbell rang making you frown, “Who the hell…?” You didn’t think much of it. Probably Heeseung, forgetting his keys like always. You walked downstairs slowly, the house dim and quiet. You unlocked the door and pulled it open.
You blinked. Once. Twice. Thrice. Your mouth fell open, there he was—Jungwon stood there.
Soaked, his hair plastered to his forehead, his shirt clinging to his skin. Rain dripping from his jaw. His chest rising slowly, heavily but it was his eyes that made your stomach tighten. Dark under the rain.
“Jungwon—” Before you could finish, his hand wrapped around your wrist and he pulled you outside. The door shut behind you with a sharp click. The rain swallowed the world.
You stood there, breath caught, as his hands slid to your waist. Like if he loosened his grip for even a second, you’d disappear. Rain soaked through your clothes instantly. You didn’t move, didn’t protest. You missed him, you missed him so goddamn much.
His fingers traced up your arms slowly,sending shivers down your spine. Even through the cold rain, his touch burned. Jungwon pressed his forehead to yours, his breath ghosting your lips.
He inhaled deeply, like he could still smell you through the storm. “Tried…” he muttered. You swallowed, gripping his wrists. “Jungwon, we need to get inside—” His hand tightened around your wrist just enough to make you hiss. “Tried so fucking hard to stay away from you.”
The rain fell harder, as if the sky wanted to drown the moment. You both stood there like a tragic love story with no ending written. His heart pounded so loud you could feel it through his chest. He looked at you like he was memorizing you — like this was the last time.
“Then why are you avoiding me?!” you demanded, voice shaking. He let out a breath that almost sounded like a laugh, bitter, broken. “Because I can’t have you,” he said. “I’m forcing myself to keep away. Starving myself of you because I’m not good enough. Even though all I want— all I need— is for you to run into my arms… I have to keep my distance.”
Your chest cracked open, you looked at him in his eyes, the ones you found beautiful and fell in love with shimmered with tears before they hardened—and your hope died.
“You’re selfish.” The word hit you harder than the rain. “What?” you whispered, where did this even come from? “You’re selfish,” he repeated, eyes burning. “Because you look at me like I’m something worth saving and you keep choosing me when you deserve better and how you’d follow me straight to hell if I asked you to. That’s selfish. You don’t get to throw your life away on someone like me.”
What the fuck was he saying? After weeks of no contact, this was the first shit that came out of his mouth? That was his grand return? Not an apology, or an explanation, not even a simple “I missed you.” Just this cryptic, self-sacrificing bullshit that didn’t even make sense.
You stare at him like he’d lost his damn mind. He disappears, leaves you checking your phone like an idiot, leaves you replaying every touch, every word, every “you’re mine” he whispered against your skin and now he stands in front of you acting like he’s some tragic hero trying to save you from himself? Save you from what? From loving him? From choosing him?
You felt your chest tighten, anger mixing with hurt until you couldn’t tell which one was stronger.
“Me? Selfish?” you shouted, tears mixing with rain. “I choose you. I always choose you. I’m still choosing YOU! I gave up everything for you — because of you! and you’re calling me selfish?!”
“I didn’t tell you to,” Jungwon snapped. Silence crashed down between you….His words made you laugh— a broken, disbelieving sound. if he was going to walk away, fine. At least have the guts to say it straight. Don’t act like you’re doing this for me when you’re the one who pulled me into this mess in the first place.
After everything — after the way he held you like you were the only thing keeping him sane, this was what you got?
Jungwon stood in front of you, still holding your hands in his. His heart pounded so violently it felt like a drum echoing through the storm, and for a second he swore he could hear yours too — matching it, beat for beat. Maybe you were the same rhythm, maybe you were the same damn heart split into two bodies, forced to stand on opposite sides of a line neither of you drew.
Well at least he knew you were the beat to his heart. You were in his blood, beating in his fucking chest like you owned it. The only way you’d ever leave was when that heart stopped. You were his gravity, his entire fucking planet, the force that kept him from drifting into the dark. Without you, he wasn’t just lost — he was nothing.
His thumb pressed into the curve of your hip, His wet hair clung to his forehead, messy, making his eyes look even more unreadable. But his touch betrayed him. His hand on your waist trembled — barely.
Rain streamed down his face, but he didn’t blink. Didn’t flinch. His hands trembled where they slid from your fingers to your waist, gripping you.
You could feel the heat of him even through the cold. Water ran down your face, over your lips, down your neck, but he didn’t look away, didn’t blink. He simply stared at you, stared your lips, your eyes, took in every detail of yours like this is the last time he’d be meeting you.
His grip on your waist tightened, pulling you flush against him until there was no space left. Until you felt him on your inner thigh, you gasp but swallowed when both of your lips grazed eachother—electric. A whisper of a touch that sent heat rushing through you both. His hand on your waist tightened instinctively. Your noses nudged again as you adjusted, forehead touching.
Then his lips pressed to yours properly, moving against yours slower, this wasn’t rushed like you both do when you’re having sex. It had a deeper meaning, his tongue nibbled at your bottom lip making you whimper, memorizing the shape of your mouth.
Your noses brushed again, rainwater slipping between your cheeks, but neither of you pulled away. His thumb traced against your side while his other hand kept yours locked with his, fingers tightening whenever you moaned into his mouth. When you parted your lips slightly, he exhaled into you, shaky, breath before kissing you deeper.
When he finally pulled back, a string of saliva connecting you both. His forehead rested against yours, lips still brushing yours as his chest rose up and down.
“This is a sin,” he whispered, voice barely audible over the storm.
“Then drop to your knees and worship me,” you shot back automatically, aching desperation cause you would follow Jungwon anywhere. To the edge of the world, to the fiery gates of hell. You’d burn beside him if he just reached for your hand and asked.
Your breathing faltered when jungwon let loose of your waist, your heart sinking down as you realised what this meant. You bit your lips, finally shooting out the words you thought you’d never say to him.
“Jungwon… go home,” you said softly. “As you said, this is over. Go home. We’re done.” Your vision blurred, you wanted to cry, Though not like this, not with him standing infront of you, staring. But you couldn’t, as you’d never really been able to hide who you truly were from Jungwon.
His eyebrows pulled together like you’d stabbed him. “Home?” he repeated.
“You’re my home.”
Two people standing in the rain, hearts beating the same rhythm, pretending they could survive apart.
Another week passed. No Jungwon. No texts. No No “are you okay?” Nothing, lol, silly you. What’d you even expect?
At first you told yourself you wouldn’t cry over him again, how can you not? That man was your everything. You cried in the shower so no one would hear, you cried into your pillow at 2 a.m, you cried quietly while staring at your phone, hating yourself for still hoping it would light up with his name.
By the end of the week, the tears weren’t dramatic anymore, they became exhausting. Your lungs felt heavy. You weren’t heartbroken in a loud way , you were hollowed out. A walking, blinking fucking zombie.
Heeseung noticed, of course he did. He always notices Your mom tried cooking your favorite food. Your dad awkwardly suggested a movie night, Heeseung even brought his friends over, hoping the noise and chaos would pull you out of your head for a bit. Laughter filled the living room, loud teasing — all of it deliberately exaggerated just to get a reaction out of you.
And he was there too. The second you heard Jungwon’s voice in the room,smth inside you snapped.
“Y/n! Come on, why is our princess so sad? What for?” Sunoo called sweetly from the couch, trying to make you smile. You stepped into the hallway just in time to see Jungwon walk through the door behind the others, hands in his pockets, like he hadn’t ripped your heart out and left it bleeding for seven fucking days.
Your vision blurred, this fucking bastard. You hated the way he still made your heart race. So, you stood up so abruptly your chair scraped harshly against the floor. No one even had time to react before you were walking away up the stairs, into your room, slamming the door shut hard enough to shake the walls.
A minute later there was a knock. “Y/n,” with Heeseung’s voice following it. “Why are you like this? Talk to me.”
You yanked the door open, eyes red, chest heaving. “Not like you’d fucking understand, Heeseung. Get the fuck out of my room.”
The words came out sharper than you intended venomous, even but you were drowning and he was the closest thing to blame. You saw it immediately. The way your brother’s expression cracked.
Heeseung had never hurt you, never let anyone hurt you. He’d always been your shield. But this time… he knew. He knew what he’d said to Jungwon, knew the conversation that had happened behind his back and watching you fall apart because of it was eating him alive.
“Y/n, if this is about—” he started, You grabbed the nearest cushion and threw it at him. “Get. The. Fuck. Out.” Your voice broke on the last word.
For a second, he just stood there. Guilt pressing into his lungs, wishing he could rewind time and take back the warning, take back the brotherly protectiveness that might’ve cost you your happiness.
He swallowed, nodded once, and stepped out, heading downstairs, the atmosphere shifted the second he returned . His friends looked at him expectantly.
“What’d she say?” Sunghoon asked. Heeseung let out a humorless breath. “Told me to get the fuck out.” Ni-ki clicked his tongue. “Oh. Damn.”
There was an uncomfortable silence before Jake leaned forward, rubbing the back of his neck. “Hyung… there’s a party the day after tomorrow. You know, at Minjae’s place? Bring her. Maybe she just needs a distraction. A change of scene.”
Heeseung hesitated, he didn’t want to push you. But he also couldn’t stand watching you fade like this. “…Yeah,” he finally muttered, nodding slowly. “Maybe.”
Upstairs, you sat on the floor with your back against the door, listening to the muffled sounds of laughter below and hating yourself because even now, even after everything, the only thing you wanted was to hear Jungwon come upstairs and knock.
The day of the party rolled in faster. You had said no to your brother. But Heeseung had the persistence of a mosquito.
“Please,” he had groaned for the tenth time, leaning against your door. “You’ve been rotting in here for a week. Just come. If you hate it, we’ll leave.”
“I do hate it,” you muttered from your bed.
“Y/n.”
“What.”
“Don’t make me beg.”
“You’re already begging.” Eventually, purely out of annoyance and not because you wanted to go, you agreed just so he’d shut up.
You texted Eunchae. Now she was in your room like a stylist, aggressively flipping through your closet. “Nope. Too sad. Too ‘I still cry at night.’ Absolutely not.”
“Eunchae—” You voice cuts in, “Nuh uh,” she cut you off, gasping as she yanked out a dress. “We need something hot. Like revenge-hot. Make-him-regret-everything hot.” She held it up like it was a sacred artifact, the dress was Black, tight, Halter neck, backless, high slit on the side.
You’re insane.” You said while staring at the dress, she narrowed her eyes. “Exactly.” Ten minutes later, you were in it. The fabric hugged every curve. The slit showed just enough leg. Your heels clicked sharply against the floor as you stepped out. Eunchae froze mid-sentence. “…Oh.” You raised an eyebrow. “What?”
She placed a hand over her heart. “If I wasn’t straight, this would be my villain origin story.” You snorted and then you laughed which startled even you. Eunchae exhaled dramatically, shoulders sagging in relief. “There she is. That’s my best friend. You look so pretty when you smile, you idiot.” You rolled your eyes but your chest felt lighter than it had all week. When you walked downstairs, Heeseung looked up from his phone — and visibly melted. “That’s it,” he muttered, shaking his head. “You should smile more.”
“Shut up,” you said, but you were smiling. He patted Eunchae’s shoulder. “Take care of my sister.” Eunchae flashed him her middle finger. “I always do.”
The party was loud, Music vibrating through your ribs. Heeseung’s friends immediately hyped you up. “Okay, who is she?” Jay said as he saw you walking towards their gang. “Y/n?? Since when do you look like that?” Jake clutch his heart, “You trying to kill someone tonight?” Sunghoon said while passing you a drink. You laughed, brushed it off, accepted the drink. For a while, you forgot.
Until your eyes did what they’d been trained to do, you look for him across the room, then you found him.
Jungwon. Across the room. With a girl. She was laughing at something he said, her hand resting lightly on his arm. Your stomach dropped so fast it felt like freefall. Wow. It’s been a week and he already replaced you?
You scoffed, grabbed the nearest drink, and downed half of it. Eunchae followed your line of sight. “…Oh wow. What a fucking asshole.”
“I don’t care,” you said flatly, rolling your tongue. She looked at you. “Yeah, sureeee.”
“I literally don’t.” You finished your cup. “He can do whatever he wants.” Eunchae nods, “Mmhm.”
“He’s irrelevant.”
“Right.”
“He’s looking at you, by the way.” Your hand paused mid-reach for another drink. “What?” You questioned, Eunchae smirked before replying. “Glanced at you like five times already.” You didn’t turn but as soon as she said it, you felt his stare burning into your back.
The alcohol started to warm your veins. Each gulp grew easier, the noise of the party soon blurring at the edges, bass vibrating through your heels, through your bones. Your fingers tightened around the plastic cup as condensation dripped down onto your knuckles.
Fine. If he could move on in a week, so could you. You let a guy pull you into the crowd. He was decent-looking, smelled like cologne and bad decisions. You danced with him, swaying yours with his. He moved behind you, hands resting on your waist. At first, it was fine. Then his hands slid lower to your hips till they settled behind and squeezed your ass. You stiffened. “Hey— don’t.”He leaned closer, breath hot near your ear. “Relax. I know you’re enjoying this.”
“I said don’t.” You tried to move forward, but his grip tightened. From the corner of your eye, you saw Jungwon, but he was alone, the girl was gone. He was leaned back against the wall, cigarette rested between his fingers, the tip glowing orange every time he inhaled. Smoke curled slowly from his lips, dissolving into the air. His gaze never left you.
Not once. He dragged in another slow inhale, cheeks hollowing lightly, eyes dark. The smoke left his mouth in a steady stream as he tilted his head, watching you dance with another man.
The guy’s hand squeezed your ass again, you shoved harder. “Let go.” You glared, “Don’t act shy now—” Suddenly his body jerked backward.
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing, you fucking dickface?” Jungwon’s voice cut through the music like a blade. The guy stumbled, regaining his balance. “Bro, chill. She was dancing with me.” He clarified. “Touch her again,” Jungwon said low, terrifyingly calm, “and I’ll break your fucking hands.”
“Who even are you?” the guy snapped, trying to shove him, wrong move. Jungwon shoved him back harder. “The one telling you to keep your filthy hands off her.” Then the other guy swings his arm first, big mistake lol. They crashed into a table. Their body falling down with a loud thud as music faltered. Jungwon moved — fist connecting with the guy’s jaw.
The guy staggered, cursing, swinging once more but Jungwon ducked, drove his shoulder into him, forcing him against the wall. His cigarette dropped from his fingers but he caught it again between two knuckles, still lit. The guy cursed. “She was dancing with me!”
“And she told you to stop,” Jungwon growled. Then in a horrifying second, Jungwon pressed the burning tip of his cigarette to the guy’s cheek.
“She’s mine,” he muttered, voice dark. “Get your filthy fucking hands off her.” He pulled the cigarette away and punched him again, this time harder. The guy collapsed to the floor, clutching his face. People were shouting now…Someone tried to grab Jungwon’s shoulder but he shrugged them off. He stood over the guy, chest rising slowly, knuckles smeared red, smoke still curling from the cigarette between his fingers.
“Stop it, will you?” Your voice wasn’t dramatic, not yelling the way girls did in movies. Jungwon’s eyes lifted and locked on you. Your eyes were blank almost emotionless.
Heeseung pushed through the crowd. “What happened?” Then he saw Jungwon’s knuckles. Blood smeared across them. “…Okay, what the fuck?” Heeseung breathed. Eunchae appeared beside you. “Oh my god.”
“I’ll take her home,” Jungwon said, not taking his eyes off you. You frowned. “The fuck?”
“I’m not going home,” you snapped. “Who said I want to go home? Especially not with you.”
“She’s tired,” Jungwon cut in smoothly. “I’m taking her.” He looked at Heeseung. There was smth in his expression which was probably why heeseung said yes. “O-okay,” Heeseung muttered. “Yeah. Take her home.” Your head whipped toward him. “The fuck? I’m not going home!”
Jungwon looked at you and glared as his voice dropped lower. “You’re not staying here.” Who is he to decide that? “And you don’t get to decide that.” His jaw tightened. “He touched you.”
“So? I handled it.”
“No, you didn’t.” Your eyes flashed the second Jungwon’s fingers wrapped around your wrist. His grip was tight— firm enough to make you wince as he pulled you forward without asking, The warmth from the fight was still radiating off him, knuckles raw, jaw clenched so hard a muscle ticked beneath his skin. “Jungwon—” you tried, digging your heels slightly into the floor.
This asshole didn’t stop, dragged you through the crowd, bodies parting instinctively at the look on his face. Music thumped, people whispered, but none of it mattered. His hand stayed locked around your wrist. You tried to twist free once. It was useless and soon gave up as you were no match for jungwon. Not when adrenaline was still pumping through his veins.
His grip tightened again when you resisted, warning you. Behind you, Heeseung blinked slowly, rubbing a hand down his face as he watched you both push toward the exit. “…Here goes nothing,” he muttered under his breath, already bracing himself for whatever might happen.
“Arghh, let me go! Jungwon—” you hissed, trying to dig your heels into the pavement as he dragged you across the parking lot. The cold night air hit your flushed skin, His grip never loosened. If anything, it tightened every time you resisted.
His car was parked all the way at the end of the lot, away from the lights and all people. When you reached the passenger side, he finally stopped only to push you lightly towards the door, angling his head at it. “Get in the car.” You stared at him in disbelief, chest heaving. “The fuck did you just say?” His jaw flexed. “Get. In.”
You scoffed, almost laughing. “Are you insane? You’re the one who told me to stay away from you. You disappear for a week. A whole fucking week. And now you think you can just— what? Drag me out here and order me around?”
You could feel the rain from that night still lingering in the air, the asphalt smelling faintly wet. “A full week of crying over you,” you continued, voice cracking despite yourself. “A full week of feeling like I wasn’t enough and….and now you want me to listen to you? Just because you snap your fingers?”
Your heart was racing, not just from anger but eve from him, from the way his voice had dropped inside ur head when he said she’s mine. The words echoed in your head whether you liked it or not. She’s mine. It hurt.
Because he didn’t act like you were his when he walked away, instead he decide to be a coward, didn’t act like you mattered when he ignored you. Didn’t act like you were “his” when you were alone in your room crying into your pillow. And yet— The way he looked at you. The way he couldn’t take his eyes off you in that dress. Your chest tightened painfully.
“I’m not something you can pick up when it suits you,” you said more quietly now. “You don’t get to disappear and then show up acting possessive.” He stepped closer. His hands braced against the car door on either side of you, caging you in. "You don't own me," you said staring into his eyes. He lowered his voice, almost reverently. "No... but you own every part of me." His breathing was still uneven from the fight, knuckles scraped and smeared faintly with blood.
“You think I wanted to stay away?” he asked, voice low. “Then why did you?” You said, looking up and saw the way his eyes looked at you as if you were everything. “That’s exactly why you’re getting in the car.”
And for a second — you hated how your heart betrayed you by racing harder at the thought of being alone with him. “No. I’m not getting in the car—” Your voice came out steady at first, but it broke at the end from Jungwon’s fingers closed around your throat, pulling you closer to him by your neck, thumb resting just beneath your jaw as his grip tilted your face up toward him.
“Get inside or i’m fucking you out here in the parking lot.” Your breath hitched and your insides throbbed at his words. How dare he? how dare he say that—You moaned when jungwon pressed his knee to your pulsating center, already soaked. He kept the pressure of his knee, rubbing it until you were gasping near his ear. "If I want to, I could fuck you right now, and you'd walk into your house with my cum dripping down your leg and a goddamn smile on your perfect little face. You got me?"
His lips crashed into yours, rough and desperate, his mouth moving against yours. His hand slid up to the side of your face, fingers tight in your hair as he pulled you closer.
“Fuck…” he breathed against your mouth, barely pulling away before kissing you again. “Tried so hard— tried so fucking hard to stay away from you.” The words came out broken between kisses, His forehead knocked against yours for a second, breath warm against your lips, eyes completely wrecked. “But I couldn’t,” he muttered, voice rough. “Could never stay away from you.”
You barely had time to breathe before he kissed you again, tongue slipping inside your mouth as he claimed you for the hundredth time, biting down on your lower lip, drawing a small sound out of you. His grip on you tightened instantly.
“I love you, y/n,” he said suddenly, the confession spilling out of him like it had been trapped there for years. “I can’t fucking pretend anymore… can’t stand there and watch anyone else touch you.” Your chest felt tight, too full, like your heart had nowhere to go with all the relief and disbelief crashing through you at once.
Jungwon let out a shaky breath and pressed his forehead to yours again, hands still holding you. “I should’ve said it a long time ago,” he murmured. “But I’m saying it now and I’m not taking it back.” His thumb brushed along your jaw before he leaned in again, “I love you, doll… baby, fuck,” he said softly against your lips. “The rest of the world can go to hell.”
Jungwon leaned down, pressing his mouth against your neck, leaving a trail of wet, messy kisses along your skin. His lips dragged slowly over the spot beneath your ear before he sucked at it, breath warm and uneven against you. “Shit—” he muttered under his breath, voice rough, almost impatient. “Say something, baby…” he whined—actually whined in ur neck, pressing another kiss there. “Say it back.”
"Do you love me, baby?” he asked.
"You...you love me?" You asked, still unsure."You doubt this?" He put your hand over his heart dramatically. "I have loved you since the moment I first saw you. You looked at me and you smiled." He grins. “But it was a smile that promised you would gut me if I crossed you. That was when I knew my heart was no longer mine."
The never-ending ache of love and sorrow, “So do you love me baby? cus i do. if I could buy you the stars, I would. If I could pull the moon down for you, l wouldn't hesitate. If I could give you a million suns, I would do it in a heartbeat." He smiles sheepishly at you. "But I can't do any of that….yet, so I'm asking if I could give you my heart instead."
Perhaps in some other life you could have refused, could have torn your hair and screamed, and made him face his choice alone. But not in this one. Jungwon would go and walk in the fire and you’d follow, even into death. "Yes," you whispered. "Yes….yes, god. Yes, i love you, you jerk." Relief broke in his face, and he reached to kiss you.
You smiled at him when he pulled back and watching you smile made his heart feel oddly warm and... glowy. Like he could stand here and soak up your happiness forever.
That sounded a little bit like heaven.
“You’re my heaven and i’m your hell.” your lips curved in a quiet laugh, the sound melting his heart in such a way he thought he’d fucking drown. "You're impossible." He nods, "Impossible not to want you.” Jungwon says as he holds your waist and kisses down your collar bone. You whimper when you feel his teeth bit down on the area above your chest, “Jungwon—we should go—” your whisper turned into a soft moan when he licks up the bite mark, “Go here?” He kisses your shoulders, glancing up at your reaction. “Or here?” then slides his hands down and touches you exactly where you needed him to.
“Hmm—” You shake your head. This was crazy, you weren’t about to have sex in public place, nah that’d be—“Look at you, already shaking at my touch.” He says, rubbing fingers in circulation motion at your dripping pussy,
“Won—oh my—we need to go—we can’t do it here.” You say between ragged breaths, jungwon chuckles, "What do you want me to do baby? You wear that little dress that shows off your legs, making me fucking crazy and jealous and then you look at me like you want me to fuck your pretty little cunt. Like you want me to fill you up. That would be crazy, though, because then you'd be sitting through the whole ride with me dripping out of you."
He leans over to kiss you, harder this time. “You taste like cigarettes.” You pant, he looks into your eyes, “I’ll quit.” He says like its smth easy to do, keeping his body hovering above yours till you feel his clothed hard-on rub you. You moan into each other’s mouth.
“You danced with another man just to make me fuck you like this, didn’t you? you dirty girl.” He hummed, “Been a bad girl, haven’t you? making me jealous….bad girls get punished and there’s nothing more than i love punishing.” his hands find your hips, lifting you up so fast you half scream. Before you could even protest, he had you lifted—Your back met the hood of his car a second later, the metal shockingly cold against your skin, stealing the air from your lungs as you dropped flat against it. The night air only made it worse, the chill of the steel pressing through the thin fabric while the warmth of his body hovered over you.
Your hands instinctively grabbed onto him as your legs came up around his waist. Thank god no one was around. The parking lot was almost completely dark, the few distant streetlights barely reaching this far, leaving the two of you tucked away in shadows.
"Jungwon—” Your voice was half-breathless surprise, hands flying to his shoulders for balance. He didn’t reply, just slipped his hands under your dress, cursing at how wet you were for him. You gripped onto him for dear life. His hands were now pressing against you in deliberate pressure which only made you grow wetter second by second. “Hmm—please.” You pleaded, hips bucking into his hands for more friction.
Jungwon cursed, “fuck, look at you. Bent over the hood of my car and dripping for me. This looks like my teenage dream.” In a second, jungwon lifted up your dress, pulled your panties down to your ankles, revealing the perfect pink flesh to his eyes as a groan followed. His fingers work to spread your pussy lips open, and out of nowhere, he pushes a finger inside your dripping cunt. You moaned at the sudden stretch, you close your eyes so hard it hurt. The way his fingers slipped so easily inside cause of how wet you were, you bet it's dripping by ur thighs by now.
Your back arches off the hood and Jungwon pins you down in place, you can't do anything but take it. "Keep those legs apart for me." he whispers, curling his fingers just right, each one of them hitting the spot that makes you cry out. “Do you like this? Being spread open and finger fucked where anyone could see you?” No one would, and if they did, jungwon would kill them first before they even walk away after seeing you like this, you were only his.
You clench tightly around his fingers and he grunts, "Jesus, fuck, baby. You know how to make a man lose his mind." He blows out a sharp exhale against your swollen lips. You fist his hair tighter. "Not just any man. You." You whimper out, “Not just any man," he repeats with a blinding possessiveness. "Me. Only fucking me.” You nod, and roll your eyes back when his fingers are pumping in and out of you at a torturous pace.
"Say you're mine," he orders and it's such a low blow when he's trapped in the cloud of lust. “Yours.” You choke out in a heartbeat, his thumb pressed on your clit, and another finger slipped inside. The extra pressure sent you over the cliff. Your vision blurred, while you caught your breath and he didn't pull his hand away until he wrung the last pulse from you. Both of his fingers start to work inside your mesh walls, finding your g- spot so quickly.
“You like that, don't you? You're sweet, and light, and good." He breathes into your ear. Before you can say anything, he leans down and spits right onto your cunt, then slides it in between your folds with his fingers and slams them in—making everything thicker and dirty as you whine you loudly. “But you like the darkness. You need it, crave it. And I'm going to give it to you."
You gripped at his hair, unable to do anything but rock your hips against his hand to stroke the fire. "Are you gonna come for me, doll?" His skilled fingers lift you higher, the orgasm curling low in your stomach. You barely nod, Jungwon smiles.
You tightened your arms around his neck and pressed a soft kiss to his jaw that made his heart twist in the strangest way.
Then again, nothing about his life had been normal since you came into it.
His lips press deep kisses on your neck, sucking and biting as his fingers don’t slow down their pace. “Soak my fingers like a good girl, doll.” He says, "Jungwon--fuckk-" You whine out his name, You finally let go, screaming his name out like it's the only thing you ever know, soaking his hands completely. Your legs are shaking so violently over his waist that you're glad he's holding you still.
And suddenly his mouth is on you—tongue flat, licking and sucking a stripe you as jungwon drapes your legs over his shoulders. He gasps as your liquid falls down on his face, and he holds you by the hips and pulls you down onto his face more. “Fuckfuckfucck—missed this pussy so much.” Lapping and gulping down all he can manage to. Moving his tongue up and down, tasting the mess you've made, and when his teeth tugs on your sensitive bud with his mouth—you try to get off, "No—” You shake, and try to get off. “Wonnie—baby, you’re—fuck, you’re making me feel so good.” You mange to say it out loud.
God, this woman. He thought, You had no idea the things he would do for you.
He sucked hard on your clit, your breathing grew choppier. His hands gripped your hips tighter, holding you in place as he feasted on you. He was lost in it, completely pussy-drunk. “So sweet—hmm—mine, this cunt is only mine to fuck.” He pulled away to breathe before eating you out again.
His lips sealing around your clit as he sucked hard then releasing with a wet pop only to lap your juices coating his tongue, tasting every inch, every drop of slick on his tongue. His lips moved against you, his tongue inside you—fucking you with it in slow, deep thrusts and pulling back to circle your clit, hollowing his cheeks around your flesh, flicking up and down and the sharp graze of his teeth scraped the bundle of nerves. The sensation echoed in the healed bite mark on your neck. It was too much. you screamed as you shattered into his mouth—only for him to gulp down every single drop of your come.
“Shit—you always taste so fucking good.”
Again, you barely made it through his door before Jungwon grabbed you, hauling you up over his shoulder, the room spun for a second as he carried you across it. A moment later he dropped you back onto the bed.
The sheets rustled beneath you while he loomed over the edge of the bed, the air in the room suddenly feeling tighter.
Impatiently, you rushed to pull your dress over your head, fingers fumbling in your hurry. Jungwon stopped you before you could get it off completely, his hand closing around your waist, he was already naked, his shirt and pants and boxers pooled at the floor. Your mouth watered when your gaze flicked down to his cock—already hard, flat up against his stomach.
“You don’t take this off.” He said it while tugging your dress back down your body, the fabric sliding back into place. At the same time, Jungwon bent to grab one of the heels you’d kicked off earlier. The other was still hanging from your foot, barely on, and he caught the loose one from the floor before straightening.
He carefully lifted your leg up, one hand steady under your ankle as he just held it there before leaning down, pressing a soft, lingering kiss against your skin. Then he slid the heel back onto your foot, guiding it into place.
“You wanted to make me jealous in this? then i’ll fuck you in it.” Jungwon muttered out, your heart jumped at his words and you bite back a smile.
His hands came down to part your legs apart, no underwear this time, he told you to sit through the entire ride home with your come dripping down your legs and you did. His gave his dick a few pumps up and down, eyes never leaving yours as he settled between your legs, dragging his tip against your bare, slick folds with every forward motion. Both of you moaned, jungwon was taking this too slow and you were dying to have him inside you. It’s been too long.
The friction was maddening; intentional pressure guiding over your clit in desperate need, head nudging right where you ached most without pushing inside. “Please—want you inside.” His only response back was a guttural moan when he felt you grind into him, chasing the pressure. Already shaking, hands fisted at the sheets.
Jungwon yanked your dress a bit up till your stomach, groaning each time you pulsed around his leaking tip. He was humping you like a desperate dog in heat but not thrusting inside yet. “You want me inside you? want me to breed your pretty pussy until you can’t walk? until your whole stomach is filled with my load, hmm?” He gripped your jaw, forcing your gaze on him. “Don’t worry, doll. Gonna fuck you. Gonna be inside you—” Jungwon grabbed both of your wrists and had them pinned above your head. His other hand rested at your hips as he pulled your body down on him, leaning down and pressed his forehead to yours.
“Need to feel you’re mine but I need it to mean something. No more running. No more disappearing. I want you to take me, knowing it's us. That we don't break again." Precum mixed with your slick in thick, sticky ropes as he rocked his hips forward again, the tip of his dick going inside before pulling back. This was just pure torture.
“Want to fuck you with those heels digging into my back.” After—what felt like half an hour of grinding and teasing and torturing, Jungwon finally pushed inside you in one thrust, sinking to the hilt in a shuddering motion. You screamed, and he moaned your name, “That's my girl, you take what i give you and you like it."
My girl. Heaven was a place and it was yang jungwon’s bed.
You can't even get words out anymore—just broken and desperate moans, screams. You shake your head, sniffling, half sobbing. "Gonna bury my cock in so deep you won't be able to sit tomorrow without wincing." His hands tightened digging into your flesh, urging you to take what you wanted.
Your walls fluttered and clenched around him as he pulled out slowly, letting you feel every thick inch dragging out of you with torturous friction. “Your pussy always grips me so tight like it doesn’t want me to let go, fuck—gonna breed you, gonna fill myself so deep in you and you’ll take it like a good girl. Yeah? Fuck…i love you.”
He said, patting your cheek with his free hand. Your head goes blank under it, every thought stripped away until all that's left is the way his dick is poking the most sensitive parts of you. “Oh my—goddddd—jungwon.” He scoffed like he expected it, “Just me, doll, just me.” The feeling of him inside you is addicting, having jungwon fill you up so good, like every inch of his cock was made for your cunt, and your cunt only.
His hips snapped forward so hard, your body shoved higher up the mattress. The wet, filthy slap of skin on skin rang out louder than anything else in the room—other than your moans and his groans. Jungwon caressed the bare curves of your ass before spanking you.
Jungwon drives himself hard now, fingers digging into your thighs as he thruts himself so deep inside you that you fear you'll explode with the perfection of it. "Fuck," He says, eyes on you, "Look at you. Look at how perfect you are under me." he moved his thumb to press down on your clit, rubbing and rolling on it. "uunngh—” you moaned softly, teething at the double pleasure you were receiving.
He holds your right leg and pulls it over his shoulders, withdrawing to the tip only to slam it back in, The position splayed you open wider, changing the angle just enough to sink even deeper. You arched off the mattress, he could feel everything; slick walls clinging to him, your insides clenching around his hard cock trying to keep him inside.
Your heels dug into his back, the sharp tips pressing into his skin, dragging as they scratched against him with every thrust. You close your eyes, tears threatening to fall because of the overwhelming pressure of his cock poking your every inch. You were close. “Scream for me, tell me how much you love my cock in you.” he growls against you, voice thick with hunger, the vibration dragging another cry from your throat.
Obliterated in the way he stretches you open, In the way he groans as another wave of slickness coats his fingertips when he grazes his thumb over your overstimulated cit, giving you just enough pressure to bring you closer to the edge. Jungwon finally pulls your dress over your head, tossing it to the side.
Revealing your perfect round breasts he’d been dying to see before leaning down and sucking one of your nipples into his lips, whining at the taste of you. He keeps sucking, rolling your nipple in his mouth as his other hand fondles with your other boob, then he bites down on the swell of your breast so hard you scream as he pounded into you so mercilessly it would've been painful had it not felt so good.
"Oh, God, I..." You sniffle. “I-I can’t—” You said as exhaustion burned through you, "You've taken worse than this. You can handle me, y/n." Your pussy fluttered wildly around jungwon’s cock and his harsh thrusts that he refused to soften. You felt like putty in his arms, fully moldable for him, and he knew it—that was the worst part. He grunted with effort, his balls slapping wetly against your ass on every plunge. Spank! Your body jolted at the sudden sharp sensation, “That was for making me jealous.” More tears fell down your cheeks as you felt his cock throb inside of you.
Jungwon lifted you again, your legs wrapping instinctively around his back as he held you up and pulled out before slamming your body down on his shaft all that while walking. In a few quick steps he carried you to the nearby window and pressed you back against it, the glass cool behind you as your body hit it with a soft thud. His grip tightened to keep you in place.
His hands clamped firmly against your back, holding you up off the ground while he adjusted his grip. In one rough motion he pulled your legs higher, wrapping them around his neck. For this fucking angle felt insane, like the both of you might crash down if his hold slipped even a little. You were completely suspended on him, trusting his strength to keep you there.
Jungwon kissed you then, harder, his mouth claiming you and his hands mapping your most sensitive zones as he fucked you towards your orgasm on the window. "I'm sure we look like a sweet couple, just enjoying the view...but they can't see your gorgeous cunt dripping pretty cum down the inside of your thighs the way I can, and they can't hear the sweet sounds you make when till you up, hmm—fuck.”
You clung to him, legs on his shoulders as he thrusted into you, hitting every part of yours as you could do nothing but moan against him and take him as deep as he can go. "For two fucking weeks, I have been losing my mind." He pulled out, “I have not held you in my arms, I have not seen you, touched you, heard your voice….god, you have no idea what you do to me, doll.” He chuckles because obsession is weird, at first you just want a glance, a touch, taste. Then greed takes over and you can’t get enough.
Your reply turned into a hoarse scream when he slid his hands on your wet folds and pinched your clit, his arm moved from where it was and ran along your breasts and up your throat to grab your chin in a vice grip. Jungwon pulled your mouth open before sliding two fingers down your tongue slowly, “Suck.” He demanded, and you exploded without warning, hard, sudden, long, ears buzzing, knees buckling, as he didn’t slow down, kept fucking you towards another orgasm.
“Scream all you can, doll. Gonna make you so sore you won't know if it's from the screaming or the fucking.” He works you with his cock, his hands gripping your hips to hold you steady, and you have to bite down on his biceps from crying out loud.
Jungwon runs his palm across your stomach, his gaze fixed where his cock is disappearing in and out of you, your come dripping down your thighs falling to the floor making his dick glisten under the light. “Hmmm—too much.” He doesn’t look up, instead, he presses his palm flat on your stomach. The pressure is so much it makes you arch your back off the window. One hand comes up to grip your jaw and force your gaze down on his dick,
“Look, look how perfect you take me, goddamnit, you’re made for me, doll.” Your vision whited out for a second as he pressed down harder, caressing the bulge of his cock poking out. “Fuck, gonna breed you—wanna put a baby in you. Shitttt, you’d look so beautiful…stomach round with my kids.” He choked out, throbbing inside your cunt, Jungwon’s hips rose to meet yours and you nearly blacked out from how good he felt inside you.
“Yeah? you want that? want me to breed you so deep you forget your own name? Want me to fill you with my kids, hmm?” Your hips jolted towards jungwon and a whine left your lips. “Yess—please.” his hand moving from your hip so he could rub circles in your swollen clit with his thumb. “Fuck, so drunk on my cock you don’t even know what you’re asking for—fuckkfuckkk.” You thought that you were all stretched out already, but Jungwon always managed to prove you wrong.
“You’d look so beautiful—belly getting round, shit i’d take care of you—both of you. Fuck, let me breed you baby, You’re all mine now, yeah?” He whined, legit. Jungwon pulled you to him so you were chest to chest, your tits meeting his bare chest, He leaned down so his lips were at your ear, his thumb at your clit not stopping its mission to help overstimulate you more. “would kiss your bump everyday….shitshit, baby, please—I love you, love you so much, please—” He moaned.
Jungwon didn’t even know what exactly he was begging for anymore. The words kept leaving his mouth before he could think them through. All he knew was the feeling clawing inside his chest — If you asked for anything, he’d give it. Anything you looked at for more than two seconds would somehow end up yours. He’d tear the world apart before letting anything make you cry.
His mind was running faster than he could control, thoughts messy. The image hit him out of nowhere, of you laughing somewhere in a kitchen, sunlight on your face, your stomach round with his child. You’d look so fucking beautiful like that, glowing, complaining about cravings while he hovered around you like a lunatic.
He could almost picture the way your hands would rest there absentmindedly, rubbing the curve. Your body would change and he knew it would drive him insane in a completely different way. Your tits would become heavier, spilling against soft fabric, the weight of it obvious when you moved. The faint lines along your stomach, the stretch marks spreading across your skin like proof of something the two of you made together.
He imagined standing behind you, hands spread over that stomach, feeling movement under his palms.
“Fuck,” he muttered under his breath, almost angry at himself for thinking that far ahead, his hand just got tighter around your throat, squeezing at just the right places that made you feel extra cloudy and like you were floating.
Your hips bucked wildly on their own towards jungwon’s hand and that motion nearly made you black out with his cock pistoning into you, your back hitting the window behind with a thud everytime he thrusted inside. He moaned when your pussy tried its hardest to completely suck in his cock.
Now it was worse. Now he couldn’t imagine a version of his life where you weren’t tangled in it. He couldn’t stop now moreover he wouldn’t stop. Not until you were tied to him in a way that no one else could touch, not until every part of you knew you belonged with him and nowhere else.
Till death did you both apart.
Your hips still bucked, trying to get as much stimulation as possible despite it already being entirely too much. You needed more of him, needed his cock pounding into you harder. Jungwon laughed in your ear, “Fuck, gonna catch you fucking pregnant, doll. You want me to? Tell me you do, shit baby, answer me—please.” He pleaded, “Yes, won—please, fill me up—” That was enough for him to slam forward one last time, burying himself to the hilt as he came violently inside you, cock pulsing as thick ropes of come filled your insides, flooding you rope after rope of his cum. “Fuckkkkkk—baby, shit.” His whole body jerked forward with each spurt, hips shoving his seed deep inside your stomach.
You came right after him, walls fluttering and clenching around his entire length that was buried in you, a broken cry leaving your lips as he kissed your neck. Jungwon kept fucking you again and again and again until you were a real life worn out doll, your one leg now wrapped around his waist as he did what he promised he will.
Now you were both lying there, the tension from earlier finally settling. Your legs were tangled together under the sheets, Jungwon had one arm tucked beneath your head, his other hand tracing slow lines over your bare hip. His fingertips moved back and forth, memorizing the shape of you.
Back in his arms again.
Somehow you always ended up here. It didn’t matter how angry you got, how dramatic things became. You always found your way back to Jungwon, like some stupid gravitational pull neither of you could escape.
He leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to your forehead, lingering there for a second longer than necessary. When he pulled back, he was smiling—an actual relaxed smile, not the cocky one he usually wore.
You looked up at him. “I love you.”
Jungwon tilted his head slightly, needing to make sure he heard that right. He let out a slow breath through his nose. “Say that again.” he needed to hear those three words again that he’s been dying to hear all these years.
You leaned up and kissed him slowly first, dragging it out on purpose before murmuring against his lips, “I love you, Yang Jungwon.”
The second time it hit him harder. For a moment he just stared at you. If Jungwon had a little less control over himself he probably would’ve burst into tears. “I love you too, doll,” he said quietly, brushing his thumb along your side. “So fucking much.”
He paused, searching your face, wanting you to understand exactly what he meant. “Because what I feel…” he continued, voice rougher now, “it’s more than love. It’s obsession. It’s every thought dragging me back to you no matter how hard I try to walk away. Every sleepless night. Every damn heartbeat.” His mouth twitched faintly. “And that kind of thing doesn’t just disappear, baby, That lasts forever.”
Your heart sped up at his words, heat creeping into your face. “You’re insane,” you said, shaking your head while a laugh slipped out of you.
That small sound made something in his expression soften instantly. “And you’re mine,” he replied, grinning now. “So what does that make you?” You rolled your eyes but couldn’t hide the smile pulling at your mouth.
Looking at you like this—eyes bright under the dim light, hair a mess, still smiling at him—Jungwon felt something dangerously close to peace.
Then your expression shifted slightly, becoming serious. You grabbed both his hands suddenly. “Promise me something.” His brows lifted. “What?” He asked, “That I don’t have to worry about you leaving again.” The question sat between you for a second.
Jungwon’s thumb brushed over your knuckles before he answered. “I promise.” You narrowed your eyes slightly. “Do you promise that you promise?” He let out a short laugh, shaking his head. “Jesus Christ.” Then he squeezed your hands. “I promise that I promise.”
The grin that spread across your face was ridiculous. Your cheeks started hurting from it but you didn’t care. You pointed a finger at him dramatically. “If you ever pull that disappearing bullshit again I swear to fuck I will lock you in a room with me and throw away the key.”
Jungwon didn’t even hesitate as a slow smirk spread across his face. “Too bad, doll,” he said. “I’d probably enjoy that.”
You groaned and shoved his shoulder, but he pulled you closer to him, tickling your sides. You laughed, breathless.
All his dreams came true tonight.
And for a while the rest of the world stopped existing.
Epilogue
Five months with Jungwon—the absolute love of your life. Five months since that night where every line that used to exist between you both snapped. The very next day he proposed properly, right in front of your brother. Jungwon standing there like he had nothing to lose, holding your hands. Heeseung’s jaw literally hit the floor as he just stared infront of him, blinking like his brain had short-circuited. Then he scoffed, ran a hand through his hair and started laughing.
“Are you serious right now?” he said. “You two are fucking insane.” Jungwon didn’t even flinch. “Yeah,” he replied calmly, squeezing your fingers. “But she’s still saying yes.” You were blushing so hard your face hurt, swatting Jungwon’s arm while Heeseung groaned dramatically.
“I knew something weird was going on, Niki muttered. “The tension was disgusting.”
Your brother was glaring but still pulled Jungwon into a hug right after, clapping his back. “Take care of her or I swear to god—”
“I will,” Jungwon said, serious in a way that shut the joke down instantly and….that was that.
When you told your parents later, it somehow turned into an even bigger mess. Your mom screamed the second the words left your mouth.
“I KNEW IT!” she shouted, pointing at you, “You couldn’t stop staring at him every time he came over!”
“Mom!” you groaned, hiding your face while Jungwon tried not to laugh beside you. “Oh my sweet babies,” she continued dramatically, grabbing both of your hands. “You have my deepest condolences.” Your dad just leaned against the counter, shaking his head with a smile.
“Honestly, good for you, honey,” he said, kissing your forehead. “Jungwon’s a good man. He’ll keep you happy.” You remember looking down shyly then, heart doing that stupid fast thing it always did around him.
Because he already was your happiness.
Now here you are months later, lying beside him in the quiet grass with nothing but the night sky above you. Thousands of stars scattered across black. The air is cool, and Jungwon’s arm is tucked behind your head while your legs are tangled together. His thumb traces lazy circles over your arm.
Jungwon quit smoking the night he promised you he would right there against your lips. That was how stupidly, hopelessly in love he was with you. Nothing in this world was allowed to hurt you, not even something as small as the smell of smoke on him.
His hyungs didn’t believe it at first.
Sunoo practically gasped when Jungwon waved off a cigarette one evening. “Wait—don’t tell me you actually quit smoking for her?” he said, staring at him, though the grin on his face gave him away.
Jungwon just laughed, smug, patting Sunoo on the shoulder. “Trust me,” he said, shaking his head lightly.
“You can only handle one addiction at a time.”
Back to present, “You’re staring again,” he murmurs. “At what?”
“Me.” You scoff softly. “Shut the fuck up.” He laughs under his breath, the sound low and warm in his chest. “You totally are.” You turn your head toward him anyway. His eyes reflect the starlight and for a second you swear your heart trips over itself.
“Maybe I am,” you mumble. “What about it?” Jungwon watches you, Your fingers drift up to his hoodie strings, playing with them. Twisting them around your fingers. “You’re cute,” he says. You groan instantly. “Don’t start.”
“What? can’t i appreciate my beautiful girlfriend?” You chuckle, “Yeah, sure.”
He leans closer suddenly and presses a quick kiss to your cheek. You shove his shoulder lightly. “Dude.” He frowns at the nickname, “What?”
“You’re annoying.” He hums, not believing you at all. His hand slides a little higher on your back, pulling you closer against him until your chin is resting on his chest.
Above you, a shooting star streaks quickly across the sky. Your eyes widen. “Holy shit—did you see that?”
“Yeah.” He says, his eyes never leaving yours. “Make a wish.” He replies immediately, “You first.” You close your eyes, squeezing them shut, hoping that’ll somehow make it work better. Jungwon watches you with the dumbest smile.
“What’d you wish for?” he asks. “I’m not telling you or it won’t come true.” You scrunch your nose up at him. “Liar. You definitely just wished for food.” You gasp. “Fuck you.” He smirks, “Now or later?” You slap his arms, He laughs again, and leans down to press a slow kiss to your forehead.
Your heart does that stupid fast thing again. “You’re staring,” you mumble. “Yeah,” he says easily. You lift your head slightly. “Why?” He shrugs a little, because come on, the answer is obvious.
“Because you’re mine.” You roll your eyes but you can’t stop smiling. “That’s cocky as hell.”
“Am I wrong?” He asks, “…unfortunately no.” He grins, victorious, and tilts your chin up with his fingers before kissing you properly this time. Slow, soft, the kind of kiss that makes your stomach flip even though you’ve kissed him a thousand times already.
When he pulls back, your noses brush. “I’m gonna marry you one day,” he says. You blink, heat rushing straight to your face. “Yeah?” you whisper, smiling.
“Yeah, doll.” He kisses you once more, this time, sealing the promise into the quiet night. Your fingers slide into his hair while you rest your forehead against his.
Above you the stars keep shining like nothing in the world could ever go wrong and right now, it honestly fucking feels like it won’t.
THE END
still one of my best works
WHAT THE MOON REMEMBERS
— y.jw
ꫂ᭪݁ PAIRINGS. Yang Jungwon x Female Reader
ꫂ᭪݁ GENRE. Reincarnation AU | Soulmates | Historical Fiction | Angst with Happy Ending | Romance | Tragedy | Multiple Timelines
ꫂ᭪݁ SUMMARY. Across seven lifetimes you and Jungwon find each other again and again. Every time, the pull is undeniable. Every time, he promises that he’ll find you in the next life. But the moon has watched you love and lose each other over and over for centuries. This time, can you finally break the cycle? Or is your love destined to be eternal and heartbreaking in equal measure in every sense of the world?
ꫂ᭪݁ WORD COUNT. 30.6k
ꫂ᭪݁ WARNINGS. explicit sexual content (18+ MDNI), penetrative sex, oral sex (m and f), praise, first time, loss of virginity (m and f), major character death multiple times, war and military themes, depictions of violence, descriptions of the 9/11 terrorist attacks, tuberculosis, cancer, drowning, war, building collapse, themes of grief, car accident and hospitalization, terminal illness, strong language, emotional distress, references historical traumas
ꫂ᭪݁ PLAYLIST. What The Moon Remembers
ꫂ᭪݁ LAC4YGAL NOTE. this broke me to write them loosing each other over and over but the final life is so precious. it took me ages to figure out how I wanted to go about this idea but I think I maybe nailed it??!! listen to the playlist as you read; it adds so much more! reblogs, likes, comments and feedback are always appreciated and keep me writing. I hope you love this as much as I did writing it, enjoy!🤍
ꫂ᭪݁ TAGLIST. @kristynaaah @yuudaiinhs @urlocalengene @woninlove @n4n4files @jimineepaboya @grdientlips (just ask to be added to perm taglist lovelies)
ꫂ᭪݁ MY MASTERLIST.
1770 — Jungwon’s POV
The pain is what wakes him. It’s everywhere— his chest, his side, his leg— a white-hot burning that makes breathing feel like dragging shards of glass through his lungs. Jungwon tries to move and immediately regrets it, a groan escaping through clenched teeth.
“Easy.” A voice cuts through the haze, soft but firm. “Don’t try to sit up yet.” He forces his eyes open, squinting against the dim candlelight. The ceiling above him is canvas, stained and sagging. A medical tent, he realizes slowly. The smell hits him next— blood, infection, unwashed bodies, death. He’s in a field hospital.
The battle. Right. There was a battle. He remembers musket fire, smoke so thick he couldn’t see three feet ahead, the screaming of men and horses. He remembers pain exploding in his chest, the ground rushing up to meet him, thinking this is it as the world went dark. But he’s not dead. Apparently.
“Welcome back to the land of the living, soldier.” Jungwon turns his head— slowly, because even that hurts— and sees her for the first time.
She’s young, probably close to his age, with tired eyes and capable hands currently wringing out a cloth in a basin of water. Her dress is simple, stained with blood that he hopes isn’t all his, and her hair is pulled back in a practical bun with loose strands escaping around her face. She’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. “How bad is it?” he manages, his voice rough and unfamiliar.
She glances at him, and something flickers in her expression— pity, maybe, or resignation. “You’ve been unconscious for two days. Musket ball to the chest, missed your heart by maybe an inch. Another in your leg. You’ve lost a lot of blood.”
“But I’ll live?” He tries for a smile. “You’re not just keeping me comfortable while I die, are you?”
“That depends entirely on whether infection sets in.” She wrings out the cloth and moves closer, pressing it gently to his forehead. It’s blessedly cool. “And on whether you follow my instructions and rest instead of trying to be charming.”
“I can’t help being charming,” Jungwon says. “It’s a curse.”
Despite herself, she almost smiles. Almost. “Save your energy. You’re going to need it.”
Over the next few days, Jungwon learns three things. One: Getting shot hurts significantly worse than he’d imagined, and he’d imagined it would be pretty terrible.
Two: Field hospitals are hell on earth— the sounds of men dying, the smell of rot and gunpowder, the constant stream of new wounded being carried in on stretchers.
Three: The nurse— he learns her name eventually, after asking three times because she keeps deflecting— is the only good thing about being here.
She tends to his wounds twice a day, changing bandages with gentle efficiency, checking for signs of infection. She brings him water when he asks, broth when he can stomach it, and occasionally reads to him from a battered copy of poetry she keeps in her apron pocket when the nights are long and he can’t sleep through the pain. “You don’t have to do that,” he says one night, when she’s been reading for nearly an hour.
She looks up from the book, candlelight catching in her eyes. “Do what?”
“Stay with me. I know you have other patients.”
“The others are sleeping.” She marks her place with one finger. “And you’re the only one who actually appreciates poetry. Most of the men just want me to write letters to their wives.”
“Do you do that?”
“When they ask.” Her voice softens. “When they can still speak clearly enough to dictate.” The implication hangs heavy between them. When they’re not too far gone.
“Will you write a letter for me?” Jungwon asks. “If it comes to that?”
She’s quiet for a moment. Then: “It won’t come to that. You’re going to be fine.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I do, actually. I’ve been doing this for two years. I know who makes it and who doesn’t.” She meets his eyes, fierce and certain. “You’re going to make it.”
He wants to believe her. God, he wants to believe her. “When I do,” he says, emboldened by fever or stupidity or both, “I’m going to take you on a date. Dinner, dancing, the whole thing.”
She shakes her head, but she’s smiling now— a real smile that transforms her whole face. “You don’t even know me.”
“I’d like to.” He reaches for her hand, and after a brief hesitation, she lets him take it. Her fingers are cool and steady against his. “I’d like to know everything about you.”
“You’re delirious.”
“Maybe. But I still mean it.” She squeezes his hand gently before pulling away to return to her rounds. But the next night, she comes back. And the night after that.
They talk, in those stolen moments between her duties. He learns that she’s a farmer’s daughter, that she learned nursing from her mother, that she came to the war because her brother was fighting and she wanted to help. He tells her about his life before— the apprenticeship he left behind, the family he hasn’t seen in months, the future he’d planned that seems impossibly distant now. “What will you do?” she asks one night. “After the war?”
“If we win? I don’t know. Go home, I suppose. Try to remember what peace feels like.” He shifts carefully, trying to find a position that doesn’t hurt. “What about you?”
“The same, I think. Go home. Try to forget all of this.” She gestures vaguely at the tent, the rows of wounded men, the ever-present specter of death.
“I won’t forget you,” Jungwon says quietly.
She looks at him for a long moment, something unreadable in her expression. “You should. It would be easier.”
“I don’t want easier. I want—” He stops, unsure how to finish that sentence.
“What do you want?” Her voice is barely above a whisper.
You, he thinks but doesn’t say. I want you. I want to survive this. I want to take you dancing like I promised. I want a future where we’re not surrounded by death and blood and the smell of gunpowder.
“I want to see you smile again,” he says instead. “Like you did the other night. A real smile, not the one you give the patients.”
She does smile then, soft and sad. “You’re a foolish man, soldier.”
“Jungwon,” he corrects. “My name is Jungwon.”
“I know.” She stands, smoothing her apron. “Get some rest, Jungwon. Doctor’s orders.”
“You’re not a doctor.”
“Close enough.”
The days blur together. Jungwon’s strength slowly returns— he can sit up without help now, can eat solid food, can even stand for a few minutes at a time with support. The wounds are healing, she tells him, better than expected. No infection. He’s lucky. He doesn’t feel lucky. He feels like he’s been given a second chance and doesn’t know what to do with it. “When can I leave?” he asks one morning.
She’s changing his bandages, her touch gentle but impersonal. “When you can walk unassisted. When the doctor clears you. When there’s somewhere for you to go.”
“Will you miss me?” He’s only half-joking.
“Terribly,” she says, but there’s something true underneath the sarcasm. “Who else will I read poetry to at midnight?”
“You could read to the other patients.”
“They don’t listen like you do.” She finishes with the bandage and sits back. “There. You’re healing well. Another week, maybe two, and you’ll be back to fighting shape.” The thought of going back to battle makes his stomach turn. Going back to the killing, the chaos, the constant fear. But what choice does he have? The war isn’t over. His unit will want him back.
“What if I don’t go back?” he asks quietly.
She looks at him sharply. “They’d call that desertion.”
“What if I don’t care?”
“Jungwon—”
“I could stay here. Help with the wounded. I’m no good as a soldier anyway— I got myself shot in the first real battle.”
“You’re talking nonsense.” But her voice is gentler now. “The fever—”
“I’m not feverish. I’m just…” He trails off, struggling to articulate the feeling. “I’m tired. I’m tired of war. I’m tired of watching boys die. I’m tired of pretending I’m brave when all I want is to go home.”
She’s quiet for a long moment. Then she reaches out and takes his hand, holding it between both of hers. “You are brave,” she says firmly. “Being afraid doesn’t make you a coward. It makes you human.”
“I don’t feel brave.”
“No one ever does.” She squeezes his hand. “But you’re still here. You’re still fighting. That takes courage.”
He looks down at their joined hands, her fingers small and delicate against his calloused palms. He wants to tell her that she’s the reason he’s still fighting, that the thought of seeing her each day is the only thing that makes the pain bearable, that he’s started imagining a future that includes her in it. But before he can find the words, she pulls away and stands.
“Rest,” she says. “I’ll check on you later.” He watches her move through the tent, stopping at each bedside, offering water or adjusting bandages or simply sitting with the men who have no one else. She’s good at this, he realizes. Good at offering comfort in a place where there’s so little of it to be found. He wonders if she knows how extraordinary she is.
That night, she comes to his bedside with her book of poetry, like she has every night for the past two weeks. “Can’t sleep?” she asks, settling into the chair beside him.
“Hurts less when I’m distracted,” he admits. “And your voice helps.”
“Flattery will get you nowhere.”
“It got you to stay, didn’t it?”
She shakes her head, but she’s smiling as she opens the book. “Where did we leave off?”
“The one about the soldier and his love,” Jungwon says. “The sad one.”
“They’re all sad.”
“Read it anyway.” She does, her voice low and melodic in the quiet tent. Around them, men sleep or moan in pain or whisper prayers to gods who seem very far away. But in this small circle of candlelight, it’s just the two of them.
When she finishes, Jungwon doesn’t want her to leave. “Stay,” he says. “Just a little longer.” She should say no. She should check on the other patients, get some sleep herself, maintain the professional distance she’s supposed to keep. Instead, she stays.
“Tell me something,” he says. “Something real. Not about the war or medicine or any of this. Tell me about you.”
She’s quiet for a moment, considering. “What do you want to know?”
“Everything. Anything. What makes you happy?”
“Small things,” she says eventually. “The first warm day of spring. Fresh bread. The sound of rain on the roof.” She pauses. “My mother’s garden. She grows roses, and in summer the whole house smells like them.”
“That sounds beautiful.”
“It is. Was.” Her voice catches slightly. “I don’t know if I’ll ever see it again.”
“You will,” Jungwon says with more confidence than he feels. “This war will end. You’ll go home to your mother’s roses. You’ll—” He stops, because he doesn’t know what her future holds. He barely knows what his own does.
“What about you?” she asks. “What makes you happy?”
He thinks about it. “Music. My sister plays the pianoforte, and sometimes in the evenings we’d sing together. And stargazing. There’s something about looking up at the stars that makes everything else feel smaller, more manageable.”
“I like that,” she murmurs. “The idea that we’re small. That all of this—” she gestures vaguely “—is small in the grand scheme of things.”
“Do you think the stars care about our little human wars?”
“I doubt it.” She tilts her head, considering. “But maybe the moon does. It’s closer, more personal. Maybe it watches us and remembers.”
Something about those words sends a shiver through him, though he couldn’t say why. “The moon remembers,” he repeats softly. “I like that.”
She stands then, and he feels the loss of her presence acutely. “Where are you going?”
“Just to the window,” she says. “I want to show you something.” She crosses to the side of the tent and opens the canvas flap that serves as a window, tying it back to let in the night air. Cool autumn wind rushes in, carrying the scent of woodsmoke and distant rain.
And there, hanging low in the sky, is the moon. Full and bright and impossibly beautiful. “Oh,” Jungwon breathes. She returns to his bedside, and together they look out at the moon in silence. “It’s lovely,” he says finally.
“It is.” She’s still gazing at it, her face soft in the silvery light. “When I was young, my mother used to tell me that the moon was a guardian. That it watched over travelers and lovers and anyone who needed guidance in the dark.”
“Do you believe that?”
“I don’t know. But I like the idea of it. That something up there is watching. That we’re not alone.”
Jungwon reaches for her hand again, and this time she doesn’t pull away. They sit like that for a long moment, hands clasped, looking at the moon. “Do you think the moon remembers us?” he asks suddenly.
She turns to look at him, confused. “What?”
“The moon. Do you think it remembers us? All the people who have looked up at it, throughout all of history?”
“That’s…” She trails off, searching for words. “That’s a strange question.”
“I know. But do you think it does?”
She considers it seriously. “Maybe. Maybe it keeps track of all the stories. All the lovers and soldiers and lost souls who’ve ever gazed up at it.”
“Then it will remember this,” Jungwon says quietly. “Remember us. This moment.”
“Why would this moment matter?”
“Because I want it to.” He squeezes her hand gently. “Because someday, when this is all over, I want to believe that something in the universe will remember that we were here. That we mattered.”
She’s looking at him with such tenderness that his breath catches. “You matter,” she whispers. “To me, you matter.”
And then she leans down and kisses him. It’s soft, gentle, over almost before it begins. But when she pulls back, they’re both trembling. “I shouldn’t have done that,” she says.
“I’m glad you did.”
“Jungwon—”
“When I’m better,” he interrupts, “I’m going to take you dancing. Like I promised. And I’m going to kiss you properly, somewhere that isn’t a hospital tent that smells like death.”
She laughs, and it sounds like tears. “You’re incorrigible.”
“I’m in love with you.” The words hang in the air between them, bold and terrifying and true. She doesn’t say it back. But she doesn’t let go of his hand either.
“Rest,” she says eventually, her voice unsteady. “You need to rest.”
“Will you stay?”
“For a little while.” She stays until he falls asleep, her hand in his, the moon watching through the open window.
For three more days, things are good. Better than good. She still maintains her professional distance during the day, but at night she comes to him with her book and her gentle hands and occasionally, when they’re alone, her lips.
He’s getting stronger. Can walk the length of the tent with only minimal pain. The doctor says another week, maybe two, and he’ll be fit enough to rejoin his unit. Neither of them talks about what happens then.
On the fourth night, something changes. Jungwon wakes in the middle of the night to find her beside him, like always. But something’s different. He feels… off. Feverish, maybe, though his skin is cool to the touch. “You should be sleeping,” she murmurs, noticing he’s awake.
“Couldn’t.” He shifts, and pain lances through his chest. “Feels different tonight.”
“Where does it hurt?”
“Everywhere. Nowhere. I don’t know.” He tries to sit up and finds he can’t. “I think… I think I’m more tired than I realized.”
Concern flashes across her face. She places her hand on his forehead, checking for fever. “You’re not warm.”
“I know. I just…” He trails off, struggling to explain the feeling. Like something inside him is winding down. Like a clock running out of time. “Stay with me?”
“I’m here.” She takes his hand. “I’m not going anywhere.”
“Good. That’s good.” He closes his eyes for a moment, then opens them again. “Can you open the window? I want to see the moon.” She does, and the silvery light spills across his bed.
“Beautiful,” he murmurs. “Just like before.”
“Just like before,” she agrees, but her voice is strained.
“I want you to know,” Jungwon says slowly, each word taking effort, “that these past few weeks have been the happiest of my life.”
“Don’t.” Her voice breaks. “Don’t talk like that.”
“I mean it. Getting shot was the best thing that ever happened to me, because it brought me to you.”
Tears are streaming down her face now. “Jungwon, please—”
“Listen.” He squeezes her hand with what strength he has left. “If I don’t make it—”
“You’re going to make it. You have to make it. You promised me a dance, remember?”
“I remember.” He smiles, and it costs him. “But if I don’t… if something happens…”
“Nothing is going to happen.”
“But if it does.” He’s fading, he can feel it, like sand slipping through fingers. “I need you to know that I’ll find you in the next life.”
She’s sobbing now. “What are you talking about? There is no next life, there’s only this one, and you’re going to be fine—”
“I’ll find you,” he says again, and he means it with every fiber of his being. “However long it takes. Whatever it costs. I’ll find you.”
“Jungwon—”
“Promise me you’ll remember. Promise me you’ll look for me too.”
“I promise,” she chokes out, even though she doesn’t understand, even though she thinks he’s delirious. “I promise.”
“Good.” His eyes are getting heavy. “That’s good. I’m just going to rest for a minute. Just… just a minute…”
“No, stay awake. Please stay awake. I need to get the doctor—“ But she can’t bring herself to let go of his hand. Can’t bring herself to leave him, even to get help.
“It’s okay,” he whispers. “Don’t be afraid. I’m not afraid.”
“I’m terrified,” she admits.
“Don’t be. I’ll see you again. I know I will.” He looks at her one more time, trying to memorize her face. “You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. Did I tell you that?”
“No.”
“Well, you are. And I love you. I’ll always love you.”
“I love you too,” she sobs. “I love you, please don’t go—” But his eyes are already closing, his hand going slack in hers. “Jungwon? Jungwon!” She’s screaming for the doctor, for anyone, but she knows it’s too late. She can see it in the stillness of his chest, the absence of breath. He’s gone.
She collapses over him, sobbing, and outside the moon continues its silent vigil, remembering everything, bearing witness to yet another story of love and loss.
In the morning, they’ll take his body away. They’ll bury him in an unmarked grave with dozens of other soldiers whose names will be forgotten.
But she’ll remember. She’ll remember his smile, his promises, the way he looked at the moon and asked if it remembered them. She’ll remember for the rest of her life. And somewhere, somehow, the moon remembers too.
1850 — Your POV
The wedding is beautiful in the way that expensive things often are— beautiful and cold and utterly devoid of warmth.
You stand at the altar in a dress that cost more than most people earn in a year, ivory silk and French lace that weighs you down like chains. The church is full of people you barely know, friends of your father’s mostly, society figures who’ve come to witness the union of two respectable families. You don’t look at the man beside you. Your husband. The word feels foreign, wrong.
The ceremony passes in a blur. You say the words when prompted, mechanical and hollow. I do. I will. Till death do us part. Death seems very far away.
When it’s over, when you’ve signed the papers that make you his property in the eyes of God and the law, you’re ushered into a carriage for the journey to his— your— estate. And you still haven’t looked at him properly.
“Are you well?” he asks quietly as the carriage lurches into motion.It’s the first time he’s spoken directly to you all day. His voice is pleasant enough, polite, carefully neutral.
“Quite well, thank you.” Your own voice sounds distant to your ears. “And you?”
“Well enough.” Silence descends again. You stare out the window at the countryside rolling past, green and lush and utterly indifferent to your misery.
This is your life now. Mrs. Yang Jungwon. Wife to a man you’ve met exactly three times before today— once at the engagement announcement, once at a chaperoned dinner, and once in passing at a social function where you’d exchanged perhaps a dozen words.
You know almost nothing about him except what your father told you: good family, substantial fortune, respectable reputation. A suitable match. No one asked if you wanted to be suitably matched.
The estate, when you arrive, is massive and imposing. Gray stone, manicured gardens, the kind of old money grandeur that’s meant to intimidate. It works. “Welcome home,” Jungwon says as he helps you down from the carriage. Home. The word rings hollow.
The staff is assembled to greet you— housekeeper, butler, lady’s maid, cook, and various others whose names you immediately forget. They curtsy and bow, welcoming the new lady of the house, and you smile because it’s expected.
“Mrs. Choi will show you to your rooms,” Jungwon says. “I imagine you’ll want to rest after the journey.” Your rooms. Separate rooms. Of course.
“Thank you,” you murmur. Mrs. Choi, the housekeeper, is a stern-faced woman in her fifties who leads you up a grand staircase and down a long hallway to a suite of rooms that will be yours. Bedroom, dressing room, private sitting room. All decorated in shades of cream and gold, elegant and expensive and utterly impersonal.
“Dinner is at eight,” Mrs. Choi informs you. “Ring if you need anything.”
And then you’re alone. You sink onto the bed— your bed— and stare at the ceiling. This is it. This is your life now. You’ll live in this house with this stranger, produce heirs if you can manage it, and grow old in separate bedrooms. You don’t cry. You’re too numb for tears.
The first weeks of marriage establish a pattern. You see Jungwon at breakfast and dinner. The meals are formal, served in a dining room far too large for two people. Conversation is stilted and polite. He asks about your day. You ask about his. Neither of you says anything of substance.
At night, you retire to your separate rooms. He’s made no move to consummate the marriage, and you’re grateful for it. The thought of that kind of intimacy with a stranger makes your skin crawl.
You fill your days with the expected activities of a lady of the house— consulting with the cook about menus, reviewing household accounts, receiving calls from neighbors who want to inspect the new bride. It’s all terribly boring.
Jungwon seems equally miserable, though he’s better at hiding it. He spends most of his time in his study, managing the estate or whatever it is men do in their studies. Sometimes you hear him playing the pianoforte in the music room late at night, melancholy pieces that drift through the halls like ghosts. You don’t disturb him.
A month passes. Then two. You’re reading in the library one afternoon when he finds you there. “I’m sorry,” he says, hovering in the doorway. “I didn’t mean to intrude.”
“It’s your library.” You close the book. “You can hardly intrude.”
“I suppose.” But he doesn’t leave. Instead, he moves closer, looking at the spines on the shelves with genuine interest. “What are you reading?”
You show him the cover. “Byron.”
His eyebrows rise. “Not the usual choice for a lady.”
“I’m not the usual lady.”
“Clearly.” And for the first time since the wedding, he almost smiles. “I like Byron too. Though I prefer Wordsworth.”
“Wordsworth is lovely, but Byron has more passion.”
“Passion is overrated. Give me quiet reflection any day.”
“That sounds desperately boring.”
“Perhaps I am desperately boring.”You study him properly for the first time. He’s handsome, you suppose, in a classical way. Dark hair, serious eyes, the kind of refined features that look good in portraits. But there’s something sad about him too, a resigned quality that mirrors your own feelings.
“Why did you agree to this?” you ask suddenly. “The marriage. If you didn’t want it.”
He’s quiet for a long moment. “How do you know I didn’t want it?”
“Because you’re as miserable as I am.”
He doesn’t deny it. “My father arranged it. Said it was time I settled down, secured the family line. I’m the only son, so…” He trails off with a shrug.
“So you had no more choice than I did.”
“No.” He meets your eyes. “I’m sorry. For both of us.” It’s the most honest conversation you’ve had.
“We’re rather pathetic, aren’t we?” you say. “Two people with everything anyone could want, absolutely miserable.”
“Quite pathetic,” he agrees. And then he does smile, small and wry. “But at least we have good taste in poetry.” It’s not much. But it’s something.
After that, things shift slightly. You start having breakfast together in the smaller morning room instead of the formal dining room. The conversation is still careful, but less strained. You discover he has a dry sense of humor that catches you off guard. He discovers you have opinions about things women aren’t supposed to have opinions about— politics, philosophy, the appalling state of labor conditions in the factories. “You’re very radical,” he observes one morning over tea.
“And you’re very traditional.”
“Not by choice.”
“None of us are anything by choice, apparently.” He laughs at that, and the sound surprises both of you.
You start spending time together outside of meals. Reading in the library simultaneously, taking walks around the grounds, playing cards in the evening. It’s not romance, but it’s companionship. Friendship, almost.
You learn things about him. That he wanted to be a physician but his father forbade it, said it was beneath their station. That he plays the pianoforte to calm his mind when he can’t sleep. That he has nightmares sometimes, though he won’t say about what.
He learns things about you too. That you wanted to attend university but of course that was impossible. That you’re terrified of thunderstorms. That you once punched a boy who tried to kiss you without permission, and your father was furious but your mother was secretly proud. “I would have liked to meet your mother,” Jungwon says one evening.
“She would have liked you.” You pause. “I think she would have been glad I ended up with someone kind, at least.”
“Kind seems like damning with faint praise.”
“It’s more than most women get.” He can’t argue with that.
Three months into the marriage, something changes. You’re coming back from a walk in the gardens when a thunderstorm rolls in suddenly, violent and loud. You make it to the house but you’re soaked through, trembling not from cold but from fear.
Jungwon finds you in the entrance hall, dripping water onto the marble. “Are you alright?” He’s at your side immediately, concerned.
“Fine. Just— the storm—” Thunder cracks overhead and you flinch badly. Without thinking, he pulls you against him, one hand coming up to cup the back of your head.
“It’s alright,” he murmurs. “You’re safe. It’s just noise.” You bury your face against his shoulder, embarrassed by your fear but unable to help it. He’s warm and solid and he smells like sandalwood and old books.
“I’m sorry,” you mumble into his waistcoat.
“Don’t be.” His hand moves in soothing circles on your back. “Everyone’s afraid of something.”
You stay like that until the worst of the storm passes, wrapped in his arms, feeling his heartbeat steady against your cheek. When you finally pull back, you’re both acutely aware of how close you are. His hands are still on your waist. Your fingers are twisted in his shirt. “I should change,” you say quietly. “Before I catch cold.”
“Yes. Of course.” But he doesn’t let go immediately.
“Jungwon—”
“I know.” He steps back, dropping his hands. “I’ll have Mrs. Choi draw you a bath.”
That night, you can’t stop thinking about how it felt to be held by him. How natural it seemed. How much you didn’t want him to let go. This is dangerous territory even though you’re married to him. But you can feel yourself falling.
After the storm, you can’t seem to go back to polite distance. You start sitting closer together when you read. Hands brushing when you pass the teapot. Long looks across the dinner table that make your pulse race.
One evening, you’re playing the pianoforte— badly, you’re the first to admit— and he comes to sit beside you on the bench. “May I?” he asks.
You slide over to make room. He begins to play, something soft and lovely that you don’t recognize. His hands move over the keys with practiced ease. “That’s beautiful,” you murmur.
“It’s Chopin. Nocturne in E-flat major.”
“Play it again?” He does, and this time you watch his hands instead of the keys. Beautiful hands, long fingers, careful and precise.
When he finishes, he doesn’t move away. “You’re staring,” he says softly.
“Sorry.”
“Don’t be.” He turns to look at you, and his face is very close to yours. “I stare at you all the time.”
Your breath catches. “You do?”
“Constantly. I thought you’d noticed.”
“I… no. I didn’t.”
“Well. Now you know.”
The air between you feels electric. You’re very aware of his thigh pressed against yours on the bench, the warmth of his body, the way his eyes drop to your lips. “We should—” you start.
“Yes,” he agrees. Neither of you moves.
“This is madness,” you whisper.
“Probably.”
“We barely know each other.”
“I know.” His hand comes up to cup your face, thumb brushing your cheekbone. “But I’d like to. Know you, I mean. If you’ll let me.”
“Yes.” The word comes out breathless. “Yes, I—”
He kisses you. It’s soft at first, tentative, giving you every opportunity to pull away. But you don’t. Instead, you lean into him, your hand coming up to rest on his chest, and the kiss deepens. When you finally break apart, you’re both breathing hard.
“I should go,” you say, even though you don’t want to.
“Stay.” His forehead rests against yours. “Please stay. I know we didn’t choose this. I know we started as strangers. But I…” He pulls back to look at you. “I’m falling in love with you. Is that insane?”
Your heart is pounding. “If it is, then I’m insane too.”
He kisses you again, deeper this time, and you feel something unlock in your chest. Permission to feel this. Permission to want. “Come with me,” he murmurs against your lips.
“Where?”
“To my room. If you want. We don’t have to— I just want to be near you.” You should say no. This is too fast, too sudden, even though you’re married and have every right. But you take his hand.
His bedroom is larger than yours, decorated in deep greens and dark wood. Masculine and elegant. The bed is massive, four-poster, imposing. “Second thoughts?” he asks, seeing you hesitate.
“No. Maybe. I don’t know.” You laugh nervously. “I’ve never… that is, I don’t know what I’m supposed to…”
Understanding dawns on his face. “Ah. Your mother didn’t—”
“She died before we could have that conversation.”
“I see.” He moves closer, taking both your hands. “We don’t have to do anything you’re not ready for.”
“I want to.” And you do. God help you, you do. “I just… don’t know how.”
“Neither do I, really.” At your surprised look, he shrugs. “I’ve had opportunities, but I never… it didn’t feel right. With anyone else.”
“And this feels right? With me?”
“Everything feels right with you.” He kisses you again, slow and sweet, walking you backwards until your legs hit the bed. You sit, and he kneels in front of you, looking up with such tenderness it makes you ache. “We’ll figure it out together,” he promises. “And if you want to stop at any point—”
“I won’t.” You cup his face. “I trust you.”
What follows is gentle and awkward and lovely. He helps you out of your dress with shaking hands, fumbling with buttons and laces until you’re both laughing. You help him with his waistcoat, his shirt, until you’re both down to undergarments and the laughter has faded into something heavier. “You’re beautiful,” he breathes, looking at you in your chemise.
“So are you.” He’s all lean muscle and smooth skin when he strips off his undershirt. You reach out to touch his chest, feeling his heart racing under your palm.
“Nervous?” you ask.
“Terrified.” But he’s smiling. “You?”
“Same.”
He lays you back on the bed, covering your body with his, and for a moment you just look at each other. “I love you,” you whisper.
“I love you too.”
The first touch of his skin against yours makes you gasp. He’s warm and solid and careful, so careful with you. “Tell me what feels good,” he murmurs, pressing kisses along your jaw, your neck.
“I don’t know yet.”
“Then we’ll find out.” His hands are gentle as they explore your body over the thin chemise. Learning the shape of you, the places that make you shiver. When he brushes over your breast, you arch into the touch.
“There?” he asks.
“Yes. There.” He does it again, more deliberately this time, and pleasure sparks through you. His mouth follows his hands, kissing across your collarbone, down to the swell of your breasts still covered by fabric.
“Can I…?” He tugs at the hem of your chemise. You sit up enough to let him pull it over your head, and then you’re bare before him. For a moment, he just looks.
“Stop staring,” you mumble, fighting the urge to cover yourself.
“Can’t help it.” His voice is rough. “You’re perfect.” His mouth finds your breast, tongue swirling around your nipple, and you cry out at the sensation. He takes his time, lavishing attention on both breasts until you’re squirming beneath him.
“Please,” you gasp, though you’re not sure what you’re asking for.
“I’ve got you.” His hand slides down your stomach, over the curve of your hip, coming to rest on your thigh. He pauses there, giving you time to object. You spread your legs instead. “God,” he breathes. “You’re going to be the death of me.”
His fingers find you, exploring carefully. You’re wet, embarrassingly so, and he makes a sound low in his throat. “Is this alright?”
“Yes. God, yes.”
He strokes through your folds, learning what makes you gasp and moan. When he finds that sensitive bundle of nerves at the apex of your sex, you nearly come off the bed. “There,” you pant. “Right there, please—”
He circles your clit with careful pressure, watching your face as pleasure builds. His other hand is braced beside your head, supporting his weight, and you can see how much this is affecting him too— the flush on his cheeks, the way his pupils have blown wide.
“You’re so beautiful like this,” he murmurs. “So responsive.”
One finger slides inside you and you clench around the intrusion. It’s strange but not unpleasant, a fullness you’ve never felt before. “Okay?” he asks.
“More. Please, more.”
He adds a second finger, working them in and out while his thumb continues its maddening circles on your clit. The pleasure builds and builds, tension coiling low in your belly. “I think—” you gasp. “I think something’s happening—”
“Let it happen. I’ve got you.”
His fingers curl inside you, hitting some spot that makes stars burst behind your eyes, and you shatter. Your back arches, a cry torn from your throat as your cunt pulses around his fingers. He works you through it, gentle and steady, until you collapse back against the bed.
“That was—” You can’t find words. “What was that?”
“Pleasure.” He’s grinning now, looking thoroughly pleased with himself. “Did you like it?”
“I think I might die if we never do that again.” He laughs and kisses you, and you can taste your own arousal on his lips.
“Your turn,” you say when you can speak again.
“You don’t have to—”
“I want to.” You reach for the fastenings of his trousers. “Show me?” He helps you strip him of the last of his clothing, and then he’s bare before you. His cock is hard, flushed and leaking, and you’re struck by how vulnerable he looks like this. You wrap your hand around him experimentally, and he hisses. “Too much?”
“No. Perfect. You’re perfect.”
You stroke him slowly, learning the weight of him in your hand, the way his hips buck when you twist your wrist just so.
“I want—” He breaks off, breathing hard. “Can I be inside you?”
“Yes.” You’ve never wanted anything more. “Please.”
He positions himself between your thighs, the head of his cock nudging at your entrance. He’s shaking. “This might hurt,” he warns. “I’ll go slow.”
He pushes in gradually, giving you time to adjust. There’s a pinch of pain as he breaches you, and you grip his shoulders.
“Breathe,” he murmurs. “Just breathe.” He goes deeper, inch by careful inch, until he’s fully seated inside you. The fullness is overwhelming, bordering on too much, but underneath the discomfort is something else. Something that feels right.
“Okay?” he grits out, clearly struggling to hold still.
“Okay. You can move.”
He does, pulling out slowly before pushing back in. The pain fades with each stroke, replaced by a building pleasure. You wrap your legs around his waist, changing the angle, and he hits something inside you that makes you moan.
“There,” you gasp. “Just like that.”
He finds a rhythm, steady and deep, his hips rolling against yours. One hand slides between your bodies to find your clit again, and the combined sensations are almost too much. “You feel so good,” he pants. “So perfect. Like you were made for me.”
“Maybe I was.” You’re babbling now, lost in pleasure. “Maybe we were made for each other.”
“Yes. God, yes.” His thrusts become more urgent, less controlled. You can feel him getting close, his cock swelling inside you, and you clench down deliberately. “Fuck,” he gasps. “I’m—I’m going to—”
“Do it. Inside me.”
He does with a broken moan, his hips stuttering as he spills deep inside you. The feeling of his cock pulsing, the warmth flooding you, pushes you over the edge again. Your cunt clenches around him as you come, milking him through his orgasm. He collapses beside you, pulling out carefully, and gathers you into his arms.
For a long moment, neither of you speaks. You just lie there, sweaty and satisfied and stunned by what just happened. “That was—” he starts.
“Incredible,” you finish.
“I was going to say ‘better than I imagined’ but incredible works too.”
You laugh and press a kiss to his chest. “You imagined it?”
“Constantly. For weeks. I was going mad with wanting you.”
“You could have said something.”
“And risk you thinking I was some beast who only wanted you for that?” He strokes your hair. “I wanted you to choose me. To want me back.”
“I do.” You look up at him. “Want you, I mean. All of you. Not just the physical parts, though those are very nice.”
He grins. “Very nice?”
“Exceptional. Earth-shattering. Is that better?”
“Much.”
You settle against him, content in a way you’ve never been before. This wasn’t what you expected when you walked down that aisle three months ago. You thought you’d be trapped in a loveless marriage, going through the motions for the rest of your life. Instead, you’ve found this. Found him.
“I love you,” you whisper.
“I love you too.” He kisses the top of your head. “My wife.” The word doesn’t sound wrong anymore.
The next few months are the happiest of your life.
You and Jungwon are inseparable. You spend your days together— riding, reading, walking the grounds. The nights are for other things, learning each other’s bodies with increasing confidence and creativity. You make love in his bed, in your bed, once daringly in the library. He learns all the ways to make you fall apart, and you learn what makes him lose control. It’s intoxicating, this intimacy. This partnership.
“I can’t believe I thought I’d be miserable,” you tell him one morning, wrapped in his arms after a particularly energetic session.
“I can’t believe I almost let you sleep in separate bedrooms for the rest of our lives.”
“What changed your mind?”
“That storm. Holding you.” He pulls you closer. “I couldn’t pretend anymore that I didn’t want this. Want you.”
“I’m glad you stopped pretending.”
He’s quiet for a moment. “Do you think we would have found this eventually? If not for the storm?”
“I don’t know. Maybe. Or maybe we would have stayed strangers forever.” You trace patterns on his chest. “I’m grateful we didn’t have to find out.”
Winter arrives, bringing cold rain and early darkness. Jungwon has been coughing more lately, but you don’t think much of it. Everyone gets sick in winter. But it doesn’t get better.
One morning in late December, you wake to find blood on his handkerchief. “It’s nothing,” he insists when you confront him. “Just a cough.”
“That’s not just a cough.”
“I’ll see the physician if it makes you feel better.” It doesn’t make you feel better. Especially when the physician comes and takes one look at Jungwon and his face goes carefully blank.
“Tuberculosis,” he says quietly. “I’m sorry.” The word hits like a physical blow.
“How long?” you ask, because Jungwon seems incapable of speech.
“Impossible to say. Months, perhaps. Maybe a year with rest and good care.” A year. Maybe.
After the physician leaves, you find Jungwon in the library, staring out the window at nothing. “We’ll get through this,” you say, taking his hand.
“Don’t.” His voice is hollow. “Don’t pretend this is something we can fix.”
“I’m not pretending. I’m fighting.”
“There’s nothing to fight.” He turns to look at you, and there are tears on his face. “I’m dying. And I finally—” His voice breaks. “I finally found something worth living for.” You pull him into your arms and let him cry.
The next months are a cruel inversion of your happiness. You care for him as he weakens, watching helplessly as the vibrant man you love fades into someone pale and frail.
He tries to stay strong for you. Jokes when he can manage it, reads to you when he has the breath, makes love to you when his body allows it though you tell him he doesn’t have to.
“I want to,” he insists. “While I still can. While I can still make you feel good.” Those moments are bittersweet. Tender and desperate, both of you trying to memorize every touch, every sound.
By spring, he’s confined to bed most days. You spend hours sitting with him, reading or just holding his hand. One night in April, you open the window to let in the fresh air. The moon is full and bright, hanging low in the sky. “Beautiful,” Jungwon murmurs from the bed.
You return to his side. “The moon?”
“Everything.” He’s looking at you, not the sky. “You’re beautiful. This life we built, however brief. Beautiful.” You take his hand, fighting back tears.
He turns his gaze to the moon, a small smile on his lips. “Do you think the moon remembers us?”
The question is strange, out of place. “What?”
“The moon. Do you think it remembers us? All the people who’ve looked up at it throughout time?”
You don’t understand why he’s asking this, but you answer honestly. “I’d like to think so. That all our stories, all our love, is remembered somewhere.”
“Good.” He squeezes your hand weakly. “Then it will remember this. Remember us. How much I love you.”
“Don’t.” Your voice breaks. “Don’t talk like you’re saying goodbye.”
“I have to.” He’s struggling to breathe now, each word an effort. “Have to tell you. In case… in case there’s something after this.”
“Jungwon—”
“I’ll find you.” He says it with utter conviction. “In the next life, if there is one. I’ll find you. However long it takes.”
Tears are streaming down your face. “Don’t leave me.”
“I don’t want to.” He lifts your hand to his lips, kissing your knuckles. “But I don’t think I have a choice.”
You climb into the bed beside him, careful of his fragile body, and hold him as gently as you can. “I love you,” you whisper. “I love you so much.”
“I love you too.” His breathing is getting shallower. “Thank you. For making me happy. For letting me love you.”
“You don’t have to thank me.”
“I do.” He’s fading, you can feel it. “You saved me. From a life of duty and emptiness. You gave me joy.”
“You gave me the same.”
He smiles, peaceful despite the pain. “Then we’re even.” His eyes close.
“Jungwon?” Panic claws at your throat. “Jungwon, don’t—”
“Just resting,” he murmurs. “So tired.”
“I know. But stay with me. Please stay with me.”
“Always.” His grip on your hand is so weak now. “Every life. Every lifetime. I’ll find you.” Those are the last words he speaks.
He dies as the sun rises, the moon fading into daylight, and you’re left holding an empty shell of the man who taught you what love could be. You don’t leave his side for hours. Can’t bring yourself to let go.
When they finally take him away, you return to the window. The moon is gone now, but you look up at the sky anyway.
“Remember us,” you whisper. “Please remember us.” Somewhere in the vast indifference of the universe, maybe it does.
1912 — Jungwon’s POV
The ship is bigger than anything Jungwon has ever seen. He stands on the dock in Southampton, neck craned back to take in the sheer scale of the RMS Titanic, and feels impossibly small. Four massive funnels reach toward the sky, the hull gleaming white and black in the April sun. Unsinkable, they’re calling it. The ship that even God himself couldn’t sink.
Jungwon doesn’t believe in unsinkable ships, but he believes in new beginnings. America. That’s where this floating palace is headed, and Jungwon along with it. He’s got a third-class ticket, everything he owns in a single worn suitcase, and hopes for a job in New York that might actually pay enough to live on.
England has nothing left for him— no family, no prospects, no future worth staying for. So: America. And the Titanic to get him there.
The third-class gangway is crowded with people like him— immigrants, workers, dreamers. The smell of unwashed bodies and cheap tobacco mingles with salt air. Jungwon shoulders his suitcase and joins the queue, shuffling forward slowly.
“Papers,” the officer barks when Jungwon reaches the front. He hands them over— passport, ticket, health certificate. Everything in order. The officer barely glances at them before waving him through. And then he’s aboard.
The third-class accommodations are exactly what he expected— cramped quarters, narrow bunks stacked three high, thin blankets that smell of mothballs. He’s sharing the cabin with five other men, none of whom speak English. They communicate in gestures and broken phrases, sorting out who gets which bunk. Jungwon ends up with a middle one. It’ll do. It’s only four days to New York.
He leaves his suitcase on the bunk and goes exploring. Third-class passengers aren’t supposed to wander into the upper decks, but the ship is massive and the crew can’t be everywhere. Jungwon has never been good at following rules.
He climbs stairs, follows hallways, nods politely at stewards who eye him suspiciously but don’t actually stop him. The ship is a maze of opulence and machinery— plush carpets giving way to metal floors, crystal chandeliers to bare electric bulbs.
He finds his way to the Boat Deck, where the lifeboats hang in their davits and the ocean stretches endless in every direction. The ship has pulled away from port now, Southampton shrinking behind them. The coast of England is a gray line on the horizon. Goodbye, he thinks. Good riddance.
He’s leaning against the railing, breathing in cold salt air, when he sees her. She’s first class— that much is obvious from the dress alone. Pale blue silk, cinched waist, a hat that probably cost more than his ticket. She’s standing near the stern with a man in an expensive suit, and even from a distance Jungwon can tell she doesn’t want to be there.
Her posture is stiff, uncomfortable. The man— her husband? fiancé?— has his hand possessively on her elbow, gesturing at the horizon like he owns it. She nods along, dutiful and detached.
And then she turns her head, just slightly, and her eyes meet Jungwon’s across the deck. The world stops. It’s not love at first sight— Jungwon doesn’t believe in that. But it’s something. Recognition, maybe, though he’s never seen her before in his life. A pull, deep in his chest, like a hook catching and refusing to let go.
She holds his gaze for three heartbeats. Four. Five. Then the man says something and she looks away, the moment broken. Jungwon should leave. Should go back to third class where he belongs, forget about the beautiful woman in the blue dress. He doesn’t.
He sees her again that evening in the third-class general room. Which is impossible, because first-class passengers don’t come down to third class. Ever. It’s practically a law.
But there she is, hovering in the doorway, looking around with wide eyes at the crowded, noisy space. Someone’s playing an accordion, children are running underfoot, people are drinking and laughing and speaking in a dozen different languages. She looks completely out of place and utterly enchanted. Jungwon makes his way through the crowd toward her.
“Lost?” he asks. She startles, turning to look at him. Up close, she’s even more beautiful— dark eyes, delicate features, a strand of hair escaping from beneath her hat.
“I—” She glances behind her, nervous. “I shouldn’t be here.”
“Probably not. Want to stay anyway?”
A smile tugs at her lips. “Maybe. Just for a moment.”
“Come on.” He offers his hand. “I’ll give you the grand tour. It’ll take about thirty seconds.” She laughs and takes his hand.
He shows her the general room, the modest dining area, the stairs leading down to the berths. She asks questions— where is he from, where is he going, what does he hope to find in America. He answers honestly, charmed by her genuine interest. “What about you?” he asks. “What brings you to third class?”
“Curiosity. And…” She hesitates. “Escape, I suppose.”
“From what?”
“A man with too much money and not enough imagination.” She says it lightly, but there’s bitterness underneath. “My fiancé. He thinks he owns me.”
“Does he?”
“Not yet. The wedding isn’t until we reach New York.”
Something cold settles in Jungwon’s stomach. “You don’t want to marry him.”
“No. But I don’t have much choice.”
“There’s always a choice.”
“Not for women like me.” She pulls her hand from his, wrapping her arms around herself. “I should go. He’ll notice I’m gone.”
“Wait.” Jungwon doesn’t know what he’s doing, only that he can’t let her leave yet. “What’s your name?” She shouldn’t tell him. It’s improper, dangerous even. But she does anyway. And Jungwon commits it to memory like a prayer.
They keep running into each other. Or rather, she keeps finding excuses to slip away from her fiancé and come find Jungwon. It’s reckless and stupid and neither of them can stop.
She comes down to third class when she can, staying for stolen minutes in hallways and quiet corners. They talk about everything— books, dreams, the lives they wish they could have. She tells him about growing up in a gilded cage, groomed from birth to marry well and look pretty. He tells her about growing up with nothing, fighting for every scrap.
“I envy you,” she says one night. They’re on the aft deck, hidden from view behind a lifeboat. It’s late, most passengers asleep. The stars are brilliant overhead.
“Envy me?” Jungwon laughs. “I have nothing.”
“You have freedom. You can go anywhere, be anyone. I’ve never had that.”
“You could. Come to America with me. Really with me, not with him.”
“Don’t.” But she doesn’t move away when he steps closer. “Don’t give me hope for things that can’t happen.”
“Why can’t they?”
“Because I’m engaged. Because he’d ruin you if he found out. Because—” Jungwon kisses her. It’s impulsive and foolish and she should push him away, should slap him, should run back to her fiancé and forget this ever happened. She kisses him back instead.
It’s desperate and messy and perfect. His hands in her hair, her fingers clutching his shirt. Four days they’ve been on this ship and it feels like a lifetime, feels like they’ve known each other forever.
When they break apart, they’re both breathing hard. “Come to my cabin,” he says. “Please.”
“I can’t—”
“I know. But please. Just tonight. Let me have tonight.”
She should say no. She should walk away while she still can. “Yes,” she whispers instead. “Yes.”
His cabin is empty— his bunkmates still in the general room, drinking and playing cards. Jungwon locks the door behind them, and for a moment they just stand there, looking at each other. “We don’t have to,” he says. “If you don’t want—”
“I want.” She’s already working at the buttons of her dress. “Help me?”
His hands shake as he helps her undress, revealing layers of silk and lace and finally, skin. She’s beautiful, all soft curves and pale flesh, and he can’t believe this is real.
She undresses him too, fingers fumbling with buttons and buckles until they’re both bare. The cabin is cramped and cold, but neither of them cares. “Have you—” he starts.
“No. Have you?”
“No.” They laugh, nervous and giddy, and then he’s guiding her to the narrow bunk, covering her body with his.
“Tell me if I hurt you,” he murmurs, kissing her neck.
“You won’t.”
He takes his time, exploring her body with hands and mouth. Learning what makes her gasp, what makes her arch into his touch. When he slides his hand between her thighs and finds her wet, she moans. “Jungwon—”
“I know. I’ve got you.”
He strokes her clit, watching her face as pleasure builds. She’s gorgeous like this— flushed and wanting, all artifice stripped away. When she comes apart under his fingers, he feels like he’s witnessing something holy.
“Inside me,” she pants. “Please, I need—”
He positions himself at her entrance, the head of his cock nudging against her wetness. “This might hurt,” he warns.
“I don’t care.” He pushes in slowly, feeling her stretch around him. She winces and he freezes.
“Don’t stop,” she grits out. “Keep going.” He does, inch by inch, until he’s fully inside her. The feeling is overwhelming— tight and hot and perfect. He has to hold still for a moment, fighting the urge to move.
“Okay?” he manages.
“Okay. More than okay. Move, please—” He does, pulling out slowly before pushing back in. Finding a rhythm, careful and deep. Her legs wrap around his waist, heels digging into his back.
“Yes,” she gasps. “Like that, just like that—”
The bunk creaks beneath them, the sound embarrassingly loud in the small cabin. But Jungwon can’t bring himself to care. All that matters is this— her body beneath his, the way she’s looking at him like he’s everything.
“I’m close,” he warns. “I need to—”
“Inside me. Don’t pull out.”
“But—”
“I don’t care. I want to feel you.” That’s all it takes. He buries himself deep and comes with a groan, spilling inside her. The feeling of his cock pulsing, of his release filling her, pushes her over the edge. She comes around him with a cry, her cunt clenching and fluttering. They collapse together in the narrow bunk, sweaty and satisfied and stunned by what just happened. “I love you,” she whispers against his chest.
“I love you too.” He kisses the top of her head. “Come with me. To New York. Leave him and come with me.”
“How?”
“I don’t know. We’ll figure it out. We’ll—”
“Shh.” She presses a finger to his lips. “Let’s not think about tomorrow yet. Let’s just have tonight.”
So they do. They make love again, slower this time. Learning each other, memorizing every touch. And afterward, they lie tangled together, talking in whispers about impossible futures.
Through the porthole, the moon hangs low over the water, full and bright. “Look,” she says, pointing. “The moon.”
Jungwon follows her gaze. “It’s beautiful.”
“Do you think the moon remembers us?” she asks suddenly. “All the people who’ve looked up at it throughout time?”
The question is strange, but somehow it doesn’t feel strange. “I don’t know. Why?”
“I just… I want something to remember this. Remember us. In case—” She stops, shaking her head. “Never mind. I’m being foolish.”
“You’re not.” He pulls her closer. “And yes. I think the moon remembers. I think it’s watched a million love stories just like ours.”
“This isn’t a love story. Love stories have happy endings.”
“Ours will too.” He says it with conviction he doesn’t quite feel. “We’ll make it work. We’ll—”
She kisses him, cutting off the words. They make love once more, desperate and clinging, like they’re trying to fight off the dawn.
When she finally leaves, slipping back to first class before sunrise, Jungwon lies in the bunk that still smells like her and tries not to think about losing her.
The next day, April 14th, dawns cold and clear. Jungwon doesn’t see her all morning, all afternoon. He walks the decks, hoping for a glimpse, but third class and first class might as well be different worlds.
By evening, he’s restless and frustrated. He shouldn’t have let her go. Should have convinced her to stay, to run away with him right then.
He’s in the general room after dinner, nursing a beer and trying not to think about her, when the ship shudders. It’s subtle— a grinding sensation, a slight lurch. Most people don’t even notice. But Jungwon feels it in his bones, a wrongness that makes his skin prickle. Around him, the conversation continues. The accordion plays. Children laugh. But something is wrong.
It’s another twenty minutes before the crew starts coming through, telling everyone to put on life belts and head to the Boat Deck. Their voices are calm, almost casual. Just a precaution. Nothing to worry about. Jungwon doesn’t believe them.
He grabs his coat and joins the stream of people heading upstairs. The corridors are crowded, confused. Why are they doing this? It’s freezing outside. The ship is fine. But when Jungwon reaches the deck, he sees the ice. Chunks of it, scattered across the forward deck like broken glass. And the ship— the unsinkable ship— is listing. Tilting forward, just barely, but
Crew members are uncovering lifeboats, their movements quick and efficient. Women and children are being loaded first, separating families, causing chaos. Jungwon scans the crowd frantically, looking for her. There are hundreds of people on deck now, maybe thousands. First class mixing with second and third, all the careful social hierarchies breaking down in the face of disaster.
He pushes through the crowd, searching. She has to be here somewhere. She has to— there. She’s near one of the lifeboats, her fiancé gripping her arm. She’s arguing with him, trying to pull away, and Jungwon’s heart seizes. He fights his way toward her.
“—not getting in without you!” she’s saying, tears streaming down her face.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” her fiancé snaps. “The ship is sinking. Get in the boat.”
“I won’t leave you—”
“You will if I tell you to—”
“Let her go.” Jungwon doesn’t recognize his own voice. It’s hard, angry, nothing like the gentle tone he used with her last night.
The fiancé turns, sees him, and his face twists with contempt. “Who the hell are you?”
“Someone who actually cares about her. Let. Her. Go.”
“You’re that third-class rat she’s been sneaking off to see.” The fiancé’s grip tightens on her arm and she winces. “I should have known. Guards!”
“Stop it!” She wrenches free, stumbling toward Jungwon. “Stop it, both of you!”
Jungwon catches her, steadying her. Up close, he can see the terror in her eyes. “The ship,” she whispers. “It’s really sinking, isn’t it?”
“Yes.”
“Then we need to— we have to—“ She looks around wildly at the chaos, the lifeboats being lowered, the growing tilt of the deck.
“Get on a boat,” Jungwon says. “Now. While there’s still room.”
“Not without you.”
“There’s no room for me. Women and children only.” He cups her face, memorizing her features. “Please. Get on the boat.”
“No. No, I won’t—” Her fiancé grabs her again, and this time he’s stronger, more forceful. He drags her toward the lifeboat despite her struggles.
“Jungwon!” she screams. He tries to follow but a crew member blocks his way.
“Back, sir. Women and children only.”
“That’s my—” But what is she? Not his wife. Not even really his lover, except for one stolen night. “Please, she needs me—”
“Step back or I’ll have you removed.”
Through the crowd, Jungwon watches helplessly as her fiancé forces her into the lifeboat. She’s fighting, crying, calling Jungwon’s name. Their eyes meet across the distance. I love you, he mouths. The lifeboat starts to lower.
“NO!” She’s leaning over the edge, reaching for him. “Jungwon, please! PLEASE!” But the boat drops away, down toward the black water, and she’s gone.
Jungwon stands frozen, watching the lifeboat pull away from the dying ship. She’s safe. That’s what matters. She’s safe.
The Titanic groans beneath his feet, the bow sinking lower. Around him, people are screaming now, the reality of the situation setting in. Not enough boats. Not enough time. He’s going to die here. The thought is strangely calm.
He makes his way to the stern, which is rising now as the bow sinks. The deck is tilting at a dangerous angle, people clinging to railings, crying and praying. Jungwon finds a spot near the back and looks up at the sky. The stars are brilliant, the moon nearly full. Beautiful.
He thinks about last night. Her body beneath his, the way she said his name. The plans they made that will never happen now. “I’ll find you in the next life,” he whispers to the moon, to the stars, to whatever might be listening.
The ship shudders violently. Somewhere below, something breaks with a sound like thunder. The stern is rising higher now, nearly vertical.
People are jumping, falling, screaming as they plummet into the icy water. Jungwon holds on, watching it all with strange detachment.
This is how he dies. Not in a fight, not of old age, but here on a ship that was supposed to be unsinkable, thinking about a woman he knew for four days. The ship breaks. He feels it— the hull splitting, metal screaming as the bow tears away and sinks. The stern bobs for a moment, and Jungwon thinks maybe, maybe—
Then it goes down. The water is so cold it stops his heart. He tries to swim but his limbs won’t cooperate, the freezing temperature shutting down his body piece by piece. Around him, people are screaming, thrashing, dying. He stops fighting.
As the water closes over his head, his last thought is of her. Of dark eyes and soft skin and a single night that felt like forever. I’ll find you, he thinks again. I promise. I’ll find you. The moon watches as he drowns.
In the lifeboat, she’s still screaming his name. Her fiancé tries to restrain her, tries to calm her down, but she’s hysterical. She saw the ship break. Saw it go down. Saw hundreds of people disappear into the black water. Including Jungwon. “He’s gone,” her fiancé says, not unkindly. “I’m sorry, but he’s gone.”
“No.” She’s shaking her head, denial and grief warring in her chest. “No, he can’t be. He promised. He said—” But she can’t remember what he said. Only that it felt important. That it felt true.
They’re rescued hours later by the Carpathia. She and her fiancé are wrapped in blankets, given hot soup, processed like cargo. She goes through the motions, numb and hollow.
Her fiancé tries to comfort her, tries to pretend the last four days didn’t happen. They’ll still marry when they reach New York, he says. Put this tragedy behind them. Move forward. She nods because she doesn’t have the energy to argue. But she knows the truth. She died on that ship too. The woman she was, the woman Jungwon made her feel like she could be— that woman drowned in the Atlantic. What’s left is just a shell.
On the Carpathia’s deck that night, she looks up at the moon. The same moon that watched them make love, that heard her ask if it would remember.
“Please,” she whispers. “Please remember him. Remember us.” The moon offers no answer. But somewhere, somehow, she thinks it heard.
1969 — Your POV
June 15, 1969 Dear Diary, I hate that I’m starting this like some teenage girl, but Mom gave me this journal and said writing might help. Help with what, I’m not sure. The fear? The waiting? The bone-deep terror that comes with loving someone who’s about to go to war? Jungwon got his draft notice today. He came home from the post office with this look on his face— not surprised, exactly, but resigned. Like he’d been waiting for this moment and now it’s finally here. First son. That’s what the letter said, like that explains everything. Like being born first means you’re obligated to die first too. We’ve been together for two years. Two perfect, beautiful years. We met at a protest, of all places— both of us marching against this stupid war, and now he has to go fight in it. The irony would be funny if it wasn’t so fucking tragic. He leaves in eight weeks. Sixty days. That’s all we have left. I don’t know how to do this. How to count down the days until I lose him. How to smile and be strong when all I want to do is scream. But I’ll try. For him, I’ll try.
You remember the day you met him with perfect clarity. August 1967. Washington D.C. The March on the Pentagon. You’d gone with friends from college, piled into someone’s beat-up Volkswagen van with hand-painted peace signs on the sides. The whole drive down you’d sung protest songs and shared joints and felt like you were part of something important.
The crowd was massive— thousands of people, maybe tens of thousands. You’d never seen anything like it. Everyone young and angry and alive, waving signs and chanting. “Hell no, we won’t go!” “Make love, not war!” The energy was electric.
You’d lost your friends somewhere in the chaos. Didn’t matter— you were swept up in the crowd, moving with the mass of bodies toward the Pentagon. The police were there in riot gear, a wall of shields and batons, and the crowd pressed forward anyway.
That’s when you saw him. He was near the front, dark hair falling in his eyes, wearing a denim jacket covered in pins and patches. He was shouting something at the police line, passionate and fearless, and you thought: I want to know him.
When the police charged, everything descended into chaos. People running, screaming, tear gas filling the air. You couldn’t breathe, couldn’t see. Someone grabbed your arm and pulled you away from the worst of it. It was him.
“Come on!” he shouted over the noise, tugging you through the crowd. You ran together, lungs burning, until you were several blocks away. Safe. You collapsed against a building, coughing and laughing and high on adrenaline.
“You okay?” he asked, looking you over with genuine concern.
“I think so. Thank you. For—” You gestured vaguely back toward the chaos.
“Couldn’t leave a fellow revolutionary to get trampled.” He grinned, and it transformed his whole face. “I’m Jungwon.” You told him your name, and he repeated it like he was memorizing it.
You spent the rest of the day together. Found your respective friends eventually, but kept gravitating back to each other. Talking about the war, about politics, about music and books and dreams for a better world. He was smart and funny and so passionate about everything he believed in. By the time you had to leave, you’d given him your number. He called three days later.
Your first date was at a coffee shop in Greenwich Village, the kind of place with poetry readings and folk music and cigarette smoke thick in the air. You talked for six hours straight, until the owner kicked you out at closing.
Your second date was a concert in Central Park. Simon and Garfunkel. You sat on a blanket and he held your hand and you thought you might be falling in love.
Your third date ended in his tiny apartment in the East Village, with his hands in your hair and your legs wrapped around his waist and the certainty that this was it. This was everything.
Two years later, you’ve built a life together. It’s not much— a small apartment, mismatched furniture, more books than shelf space— but it’s yours. You work at a bookstore. He’s in his second year of college, studying literature because he loves it even though his parents think it’s impractical.
You go to protests together, make love to Motown records, cook dinners that are more ambition than skill. You talk about the future— maybe moving to San Francisco, maybe joining a commune, maybe just existing in this little bubble of happiness forever.
And then the draft notice came.
June 20, 1969. We went to the recruitment office today to see if there was any way out of this. Deferment, conscientious objector status, anything. There isn’t. The officer— this smug asshole with a crew cut and a flag pin— looked at Jungwon like he was dirt. Said being a first son means he has a duty to serve. Said if he tries to dodge, they’ll find him. Said a lot of boys would be grateful for the opportunity to serve their country. Jungwon didn’t say anything. Just nodded and took the papers and walked out. I wanted to scream at that officer. Wanted to tell him that this isn’t service, it’s murder. That we’re sending boys to die in a jungle halfway around the world for a war nobody even understands anymore. That Jungwon has already served— served the cause of peace, served humanity by refusing to hate people he’s never met. But I didn’t say anything either. On the way home, Jungwon finally spoke. He said he was scared. That’s all. Just those two words. And then he started crying, right there on the subway, and I held him while strangers pretended not to notice. I’m scared too. Terrified. But I can’t let him see that. Only fifty-two days left.
July 4, 1969 Independence Day. The irony isn’t lost on us. We went to a protest in the park instead of watching fireworks. Smaller crowd than usual— a lot of people are getting tired, I think. Tired of marching and shouting and nothing changing. The war keeps grinding on. Boys keep dying. But we went anyway. Held our signs. Chanted until our throats were raw. Afterward, we walked home through the city. It was late, past midnight, and the streets were mostly empty. Jungwon stopped suddenly and pulled me into an alley. He said he wants to remember this. Us. Me. Before everything changes. And then he kissed me, deep and desperate, and we made love right there against a brick wall. It was reckless and uncomfortable and perfect. When we got home, we stayed up until dawn making love again, slower this time. Memorizing each other. Thirty-eight days.
The countdown is torture. Every morning you wake up and think: one day less. One day closer to losing him.
You try to make the most of the time you have left. You go to all your favorite places— the coffee shop where you had your first date, the record store where you spent hours flipping through albums, the park where you’ve had a hundred picnics. You take pictures, filling up two whole rolls of film. You cook elaborate dinners and stay up late talking about everything and nothing.
And you make love constantly. In your bed, on the couch, in the shower. Sometimes slow and tender, sometimes urgent and desperate. Like you’re trying to fit a lifetime of intimacy into a handful of weeks.
Jungwon is quieter now. More withdrawn. You catch him staring at nothing sometimes, lost in thoughts he won’t share. “Talk to me,” you beg one night after he’s been silent through dinner.
“I don’t know what to say.”
“Anything. Tell me what you’re thinking.”
He’s quiet for a long moment. “I keep thinking about all the things I’m going to miss. Stupid things, like… the way you hum when you’re cooking. Or how you always steal my coffee even though you have your own. Or the sound of rain on the window when we’re in bed.”
“You’ll come back.” You say it fiercely, like conviction can make it true. “You’ll come back and we’ll have all of that again.”
“What if I don’t?”
“Don’t say that—”
“We have to talk about it.” His voice is gentle but firm. “We have to acknowledge that I might not come home.”
“I can’t.” Tears are streaming down your face now. “I can’t think about that. If I think about that, I’ll fall apart.”
He pulls you into his arms, holding you while you sob. “Then don’t think about it. Just… remember that I love you. That I’ll always love you. No matter what happens.”
“I love you too. So much.” You make love that night with tears on both your faces, holding each other like you can physically stop time if you just hold tight enough.
July 28, 1969 Two weeks. That’s all we have left. Jungwon is trying to act normal. Going to classes, seeing friends, pretending like everything is fine. But I see the cracks. The way his hands shake sometimes. The nightmares that wake him up gasping. I asked him last night what he’s afraid of. He said dying but also coming back as someone else. If he comes back at all. I said you don’t die, you’ll come back and you’ll be exactly who you are now. But honestly, I don’t know if that’s true. How could anyone go through war and come back unchanged? We had sex three times today. I’m getting sore but I don’t care. Every time feels like it might be the last time, so we keep reaching for each other. This morning he went down on me for what felt like hours, making me come twice before he even took his cock out. Then he fucked me slow and deep, whispering how much he loves me, how beautiful I am, how he’s going to remember every second of this. I rode him after, taking my time, watching his face as he fell apart beneath me. He came inside me and I thought: let me get pregnant. Let there be some piece of him that stays even if he doesn’t come back. I didn’t say that out loud. It would terrify him. Fourteen days.
August 7, 1969 Five days. I can’t sleep. Can’t eat. Can’t think about anything except the calendar counting down. We went to Woodstock yesterday. Or tried to— the traffic was so bad we only made it halfway before turning back. But we could hear the music in the distance, see the crowds. It felt important somehow. All these people gathering to celebrate peace and love while the world burns down around us. Tonight we’re staying in. Just the two of us. I don’t want to share him with anyone else. Not now.
You spend the last five days in bed. Not the whole time, obviously— you have to eat, use the bathroom, occasionally answer the door when friends come by to say goodbye. But mostly, you stay in bed. Making love. Talking. Sleeping tangled together. Trying to memorize the feeling of his body against yours.
“Tell me about after,” Jungwon says on the third-to-last night. “When I come back. What are we going to do?”
“Everything.” You trace patterns on his bare chest. “We’re going to do everything we’ve always talked about. Move to California. Live in a commune. Grow our own food. Make art and music and love every single day.”
“Sounds perfect.”
“We’ll get married. Nothing fancy— just us and a few friends and maybe some wildflowers. I’ll wear a white dress and you’ll wear your denim jacket with all the pins.”
He laughs. “Very traditional.”
“We’ll have kids someday. Two or three. We’ll teach them to question everything and fight for what’s right and love fiercely.”
“I want that.” His voice cracks. “I want all of that with you.”
“Then come back to me. Promise me you’ll come back.”
“I promise I’ll try.” It’s not the same as promising to come back, but it’s all he can give.
You make love again, slow and reverent. He worships your body with his hands and mouth, making you come on his tongue before sliding inside you. You move together in perfect rhythm, years of practice making you instinctively know what the other needs. When you both finish, you lie there in the afterglow, holding each other. “I love you,” he whispers. “More than anything in this world.”
“I love you too. Come back to me.”
“I will. I swear I will.”
August 11, 1969 Tomorrow. He leaves tomorrow. I don’t know how to write this. Don’t know what to say that won’t sound trite or desperate or completely inadequate. We spent today doing normal things. Had breakfast at our favorite diner. Walked through the park. Went to the record store and bought the new Dylan album even though we can’t really afford it. Tonight we went up to the roof of our building. It’s illegal but no one cares. We brought a blanket and a bottle of wine and lay there looking at the stars. The moon was almost full. So bright I could see every detail of his face. Do you think the moon remembers us? Is what he’d asked me. I didn’t fully understand the question. He continued with how all the people who’ve looked at it, do you think the moons remember them and their stories? I said I didn’t know. He said how he wants it to remember us, remember this moment incase he doesn’t come back. I told him that it will, and I will, how could I forget him? We made love on that roof under the moonlight. It was cold and uncomfortable and the most beautiful thing we’ve ever done. Afterward, lying in his arms, he said it: if he doesn’t make it back that I should know that he’ll find me in the next life, no matter how long it take, no matter the cost. I told him he’s coming back to me in this one. He kissed me instead of arguing. And we made love again, desperate and clinging. We didn’t sleep. Stayed up all night holding each other, watching the moon travel across the sky. He leaves in six hours. I don’t know how to let him go.
The morning is gray and cold, unseasonably cool for August. You help him pack, though there’s not much to take. A small duffel bag with some clothes, toiletries, a few photos. He tucks the pictures carefully into the side pocket— one of the two of you at that first protest, one from a party last year where you’re both laughing at something, one from last week where you’re just looking at each other. “So I don’t forget,” he says quietly.
“You won’t forget.”
“No. But just in case.”
The bus station is crowded with other boys shipping out, their families crying and saying goodbye. You see mothers clutching sons, girlfriends sobbing into boyfriends’ shoulders. Everyone trying to be brave and failing. Jungwon holds you until the very last second. “I love you,” he says into your hair. “I love you so much.”
“I love you too. Come back to me.”
“I will. I promise.” He pulls back to look at you, memorizing your face. “Wait for me?”
“Always. Forever. I’ll wait forever if I have to.” One last kiss. Deep and desperate and tasting of salt from tears— yours, his, both. And then he’s boarding the bus with all the other boys in their too-new uniforms, and you’re standing on the platform watching it pull away.
He’s at the window. You can see him pressed against the glass, one hand flat against it like he’s reaching for you. You raise your hand in a wave. And then the bus turns the corner and he’s gone. You stand there for a long time after, staring at the empty street.
Someone touches your shoulder— another girl who just said goodbye to her boyfriend. She’s crying too. “They’ll come back,” she says, like she’s trying to convince herself as much as you. “They have to come back.” You nod because you can’t speak. But you’re not sure you believe it.
August 15, 1969 I’m at Woodstock. Finally made it. I came alone. Couldn’t stand being in the apartment without him. Everything there reminds me of Jungwon— his books still on the shelf, his jacket hanging by the door, the sheets that still smell like him. The festival is chaos. Mud everywhere, people as far as I can see, music blasting from the stage. It’s overwhelming and beautiful and exactly what I need. I’m not really here, though. Part of me is still on that bus station platform. Part of me is wherever Jungwon is right now— boot camp, probably. Learning how to kill people. I hate this. I hate all of it. But I’m here, in the mud and the music, because he would want me to be. Because this is what we believe in— peace, love, community. All the things we’re trying to build while the government tears them down. I’m going to survive this. I’m going to wait for him, and when he comes home, we’re going to build the life we talked about. I have to believe that.
September 3, 1969 First letter from Jungwon arrived today. I was so excited I almost ripped it opening the envelope. ‘My love, Boot camp is hell. They wake us up at 4 AM and work us until we drop. Everything is shouting and pushups and running until I want to puke. They’re trying to break us down, turn us into soldiers. Turn us into killers. I don’t know if I can do this. But I think about you every night. About your smile, your laugh, the way you look when you first wake up. About making love on our roof under the moon. Those memories are the only thing keeping me sane. I miss you so much it physically hurts. Miss your voice, your touch, the way you steal my coffee. Miss everything. I’ll write as often as I can. Tell me about your life. What you’re reading, where you’re going, who you’re seeing. I need to know that the world I’m fighting for (even though I don’t believe in this war) still exists. I love you. More than words can say. Forever yours, Jungwon’ I read it five times. Then I went into the bedroom and cried into his pillow.
September 20, 1969 I’m writing letters every day. Sometimes twice a day. I tell him about everything— the bookstore, protests I go to, albums I buy, books I read. Stupid mundane things that probably bore him, but he asked for them so I write. His letters come sporadically. Sometimes I get three in one week, sometimes nothing for two weeks. When they arrive, I devour them. He’s trying to stay positive, I can tell. But I read between the lines. The exhaustion. The fear. The slow erosion of the person he was. He finishes boot camp next month. Then he ships out. To Vietnam. I can’t think about it. If I think about it, I’ll lose my mind.
October 12, 1969 He called today. Five minutes on a pay phone before shipping out. His voice sounded different. Harder. Older. He told me he loves me, and that no matter what happens I need to remember that. I said I love him too and to be safe, to please be safe. And then the line went dead. That was eight hours ago and I can’t stop crying.
October 30, 1969 Letter from Vietnam. ‘My love, I’m here. In the jungle. In the war. I can’t tell you where exactly (they censor that) or what we’re doing (they censor that too). I can tell you it’s hot and wet and everything smells like rot and fear. I can tell you I think about you constantly. That your letters are the only good thing in this place. That I keep your photo in my pocket over my heart. I can tell you I’m terrified. Not of dying— though I am scared of that— but of becoming someone you won’t recognize when I come home. If I come home. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t write things like that. You need hope, not my fear. I love you. I love you. I love you. Stay safe. Live your life. Don’t put it on hold waiting for me. All my love, Jungwon’ I wrote back immediately: My love, I will always wait for you. I don’t care how long it takes. I don’t care what you’ve seen or done or become. You’re mine and I’m yours and nothing changes that. Come home to me. All my love, forever.
The letters continue. Back and forth across an ocean, across a war. Sometimes they’re full of mundane details— what he ate, what you did that day. Sometimes they’re deeper— fears, hopes, dreams for the future. You live for those letters. They’re proof he’s still alive, still him, still yours.
November 15, 1969 Haven’t heard from him in three weeks. I tell myself it’s fine. Mail is slow. He’s busy. He’s in the jungle where there’s no way to send letters. But the silence is deafening.
December 1, 1969 Five weeks now. I called his parents. They haven’t heard anything either. I’m trying not to panic.
December 10, 1969 Letter arrived today. Thank god. Thank god. ‘My love, I’m sorry for the silence. We were in the field— weeks in the jungle, no communication with the outside world. I wrote you letters every night but couldn’t send them. I’ll mail them all now so you’ll get a flood at once. I saw combat. Real combat. I can’t describe it. Won’t describe it. Just know that I’m okay. Physically okay, at least. The guys in my unit are good men. We take care of each other. That helps. I miss you so much I dream about you every night. Dream about being home, about holding you, about a life where there’s no war. Soon. I’ll be home soon. I love you endlessly, Jungwon’ Six more letters arrived over the next week. All written in the jungle, some barely legible, all filled with love and longing. I’m holding onto them like lifelines.
January 1, 1970 New year. New decade. I spent it alone in our apartment, drinking cheap wine and reading his letters. This year, he comes home. He has to.
The months blur together. Winter turns to spring. Letters arrive sporadically, sometimes cheerful, sometimes dark. You write back religiously, filling page after page with your life, your love, your hope.
You go to protests but your heart’s not in it anymore. You work at the bookstore. You see friends. You exist in a state of suspended animation, waiting.
The nightmares start in March. You dream of jungles and gunfire and blood. You dream of Jungwon dying in a thousand different ways. You wake up screaming, reaching for him, finding only empty sheets. You stop sleeping well.
April 20, 1970 Eight months since he left. I saw a news report today about casualties. The numbers are staggering. Thousands dead. Thousands more wounded. I couldn’t watch. His last letter said his unit was moving to a new position. He couldn’t say where. Couldn’t say what they’d be doing. I haven’t heard from him since. It’s been two weeks.
May 5, 1970 Three weeks. I’m trying not to think about what that might mean.
May 12, 1970 Four weeks. I called his parents again. Still nothing. I’m losing my mind.
May 20, 1970 Letter arrived today. But it’s not from him. It’s from his commanding officer. ‘Dear Miss, It is my duty to inform you that Private Yang Jungwon was killed in action on April 28, 1970, during combat operations in [REDACTED]. Private Yang died bravely, serving his country with honor. He was well-liked by his unit and will be deeply missed. Please accept my sincerest condolences for your loss. Respectfully, Captain Haruma, United States Army’ I don’t remember the rest of that day. I don’t remember screaming. Don’t remember collapsing. Don’t remember the neighbors breaking down the door because they heard me and thought someone was being murdered. I remember waking up in a hospital. Sedated. Numb. I remember his mother crying on the phone saying that he’s coming home. But he’s not coming home. Not really. Just a body in a box.
May 25, 1970 They buried him today. Military funeral. Flag-draped coffin. Gun salute. The whole terrible ceremony. I couldn’t look at the coffin. Couldn’t accept that he was in there. That the man I loved, love— vibrant and alive and so full of passion— was reduced to a body in a box in the ground. They gave me the flag. Folded into a perfect triangle. I wanted to scream at them. Wanted to throw the flag back in their faces and demand they give me Jungwon instead. But I just stood there, numb, while they lowered him into the ground. After, I went home and found a letter. Tucked into my mailbox. From him. Dated April 27. The day before he died. ‘My love, If you’re reading this, I’m gone. I wrote this just in case. Just in case the worst happens and I don’t get to say goodbye. First: I love you. I love you more than I knew it was possible to love another person. You are the best thing that ever happened to me. The brightest light in my life. Every moment with you was a gift. Second: This isn’t your fault. None of this is your fault. Don’t torture yourself with what-ifs. We had no control over this. Third: Live. Please, live your life. Don’t spend it mourning me. Find love again if you can. Be happy. Make art. Change the world. Do all the things we talked about doing together. And finally: I’ll find you in the next life. I don’t know if there is a next life, but if there is, I’ll find you. I’ll find you in every lifetime. This isn’t the end. It can’t be. I love you forever, Jungwon P.S. - Remember the moon? How I asked if it remembers us? I hope it does. I hope something in this universe remembers that we existed, that we loved each other. That our love was real and true and worth something, even if it was brief.’
I can’t write anymore. Can’t see through the tears. He’s gone. The love of my life is gone. And I don’t know how to survive this.
The journal entries stop after that. The pages remain blank for months, then years. You keep the journal, but you can’t bring yourself to write in it. Can’t put into words the emptiness, the grief that never quite fades.
You do what he asked. You live. You finish school, get a job, move to San Francisco like you always planned. You go to protests, make art, try to change the world in small ways. You even date again, eventually. Nice men who try to understand why you sometimes go quiet and distant, why you can’t quite let them all the way in. None of them are him.
On the anniversary of his death, you go to the cemetery. Place flowers on his grave. Tell him about your year. “I’m trying,” you whisper to the headstone. “I’m trying to live like you asked. But god, I miss you. Every single day, I miss you.”
The wind rustles the leaves overhead. The sun shines. The world keeps turning. And you keep living. Because that’s what he wanted.
But part of you— the best part— died in a jungle halfway around the world on April 28, 1970. And you’ll never get it back.
2001 — Your POV
September 11, 8:32 AM
Jungwon kisses you goodbye at the elevator, quick and chaste because you’re at work and even though everyone knows you’re married, PDA in the office is frowned upon. “See you at lunch?” you ask, adjusting his tie even though it’s perfectly straight. It’s just an excuse to touch him.
“Can’t. Meeting with the Lehman team goes until two.”
“Dinner then. I’ll cook.”
He grins. “You mean you’ll order takeout and pretend you cooked.”
“I resent that. I’m an excellent chef.”
“You burned water last week.”
“That was one time!” You swat his arm, laughing. “Okay, fine. I’ll order from that Thai place you like.”
“Perfect.” He kisses you again, properly this time, not caring who sees. “I love you.”
“Love you too. Don’t work too hard.” The elevator dings and you step inside, waving as the doors close. Jungwon watches you disappear, then heads back to his desk on the 101st floor of the North Tower.
You and Jungwon have been married for three years, together for five. You met at Cantor Fitzgerald— both of you ambitious young traders trying to make a name for yourselves in the cutthroat world of finance.
The attraction was immediate. The love took a bit longer, but not much. He proposed after a year and a half, on the roof of your apartment building under a full moon. You were married three months later in a small ceremony in Central Park, just family and close friends.
Working together has its challenges— you’re competitive by nature, and sometimes that bleeds into your relationship. But mostly it’s good. You understand the demands of each other’s jobs. You can decompress together about difficult clients. You commute together, have lunch together when schedules allow, go home together. Your entire lives are intertwined. You love it.
You step out of the elevator on the 96th floor— your department is a few floors below his— and head to your desk. The morning is already chaotic, phones ringing, traders shouting, the energy that makes you love this job. You’re reviewing overnight reports when your phone rings. “Trading desk.”
“Mrs. Yang, it’s David from IT. We’re having some issues with your workstation remotely. Would you mind coming down to the 78th floor so we can take a look?”
You glance at your computer. It seems fine, but IT knows better than you. “Sure. Give me five minutes?”
“Perfect. Thanks.” You grab your phone and ID badge, tell your supervisor you’ll be back in fifteen, and head for the elevators.
The elevator ride down takes less than a minute. You step out onto the 78th floor— it’s quieter here, mostly administrative offices and IT. David meets you in the lobby. “Thanks for coming down. This should only take a minute. Just need to check something in the server room.”
You follow him down the hall, chatting about weekend plans, completely unaware that you have eight minutes left in the world as you know it.
8:46 AM
Jungwon is on a conference call when the building shakes. No— not shakes. Lurches. Like the entire structure has been hit by something massive. The lights flicker. Someone screams. The windows on the north side explode inward in a spray of glass and fire.
The conference call drops. Alarms start blaring. People are shouting, running, diving under desks. Jungwon’s brain struggles to catch up. What the hell just happened?
“Everyone stay calm!” His manager is shouting to be heard over the chaos. “Proceed to the stairwells! Don’t use the elevators!”
Jungwon grabs his phone and jacket on autopilot, joining the stream of people heading for the stairs. The office is in chaos— papers everywhere, computers sparked and smoking, the smell of jet fuel and burning. Jet fuel. Oh god.
He dials your number as he’s moving, pressed against a hundred other bodies trying to evacuate. It rings once. Twice. Three times. “Jungwon?” You sound confused. “What’s happening? We felt something down here—”
“Where are you?” His voice is urgent. “What floor?”
“78th. I’m with IT, they needed to—”
“Get out. Right now. Don’t go back to your desk, don’t grab anything, just get to the stairs and get out of the building.”
“What’s going on?”
“I don’t know. Something hit the building. High up. There’s fire and—” He’s being pushed into the stairwell now, the crowd surging around him. “Just get out. Please.”
“I will. Where are you?”
“101st floor. I’m in the stairwell. I’m coming down.”
“Okay. Okay. I’ll meet you outside.”
“I love you.”
“I love you too. Be careful.” The line cuts out as he enters the stairwell. No signal.
The descent is a nightmare. Hundreds of people packed into a narrow concrete shaft, everyone trying to move at once. It’s hot and dark and the smoke is getting thicker with every floor.
Jungwon tries to stay calm. Tries to breathe through his shirt. Tries not to think about what happened, about the fire above him, about the fact that he’s 101 floors up and the only way out is down. He tries your number again when he hits the 95th floor and gets signal for a moment. No answer. Again at the 90th floor. No answer.
The stairwell is moving so slowly. People are crying, praying, helping those who can’t move as fast. The woman in front of Jungwon is heavily pregnant and struggling. He helps support her weight as they descend. “My baby,” she keeps saying. “I can’t—my baby—”
“You’re going to be fine,” Jungwon tells her. “We’re all going to be fine. Just keep moving.” He doesn’t know if he believes it.
At the 85th floor, his phone rings.“Jungwon!” You’re crying. “Oh god, Jungwon—”
“I’m here. I’m okay. Where are you?”
“I’m outside. I got out. But Jungwon, they’re saying—” Your voice breaks. “They’re saying a plane hit the building. A passenger plane. It flew right into the tower.”
His blood runs cold. “What?”
“It’s on the news. It’s everywhere. And—” You’re sobbing now. “Another plane just hit the South Tower. Jungwon, this isn’t an accident. This is—”
“I know. I know. Listen to me—I need you to get away from here. As far away as you can. Go to Brooklyn. Go to your sister’s. Just get away from Manhattan.”
“I’m not leaving without you.”
“You have to—”
“NO.” Your voice is fierce through the tears. “I’m not leaving you. I’m staying right here until you come out.”
“Baby, please—”
“Don’t. Don’t ask me to leave you. I won’t do it.” He wants to argue but he knows it’s pointless. You’re the most stubborn person he’s ever met. It’s one of the things he loves about you.
“Okay. Okay. I’m at the 85th floor. I’m coming down as fast as I can.”
“How fast is that?”
“Slow. There’s a lot of people. But I’m moving. I’m going to make it out.”
“Promise me.”
“I promise.” He stays on the phone with you as he descends. 80th floor. 75th. 70th. You talk to him the whole time. Telling him about what you’re seeing outside— the smoke, the emergency responders, the crowds. Telling him you love him. Begging him to hurry.
“I’m trying,” he says. “I’m trying.”65th floor. The building shudders. Different from before. More structural. The stairwell sways and people scream.
“What was that?” You sound terrified. “Jungwon, what was that?”
“I don’t know. The building just— it felt wrong.”
“You need to move faster.”
“I am. We all are. It’s just— there’s so many people—” 60th floor. The smoke is getting worse. People are coughing, struggling to breathe. Some are collapsing. Other people are helping them, but it’s slowing everything down.
Jungwon’s legs are burning. His lungs hurt. But he keeps moving. “Talk to me,” he says to you. “Tell me about something good. Distract me.”
“Like what?”
“Anything. Our honeymoon. Our first date. Anything that isn’t this.”
You’re quiet for a moment, and when you speak, your voice is steadier. “Remember our honeymoon? In Italy, that night in Venice? We got lost trying to find the hotel and ended up at that little square with the fountain?” He does remember. The moon reflecting off the water. Your hand in his. The way the whole city felt like a dream.
“And you asked me if I thought the moon remembered us,” you continue. “All the lovers who’d stood in that square over the centuries.”
“Did I say that?”
“You did. You said you wanted the moon to remember us. To remember our love story.”
55th floor. Jungwon is crying now, though he’s not sure when that started. “I still want that.”
“It will. The moon will remember us. I know it will.”
“Promise me something.”
“Anything.”
“If I don’t make it—”
“Don’t say that—”
“Listen. Please. If I don’t make it, I need you to promise me you’ll keep living. You’ll find happiness again. You won’t spend the rest of your life mourning me.”
“Jungwon—”
“Promise me.”
“I can’t. I can’t promise that. You’re my whole life. You’re everything.”
“Then promise me you’ll try. That you’ll at least try.”
You’re sobbing. “Okay. Okay, I promise. But you ARE going to make it. You have to make it.”
50th floor. He’s halfway. He’s actually halfway. Maybe he will make it out. “I love you,” he says. “More than anything in this world. You know that, right?”
“I know. I love you too. So much. So much.”
45th floor. The woman in front of him collapses. Jungwon and another man help her up, support her weight between them. She’s gasping for air, barely conscious. “Keep going,” Jungwon tells her. “We’re almost there.” 40th floor.
“I’m at 40,” he tells you. “Less than halfway now.”
“You’re doing so good. You’re almost out.”
“How’s it look out there?”
“Bad. Both towers are burning. There’s debris everywhere. But the firefighters are here. They’re going in to help people.”
“Good. That’s good.” 35th floor.
His phone is dying. Battery at 15%. “My phone’s almost dead,” he tells you.
“No. No, you have to keep talking to me.”
“I will. As long as I can. But if we get cut off—”
“We won’t.”
“But if we do, I need you to know—”
“I already know. I know you love me. I know we’re going to grow old together. I know we’re going to have babies and a house in the suburbs and a dog. I know all of it because you promised me.”
“I did promise you that.”
“So you have to keep that promise. You have to get out of there and come home to me.”
30th floor. Battery at 10%. “Do you remember our wedding vows?” he asks. “I meant every word. Every promise. I’d do it all again in a heartbeat.”
“Me too.”
25th floor. “I can see the end,” he says. “I can actually see the bottom of the stairwell. Maybe ten more floors.”
“Oh thank god. Thank god.”
20th floor. Battery at 5%. The building shudders again. Violently this time. The stairwell groans.
“Jungwon? JUNGWON?”
“I’m here. I’m still here. Something’s wrong. The building—it doesn’t feel stable.”
“You need to run. Right now. Run as fast as you can.”
“I am. We all are.”
15th floor. The lights go out. Emergency lighting kicks in, bathing everything in red. People are screaming, pushing, panicking.
“Stay calm!” Someone is shouting. “Everyone stay calm!” But no one is calm. Everyone can feel it— the building is dying. 10th floor.
“I’m at ten,” Jungwon gasps into the phone. “Almost there. Almost—” The building lurches. Metal screaming. Concrete cracking.
“JUNGWON!”
“I’m okay. I’m still moving. Five more floors.”
5th floor. “I can see the lobby. I can see the exit. I’m going to make it. I’m actually going to make it.”
“Run. Don’t stop. Just run.” He does. The last few floors are a blur— feet pounding stairs, people streaming into the lobby, firefighters directing everyone outside.
Jungwon bursts out onto the street and the sight is apocalyptic. Both towers burning. Debris everywhere. Ash falling like snow. But he’s out. He’s alive. “I’m outside,” he gasps into the phone. “I made it. I’m out.”
“Where? Where are you?”
“West side, I think. Near—” The sound drowns out everything else. A roar like the end of the world. Jungwon turns and looks up. The South Tower is collapsing. “Oh my god,” he breathes.
“What? What’s happening?”
“The South Tower. It’s— it’s coming down.”
And then the cloud hits. Debris and dust and smoke racing down the street like a tsunami. People screaming, running, diving into buildings. Jungwon runs.
He doesn’t know where he’s going, just away from the cloud, away from the collapse. His phone is still clutched in his hand, your voice tinny and distant.“Jungwon! JUNGWON!”
“I’m here! I’m still here!” He ducks into a building— a store, doors standing open. The cloud follows him in, filling the space with choking dust.
He can’t see. Can’t breathe. Can’t do anything except hold the phone and hope. And then, gradually, the worst passes. He’s alive. Covered in dust, coughing up gray ash, but alive. “I’m okay,” he says into the phone. “I’m okay. The South Tower collapsed but I’m okay.”
“Oh thank god. Thank god. Where are you?”
“I don’t know. Some store. I can’t see anything. There’s dust everywhere.”
“Stay there. Stay inside until the dust clears. I’m coming to find you.”
“No. Don’t. It’s not safe.”
“I don’t care. Tell me where you are.”
“I don’t KNOW where I am—” His phone dies. “No. No no no—” He tries to turn it back on but it’s dead. Completely dead. He has no way to reach you. No way to tell you he’s alive. All he can do is wait for the dust to clear and try to find you.
You’re running. Your phone went dead ten seconds after his did, and now you’re sprinting through the chaos toward where you last heard him— west side of the North Tower. The South Tower is gone. Just gone. A pile of rubble and smoke where a building used to be.
And the North Tower is still burning. Jungwon’s tower. He made it out. He told you he made it out. He’s alive somewhere in this nightmare and you’re going to find him.
You’re pushing through crowds, screaming his name, looking for his face in a sea of ash-covered people who all look the same. “JUNGWON!” No answer. “JUNGWON!” The dust is thick. You can barely see ten feet ahead. But you keep moving, keep searching.
You’re maybe three blocks from the tower when you hear it. That sound again. Metal and concrete and the world ending. You look up. The North Tower is collapsing. “No,” you whisper. And then you’re screaming. “JUNGWON! JUNGWON!”
The tower comes down in a cascade of destruction, floor after floor pancaking, the cloud of debris exploding outward. You’re too far away. The cloud won’t reach you here. You’re safe. But Jungwon. He said he was on the west side. Near the tower. He was right there.
“No. No no no no no—” You’re calling his phone but it’s going straight to voicemail. Again and again and again. “JUNGWON! PLEASE! JUNGWON!”
People are grabbing you, trying to pull you back, away from the disaster. You fight them. “My husband! My husband was there! I need to— I have to—”
But there’s nowhere to go. The entire area where the towers stood is gone. Just smoke and rubble and death. You collapse on the pavement, screaming into your dead phone. He was right there. He made it out and he was right there and now— now the building is gone. And so is he.
They find Jungwon’s body three days later. He’d made it out of the building. Made it almost two blocks away. But when the tower collapsed, the debris cloud caught him. A piece of falling concrete, the medical examiner says. He died instantly. You identify him at the morgue. His face is peaceful, covered in dust. Like he’s sleeping. You don’t cry. You can’t. You’re too empty.
At the funeral, they play the voicemail you left him after the towers fell. The one where you’re screaming into the phone, begging him to answer, telling him you love him. You don’t remember leaving it.
You don’t remember much of anything from those first few days. The city buries thousands. You bury your husband. And then you have to figure out how to keep living.
Ten years pass. You never remarry. Never even date. How could you? Jungwon was your whole life. Your whole heart. You move out of New York. Can’t stand to be in the city where you lost him. You end up in a small town in Vermont, working at a library, living a quiet life.
Every year on September 11th, you visit the memorial. Stand at the reflecting pool where the North Tower used to be, looking at his name etched in bronze. YANG JUNGWON. You trace the letters with your fingers and remember.
Remember his laugh. His smile. The way he kissed you goodbye that last morning. Remember the phone call. His voice getting weaker as he descended. The way he said “I love you” one last time before his phone died. Remember standing in the street, watching the tower collapse, knowing he was gone.
At night, you look at the moon and think about what he said. About the moon remembering love stories. “Do you remember us?” you whisper to the sky.
The moon doesn’t answer. But you hope it does. Hope that somewhere in the universe, someone remembers that you loved him. That he loved you. That what you had was real and beautiful and worth something, even though it ended too soon.
You survive twenty more years. Never stop missing him. Never stop loving him. When you die at 65— heart attack, quick and painless— your last thought is of him. I’m coming, you think. Finally, I’m coming to find you. And maybe, somewhere, the moon remembers.
2026 — split POV
Jungwons POV
Jungwon is running late. He overslept— stayed up too late studying for his anatomy exam, his alarm didn’t go off, and now he’s sprinting across campus with his backpack half-open and his shirt probably on inside out.
Pre-med is killing him. Everyone said it would be hard, but no one mentioned it would be “survive on three hours of sleep and questionable dining hall coffee” hard. He rounds the corner by the library at a full run, checking his phone to see just how late he is to his 9 AM lecture—
And crashes directly into someone. The impact is total. Books go flying. Papers scatter. And Jungwon’s coffee— his precious, desperately-needed coffee— explodes all over the person he just barreled into. “Oh my god,” he gasps, stumbling back. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry—” He looks up and his brain short-circuits.
It’s a girl. A beautiful girl in a white shirt that is now completely drenched in his coffee. Dark hair falling around her face, wide eyes, an expression of pure shock. And the second their eyes meet, something in Jungwon’s chest cracks open. He knows her.
He doesn’t know her— he’s never seen her before in his life— but he knows her. Knows her the way he knows his own heartbeat. Knows her in a way that makes no logical sense but feels more real than anything he’s ever experienced. “I—” His voice doesn’t work. He tries again. “I’m so sorry. Your shirt—”
She’s just staring at him. Not angry, not upset. Just staring like she’s seeing a ghost. “It’s okay,” she says finally, but her voice is shaky. “It’s fine. I just—”
They’re both still frozen, standing in the middle of the path while other students flow around them. Jungwon forces himself to move. He shrugs out of his hoodie— thankfully he’s wearing a t-shirt underneath— and holds it out to her. “Here. Please. I’m so sorry. Take this.”
She looks at the hoodie, then back at him. “I can’t—”
“Please. I ruined your shirt. It’s the least I can do.” Slowly, she takes it. Their fingers brush and Jungwon feels electricity shoot up his arm. What the hell is happening?
She pulls on the hoodie— it’s too big on her, sleeves hanging past her hands— and something about seeing her in his clothes makes his heart do a weird flip. “Thank you,” she says softly. “I’m— uh. I have a class. I should—”
“Right. Yeah. Of course.” He’s already pulling out his phone. “Can I get your number? So I can pay for dry cleaning. Or replace the shirt. Or—”
“You don’t have to do that.”
“I want to. Please. I feel terrible.”She hesitates, then rattles off her number. He types it in with shaking hands. “I’m Jungwon, by the way.”
“I know.” Then her eyes widen. “I mean— I don’t know. You just— you look like a Jungwon.”
That doesn’t make any sense, but he smiles anyway. “And you are?”She tells him her name, and Jungwon commits it to memory like a prayer.
“I really am sorry,” he says again. “About the coffee.”
“It’s okay. Really.” She’s backing away now, but she keeps looking at him. Like she can’t quite make herself leave. “I should go. I’m late.”
“Me too. But—” He doesn’t want her to go. Can’t explain why, but the thought of her walking away makes him feel panicky. “Can I text you? About the shirt?”
“Sure. Yeah. That’s fine.”
“Okay. Good. I’ll— I’ll text you.”
“Okay.” She finally turns and walks away, and Jungwon stands there watching her go, his heart pounding for reasons he can’t explain. He’s never believed in love at first sight. Thought it was bullshit, something made up for movies and romance novels. But something just happened. Something big and important and completely inexplicable.
He doesn’t know what. But he knows, with absolute certainty, that he just met someone who’s going to change his life.
Your POV
You make it to class five minutes late, wearing a stranger’s hoodie, your heart racing. What the hell was that? You’ve never believed in fate or destiny or any of that romantic nonsense. You’re a history major, you deal in facts and evidence and things that can be proven.
But when you locked eyes with that boy— Jungwon— something shifted in the universe. You knew him. Know him. Even though you’ve never seen him before in your life. And the way he looked at you— like he knew you too. Like he’d been waiting for you.
You slide into your seat in the lecture hall and your best friend Mina immediately notices the hoodie. “Whose is that?” she whispers.
“Some guy’s. He spilled coffee on me.”
“And gave you his hoodie? That’s very chivalrous. Is he cute?”
You think about dark eyes and messy hair and the way his hands shook when he typed your number into his phone. “Yeah,” you admit. “Really cute.”
“Are you going to see him again?”
“I don’t know. Maybe.”
Your phone buzzes. Unknown number: Hi, this is Jungwon. The coffee disaster guy. Just wanted to make sure I got your number right. And to apologize again. I really am sorry about your shirt.
You smile despite yourself and type back: It’s fine. Really. The hoodie is very comfortable.
Keep it. It looks better on you anyway.
Your heart does a stupid flutter: I should probably return it at some point.
How about tomorrow? I could buy you coffee. To replace the shirt.
You shouldn’t. You don’t know this guy. He could be anyone. But you’re already typing back: Tomorrow sounds good.
Perfect. I’ll text you details. And again— really sorry.
Stop apologizing. It was an accident.
Still feel bad.
Don’t. I’m fine. Great, even. I got a free hoodie out of it.
Ha. Fair point. See you tomorrow?
See you tomorrow.
You put your phone away and try to focus on the lecture. But all you can think about is tomorrow. About seeing him again. About why the thought of it makes you feel like you’re coming home.
Jungwon’s POV
Jungwon changes his outfit three times before leaving his dorm. “You’re being ridiculous,” his roommate Jake says, sprawled on his bed playing video games. “It’s just coffee.”
“It’s not just coffee.”
“It’s literally just coffee. You’re meeting a girl you spilled coffee on to buy her coffee to apologize for the coffee. It’s coffee inception.”
“Shut up.”
Jake grins. “You like her.”
“I don’t know her.”
“But you like her.”
Jungwon doesn’t answer because the truth is yes, he does like her. Has been thinking about her non-stop since yesterday. Can’t explain it, can’t rationalize it, but it’s true. He settles on jeans and a simple black shirt, checks his hair one more time, and heads out.
They agreed to meet at the campus coffee shop— ironic, given the circumstances— at 2 PM. Jungwon arrives ten minutes early and immediately regrets it because now he has to stand around looking awkward.
He’s checking his phone for the third time when he sees her walking up. She’s wearing casual clothes— jeans and a sweater— and she’s carrying his hoodie, neatly folded. Her hair is down today, falling past her shoulders, and Jungwon’s brain goes momentarily offline. “Hi,” she says, smiling.
“Hi.” He sounds like an idiot. “You came.”
“I said I would.”
“Right. Yeah. Of course.” Get it together, Yang. “Should we go in?”
They order coffee— she gets a vanilla latte, he gets an americano— and find a table by the window. For a moment, they just sit there, both suddenly shy. “So,” you say finally. “Pre-med, right? I saw your anatomy textbook when you dropped everything.”
“Yeah. First year. It’s brutal.”
“I can imagine. I’m history. Much less brutal.”
“History’s cool. What kind of history?”
“All kinds. But I’m focusing on American history right now. Specifically the 20th century.”
Something flickers in Jungwon’s chest at that. He doesn’t know why. “That’s really interesting,” he says. “Any particular reason?”
You shrug. “I like understanding how we got here. How the past shapes the present. Plus the 20th century was just… a lot. Wars, social movements, technological revolution. It’s fascinating.”
“Do you think the past matters? Like, do you think we’re shaped by history or do we shape ourselves?” The question comes out more philosophical than he intended, but you don’t seem to mind.
“Both, probably. We’re products of our time, but we also have agency. We can make choices that change the trajectory.” You pause. “Why? Do you think the past matters?”
“I think…” He’s not sure how to articulate this. “I think sometimes the past isn’t really past. I think sometimes it echoes forward. Into the present.”
You’re looking at him with this intense focus, like he’s said something profound instead of just vaguely poetic nonsense. “Yeah,” you say softly. “I think that too.”
The conversation flows easily after that. You talk about classes, about campus life, about your respective hometowns. Jungwon tells you about wanting to be a doctor since he was a kid, about the pressure from his parents but also his genuine love for medicine. You tell him about your love of research, about wanting to be a professor someday, maybe write books.
Two hours pass without either of you noticing. “I should probably go,” you say reluctantly, checking your phone. “I have a study group at five.”
“Right. Yeah. Of course.” Jungwon stands when you do, not ready for this to end. “Can I walk you?”
“Sure.” You walk across campus together, the conversation never stopping. It’s easy with you. Comfortable. Like you’ve done this a thousand times before.
When you reach your building, you turn to face him. “Thanks for the coffee. And for not being a serial killer.”
He laughs. “Thanks for giving a clumsy pre-med student a chance to apologize.”
“It was a good apology.” There’s a moment where you’re just looking at each other, and Jungwon feels that pull again. That inexplicable sense of knowing you.
“Can I see you again?” he asks. “Not as an apology. Just… because I want to.”
You smile. “I’d like that.”
“Friday? There’s a film festival on campus. Foreign films. Probably boring to most people but—”
“I love foreign films.”
“Really?”
“Really.”
His heart is going to beat out of his chest. “It’s a date then?”
“It’s a date.”
He walks away grinning like an idiot, and when he checks his phone later, there’s a text from you: Had fun today. See you Friday :)
He stares at the smiley face for an embarrassingly long time before responding: Me too. Can’t wait. And he means it. He genuinely can’t wait to see you again. Which is crazy. He barely knows you. But it doesn’t feel like barely knowing you. It feels like coming home.
Your POV
You and Jungwon are dating. It’s not official-official— you haven’t had the “what are we” conversation— but you’re together constantly. Study dates that turn into actual dates. Late-night conversations that stretch until 3 AM. Stolen kisses between classes. It’s fast. You know it’s fast. Mina keeps asking if you’re sure about this, if you’re not rushing into things. But it doesn’t feel fast. It feels exactly right.
You learn things about him: that he’s terrible at cooking but makes excellent coffee. That he stress-cleans before exams. That he has nightmares sometimes and won’t talk about them. That he looks at the moon when he’s thinking.
He learns things about you: that you hum when you’re concentrating. That you steal his coffee even though you have your own. That you’re afraid of thunderstorms. That you’ve always felt like you’re searching for something you can’t name.
Tonight, you’re in his dorm room— Jake is conveniently gone for the weekend— sprawled on his bed while he attempts to study for biochemistry. “This is impossible,” he groans, throwing his highlighter at the textbook. “Why do I need to know the Krebs cycle? When will I ever use this as a doctor?”
“When you’re explaining cellular respiration to a patient, obviously.”
“That will definitely happen. Constantly.” You laugh and roll onto your stomach, watching him.
He’s wearing glasses tonight— he usually wears contacts but he ran out— and they make him look unfairly adorable. “You’re staring,” he says without looking up from his notes.
“You’re pretty.”
“I’m not pretty. I’m ruggedly handsome.”
“You’re pretty.”
He looks up, grinning, and tackles you onto the bed. You shriek with laughter as he pins you down, his weight warm and solid above you. “Take it back,” he demands.
“Never. You’re the prettiest boy I’ve ever seen.”
“Terrible. The worst.” But he’s smiling as he says it, and then he’s kissing you, and your brain shuts off. You’ve kissed before— many times over the past six weeks— but it still feels new every time. Still makes your heart race and your stomach flip.
His hand slides under your shirt, fingers skimming your ribs, and you arch into the touch. “Is this okay?” he murmurs against your lips.
“Yeah. Yes. More than okay.”
Things heat up quickly after that. Clothes coming off, hands exploring, breathless whispers in the dark. You’ve fooled around before— heavy petting, getting each other off— but you haven’t gone all the way yet. Tonight feels different. “Do you want to?” Jungwon asks, pulling back to look at you. “We don’t have to. There’s no pressure. I just—”
“I want to.” You cup his face. “I want you.”
“Are you sure?”
“I’m sure.”
He kisses you deeply and reaches for his nightstand, pulling out a condom. “I’ve, uh. I’ve never actually done this before.”
“Me neither.”
“So we’ll figure it out together?”
“Together,” you agree. What follows is awkward and sweet and perfect. He’s gentle, careful, constantly checking if you’re okay. There’s fumbling and nervous laughter and moments where you have to adjust and try again.
But when he finally slides inside you, when you’re joined completely, it feels right. It feels like coming home. “God,” he breathes, forehead pressed against yours. “You feel amazing.”
He moves slowly at first, finding a rhythm, and the pleasure builds gradually. It’s not earth-shattering— first times rarely are— but it’s intimate and meaningful and when you both finish (you first, then him shortly after), you feel closer to him than you’ve ever felt to anyone.
After, you lie tangled together, sweaty and satisfied and happy. “That was…” Jungwon trails off.
“Yeah.”
“We should probably do that again sometime.”
“Definitely.” He laughs and pulls you closer, pressing a kiss to your forehead. You settle against his chest, listening to his heartbeat, feeling utterly content.
“Hey,” he says after a while. “Can I ask you something weird?”
“Always.”
“Do you ever feel like… like we’ve done this before? Not the sex,” he clarifies quickly. “Just… this. Us. Being together. Like we’ve been here before.”
Your heart skips. “Yeah. All the time.”
“Really?”
“Really. I can’t explain it. But from the moment we met, I felt like I knew you. Like we were supposed to find each other.”
“Me too.” He’s quiet for a moment. “My roommate thinks I’m crazy.”
“My roommate thinks I’m rushing into things.”
“Are we? Rushing?”
You think about it. Six weeks is fast. But it doesn’t feel fast. It feels inevitable. “I don’t think so,” you say. “I think… I think sometimes you just know. When something’s right.”
“Yeah.” He tightens his arms around you. “I think you’re right.”
You fall asleep like that, wrapped around each other, and you dream of things you can’t quite remember when you wake. Battles and hospitals and sinking ships. A jungle. A burning building. And through it all, his face. Always his face.
You’re officially together by December. Boyfriend and girlfriend. You changed your relationship status on social media and everything.
Mina has stopped asking if you’re sure and started asking when you’re getting married, which is ridiculous because you’re only twenty-one, but sometimes you look at Jungwon and think yes, that one, forever. Which is insane. You’ve only known him for three months. But it doesn’t feel like three months. It feels like always.
It’s winter break now. Most students have gone home, but you and Jungwon both stayed on campus— you have a research project, he has lab work. Which means you basically have the whole university to yourselves.
Tonight, you’re at his apartment (he moved off-campus this semester) cooking dinner together. Or rather, you’re cooking while he sits on the counter and provides commentary. “You’re going to burn the chicken,” he observes.
“I’m not going to burn the chicken.”
“The pan is smoking.”
“That’s just—” You check the pan. It’s definitely smoking. “Okay, fine. You do it.” He laughs and hops down, gently moving you aside to take over. Within minutes, he’s rescued the chicken and gotten everything under control.
“I thought you said you couldn’t cook,” you accuse.
“I said I’m terrible at cooking. Doesn’t mean I can’t do basic stuff. I just prefer not to.”
“So you’ve been letting me struggle this whole time?”
“I like watching you try.”
You swat him with a dish towel and he catches your wrist, pulling you against him. “Hi,” he says.
“Hi yourself.” He kisses you, slow and sweet, and you melt into him. Three months in and he still makes your knees weak.
Dinner is actually good— turns out Jungwon can cook when properly motivated. You eat on his tiny balcony despite the cold, wrapped in blankets, watching the city lights. “I have something for you,” Jungwon says when you’re both finished eating.
“It’s not Christmas yet.”
“I know. But I saw this and thought of you and I couldn’t wait.” He pulls out a small wrapped box from his pocket.
“Jungwon—”
“Just open it.”
You unwrap it carefully. Inside is a delicate silver necklace with a tiny moon pendant. “Oh,” you breathe. “It’s beautiful.”
“I know you love looking at the moon. You always point it out when we’re walking at night. And I just… I wanted you to have something that reminded you of…” He trails off, looking embarrassed. “This is cheesy, isn’t it?”
“It’s perfect.” You kiss him. “Help me put it on?” He fastens the necklace around your neck, his fingers gentle on your skin. The pendant rests just below your collarbone, catching the light.
“Beautiful,” he murmurs, but he’s looking at you, not the necklace.
That night, you make love in his bed, slow and tender. You’ve gotten better at it over the past few months— learned what each other likes, how to move together, how to make it good for both of you. When you’re both satisfied and drowsy, you curl up against his chest.
“I love you,” you say. It’s the first time either of you have said it. You’ve been thinking it for weeks, but you weren’t sure if it was too soon, if it would scare him off.
Jungwon goes very still. Then he tips your chin up so he can see your face. “You do?”
“Yeah. I do. I love you.”
“I love you too.” He says it like a revelation, like he’s just discovered something amazing. “I’ve been wanting to say it for weeks.”
“Why didn’t you?”
“Scared. Didn’t want to freak you out.”
“You could never freak me out.”
“Good to know.” He kisses you again. “I love you. So much. More than I knew was possible.” You fall asleep in his arms, the moon pendant warm against your skin, and everything feels perfect.
Your POV
Spring semester is brutal. You’re both drowning in work— your senior thesis is due in two months, Jungwon is applying to medical schools and studying for the MCAT. You still see each other every day, but it’s different now. Stressed. Tired. Neither of you sleeping enough.
One evening in late March, you’re both in the library, sitting at the same table but working on separate things. You’ve been here for six hours. Your eyes are burning, your back hurts, and you’re pretty sure you’ve read the same paragraph seventeen times without retaining any information.
You glance at Jungwon. He’s hunched over his biochemistry textbook, highlighter in hand, looking exhausted. “Break?” you suggest.
“Can’t. This exam is in two days and I’m nowhere near ready.”
“You’ve been studying for weeks. You’re ready.”
“I’m not. There’s still three chapters I haven’t reviewed and—”
“Jungwon.” You reach across the table to take his hand. “Take a break. Ten minutes. Please.”
He looks like he wants to argue, but then he sees your face and sighs. “Okay. Ten minutes.”
You both step outside into the cool spring air. The campus is quiet— it’s almost midnight, most people are asleep or partying. You find a bench and sit, and Jungwon immediately slumps against you. “I’m so tired,” he mumbles.
“I know. Me too.”
“When does it get easier?”
“I don’t think it does. I think we just get better at handling hard.”
He laughs weakly. “Philosophical.”
“I’m a history major. We’re all secretly philosophers.” You sit in comfortable silence for a while. The moon is visible through the trees, nearly full.
“Look,” you say, pointing. “The moon.”
Jungwon looks up, and something crosses his face. Something you can’t quite read. “It’s beautiful,” he says quietly.
“Makes me think of the necklace you gave me.” You touch the pendant, which you wear every day. “Do you ever wonder if the moon gets lonely? Just hanging up there, watching everyone?”
“I don’t know. Maybe. Or maybe it’s comforting. Being able to witness everything. All the love stories, all the lives, all the history.” There’s something strange in his voice. Something distant.
“You okay?” you ask.
“Yeah. Just… sometimes I get this feeling. Like I’m supposed to remember something important but I can’t quite grasp it.” He shakes his head. “Ignore me. I’m sleep-deprived and saying weird things.”
“I get that feeling too sometimes.”
He turns to look at you. “You do?”
“Yeah. Especially when I’m with you. Like there’s something just out of reach. Something I should know.” You’re both quiet, staring at each other, and the moment feels heavy with meaning you can’t articulate.
“Weird,” Jungwon says finally.
“Yeah. Weird.” You go back to studying, but the feeling lingers.
—
It happens on a Tuesday.
You’re driving back from the library— late night, you stayed to finish a research paper. You’re tired, ready to collapse into bed. The light is green. You’re sure it’s green. You start through the intersection and— impact.
The car hits yours from the side, metal crunching, glass shattering. The world spins. Your head slams against something. And then everything goes dark.
Jungwon’s POV
Jungwon is in his apartment, half-asleep on the couch with a textbook on his chest, when his phone rings. Unknown number. He almost doesn’t answer. “Hello?”
“Is this Yang Jungwon?” A woman’s voice, professional and careful.
“Yes?”
“This is Mercy General Hospital. You’re listed as the emergency contact for—”
His blood turns to ice. “What happened? Is she okay? What happened?”
“There’s been an accident. A car accident. She’s alive, but she’s unconscious. You should come to the hospital as soon as possible.”
Jungwon doesn’t remember the drive. One minute he’s in his apartment, the next he’s running through the hospital corridors, demanding to know where you are. They lead him to a room in the ICU. You’re there, lying in a hospital bed, hooked up to machines. Your face is pale, bruised. There’s a bandage around your head.
“Oh god,” he breathes.
A doctor intercepts him before he can reach you. “Mr. Yang?”
“How is she? What happened?”
“She was hit by another vehicle. Traumatic brain injury, some internal bleeding. We’ve stabilized her, but she’s in a coma.”
“A coma.”
“Her brain is swelling. We’re monitoring closely. The next 24-48 hours are critical.”
Jungwon sinks into a chair, his legs giving out. “Can I—can I sit with her?”
“Of course.”
He pulls a chair to your bedside and takes your hand. It’s cold. “I’m here,” he whispers. “I’m right here. You’re going to be okay. You have to be okay.”
The machines beep steadily. Your chest rises and falls. But you don’t respond. Jungwon sits there for hours. Days. He leaves only when forced, only for bathroom breaks and when the nurses make him eat something.
He talks to you. Tells you about his day, about stupid things happening in his classes, about how much he misses you. Begs you to wake up. On the third day, your eyes open.
Your POV
You wake up slowly, consciousness returning in pieces. White ceiling. Fluorescent lights. Beeping sounds. The smell of antiseptic. Hospital. You try to sit up and pain lances through your head.
“Hey, hey, don’t move.” A familiar voice. Warm hands gently pushing you back down. “You’re okay. You’re in the hospital. You were in an accident.”
You turn your head— slowly, because it hurts— and see Jungwon. And suddenly, you remember everything. Not just this life. Not just Jungwon the pre-med student you’ve been dating for nine months. You remember everything.
1770. A field hospital, a dying soldier, promises whispered under candlelight. 1850s. An arranged marriage that became real love, tuberculosis stealing him away. 1912. The Titanic, stolen moments, his face disappearing into chaos. 1969. Vietnam, journal entries, a letter written the day before he died. 2001. September 11th, a phone call, watching towers fall.
Five lifetimes. Five times you’ve found each other. Five times you’ve lost each other. And now this. Now here. You gasp, tears streaming down your face. “You,” you sob. “It’s you. It’s always been you.”
He looks confused and worried. “What? Hey, it’s okay, you’re probably disoriented—”
“I remember,” you say desperately. “I remember all of it. The hospital in 1770. Our wedding in 1850. The ship. The war. The towers. I remember, Jungwon. I remember everything.”
He goes very still. “What did you just say?”
“I remember. All the lifetimes. All the times we found each other and lost each other. The moon— you always asked if the moon remembers us. And you always said you’d find me in the next life. And you did. You always did.”
Jungwon is staring at you, his face white. “How do you—” His voice breaks. “How do you know about that?”
“Because I was there. I was there every time. And so were you.”
“I thought I was crazy,” he whispers. “I’ve been having these dreams since I was a kid. Different times, different lives, but always you. Always the same person. I thought they were just dreams. Just my brain making up stories.”
“They weren’t dreams. They were memories.” You’re both crying now, holding onto each other like you’re drowning.
“I’ve been looking for you,” Jungwon says. “My whole life, I’ve been looking for you. And when I saw you that day on campus, I knew. I knew it was you.”
“Why didn’t you say anything?”
“Because it sounded insane! How do you tell someone you just met that you’ve loved them for centuries? That you remember dying in their arms in a field hospital in 1770?”
“You remember that?”
“I remember all of it. Every lifetime. Every death. Every promise I made to find you again.” He cups your face. “And here you are. You’re finally here and you remember me.”
“I almost died,” you realize. “That’s why I remember now. Being so close to death triggered the memories.”
“I don’t care why. I’m just glad you do.” He kisses you desperately. “I love you. I’ve loved you for lifetimes. Literal lifetimes.”
“I love you too. In every life, I’ve loved you.” You hold each other, crying and laughing and trying to process the impossible truth: you’ve lived before. Multiple times. And every single time, you’ve found each other. And every single time, you’ve lost each other.
“Not this time,” Jungwon says fiercely, like he can read your thoughts. “This time we’re not losing each other. This time we get our happy ending.”
“How can you be sure?”
“Because I’m not letting you go. Not for anything. We’ve waited too long. Suffered too much. This time, we’re keeping each other.” You want to believe him. God, you want to believe him. But you’ve believed before. And it’s never been enough.
Six Months Later - Your POV
You recover from the accident slowly but completely. The doctors call it a miracle— the brain injury should have had lasting effects, but somehow you’re fine. You know it’s not a miracle. It’s something else. Something to do with the lifetimes, with the universe giving you another chance.
You and Jungwon are inseparable now. Not in the cute couple way— in the “we’ve literally died and been reborn six times to find each other” way. You talk about the past lives constantly. Comparing memories, filling in gaps. He remembers things you don’t. You remember things he doesn’t. Together, you piece together the full story.
“In 1770, you promised me a dance,” you tell him one night.
“Did I?”
“You said when you were healed, you’d take me dancing. But you died before you could.”
“Then I owe you a dance.” He stands, offering his hand. “May I have this dance?”
There’s no music, but he pulls you into his arms anyway, swaying with you in the middle of his living room. You rest your head on his chest and close your eyes. “This is nice,” you murmur.
“Better late than never.”
“Only about 250 years late.”
He laughs. “I’m nothing if not punctual.”
You dance until you’re both tired, then collapse on the couch together. “Do you think it will happen again?” you ask quietly. “Do you think we’ll lose each other?”
“I don’t know.” His arm tightens around you. “But even if we do, I’ll find you again. I always do.”
“That’s not comforting. I don’t want to lose you again. I don’t want to go through that pain.”
“Me neither. But if I had to choose between loving you and losing you, or never loving you at all? I’d choose loving you every time.”
You know he means it. Across five lifetimes, through wars and sickness and disasters, he’s chosen to love you every single time. “Marry me,” you say suddenly. “We’ve wasted enough time across enough lifetimes. Let’s not waste any more.”
“Are you serious?”
“Completely serious. I love you. You love me. We’ve loved each other for centuries. Why wait?”
A slow smile spreads across his face. “Okay. Yes. Let’s get married. Let’s do it right this time. Let’s build the life we’ve never gotten to have.”
You kiss him, laughing and crying at the same time. “When?”
“Now. Tomorrow. Next week. I don’t care. Whenever you want.”
“Next month,” you decide. “Small ceremony. Just us and a few friends. Nothing fancy.”
“Perfect.”
You get married in October, in a small ceremony in Central Park. You wear a simple white dress. He wears a suit. Mina and Jake are there, along with a handful of other friends. The officiant asks if you have your own vows.
“I do,” Jungwon says, taking your hands. “I’ve loved you in more lifetimes than most people get to experience. I’ve died loving you. I’ve been reborn to find you. And every single time, choosing you has been the easiest decision I’ve ever made. This time, I’m choosing you for the rest of this life. However long that is. I’m choosing you every day, in every way. I love you. I’ve always loved you. I will always love you.”
You’re crying. “I promise to love you for the rest of this life and whatever comes after. I promise to remember. I promise to choose you, just like you’ve chosen me, across time and space and whatever separates us. You’re my home. You always have been.”
“I now pronounce you husband and wife.” He kisses you, and it tastes like forever.
Fifteen Years Later
You’re both in your fifties now. Jungwon is a successful cardiologist. You’re a tenured professor with three published books. You never have kids. It’s a choice you make together— you’ve lost each other too many times, you can’t imagine bringing children into that uncertainty.
Instead, you pour your love into each other, into your careers, into making the world a little bit better. Jungwon volunteers at free clinics. You mentor graduate students. You both donate to causes you believe in. Your lives are full and meaningful and happy.
One evening, you’re both at a gala for Jungwon’s hospital. Fancy clothes, fancy food, schmoozing with donors. It’s not your favorite thing, but you do it for him. During the dancing portion of the evening, he pulls you onto the floor. “Remember when I promised you a dance in 1770?” he says, one hand on your waist, the other holding yours.
“You mean the dance we had in your apartment about twenty years ago?”
“That was a down payment. This is the real thing.”
You laugh and let him lead you around the floor. He’s a good dancer— you both are, after years of these events. “Do you ever regret it?” you ask quietly. “Choosing me? Building a life with someone who carries all this history?”
“Never. Not for a single second.” He pulls you closer. “Do you?”
“No. But sometimes I wonder what it would have been like. If we’d been normal people. If we’d met in just this lifetime and didn’t carry all that weight.”
“We wouldn’t be us. All those lifetimes, all that loss— it made us who we are. It taught us to appreciate what we have. To not take a single moment for granted.”
“That’s true.” You rest your head on his shoulder. “I love you.”
“I love you too. In this life and every other.”
You’re not sure what the future holds. You’re not sure if the two of you broke the cycle. But right here, in 2026, is all that matters. You found eachother after seven lifetimes.
And no matter what, the moon will be watching. The moon always watches. And the moon always remembers.
One of my FAV fics ever. this was so beautifully written like im still crying
— Just friends, really?
⸝⸝ The kind of thing you spent a year trying to forget—the kind of him walks back into your life. And you tell yourself you won’t let him in again. But it’s Jungwon. He never really asked for permission before. ⸝⸝
pairings : Jungwon x reader
WC : 3.3k
warnings : Jungwon is lowk toxic, pure smut, unprotected sex(no), strong language, consumption of alcohol, cheating (from readers end), dry humping, marking, oral(f. rec), overstimulation, backshots, cum eating, praise kink, pussy!slapping, spanking, jungwon mentions reader cheating alot, squirting, jungwons a muncher, so much degrading. Not proofread!
Navi : sorry i lowk rushed this. Been so long since i posted smth here. The next fic will be a full length one trust! Likes and reblog for a kiss <3
Masterlist
Life had a way of circling back just to ruin you properly.
Your friends and you had decided for a night out, alongside with your boyfriend, cheap vodka burning down your throat while you laughed a little too loud and pretended you were okay. And for a while it really did work. The music was loud enough, the alcohol strong enough, the distractions just enough to keep everything buried where it belonged.
Until he walked in. Yang Jungwon.
You see, jungwon and you go wayyy back, a whole lot of bullshit to be honest, cause Jungwon wasn’t just someone you used to know. He was the kind of mistake that rewrites you.
He was your “situationship.” your almost, your never-defined something that somehow meant everything One year ago, you could have sworn he was it.
You built what ur heart wanted out of fragments and he let you.
Jungwon never said he loved you, he just said, “you’re mine.” And somehow, that cut deeper…meant more. Broke worse.
Because out of nowhere, he was gone from your life like you were nothing more than a phase he outgrew.
Now, just what the fuck was happening? Why were you with him when you should’ve been with your boyfriend?
You remember hours blurred together in alcohol and noise, laughter echoing louder than it felt. But through all of it, you could fucking feel him.
Every few minutes like clockwork. Jungwon’s eyes on you, heavy and an expression you never really quite understood.
It was like he was memorizing you all over again—or reminding you that he never forgot. That alone made your skin too tight, the air too thick. You shifted in your seat, fingers tightening around your glass.
Why was he looking at you like that? No. Don’t start. Don’t let him in again.
But you did, you let him in again. Somehow, that’d always be the case no matter how much you deny that you don’t want him back, yet your body and heart still craves him.
Your back hits the door before you even realize how fast he moved. The impact knocks the breath out of you as Jungwon kicks the door shut behind him, the sound echoing too loud in the tight space. And then he’s there, right there, crowding into you, leaving no room to step away.
Jungwon’s gaze locked onto yours, sharp and unrelenting like he’d already made up his mind the second he saw you.
Sitting there in that dress. Smiling at someone else. Letting another man’s hand rest where his used to. Something dark flickered in his eyes—possession, anger. It was almost laughable to him.
How you chose safe.
How you let yourself be held by someone who didn’t know how to break you open, someone who would never touch you like he could, never leave marks that lasted longer than a night.
Because Jungwon never did things halfway and the way he was looking at you now, told you more than enough.
No matter how far you ran, how carefully you rebuilt yourself—he still saw you as a girl who was once his. Well maybe, in the most dangerous corner of his mind—still is.
He cages you in with both arms, hands flat against the surface behind you, his body sealing you in. Then he moves closer, easing his thigh between yours, forcing them apart without breaking eye contact.
Jungwon exhales shakily, the breath uneven against your skin. His forehead brushes yours as he closes his eyes for a second, “Just friends, really?” He huffs out a laugh, shaking his head. Now, this might sound weird without context, so here it is.
The whole night out soon turned into reckless confessions, “Never have I ever” turning messier with every round. Five rounds in and the table was loud, hazy—everyone teetering somewhere between tipsy and drunk.
Soobin leaned in close, his voice soft against your ear. “It’s late, babe… you wanna head out?” His fingers brushed a strand of hair behind your ear before he pressed a quick kiss to your cheek.
Your body reacted before your mind did. Your eyes flicked straight to Jungwon like a muscle memory. But he wasn’t looking at you. He was staring at Soobin. Staring—sharp. His jaw tightening, gaze darkening in a way that made your stomach twist.
Jungwon’s expression shifted—possessive, almost feral, like he was holding himself back from doing anything irreversible….every instinct in him was screaming to close the distance, to tear through whatever stood between you and remind you—physically, undeniably, of what you once were to him.
Of what, in his mind, you still were. Then his eyes snapped to yours. A challenge.
‘This?’ they seemed to say. ‘This is what you chose?’
Your brows pulled together, your chest tightening. You forced your attention away, grounding yourself back in reality.
“No, Soobin… I’m fine, really,” you said, though it took a second too long to answer. You turned to him but his attention was not on you—back and forth between you and Jungwon.
“Do you both know each other?” The question landed too suddenly. Your breath hitched, but you swallowed it down before it showed. From the corner of your eye, you caught Sunghoon shifting in his seat, the tension at the table thick enough to notice now.
Jungwon didn’t look away from you. “No, baby,” you said, steadying your voice. “We’re just friends… yeah.” The lie slipped out smoother than it should have. You’d had practice after all. Soobin studied you for a moment, searching for cracks—but you didn’t give him any.
Jungwon laughed, this bastard laughed.
Low at first, then louder—enough to draw everyone’s attention. He dropped his gaze, dragging a hand down his face, teeth catching the inside of his cheek.
If only you knew how far that restraint stretched.
Because in his head, the line between past and present had already blurred. Whether you admitted it or not didn’t matter to him, hah! not really. You could stand there and call him nothing, reduce everything you had to a lie but it didn’t erase the imprint you left behind.
Or the one he left on you.
Jungwon looked up again straight at you. A slow, knowing smirk tugged at his lips. “Yeah,” he said lightly, voice laced with something only you could understand. “Just friends.”
But his eyes said something else entirely.
Now, back to the present. Your lips parted, eyes nearly rolling to the back of your head when you felt his cock perfectly aligned against your wet core.
This was so wrong. You had a loving boyfriend, everything about this screamed wrong at full volume. "You really went for someone else," Jungwon murmurs into the hollow of your throat, hands on your hips to urge you on, to grind your dripping cunt down harder against the muscle of his thigh. "argh, jungwon—” A broken cry leaves your lips as your back arches off the door as he slings your leg around his waist, thrusting up in process.
"You'll never belong to another man—not while I breathe."
He shifts his hips again, his lips come in contact with your neck, as his mouth trails a line of fire down to your collarbone. His breath hitches as he trails kisses from your pulse point down to the soft hollow beneath your jaw, each touch feather-light yet incendiary. You moaned then, tilting your head back to give him better access. His hands clamped on your waist, then moved—one going to cup your ass, the other sliding between you both.
This—this moment, when it was him and you and nothing between your bodies… His tongue scraped the roof of your mouth as he dragged a finger down the center of you, brushing against fabric that was already dark and wet and you gasped, your back arching. “Y/n,” he said against your lips, your name like a prayer in his mouth he’d never get tired of.
"So fucking wet for me." He says under his breath, hooking his fingers and dragging them along your clothed pussy. The slow, undulating thrust of his hips made you feel like you're caught in a snare.
His lips crush your mouth, smearing your perfect lipstick so thoroughly no one would doubt for a fucking second who you belonged to. “God, you were made to drive me insane, y/n.”
His tongue swept your mouth again and everything you ever did with him crawled into your mind, all the memories, fuck. You missed this, missed him.
His teeth scrape the side of your throat again and your pulse thrums violently in anticipa-tion. It mirrors exactly how your feeling, on edge and slightly unhinged at the prospect of breaking every single rule you’ve been holding on to so tightly up until now.
One large hand settled on your hip, fingers splaying possessively over the curve where your dress had ridden up, exposing your skin to the cool air. His knee brushes your pulsating pussy again, “Does he fuck you like i did?” He said as he hooked your right leg over his back and thrusted up in process. “Shut the fuckkkk—” Your words dissolve into a broken moan when his teeth graze hard over your collarbone, biting down just shy of leaving a mark.
“You have no right to talk about him. Not when you know what you did.” You panted, and jungwon stilled, that alone made you whimper. “Yeah? You want me to say sorry, pretty girl?” You glare up at him, the audacity of this man was unreal. Yet here you were, still melting under his touch. “That’s not gonna do anything—” You say softly, your hand trailing up his arm to somewhat calm him. He didn't think he needed that, but it did put his heart at ease.
“I’ll show you just how sorry i am.” Jungwon said before prepping sloppy wet kisses to your shoulder, making his way slowly down to your fingers, then he kneels down on one knee. He looks up, and goddddd, you’re so fucking gorgeous. The mere fucking sight of you makes his heart skip a beat. You’re so unnecessarily beautiful, and it irritates him that he’s not the only one who notices.
"Gonna eat this pretty pussy of yours….gonna show you how sorry I am, yeah?" You opened your mouth, then closed it when his thumb traced a small circle over your soft skin. The flush on your cheeks spread to your neck and chest. His hands find your aching center, pressing his hand flat on your cunt. “do you want me to eat this pretty pussy of yours?” He asked, running his index finger over your entrance.
You moaned in response, “Hmpf! Wonn—” That made him groan. It’s been so fucking long he’s heard that nickname, it sounded so pretty coming from you.
“Fuck, baby. Keep moaning my name.” His hands gripped your ass and jungwon pulled you down until your pussy pressed against his mouth through the thin fabric of your panties.
"Jungwon!” You whined high at the sudden touch, grasping at his hair to steady yourself. “Fucking hell, your body still remembers me.” Now you were reminded of the reason why this was so wrong.
“What would your boyfriend think if he sees you like this? his so called girlfriend crying out someone else’s name?” Jungwon’s tongue flicked out, tracing the outline of you, His finger slips beneath the hem of your underwear, teasing. You shiver, already trembling under him. Jungwon looks up, his teeth grazing your inner thighs as he takes the side of the fabric between his teeth to tug your panties down, exposing your slick folds and you really were soooo wet.
His breath breezes onto your pussy, visiting your clit in a faint tickle as he presses his hands further into your thighs to stop you from shaking. “Pleaseeee!” You cried out, just how long was this jerk gonna keep you waiting? “Already begging? shit, you’re so fucking hot. So wet for me. Gonna fuck you open, make you mine, i don’t care anymore.”
He adjusts his position, leaning down and lowering his face to your awaiting pussy, Without a second thought, he dives home. Licking past your folds into the heat of your core. “Missed this pretty cunt. Bet your boyfriend doesn’t satisfy you the way i do.” And then he drags your juices between your lips to meet your clit, an evidence to the words he just said. Jungwon groans, eyes rolling back into the depths of his skull as he relishes in the taste, the lavish flavor of your pussy after a long time.
“You always taste like heaven, my heaven.” He pulls back to mutter out only to make contact with your pussy as he speaks directly into the flesh, sending off vibrations through your entire body. “Tell me, hm? Does he fuck you like i did? and will he ever love you like i do?” Now, normally, you would have asked what he meant by that, but you were so far gone you didn’t think of anything to say.
Your thighs trembled in his grip as you jerked your hips forward, pushing yourself into his mouth. He groaned in appreciation, face buried deep in your leaking pussy. “Mine, always been fucking mine.” He growls into your cunt as you feel his tongue nudges your glistening entrance, his tongue swirls within the silkiness of your walls.
In the haze of pleasure, you chance a look down at Jungwon, finding his eyes rolling back, half lidded eyes still locked up on you with a flushed expression, eyebrows knitting together as he laps up all the slick you can't seem to stop.
Jungwon watched your face as best he could. Those strange contortions that would be so horrible under any other circumstances. Your lips parting, stretching, your mouth opening in a silent howl. Eyes closed and then suddenly open, staring down at him with real helplessness, mixed with hunger and surprise. The heel of your hand hit the side of his face, it seemed for a moment as if you were going to try to push him off of you.
He could feel you reaching your climax as your clit fluttered around his mouth and he almost stopped because he didn’t want it to end. He slurps, sucking your wetness into his mouth and his thumb pushes into your clit, and he moans as your entrance constricts around his tongue,
“Mine—this pussy’s mine and you know it. only mine. Mine to make a goddamn mess of.” He whined out, air fled your lungs when his tongue delved inside your slick heat as his head twisted, dragging a cry of pleasure from you as one fang grazed your sensitive nub of flesh. The strokes of his tongue were firm and determined.
“Hmmmph!! please—” You buck against his face, fingers twisting in his hair as he devours you—broad laps up your slit, spearing his tongue deep into your clenching hole to taste you. “Won! this is—fuckkkk! wrong. What if someone hears us—” You guys were still at the doorway, knowing how loud you can be—tbh you really didn't care. With Jungwon’s tongue teasing your clit, you wouldn't have cared if an asteroid was heading your way.
"I'll kill them so they can't tell."
You shoved his shoulder then gasped when he suddenly pushed two fingers into you while his tongue and lips kept up their teasing.
"Did you miss this while we were apart?" you got out, your fingernails scraping over Jungwon’s scalp. Jungwon’s lips lightly tugged at your clit, making you gasp again. "Eating your pussy? Fuck yes.”
“Tasting your sweetness, knowing only I make you wet. Fuck yes. Hearing your moans and gasps? Fuck yes." He looked up and his dark eyes took you captive. "You? fuck yes, every goddamn second we were apart."
You swallowed, your eyes watering. You’d tried to learn to hate him while you both were apart but you’d failed. You missed him so much. And now that he was here, now that you were back together, you wondered how you survived it.
“You close— hmmm fuck.” He moaned into your eat, nuzzling his nose into you, enveloping everything out. The slow, long licks don't last for long, shift into sharp, short flicks against your swelling clit. His fingers curl upwards causing you to arch your back as you break out into another helpless whimper, tightening around nothing but the sole thought of his thick fingers nestled inside your cunt.
Jungwon pushed his fingers to the hilt and with-drew it slowly, yanking a loudest moan from you yet. "Do you like being finger fucked like a good little slut?" You squired, but you answer. "Yes—”Your reply came out as a chocked sob. "Please...oh god"
You dip your head back as he drags his fingers out and rubbed a lazy circle on your clit with his thumb before he slammed them back. You jolt, crying out. You fisted his hair hard enough to sting.
"Scream for me, angel." Jungwon pushed a second finger inside you, stretching you. His cock ached to replace his hands. He was so close to loosing it and you haven't even touched him yet.
"Let them hear how badly you've been wanting this." You shake, eyes rolling back. All that while he keeps sucking on your clit, letting his saliva run down your puffy folds, you know what he needs to hear, you know what he wants you to do.
Jungwon groans, the deep noise vibrating against your soaked skin. “Good girl—pussy’s so good…so good for me.” The wet, filthy sounds of his fingers pumping in and out of you told him what he needed to know.
You’re close—so close, right around the edge and when he grazes your swollen clit with his teeth, you shatter with a broken cry. Your juices covering his entire mouth and hands. "You taste so fucking good." He growled, lapping up every drop while you shook and trembled beneath him. He doesn't stop, "Waittt! oh my—" You try to squirm away, your hips buck and heeseung pins them, spreading you open even more.
"Where the fuck do you think you're going? You will take it." Jungwon growled, You're still fluttering around it and releasing your juices right into his awaiting mouth as he slurps up all he can get out of you. This is getting dirtier, nasty, the lower half of his face is completely coated in your essence, chin shiny with your slick but he doesn't care. He keeps going.
Jungwon’s hand slid up your thighs, spreading them wider as he let himself further, alternating between slow and sloppy kisses, teasing without giving. “No—no more, please…” You cry out, legs starting to quiver so much he had to hold you up with his strength. Jungwon nuzzled his nose into your wetness, groaning.
“Shitttt—I want you so badly it might kill me.”
He looks up at you with hooded eyes, pupils blown wide, his stare pinning you in place like he's daring you to even think about stopping. Jungwon’s always been very commanding, every tilt of his chin and heavy breath demanding your obedience. But he knows you're not going anywhere.
He knows you'll be his perfect, obedient girl.
Always ready to please him. Always ready to melt under his touch, always ready to take whatever he gives you like a good girl. “Wonnie! please—I can’t.” He raises his eyebrows, "Yeah?" You nod again, and he nods with you, grinning manically against your cunt. “Yeah, this pretty pussy's gonna gush all over my thigh. Then you're gonna lick up the mess so maybe you'll stop—fucking-pretending," each angry word is punctuated with a flex of his fingers around your hips.
"you and your cunt both fucking crave me."
You were dripping all over Jungwon’s face, and he still couldn’t get enough. He was addicted to the taste of you, to the way you sounded when he buried his tongue inside you and the way your back arched off the wall when you finally came with a full-body shudder.
He waited for your trembles to die down before he touched his tongue to your sensitised clit again and gave it a slow, leisurely lick. You shake your head, “No—no more.” You pleaded, “You’ve taken worse than this, baby. You can take me, i know you can.”
Your body tenses and melts and fucking bursts into flames because it feels so goddamn good, you don't even know what you’re feeling. But you’re feeling good, too good. Jungwon's tongue circles around your cunt, his grip on your ass tightening. "Who does your pussy belong to?" Jungwon removed his fingers from your pussy and squeezed your thighs. "You," You gasped, tugging at his hair.
"Say it again." He said, Demanding. "You! My pussy belongs to you." Your voice broke in a sob as he delivered a stinging slap to your clit. "That's right. It belongs to me, only fucking me. So why did you let him touch what’s mine, hmm?” Slap! He pulls back just enough to breathe, mouth shiny and swollen with your juices. He kept the pressure of his thumb against your clit. “I can’t….oh god.” Your protest split into another moan when he slid two fingers inside you up to the first knuckle all that while keeping his mouth on your clit and slowly worked his way up to the second knuckle before he pulled his fingers out and pushed them back in.
“M—more….so gooood.” You wail, you have no idea what your asking for, every muscle in your body is tensed up, like a metal coil getting wound up way past its breaking point. "More?" he asked. "You want more than what I've already given? You want me to shove my dick down your throat?force you to clean the cum from my cock until I am ready to fuck your tight pussy again?"
And with that, you’re coming—squirting all over him—gushing down on his face as Jungwon growns and moans, nuzzling his nose in your clit. "That's the girl, that's my good fucking girl." Jungwon coos proudly, his voice muffled as he drinks and laps every fucking drop.
“You want more? want me to fuck you brainless?”Shamelessly, you nodded, unable to choke out the words. "Such a slut. My slut. Now, get on the bed so i can fuck you like one.”
And he did as he promised.
He fisted your hair with one hand and gripped your hips with the other hard enough to bruise.
"Remember..." You let out a small cry when he yanked your head back until his mouth was next to your ear, "My name is the only name you're allowed to moan. The only name you're allowed to think about or even dream of." You nod desperately.
The tip of his cock slid against your pussy, making you shudder. He released your hair, pushed you face down on the pillow, and slammed inside you with a single powerful thrust. You scream, crying out. Your body trembling with the first thrust. You were wet enough that he slid in easily but it had been so long and jungwon was sooooo big it was almost painful. He groaned when you clench tight around him, "Fuck, you're tight, baby—you're killing me." He didn’t move, let you adjust to his size. Just after a while when the pain vanished, you look back at him, teeth unclenched enough to let out a low moan as you started grinding back into his length.
Jungwon chuckled, “Dirty little slut.” Five long fingers, wrap around the back of your head and your pussy clenches Jungwon’s cock harshly in response. Your lips part in a husky moan, and Jungwon’s jaw clenches. "If you keep squeezing me—mmh—fuck…you're gonna make me cum, Pretty."
Jungwon’s hand smacked your ass roughly, and the sting adds to the pleasure. "You’d probably like that, huh? You want to be my lil' cumdump?" His hands clutch your hips tightly, forcing you back down onto his fat cock. He moves you up and down his length, using you like his personal cock sleeve, his tip kissing your cervix again and again and again.
You could feel him completely now, hips pistoling into you, forcing you to stay still and feel the way he stretched you open. The same hand coming up and spank! , making you jerk forward before he rubbed the flesh there, smoothing off the sting.
You look back at him, spit falling down to your neck, makeup smudged, new puddle of tears falling down. Fuck, you looked so beautiful, so perfect and so entirely ruined—His. “No matter how far you run, anyone you choose, my name is the only name you scream, the only one who’ll ever be right for you.” The tip of his cock was rubbing so deeply in you, you felt a bulge in your belly. "Fuckfuckfuck—no more, please—” you drop your head on the cushions, the noise being muffled by it. Babbling out nonsense yet you didn't notice the way your hips kept grinding back into his hold because you're fucking greedy and ruined. Jungwon hissed as he felt your walls swallowing him whole.
Goddamn, he wants you so much. Always craving to kiss you, always longing to touch you, always yearning to consume you, always wanting to love you. Like….he hopes, deep down, that after all of this, you’ll forgive him. That you’ll give him another chance and fuck….he so badly wants you to. Because he’d do anything for you if you just ask. The only thing he can't do is let you go.
perm 🏷️ @maewybakes @swiftjay23 @fancypeacepersona @mailovesreading @zoellove @heeunleash @sxno0 @itzkathysblog @clearlyhoonie @kristynaaah @sunggoon69 @stwryun @sagro @chaehrtsj @str4rxy7 @camilleinyourheart @needywwon tl is open guyss!!
© all rights reserved to wonscrchy.
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NOBODY talk to me rn. istg if i see even a single video of the seoul concert today in my tl ill kms
you ready? yes.
dom!sunghoon x sub virgin!𝒻.reader ─── (18+) mdni. smoking mentioned. use of baby, pretty girl/boy, love. make out. profanity. cowgirl. dirty talk. ʚଓ reblog, likes and feedback are highly appreciated!
from me to you 📮
sunghoon is sitting with his friends drinking at the club as they enjoy their free time for today. he blew a puff of smoke while his eyes scans through the crowded area. he was about to leave when he saw someone who caught his eye at the stage, dancing seductively.
he gulped in anticipation. sunghoon got up on his seat without looking back to his friends who’s now shouting his name behind his back. he keeps walking towards you, you’re still there—twerking and rolling your body as men drools over you. you are his for tonight. once sunghoon is now standing in front of you, trying to intimidate you yet you didn’t notice him towering over your small figure.
“hey, pretty girl. my name’s sunghoon, yours?” he whispered in your ear, not to loud for others to hear. you looked over at his buffed physique, you could feel the tingling sensation between your thighs. “[name], aren’t you a pretty boy?” you mumbled while your hands inched towards his chest until it stops on his leather belt, hooking it through your fingers. “you’re here to have some good time, yeah? how adorable, sunghoon-ah.”
sunghoon is an impatient man and what he did after is he took you to the VIP room without forgetting to lock the door. sunghoon pushed you against the wall as he crashes his lips into your plump ones. “who looks adorable now, hm?” your panties is damp from how much you’re leaking because of the blonde guy. his hand slithered on your tights, he lowly grunted as he felt your wetness through his palm. “fuck, you’re so wet, baby. you don’t know how much you’re turning me on, god.”
“come here.” he says, grabbing your wrist as he sits on the edge of the mattress and lets you straddle his lap. you’re sitting still, behaved. you waited for him to order you around as you obey him like a good girl. “strip for me, love.” he said with an authoritative tone that made you clench your thighs. you did what he told you.
you look like you are crafted with the way you show off your curves, your breast formed so ravishingly—everything about you is beautiful and he can’t help but take his time to admire you. sunghoon took his clothes off and tapped on his thighs, a sign for you to sit on his lap again. he aligned his raging cock through your wet and slippery hole, pushing it in slowly.
“you’re tight as a virgin, shit. are you?” he hissed and you deliberately nodded your head. sunghoon couldn’t believe he’s fucking a virgin—his cock throbbed while his grip on your waist became tighter, nails digging through the flesh. you softly gasped. “w-why? are you not going to fuck me now? i know stuff about sex, sunghoon. so it’s either you fuck me or i’ll fuck you.”
he only smirked, oh how impossible it is for you to get more hotter when you’re mad. “i love when you talk dirty to me like that, [name]. can you feel how i grew harder inside you, hm? feel that, baby?” sunghoon abruptly buck his hips up, slamming his cock, over and over until you’re crying and shaking above him. “so good…please, don’t stop.” sunghoon moved back a little, propping his back with his elbows as you bounced up-and-down on his length. he tilted his head back, breathing heavily and his eyelids closing from how good you felt around him.
“yeah, keep moving like that… i’m getting close, love. mhm.” he whimpered as he help you to release with him by planting his feet on the ground before he ruthlessly hammered his flushed cock into you ceaselessly. “ngh! i—i’m going to come, hoon. fuuuuuck yes.” grinding back and forth as you chase your climax while sunghoon’s movements faltered even his breathing shuddered. the two of you came so hard, panting, as your face-plant against his chest.
your eyes are still closed, out of breath from the rough sex you’ve had with the guy. you felt a hard slap on your arm and that woke you up from a wet dream with someone named sunghoon. club. it was all a dream. ashamed, that a virgin like you is dreaming of having sex with someone who’s experienced. “are you… okay?” you scratched the top of your head, nodding. “so, you ready? don’t back out or i swear our friendship is over.” your friend threatened you. “whatever, and yes… i’ll come, okay.” what a filthy dream it is, indeed.
© sagro ─── all rights reserved.
permanent taglist: @saeivra, @kookiesnkim, @mijiarchivesfic, @lassiie, @bunhee, @wonscrchy ‹𝟹
﹕﹒★﹒ CASE CLOSE, OPEN HEART. 박성훈
synopsis: You always believed that Park Sunghoon will be a constant presence in your life. He's your childhood friend, your safe place and the one person who knew you better than anyone else. Until he left without a warning. Years later, after acheving your dream of becoming a lawyer, your world was flipped upside down when you find yourself working under him. Gone was the boy you once knew. Sunghoon is distant and unrecognizable, treating you nothing more than an employee. But as old memories resurface beneath your relationship, it became clear that some bonds and feelings were truly never left behind.
pairing: legal associate! park sunghoon x trainee solicitor! fem! reader.
content: childhood friends to lovers, lawyer au, office romance, resolved sexual tension, miscommunications, family issues, emotionally constipated +yearner sunghoon, jealousy, it gets hella worse before it gets slightly better, major angst with comfort, explicit mature content, belly bulge, mild breeding kink, unprotected sex, oral (fem receiving), inappropriate usage of tie, hair-pulling, pussy eating+fingering.
word count: 26.4k.
from author: finally done with this bad boy. this is dedicated to my other twin, my other half and the yin to my yang @lolliloopsy for wanting lawyer sunghoon. this is by far my favorite fic to and it got me listening to sabrina claudio nonstop too. the smut is actually unreadable im so sorry.
mini playlist: freak - doja cat, truth is - sabrina claudio, did we lose our minds - sabrina claudio, tell me what you want - sasha keable, sex with me - rihanna.
taglist: @lolliloopsy, @jaylaxies, @dollhoonki, @byshens, @st4rg1rlies, @bunnyhoon, @tia-08, @heesroses, @betagalactose, @ellushic, @yeonyeonbun, @blueluvies, @lawjakesim, @bitemhoon, @wonscrchy, @engeneheree, @fancypeacepersona, @yenienha, @cumtrov3rsy, @wintyher, @areikii, @f0xinyy, @marigold55, @ming1luvr, @stwryun, @cloud-lyy.
You remembered that fateful, memorable day like it had just happened recently. It was summer and during the brief three months break before classes resumed. Looking back at it, you should have known things weren't as what they seemed on the surface. You should have seen the obvious signs. All because you didn't look properly, even though he was beside you.
You were eighteen back then while your childhood friend was already nineteen. He's no longer a child but rather, a freshly new, pure young adult. Something he wasn't afraid of shoving it into your face the moment it was midnight. Park Sunghoon was nothing but filled with arrogance that never failed to make you wished you could knocked him down a few pegs.
"There you are! I've been looking everywhere!"
You looked up to see Sunghoon stopping before you. His expression faltered at the sight of your red, swollen and watery eyes along with your loud sniffling sounds and how you're biting on your bottom lip to stifle your cries. He sighed, stepping closer to sit on your right on the bench you're seated on. The boy wasted no time in pulling you close to him, allowing you to bury your head in his chest.
He lets you cried and sobbed like a newborn baby, not caring how you're soaking and staining his shirt with your fresh, salty tears. Sunghoon remained silent the entire time, patting your back with one hand while whispering comforting words into your ear. It took you about thirty minutes or so to calm down. When you did, you awkwardly pulled back and he withdrew his hand, resting it on his lap with his eyes scanning your face, searching for any sign of discomfort or lingering sadness.
"What happened?" He asked.
You stubbornly shook your head, keeping your lips sealed shut. Sunghoon sighed, reaching out to rest his hand on your left shoulder to give it an reassuring squeeze. An action that spoke volume.
"Come on, you know you can tell me anything," he gently coaxed you.
You sniffled, raising your hands but the boy was faster. He placed his right hand over yours, gingerly wiping the tears threatening to slip from your eyes. The way he does it was so gentle, loving and caring, like he's afraid of harming you. It's not what friends will do but that's a topic for another time. Perhaps when both of you are fully-grown adults then the elephant in the room will be addressed.
"..Do you think I'm ugly?" You managed to croak out, not having the courage to look him in the eyes.
Silence.
At the stretched silence, you raised your head, ready to change the topic, only for you to pause. You made eye contact with Sunghoon but what caught your attention was the way he looked at you. There was a mixture of emotions—disbelief, pain and anger. Disbelief that you dared to utter those words out, right in front of him. Pain and anger because you chose to believe in someone's words.
Someone that's not him, who will do anything to turn that frown upside down.
"No, gods no," he quickly replied, now cupping your face in his hands.
His thumbs rested on the skin underneath your eyes. It took all of his self-restraint to not do something stupid that could potentially ruined your friendship. After all, Park Sunghoon is nothing but a hopeless fool who is head over heels for you. For a girl who had seen the worst and best of him. For a girl who had became a staple, permanent presence in his life.
He cleared his throat before speaking, features softening—a habit he does whenever he's with you without him knowing.
"I don't know who's been telling you these lies, but they are wrong. They don't know how kind you are to the people around you. They don't know how you're selfless, always putting other people first rather than your own needs. They don't know how strong, sweet and loving you are."
Your eyes widened, lips parting slightly as he starts to ramble, letting out the pent-up feelings that were locked deep in his chest, imprinted in the back of his mind for a long, long time. You stared at him, rendered speechless.
"Sunghoon, I…"
Your voice trailed off, ears and cheeks turning a light shade of red.
"I don't know what to say but thank you," you finished, flashing him a smile, a smile he returned without hesitation.
"Of course, angel. That's what friends are for."
You hummed. "We'll be friends forever, right?"
Sunghoon paused briefly, something unreadable flickered across his face but you didn't see it, too caught up in your own thoughts and the current moment. It was gone when he blinked and he smiled, pretending nothing happened while ignoring the lingering guilt residing in his stomach.
"Yeah, we'll be friends forever. You're my ride and die."
"Promise?"
"Promise."
◟‿୨୧‿◞
"Hello? Earth to (Name)? Anyone home?"
"Ow!"
You yelped when someone whacked your head, snapping you back to reality. You scowled when it's none other than your friend who's also your co-worker at the same time—Choi Beomgyu. He held a rolled-up document in his right hand, looking down at you with his signature, infuriating smug grin that stretches across his face. Your left eyelid twitched, resisting the urge to leap across the table and strangle him to death.
"Jeez, stop glaring at me like that, lover girl. Just because you're working under Sung—"
Beomgyu didn't get to finish his sentence, not when someone purposely and roughly bumped his shoulder against him. You snorted at how he let out a startled yelp, body tilting to the left with his limbs flailing about, like a wild, frantic chicken. Thankfully, he didn't fall and managed to regain his balance, spinning on the spot to throw a traitorous glare to the third person, who slipped in soundlessly.
"Hey! What was that for!? You could've hurt this gorgeous face of mine!" He exclaimed, pointing at his own face and you groaned, making a fake gagging noise in the background and Beomgyu flipped you off without looking at you.
Lee Heeseung—another close friend of yours, merely rolled his eyes and flashed the older man a flat, unimpressed look. "Shut up and get back to work, Gyu. Unless you want to work overtime again."
Both of you snickered in unison at the offended look Beomgyu threw at him, but he knew Heeseung was right. Which was why he turned, muttering a string of curses under his breath as he returned to his desk. Heeseung rolled his eyes before turning to you, with his signature smile now plastered on his face, the kind of smile used to impress his colleagues around him. Also the kind of smile used on simple-minded, hopeless women.
Not you though. Not when a certain someone had captured your heart a long time ago.
"Here's the documents you needed for your case," he said, raising his left hand over the wall of your cubicle, revealing a stack of papers, earning a groan from you.
"Ugh, shooting me with a gun would've hurt less," you complained, accepting them nonetheless as you placed it at the corner of your messy desk.
Heeseung clicked his tongue, shifting to rest both of his arms on the edge of the cubicle, looking down at you from where he stood. Amusement flickered across his doe-like eyes at your reaction. It's obvious he's having the time of his life watching you suffer, much to your annoyance. You would have said or do something, like to flip him off but you felt it before he even entered.
The temperature in the room dropped a notch. Even though the air conditioner was set at a tolerable twenty-four degrees, it felt like it was lowered to nineteen. The previous rounds of hushed murmurs and chatter vanished the moment he stepped into everyone's visions. To say he's a sight to behold would be the biggest understatement of the century.
Park Sunghoon walked in with measured steps, each one unhurried and controlled. His presence alone demanded for space and the room willingly gave it to him. It was either utter obedience or receiving his signature, cold and piercing gaze. A gaze that can sent even the most fearless man running with his invisible tail between his legs.
He's dressed in a perfectly tailored charcoal suit that fitted him well to the core, like it was made for no one else but just him alone. The sharp lines of his midnight blue blazer further accentuated his broad, firm and his oh so reliable shoulders. Shoulders that had been carrying the firm ever since his first day. The crisp white shirt beneath deeply contrasted against the dark tones. Not a single crease or a strand of hair seen or misplaced.
Everything was purely calculated and all according to plan.
His expression remained neutral. Either he was unaware or chose to ignore the effect he has on people. How conversations died mid-sentence. How the sound of fingers flying across keyboards came to an abrupt halt and how even the faint rustling of papers seemed to disappear into thin air. Everyone's eyes were immediately on him, whether they knew it or not.
Seeing him—your childhood friend, the very same boy who never failed to make you feel at ease, to bring a smile on your face, to make you laughed until you were shedding tears, now replaced with someone who you barely knew anymore, did something to you. You felt like you were stabbed in the chest.
He felt familiar and unfamiliar at the same time and you didn't like that at all.
Sunghoon didn't stop walking, not sparing anyone his attention—not that any of them were worthy of his attention in the first place. Heeseung had long scrambled back to his own desk, like the true traitor he is as he left you alone to fend for yourself—
Until he stopped right in front of your desk.
It took all of you to not visibly flinched, to not show any ounce of reaction. Up close, he felt even colder and more unreachable, a feat you didn't think was possible in the first place. For a brief moment, he said nothing. His gaze settled on you, steady and unreadable, like he had became an expert in hiding his feelings.
"See me in my office."
His voice was low, even and authoritative. It's clear he didn't tell you to wait for your reaction. It's clear it wasn't a request. But rather, a demand. A command that you should obeyed, unless you're asking to get fired on the spot. Before you could processed it, he had turned away and walked off, like summoning you was nothing more than another mere, simple task on his to-do list.
It was only when his figure was out of sight was when everyone loosened up, heaving a sigh of relief in unison. Heeseung wasted no time in sliding his chair over to you. His cubicle was only situated on your right, allowing him to move over without any difficulties.
"Oh, you're definitely fucked," he muttered, clearly entertained with him absentmindedly spinning a pen with his left index and middle fingers.
You shot him a look. "Not helping."
"I wasn't trying to help though."
"Fuck you."
"No thank you. Bet you'd love to fuck Sung—"
"Heeseung!"
◟‿୨୧‿◞
After mentally preparing yourself for five minutes along with Heeseung being the helpful friend he is, by laughing at your predicament, you grabbed your trusty notebook that had been stained with tears and caffeine it's a miracle you were still able to use and your pen before leaving. You chose to ignore the "Good luck and don't die!" words Beomgyu shouted at your retreating figure.
Sunghoon's office was located on the other end of the thirty-fifth floor. Yes, the law firm you worked in has multiple floors with a total of seventy-five floors. You remembered you were stunned on your first day, openly gaping at everything around you as you entered, nearly making a fool of yourself by tripping over your feet more than three times in a single day.
You barely recalled nodding your head in acknowledgment at the series of greetings thrown your way from both men and women as they walked past you. You were too caught up in your own mind, many thoughts running through your mind at the speed of light until you sworn you were starting to feel light-headed.
Eventually, you arrived at a particular closed, opaque glass door with matte covering the bottom half and a sign hanging on it. The words stared back at you, like it was mocking you already, as if it knew the reason why you were summoned.
Park Sunghoon's Office.
"It'd be better if it's renamed as Satan's Hellhole instead," you muttered to yourself, wary enough to keep your voice down. You raised your right hand, now curled into a fist and knocked twice on it to announce your arrival.
Knock knock.
Sunghoon's eyes flicked up from his desktop screen, hands going stilled as he was in the middle of typing. One look at you made him nod his head and you entered once you were granted permission, gently closing the door behind him. It's pure instinct for you to clutch your notebook close to your chest in a vice-like grip until the edges crumped up due to your strength, like you want to blend into it, using it as a shield for whatever he had in store for you.
You chewed on your bottom lip, absentmindedly brushing your fingers against the edge of your notebook, unaware of how the man's eyes darkened a shade behind the rimless lenses of his rectangular-shaped glasses that rested perfectly on the bridge of his sharp, elegant nose. Gods, you never expected to see your childhood friend went from a easygoing, scrawny young teenager to… whatever he is now.
That's a man right there, your brain unhelpfully chimed in before adding another sentence, a very fine man, to be exact.
To make yourself feel better, you visualized yourself beating the living lights out of your superior. The very same superior who is seated in front of you, known for being the most cold-hearted, unforgivable and someone who doesn't have any tolerance for anything. When one says anything, they really meant it.
An prime example would be when a poor young woman used to be in your position, only to be fired on her first day when she failed to follow-up with one of Sunghoon's clients. You didn't know much of the details, other than the very obvious fact that he was pissed. One thing about him is that he never raised his voice, which proved to make him all the more intimidating than he already was. He would have lost the trial if he didn't come up with something on the spot but despite his success, he was still enraged and ended up firing the woman.
Nothing more and nothing less.
Ahem.
You snapped back to reality, dryly and loudly swallowing when you noticed Sunghoon had been staring at you the entire time while you were busy imagining punching him, treating him like a punching bag and an outlet to release your pent-up stress and frustrations.
"Are you done daydreaming? If you are, then sit down," he said, voice firm and cold.
Your left eyebrow twitched, resisting the urge to snap, to yell or even better, to throw something at his face as you obliged, sitting on the opposite chair and placed your notebook and hands on your lap, hiding it from his sharp, observant and piercing gaze that never fails to send shivers down your spine.
"Why did you summon me?" You asked, surprisingly able to keep your voice even and steady despite how your fingers were already trembling.
Sunghoon arched his signature thick left eyebrow, like he was impressed by your audacity or stupidity. Or maybe it was both. Whatever it was, it seemed like you had made a wrong approach, with the way he leaned back into his seat, his eyes never leaving your face, catching every micro-expression you made.
"Simple. Because you screwed up."
You flinched—a subtle motion that should go unnoticed by everyone. But not Sunghoon, not when it comes to you. You swallowed, clenching and unclenching your fingers, feeling your palms growing sweaty as every second passed. You didn't say anything and the man pressed on, using his words to push his knife deeper into your chest.
"Judging from the look on your face, you're clueless, aren't you? Fine, let me indulge you."
He paused, reaching for a file situated on the left corner of his desk. He flipped it opened with practiced ease before sliding it towards you. You leaned forward a little to get a clearer look, immediately finding the paragraphs familiar to you.
"Page twelve," he said.
Your hands moved before you knew it, your fingers brushing against the folder as you pulled it closer to you. You scanned the page, eyes darting over lines of text until they stopped. Your stomach dropped, feeling a pail of cold, freezing water being dumped over you from above.
"The clause is outdated. It contradicts the revised terms submitted last week. Terms you copied, if I recall correctly," he went on, observing you closely, like you're his prey that was hopelessly cornered with nowhere to run.
Your lips parted but you couldn't find your voice.
"I—" You startled, faltering for a split second before you forced yourself to speak. "I must've overlooked—"
"You must've?" He echoed, voice and eyes hardening and yet, that same infuriating calmness of his never left his face. "You must've overlooked a critical amendment in a case file I asked you to review?"
You tightened your grip on the paper, teeth grinding down on one another.
"It was a minor section," you protested, despite how you knew he was right. He always was. "The overall argument still stands and make sense. It's not enough to—"
"Not enough?" He cuts you off for the second time, voice cold and firm, just enough to make you and your words feel insignificant. "Are you even hearing yourself?"
Silence.
Sunghoon leaned forward, resting his elbows on the desk, his gaze locked onto yours with terrifying, chilling precision.
"In this firm, there's no such thing as minor. All it takes to dismantle an entire case is one oversight. One mistake is enough to question credibility. Or, do you think you're an exception?"
You narrowed your eyes, borderline scrunching the piece of paper in your hands. Sunghoon's eyes flicked down to the paper before meeting you again, his expression unreadable as always.
"I don't. But it's not like I intentionally—"
"That doesn't matter," he interrupted.
As the saying goes, three times the charm. That was the third time he had cut you off and that too, was the final straw.
"I'm still new. Mistakes happen. It's not unreasonable to expect—"
"What? To be excused?" He smoothly finished for you.
You paused, unable to further defend yourself. Because that wasn't what you meant but in the end, it was exactly how it sounds like. Whether you liked it or not. Sunghoon lets his words lingered in the air, giving you both the chance and room to speak, to say something better, to fix the damage.
But you didn't. Or maybe, you simply couldn't.
"…No, but I can fix it," you finally said, in a quieter voice but there was still a hint of defiance.
Something flickered in his expression but it was gone when he blinked. Sunghoon eyed you before leaning back into his chair, removing his elbows from the desk in the process.
"You will. You'll revise the entire section, cross-check every document and have it back on my desk before the end of the day."
Your eyes widened. "That's—"
"(Name)."
The way he said your name, like it's a threat, a warning along with the utter firmness in his voice was enough to silence you. You clamped your lips shut, knowing there was no way for you to make him change his mind. You nodded, shoulders slumping and Sunghoon nodded, raising his hand to push his glasses up his nose.
"Good, you're dismissed. If I don't see it on my desk, you're fired," he finished, no longer giving you his attention as he returned to looking at his desktop.
You gritted your teeth, shooting up from your seat as you stomped out of his office. Manners and respect be dammed at this point. You needed to get out of there or you would've lost your temper, which could potentially cost you your job and the amount of blood, sweat and tears you've used to get to where you are today.
Baam!
You slammed his door shut with a loud, heavy force on the way out, not caring that it came off as rude or how you were gathering stares following you as you returned to your desk. You threw your notebook, pen and the folder onto the desk, not caring that the pen rolled off, falling onto the floor with a series of clattering sounds.
"Fuck," you cursed at the all-too familiar feeling of something warm and damp stinging your eyes, blurring your vision. The last thing you wanted was to have a breakdown at your desk, where anyone can walked in on you resisting the urge to cry right there and then.
You were so deep in your own thoughts that you didn't sense Heeseung's presence, who wheeled himself to your side, eyebrows furrowed with concern written all over his face.
"Hey, what happened?" He asked softly, reaching out to rest a hand on your left shoulder, watching as you shrink, avoiding looking at him.
You shook your head, teeth sinking into the meat of your bottom lip. "..Nothing, it's fine," you croaked out, your voice slightly hoarse and scratchy as you sniffled.
Your friend sighed, having known you long enough to be able to tell whether you're lying or not. "What did he say this time?"
You choked out a watery and broken laugh despite yourself, raising a hand to rub at your eyes, ignoring how you'd come to regret your decision later. "What did he not say this time? It's a miracle he didn't tell me off in front of everyone."
Heeseung frowned, lips pursed in a thin line. "(Name), maybe you should tell the management."
"And what? What do I tell them?" You retorted. "Tell them that oh hi, I want to make a report that working under Park Sunghoon, who was my childhood friend, is giving me lots of stress and because of him, I'm unable to perform well."
"Yes, but—"
"No, Heeseung. You don't get it, it's not as easy as you think. What do you think will happen after I tell them? You and I both know the management isn't gonna do shit. To them, Park Sunghoon is this fucking god and life savior for saving the firm when it was on the verges of collapsing," you continued, cutting him off.
The man stayed silent, mostly because of two things. Firstly, you are right and secondly, there wasn't much he can say to convince you. Not when you had made up your mind. But that doesn't mean he's not allowed to speak freely.
"Then just tell me this and I want you to answer me honestly: do you still like him?"
Silence.
"I don't," you started, the words coming out too quickly and too obvious. "I mean—why would I? After everything he did, after the way he—"
Your voice faltered. The knowing, pitiful look Heeseung gave only made you felt even worse. Because deep down, the both of you knew you were lying and you weren't telling the truth. A bitter, humorless laugh slipped from your lips, running a hand through your hair with your eyes turning glossy under the overhead lights.
"I hate him," you confessed, your gaze dropping to the floor or your shoes. "I hate the way he acts like I'm nothing. Like we're nothing. I hate how he left without a word, like I wasn't even worth a goodbye."
Your chest tightened, something sharp stabbing right through your heart, feeling the heavy weight settling on your shoulders the more you spoke.
"But most importantly, I hate how he looks at me now… like I'm just another person in the firm."
You paused for a few seconds, plucking up the remains of your non-existent courage, despite the fact both Heeseung and you already knew what you were planning to say. What kind of words that was ready to leave the tip of your tongue.
"But despite all of that, I still love him. I really do."
You let out a shaky exhale, shaking your head like you're able to deny it. If only it was that easy.
"I don't know why. It's been years. He's not the same person anymore. Anyone with eyes can see that. He's… not the Sunghoon I knew and maybe that's the problem. Maybe I'm the problem, for wanting the old him to come back to me. And a part of me is still stuck in the past, still loving someone who doesn't exist anymore."
A pause.
Heeseung sighed, the sound itself speaks volume, speaking more than what his words could possibly carry.
"He doesn't deserve you, you know that? You're too good for him."
You weakly nodded, eyes getting unfocused. "I know, but I can't stop thinking about him."
◟‿୨୧‿◞
You chose to skip lunch—much to your two friends' disappointment as they wished you luck to which you waved it off but was internally grateful and spent the rest of the day slaving away on just one document. The one document that cost you your sanity and draining lifespan.
You pulled out the long list of references you used beforehand, cross-checking all of it more than three times. It's a miracle your eyes didn't get stuck in one place with how often you kept looking between two different pieces of papers. You type, delete, type and only for you to delete again. This cycle kept repeating itself as the hours dragged on.
You weren't even aware of your surroundings—of how more and more people were packing up as they get ready to leave, of how the lights of their desks were turned off, leaving yours still on and how the silence was getting louder and louder until it's loud enough to drown out your thoughts. You found yourself entering the zone, now able to rework on it with full confidence—a huge contrast to how you were a few hours ago.
When you were finally done, you leaned back into your chair and stretched your arms above your head, letting out a long, heavy groan as you cracked your fingers. The sound echoed loudly in the office and it was only when you bothered to check the time, was when you realized you had worked overtime.
Again. Not like it's anything new or shocking, considering the nature of your job.
You got up, groaning at your back pain—a sign of your old age, even though you're still in your twenties. Swiping the folder off your messy, clustered desk, you wasted no time in making a beeline to Sunghoon's office. With how late it was, you were the final person to leave.
At least, that's what you thought.
You came to a stop when you noticed the lights in his office was still on from a far. At first, you assumed he must have forgotten to turn it off in his haste of leaving but it was gone when you now stood before his door. You didn't knock and he didn't see you yet, giving you a chance to see (or admire, like the closeted freak you are.) him in his current state.
His tie and blazer was gone with the top two black buttons of his now wrinkled white dress shirt unbuttoned, revealing his pale skin. You briefly remembered how there were baseless rumors when he first joined, with people wondering if he was a vampire in disguise, due to how pale he was. Sunghoon rested his chin on the palm of his left hand, his long and slender fingers curled over his mouth as he absentmindedly tapped his nose.
Whatever he was looking at has him deep in thought. His eyebrows were furrowed, eyes slightly narrowed with him reading whatever was reflected on the screen. His usual neat and tidy hair was slightly messed up, with random strands poking out in different directions. Some even fell forward, hanging over his eyes, acting like a shield.
The sleeves of his dress shirt were rolled up to his elbows, revealing a delicious pair of arms that can make anyone drooled like a nasty dog. You swallowed, ripping your eyes away and looked up, nearly flinching on the spot when you made direct eye contact with him. For a moment, none of you looked away, seemingly entering a staring contest with you standing outside of his office and him seated by his desk.
Sunghoon raised an eyebrow and you took that as your cue to enter, pushing the door open while clutching the folder in your left hand. You stepped in, your footsteps muffled against the carpeted floor and you stopped before his desk. Your superior torn his gaze away from his desktop screen, looking at you with an unreadable, impassive look on his face.
"I assume you've finished it?" He asked, jumping straight to the point without beating around the bush.
You nodded, wordlessly handing the folder over to him. Sunghoon took it from your hand and flipped it open to read. The next few seconds of tense, thick silence felt like eternity. You shuffled your heels on the spot, curling and uncurling your fingers with your hands resting by your sides. You observed him the entire time, trying to read him but it was easier said than done. You had considered yourself as someone good in reading people via their body languages but when it comes to Sunghoon?
You got nothing.
After what felt like centuries when a solid seven minutes passed, he finally spoke up. He held the folder in his right hand, arms crossed across his chest. Every time he shifted or readjusted his position, it caused his muscles to move as well—something you noticed almost immediately, much to your utter frustration.
"This is more acceptable than your previous work," he said, not praising nor insulting you. Just stating a fact, as simple as that.
Normally, you would retort with something snarky of your own but with how late it was, you were too exhausted to argue with him. You simply nodded, turning and was ready to leave when it's clear he wasn't going to say anything else. Only for him to call out your name, stopping you.
"Wait, I'll drive you home."
What?
"…What?" You turned to him, eyes widening and mouth dropping slightly, dumbfounded, like you couldn't believed your own ears.
But Sunghoon was already moving. He shut down his desktop, slipped his glasses off in one fluid motion as he rose to his feet. He swiped his loose tie and blazer off the stand he hung them on, folding them over his left arm and grabbed his bag placed near his chair.
"I'm not taking no for an answer, (Name). It's already late and there isn't anymore buses or trains left. It'd be faster and safer if I just drive you," he pointed out.
You sighed, hating how he was right and obliged. You stepped out of his office, returning to your own desk. You quickly shut down your desktop, shoving your things into your bag and rushed over to regroup with Sunghoon, who was already waiting for one of the lifts to arrive.
There was some distance between you and him—roughly around fifteen centimeters. You busied yourself in checking your phone, catching up on the messages and notifications you didn't managed to read, not when you were busy typing like your life depended on it.
Ding!
The lift in front of you announced its arrival with a soft 'ding!' sound and the doors opened. The two of you entered with Sunghoon pressing on the B2 button before it closed. Faint classical, jazz music started playing, acting as white noise. You had unconsciously moved to stand in the right corner of the small, cramped space, wanting to be as far away as him from possible.
The silence thickened further as the lift came to a stop, doors opening to reveal the car park located at the second basement of the company. You followed Sunghoon as the man walked over to where his car was parked—a sleek, obsidian-black Mercedes Benz S-Class sat under the dim lights. Its polished surface reflects the cold white glow from above.
He unlocked the car with a soft click, walking straight to the driver's seat without sparing you a glance. You hesitated for a second before moving to the passenger side, the door handle cool under your fingertips. The interior was just as pristine as the exterior—black leather, faint traces of a clean, subtle cologne lingering in the air.
All it took was a simple, gentle press of a button for the car to spring to life. The engine purred to life smoothly, barely making a sound as he pulled out of the lot. The city lights and everything else turned into a blur as he drove, slowly stepping down on the gas with the figure gradually increasing until he's driving at ninety kilometers per hour.
Music was playing from the radio as you looked out of the window, not wanting to look him in the eyes. It didn't help that Sunghoon knew your address by heart—something the younger him have very much proudly boasting at the top of his lungs. You dug your short, clean nails into your face, not caring by the fact that you're leaving indents behind.
You should say something. But what can you possibly say in such a tense, awkward situation? There were so many things you wanted to ask but whenever you opened your mouth, it was like your voice chose that moment to give up on you. There were many, many thoughts swirling around in your mind whenever you think back to the past.
How you could have had it all instead of what you're facing now.
Why did you leave without telling me? Am I not worth a text or a simple farewell? Why did you came back as a completely new person? Who are you now? What happened when you moved abroad?
Instead of asking any of those questions—the very same questions that had been lingering in the back of your mind for the past twenty plus years, the only word you managed to utter out was:
"Why?"
Sunghoon didn't react immediately nor did he even spared a glance, like you weren't worth his attention. You furrowed your eyebrows, now turning your head to him. You observed his side profile—his sharp jawline that can make your fingers bleed if you were to trace it, his slightly cracked and dry lips that were pursed in a thin line with his eyes fixated on the highway road ahead of him.
His silence added more fuel to the growing fire residing deep in you and you pushed on, unable to hold it back anymore.
"Why did you leave without telling me?"
A few seconds of silence passed. For a moment, you thought he would ignore you again, how he will pretend he didn't hear you. But you caught the way his grip tightened on the steering wheel. A subtle action that if it was anyone else, they would have missed it.
But not you. You weren't anyone else.
"You're asking questions about something that has already happened," he said in a flat tone, like he was stating a simple, obvious fact.
You stared at him, rendered speechless before huffing out a incredulous laugh. Sunghoon made a turn to his right, exiting the highway as he entered a street you were familiar with—you were reaching home.
"So that's it? You just leave, go off the grid for years and then come back like nothing happened? Is it wrong for me to care about you?"
His jaw muscles twitched faintly and as per always, he remained silent. And gods, his silence is starting to infuriate you further.
"You wouldn't understand," he replied after a beat, now in quieter and more distant tone.
You narrowed your eyes, fingers twitching with the urge to reach out and slapped him. "Then tell me! You can't expect me to understand when you refuse to say anything!"
The car came to a stop at a red light, the glow casting faint shadows across his face. And finally, he turned to look at you and you wished he didn't. Because there was nothing there. No warmth, no familiarity and gone was the boy you once knew by heart, soul and mind.
"I don't have to explain everything to you," he said, the words sharp and deliberate. Sharp enough for you to feel like you were slapped in the face, leaving a stinging, lingering pain behind.
You couldn't speak, staring at him. Your throat tightened, stomach curling and twisting into itself as he turned back to the road, stepping down on the gas when the light turned green. It's crystal clear the conversation has came to an end and you decided to drop it, not wanting to waste any more of your drained energy to argue with him.
The moment the car came to a stop outside your house, you were quick to jump out of the passenger side, unable to tolerate breathing in the same air as him. You grabbed your bag, slammed the door shut on purpose and stomped your way to your house with your house keys held in your left hand.
The door closed behind you and you tossed your bag onto the floor, not caring whether the content inside was damaged or not. You lowered yourself until you were in a squatting position, arms resting on your knees as you cried. You wept like a fresh new widow who lost her husband to the war when that was far from the truth.
You wept for someone who doesn't deserve your tears, time and attention. You wept for someone who no chose to move on from the past, facing the future with a brand new mindset. You wept for someone who could care less about you.
And if you spent the rest of the night sobbing your eyes out, then that's only for you to know and a secret to keep.
◟‿୨୧‿◞
"Welcome home, sir. Your brother and parents are waiting for you in the dining room," the head butler informed him, in lieu of a greeting, bowing at a sharp ninety-degrees with his gloved hands placed in front of him.
Sunghoon scowled, not bothering to conceal his dissatisfaction as he handed his blazer and tie to the butler, who promptly took it from his outstretched hand. He never liked coming back to a home occupied by his parents. It was always something to do with their long, rich heritage of the Park family in the business industry and how they are practically the backbone of most of the companies.
The man turned, heading to the flight of stairs that will lead to the second floor, having no intentions of meeting them, only to stop when someone called out his name, making him froze.
"Sunghoon."
Resisting the urge to outwardly roll his eyes, he turned to face his older brother—Park Jongseong. He felt like he got shot right in the chest, something ugly curling itself around his heart at how the other man wasn't alone. There was another woman standing close to him, a woman with a very familiar face and someone who he knew for a while now.
He stiffly nodded his head to the woman, who returned it with a warm, polite smile as she bowed slightly, one hand on her chest.
"Sunghoon, it's been a while. How have you been?" She asked.
He sighed, moving to descend the flight of stairs until he's in front of the couple with some distance between them. Sunghoon's eyes darted down to the matching rings they worn before flicking up, swallowing the bile threatening to rise up his throat. His features softened slightly—a rare side that only a selected percentage of people were able to see.
"I'm fine, just busy with work. You know how it is, Areum," he answered.
Areum nodded, her lips covered in a thin, glowing layer of lipgloss curled up in a faint smile. "I understand. I heard you've successfully closed a difficult case. Well done, as expected of Park Sunghoon."
Normally, if it was anyone else who uttered those words, they would've received a cold, piercing glare from him. But Areum was different. She's like the older sister Sunghoon never knew he needed. Someone reliable, mature and clear-headed. Well, there is his brother but between Jay and Areum, he often gravitated to the woman instead, mostly because she was much easier to talk to, as compared to the other, who never fails to take the chance to tease him endlessly.
He let out a light, soft and genuine chuckle. "Thanks, Areum. But it's not something worthy of praise."
And Jay being Jay, snorted from where he stood. "Damn, just take her compliment, would you? It's weird watching you acting all polite."
"Jay!"
Areum scolded her husband, reaching out to deliver a light but stinging smack to his shoulder, drawing a pained hiss from him. Sunghoon snickered, all smug and since he's younger than Jay, he playfully stuck his tongue out—acting like how they were when they were young. His brother resorted to scowling from where he stood while resisting the tempting urge to throw hands with his younger sibling.
Ahem.
Their brief playful moment was rudely interrupted by someone pointedly clearing their throat. The three turned to see it was none other than their father. The very same man who owns the estate they are currently standing in and the very same man who built an industry from nothing. People couldn't believed when they find out he's already in his early sixties due to his still youthful look. Unlike the usual man who's seen shaking hands with shareholders, wearing a warm and professional smile on his face, the man standing before his two sons is the real him.
His eyes jumped from one face to another before landing on Sunghoon's, who didn't flinch nor did he backed down from the sudden eye contact. Just like the younger man, his father had perfectly aced the art of mastering and concealing his emotions, not allowing anyone else to decipher how he truly feels.
"All of you, stop fooling around. You're not children anymore," he started, his voice deep, low and slightly rough around the edges and his gaze lingered longer than usual on Sunghoon.
Sunghoon sworn he saw something akin to frustration behind those pupils but it was gone when he blinked. Without waiting for their response, their father turned and headed to the dining room. The three of them took that as their cue to follow him, not wanting to further worsen his mood.
But then again, the man was always in a bad mood. Which gets even worse when he's around his family.
They eventually arrived at the dining room, which was just as imposing as the rest of the estate—spacious, pristine and formal. A long, polished rectangular-shaped table stretched across the center, its glossy surface reflecting the warm glow of the lights hanging from above. High-backed chairs were arranged with perfect symmetry, each one as uncomfortable as the other.
Everything was meticulously set. Fine porcelain plates, neatly folded linen napkins and silver cutlery aligned with exact precision—untouched, like it's for display purposes rather than anything else. The air felt still, heavy with an unspoken tension that no amount of luxury could softened.
Their mother sat on one of the chairs, allowing her to face the doorway as they entered, moving to take their respective seats without hesitation. Jay sat with Areum, occupying the two vacant chairs opposite of his mother while Sunghoon sat beside the older woman. The final chair that was placed at the head of the table belonged to none other than his father.
No one spoke a word for a few seconds before his father broke it, directing his focus and attention to Sunghoon.
"Sunghoon, you'll be getting married in four months."
The words landed without warning, like a bomb was dropped on him out of nowhere. There was no greetings or no small talks before they dived into the main dish. Sunghoon didn't react immediately, going as still as a statue. The only form of reaction he exerted was his fingers tightening against the table.
Beside him, his mother remained perfectly composed and unfazed, delicately lifting her glass of white wine, like they were discussing something as minor as the weather itself. His brother and wife, on the other hand, had the same reactions as Sunghoon. The couple shared a bewildered look and Jay shot Sunghoon a worried look, but the younger man didn't see it, staring at a random spot of the table.
His father continued, not caring about the storm of conflict happening in his mind. "The arrangements have been finalized. Her family are major shareholders of the company and it will be beneficial to both parties."
Sunghoon slowly exhaled through his nose, finally lifting his gaze to meet his father's. "I'm not interested."
The temperature in the room dropped, the air thickening further. His father's expression darkened, jaw tightening as he leaned back into his chair.
"You don't get to decide that."
"I'm not agreeing to this," his son replied calmly but firmly.
For a brief moment, something flickered in his father's eyes. It wasn't surprise but rather, it was irritation.
"No, you lost the right to make decisions for yourself the moment you strayed away from your responsibilities."
Sunghoon frowned but remained silent, knowing what his father was referring to.
"And we let it happened. Your mother and I were lenient, even when you've embarrassed this family, even when you refused to take over the company, forcing Jongseong to do it instead while you flew to another country. And all for what? To pursue something as trivial as law itself," the man went on, his voice sharpening the longer he spoke.
"We gave you years to correct. To redeem yourself. But it's clear you mistook that for freedom."
Sunghoon narrowed his eyes, clutching onto the utensils so tight until his knuckles turned white. It's a sheer miracle on its own that he didn't snap it into half with how strong his grip was.
"This marriage is the consequence of your actions. You will marry her and you will start acting in the best interest of this family. No more defiance and no more selfish decisions," his father finally ended, each word deliberate and as sharp as a knife.
It's clear the conversation has ended, with the finalized tone his father used—the kind of tone he used when he's standing in front of a board of directors in those meetings he kept attending. Sunghoon lowered his head, his bangs falling forward to shield his eyes as their private bulters and maids started serving them their food.
The previous tense dining room was now filled with the occasional clink-clanking of utensils against porcelain plates and bowls. Everyone ate while chatting among themselves. Everyone but Sunghoon. He has no appetite to eat, not after what he was just told. He hated how his mind constantly drifted back to a certain someone, how every time he looked at her, a part of him was tempted to apologize, to tell her how he felt nothing but utter remorse about everything.
About the way he treated her, brushing her and the rich-filled history they had aside, like it was nothing but mere memories. About how he didn't have a choice in the first place. About how he was forced to do this. It was either flying to another country or risked having his parents controlled his life, leaving him under the mercy of them.
And most importantly, about how he was scared to ruin everything if he were to confess the feelings he had been harboring for a long, long time.
◟‿୨୧‿◞
The weekend passed in a blink of an eye, much to every working adult's disappointment and it was Monday again. You paid your surroundings no mind, holding a cup of warm coffee you ordered from the cafe located opposite of the law firm as you entered the lift, getting squeezed to a corner with more and more people entering. You managed to alight at your designated floor but you barely managed to take more than ten steps before someone threw themself onto you.
"What the-!?" You exclaimed, nearly dropping your precious cup of coffee as you staggered, managing to catch your balance.
"(Name), you need to see this!"
Beomgyu said, ignoring the annoyed glare you threw his way. Before you could say anything, he had dragged you to his desk and Heeseung was already there, scrolling through his phone while eating his breakfast.
"What's up with him?" You asked, pointing at your other friend, who threw himself into his seat, opening the Internet browser and started typing something at rapid speed.
"I don't know, he texted me at six in the morning, telling me how I needs to see this as soon as possible. Dude didn't even bother answering my other questions," Heeseung replied after swallowing his mouthful of food.
You chuckled and took a slow sip of your hot coffee. Beomgyu took that moment to finally show you and Heeseung what was reflected on the screen. You moved closer, reading it over his shoulder. What you you didn't expect was to read the bold and large headline reflected on his desktop's screen, staring back at you, mocking and laughing at you.
The color drained from your face. You tuned out your surroundings until they were reduced to nothing but white noise—the murmurs of the people around you, the sound of footsteps back and forth, the sound of fingers flying across keyboards and the rustling of papers. The cup of coffee slipped from your loose grip, landing on the floor with a loud noise and the fragrant, brown liquid splattered everywhere.
Thankfully, your clothes were out of harm's way but the same couldn't be applied to your heels as some had landed on it. You hissed in pain when the hot liquid landed on your bare skin. Your friends were quick to jump into action. Beomgyu was quick to swipe the tissue box off his desk and handed it to you. You grabbed a few pieces, lifting your right leg to clean the coffee stains, watching as the pristine white tissues turned brown as it soaked up the liquid.
You did the same with your other leg while Heeseung picked up your now empty cup, disappearing to the pantry to toss it away before returning shortly with a mop and bucket that he had filled up with water. You were about to take the mop from him but the man shook his head.
"It's fine, I can do it," he waved you off before you could say a word.
Beomgyu rose to his feet, flashing you an apologetic look. "Shit, I'm sorry, (Name). Maybe I shouldn't have showed it to you."
You shook your head, flashing what you hoped was an reassuring smile to your friend. "You don't have to apologize, Gyu. I'll find out about it sooner or later so thanks for the heads-up."
The two men shared a quick glance. Beomgyu was about to say something when an unfamiliar, polite and unsure voice spoke up, gaining everyone's attention.
"Uh, hello? I'm looking for Park Sunghoon."
Who is she and why is she looking for him?
When you saw her, the first impression that came to your mind was how out of place she looked. Not in a bad way that makes her stood out like a sore thumb. It's different from the usual sharp, intimidating presence that fills the firm. There was a softness to her, something almost hesitant in the way she portrayed herself.
Her hair fell neatly past her shoulders in loose waves, a natural shade that framed her delicate features. Her eyes were sharp but right now, they were wide with uncertain and confusion, obviously lost while trying to locate her designated destination. She worn a cream-colored blouse tucked into a high-waisted skirt that fell just below her knees. The outfit was paired with modest heels, simple and refined.
But most importantly, it whispered quiet wealth rather than loudly announcing it to the world.
Before you could say anything or react, one of your colleagues had approached her. He was kind enough to show her the way, bringing her over to your superior's office. Your eyes tracked her movement until she was out of your sight, unaware of how you had even stopped breathing until Heeseung tapped your shoulder, a worried look on his face.
"You good?" He asked.
"Fine," you answered almost immediately, feeling your world tilting as you returned to your desk in a daze, ignoring how Heeseung called out your name.
You sat down, staring at your desktop and before you knew it, your limbs moved before your mind could processed it. You opened a tab on your Internet browser, typing something and tapped the enter button on your keyboard. You clicked on the first link you see, bringing you to an article—the very same article that Beomgyu showed earlier on.
The headline remained the same. The longer you stared at it, the more tempted you were to grab the nearest thing and throw it at the screen, as if that can magically wiped the article away from the Internet.
'Legal Prodigy Park Sunghoon Announces Engagement to Han Seo-yeon, Heiress to Major Shareholder Family—A Strategic Union That Shakes the Industry.'
You've never felt this much pain in your life where every time you inhaled, a part of your heart shattered. Where every time you think about him, tears welled up in your eyes and you have to swallow it down, the motion itself stiff, awkward and painful.
It's times like this where you get reminded that you may still be stuck in the past, replaying the memories over and over, like a broken cycle. But for Sunghoon, on the other hand, he had moved on, choosing to focus on the present and the future. Even if that meant getting engaged to a stranger with no intentions of telling you.
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Knock knock.
"Who is it?" Sunghoon asked, not lifting his gaze to the door as he continued reading the document laid out before him—the very same document that you had gave it to him last Friday.
"A woman is here to look for you, sir. She said she's Seoyeon," his personal assistant informed him through the internal lines.
He paused when he heard her name. "Let her in."
"As you wish, sir."
Shortly after, the woman—Soyeon entered with a warm, friendly smile on her face. Sunghoon sighed, leaning back into his seat as she stood on opposite of him, with his desk acting as a barrier between them.
"What are you doing here? I thought we agreed for no public appearances unless it's necessary," he asked in a deflated tone.
The woman lightheartedly rolled her eyes as she sat down, elegantly crossing one leg over the other while placing her bag on her lap. "I know, but your father was very persistent in forcing me to make a surprise visit to your office. So, here I am."
He scoffed at the mention of his father, tapping his fingers on the polished surface of his desk. "Did you see the article?"
Soyeon nodded, pursing her lips covered in a shiny layer of lip-gloss, in a thin line. "Yeah, my parents must've been the ones to tell the press so they can release it without telling either of us. I'm sorry about that."
Sunghoon ran a hand through his fluffy, black hair as he let out a long, heavy sigh. Faint exhaustion can be seen in his eyes and across his face.
"It's not like they're willing to inform us beforehand."
The woman eyed him with an unreadable look before asking a question that made his blood ran cold. "I saw her just now. She's very pretty."
The man froze for a second, clearing his throat in an attempt to look composed. "Who are you talking about?"
She lets out a light laugh. "You know who, Sunghoon. I'm talking about (Name). I saw her earlier and it's not hard to notice her. She has that charm that draws you to her without you knowing. I think she saw the article too, judging from the horrified look on her face when she saw me."
Sunghoon tongued the inside of his left cheek and his jaw tightened. "Why are you telling me this?"
Soyeon sighed, her tone switching to a rather motherly tone, like he's her son who's still learning about the world. "Because it's obvious you like her. Anyone with eyes can see that."
He flinched, very much like a cat that got splashed with cold, freezing water. "You're imagining things."
"Right, and I'm the president of Seoul," she dryly retorted.
For the rare, few times in his life, the legal associate didn't know how to react nor what to say. He resorted to narrowing his eyes, scowling and sulking like a child. Soyeon chuckled and rose from her seat, now holding her bag in her right hand.
"Anyway, would you like to join me for lunch?" She proposed, looking at him with an eyebrow raised.
"I suppose, as long as it's not French cuisine again," he joked, rising to his full height while removing the glasses he worn, leaving it on the table as he grabbed his keys, phone and wallet from where the drawer underneath it.
Soyeon scoffed but the glimmer of amusement in her eyes said otherwise. "It's not my fault you're a man with no taste."
Sunghoon shot her an incredulous look, moving to open the door for her, allowing her to step out before he followed suit. "No taste? I'd like you to know I've dined in more than ten Michelin-Stars rated restaurants."
"Oh, is that so? Forgive me, my lord, for I must've struck a nerve," she sarcastically replied and Sunghoon chuckled.
Remembering something, Soyeon quickly slipped her hand into Sunghoon's right hand to intertwine their fingers together. The sudden contact and action made him glance at her from the corners of his eyes.
She flashed him a sympathetic, apologetic smile. "We're in public, so we have to sell it."
Something unreadable flickered across his face but it was gone when he blinked. He didn't like this—the arranged marriage they were put up with, how he's practically a pawn in whatever game both families are playing, being used like a tool. The two walked to the lift lobby together, hand in hand and his eyes automatically moved across the sea of people, searching for someone.
And he locked eyes with you.
You were at your desk, fingers poised over your keyboard while you were working on something that probably needs his attention whenever you're done. What made his heart tightened was how your eyes widened momentarily before returning to its usual size, how your eyes darted between his and Soyeon's face. He can practically imagined the loading logo floating on top of your head as you eventually connect the dots.
You were the first to break eye contact, snapping your head back to look at your screen, like you couldn't handle looking at him. Sunghoon dryly swallowed, allowing himself to be dragged by Soyeon as they entered the elevator that arrived at their floor.
If he has the ability to turn back time, he'd do it without hesitation. He'd do it to apologize, to amend the soon-to-be broken bridge between the two of you. And most importantly, to not be the reason for the amount of tears you've shed, especially when it's all because of him.
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"…llo? Earth to lover girl? Anyone home?"
You blinked, snapping back to reality. "What?"
Beomgyu sighed, waving his chopsticks around in a circular motion, speaking after he swallowed his mouthful of food.
"You weren't listening, were you? Lemme guess, you were too busy thinking about that uptight superior of yours. Seriously, I don't get what you see in him. Sure, he's handsome but compare to this," he paused to gesture at his own face with a cocky, arrogant grin that made you and Heeseung rolled your eyes, "that's nothing."
Beside him was Heeseung, who rubbed the space between his eyes as he muttered a string of words under his breath, no doubt saying his prayers. The three of you were currently having lunch at a famous ramen restaurant near your firm. You wanted to turn down the offer at first but your friends were persistent.
They (more like Beomgyu) kept begging and begging until you gave in, having to shush them (Beomgyu) when they let out a triumphant shriek, which brought you to your current situation. You let out a sigh, stirring the noodles in your bowl. You didn't have an appetite and every time your mind went back to seeing the woman and Sunghoon, you felt the urge to vomit right there and then.
Heat crept up the back of your neck with your ears turning red and warm.
"I wasn't thinking about him," you weakly defended yourself but the looks both men sent you said otherwise.
"Right, and I'm the future president. You looked like you were about to faint when you saw her," Beomgyu (un)helpfully pointed out, letting out a pained yelp when Heeseung roughly elbowed him from the side, nearly sending him toppling out of his seat.
You placed your chopsticks down after forcing yourself to take another bite, swallowing it before answering him.
"What am I supposed to think? I didn't expect he'd do this," you confessed, like you were admitting to a sin you committed.
Beomgyu shared a quick glance with Heeseung before speaking up. Unlike before, his voice no longer carries the casual joking and teasing tone. But rather, he sounds serious—an rare occurence that he only used when the time and situation called for it.
"(Name), I'm telling you this as a friend who's been with you for three years: you need to move on."
You visibly flinched, feeling like you were slapped right on your right cheek and getting an arrow directly shot into your chest. You looked down, staring at a random spot of the table as you avoided eye contact. Someone sighed—Heeseung. He reached out, placed his hand above yours and gave it a light, assuring squeeze. You lifted your head up at the action, meeting his doe-like eyes.
"Beomgyu's right. We've seen the effect Sunghoon has on you and we say this out of the goodness of our hearts, if you continue to live like this—choosing to stay in the past, trying to convince yourself or trying to defend him, then it'd only do you more harm than good," he explained in a soft tone, the kind of tone specially reserved when he's oh so gently giving advice to his colleagues.
"I—I wasn't defending him. I'm fine, I really am," you instinctively replied, trying to defend yourself.
The lie sounds hollow even to your own ears. Heeseung raised an eyebrow, never breaking eye contact as he tightened his grip on your hand.
"No, you're not."
Even though he's being gentle, it doesn't soften the blow at all. You furrowed your eyebrows, feeling a flicker of frustration breaking through your facade.
"You don't get to decide that for me."
"I'm not. I'm telling you what I see."
You stubbornly shook your head, withdrawing your hand, the contact feeling too much with his heat lingering behind. "Both of you are overthinking. He's my boss now. Of course things are gonna feel and be weird. That's all there is to it."
"You know that's not the truth," Beomgyu cut in, his tone still serious and unwavering from Heeseung's left side.
You made a frustrated sound, head snapping to him. "Alright, why are both of you acting like I'm some kind of mess? I'm doing my job just fine, aren't I?"
"That's not the point," Heeseung softly pointed out but there was something else behind it. Something heavier and something you didn't want to acknowledge.
"You can function. You show up, do your work, act like everything's normal," he paused for a second before he continued and honestly, what he said next made you felt like you were punched right in the stomach, "but the moment his name comes up, you fall apart."
You parted your lips, opening and closing but you couldn't say a thing. Not when he's right. Not when he's speaking the truth. Not when he has caught you red-handed.
Heeseung pressed on at your silence. "I'm not saying this to hurt you. I'm saying this because I'm tired of watching you hurt yourself over someone who clearly doesn't care the way you do anymore."
"That's not—"
"Then what is it? Because from where we're standing, it looks like you're still holding onto someone who already let you go," he directly asked, not beating around the bush.
Your chest tightened, something twisting into itself painfully as you dropped your gaze to the table, defeated without knowing what else you can possibly say in a situation like this.
"I just…" You trailed off. "It's not that easy, alright? I'm trying. I really am."
"Nothing about love is ever easy," Beomgyu said, his voice softening now, nearly matching Heeseung's.
"We're not asking you to forget and get over him overnight. But you have to try. Really try. You have to stop giving him so much power over you," he continued and what he said next made your breath caught.
"You deserve someone better than him."
Your throat tightened, vision turning blurry around the corners. You rapidly blinked your eyes, trying to keep yourself together, trying not to burst out into tears, at a restaurant during lunchbreak with your friends sitting opposite of you. As much as you wanted to argue and to defend him, another part of you had finally gotten the closure you needed.
That they were right and maybe, just maybe, it is finally time for you to face the future with a brighter and clearer mind.
When lunch was over with you managing to finish your bowl of noodles, leaving the restaurant feeling lighter with your friends walking on both sides of you. Thankfully, no one bat an eye to your red, swollen and puffy eyes as you shrink into yourself, not wanting to gather any unwanted and unnecessary attention.
You returned to the firm, heading to your desk to grab a small pouch that holds your makeup and other necessities as you headed to the ladies to freshen up. What you didn't expect was for you to bump into someone that made you came to an abrupt halt, standing at the doorway. The woman stood before one of the mirrors, fixing her appearance when her eyes drifted to you, making eye contact via the mirror's surface.
"You must be (Name)," the woman said, her voice gentle and warm, eyes glimmering with something unreadable as she screwed the lid of her lipstick back on with an audible 'click' sound that echoed throughout the space.
You slowly nodded your head. "..Yeah, and you're Soyeon."
Sunghoon's fiance.
She—Soyeon, made a sound of acknowledgment, turning around on the spot to face you. She crossed her arms, the nail polish on her nails seem to glow under the lights from above. You caught the way she scanned you from head toe, like she's searching for something. Maybe it's your weakness. Maybe it's the way you're dressed or how you carried yourself.
Whatever it was, she seemed pleased and satisfied, like she had found something she was looking for.
"Yes I am. I've heard a lot about you and it's a great pleasure to finally meet you," she said, pushing herself off the counter she was leaning on, approaching you with her right hand stretched out.
You accepted the unspoken offer of a handshake, out of politeness and nothing else. You pointedly ignored how you were able to feel the smooth, cool surface of the ring pressed against your fingers during the brief handshake, being the first to drop your hand while clutching onto your pouch, like it has some sort of ability to defend you from her.
"Only good things I hope," you replied, the words all awkward and stiff, like you've forgotten how to speak.
The other woman chuckled, cocking her head to the side. The movement caused her earrings to sway side to side. "Of course, Sunghoon couldn't stop talking about you."
That sentence caught you off-guard. You owlishly blinked your eyes, looking at her like she had spoken in a different language or she had grown another head.
"S-Sunghoon talks about me?" You squeaked out, your voice unnaturally rising an octave, your ears and cheeks turning red, feeling unusually warm.
This time, she couldn't hold back her laughter. She bent forward, hands clutching her sides as she laughed—the sound was light, airy, full of joy and whimsical at its finest. You could only stare at her, not quite believing the woman standing right before you is the very same woman who's the daughter of a famous couple—couple who are none other than the law firm's key shareholders.
Eventually, Soyeon calmed down, straightening herself as she wiped the tears away from her eyes.
"Whew, you should've seen the look on your face. That was funny, but yes. Believe it or not, he does talk about you. Although, talking would be an understatement," she said, something mischievous glinted in her eyes.
You were confused, wanting to ask her what she meant by that but the sound of approaching footsteps and hushed voices caught your attention. Hearing this, Soyeon steeled herself and flashed you a warm, friendly smile.
"I'll see you around, (Name). And trust me when I say this: you should talk to him."
And just like that, she walked out without waiting for your response, leaving you standing there, mind reeling from the conversation you just had. The only things you gained from her was more confusion and of course, more questions than before.
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Days stretched to weeks with everyone being busy and swamped away by their never-ending workload. It's one of the peak periods, which meant more time spent slaving away at their respective desks, more time staring at screens until a migraine starts forming. For a certain legal associate who goes by the name of Park Sunghoon, that meant dealing with more cases, ranging from solving easy, simple cases to encountering the most mind-blowing and baffling cases he had seen in his entire life.
Being a legal associate is hard work and it's also a position Sunghoon took pride in. However, the same couldn't be applied to his family. Or more specifically, his parents. He remembered the day it happened—the very same day where he made up his mind to toss everything aside. His family's reputation, his time spent studying something he clearly has no interest in and the amount of money poured into him, shaping him to be the next successor of the company.
The whole thing happened when Sunghoon was nineteen. Not too young to be considered a child but not too old to be considered a fully-grown, mature adult yet. The thought had been lingering in the back of his mind for a few days now. He hasn't told anyone yet, not even his own flesh and blood. He didn't know when was the appropriate time for him to tell his parents.
What he does know however, is they will definitely be against it. Against his sudden, abrupt decision. He can already foresee it in his mind—their stupefied expressions followed by a mixture of feelings—betrayal, horror and disbelief. Betrayal at the fact that he dared to turn his back against his family. Horror at the bold, unexpected move he pulled. Disbelief as they couldn't fathomed the thought of their very own son, daring to go against the long history of a Park refusing to take over the family's business.
Sunghoon had long packed his things, putting his clothes, things and everything else into his luggage and carry-on. He had booked the tickets behind his parents back, using his own money and will be flying off tomorrow, first thing in the morning. The boy stood at the foot of his bed, staring at his opened luggage with an unreadable look on his face. All that left was to tell his parents and—
"Sunghoon? What are you doing?"
His shoulders tensed at the sound of his older brother's voice. He looked over his shoulder, noting the bewildered look on his face, his wide eyes rapidly darting between the opened luggage and Sunghoon. He caught the moment Jay connected the dots, eyes widening further with his lips parting.
Jay closed the distance in no more than five large strides, invading his brother's invisible personal space. He gripped onto the front of Sunghoon's shirt in a vice-like grip, wrinkling the fabric in the process.
"Can you oh so kindly tell me why there's a luggage on your floor and why does it look like you're about to do something reckless?" Jay demanded, his voice low and serious with him barely able to hold himself back from doing something reckless.
Sunghoon remained silent, eyes averted to the side, having no intention of wanting to face his brother. Jay clenched his jaw at the other's prolonged silence, further brunching his shirt between his fingers.
"Park Sunghoon, you better give me a damn good reason why you're doing this or I'm punching you in the face," he warned him.
Sunghoon sighed, reluctantly turning to face Jay. "I'm flying to Australia tomorrow morning, to study law."
Silence.
Jay stared at him, blinking his eyes once. Twice and thrice before his words fully sank in. The grip on his shirt loosened, his hands dropping and returned to his sides.
"..You're leaving? Is it forever?" He asked.
Sunghoon shook his head. "No, it's just for five years and I'll come back once I graduated. I've already booked the flight tickets and managed to get a dorm to stay on campus. Don't worry about me, Jay-ah."
Jay barked out a loud, incredulous laugh, running a hand through his hair. "Don't worry about you? How can you expect me to stay calm when you didn't tell me until now? Why didn't you say a thing? I'm your older brother!"
Sunghoon scoffed and crossed his arms defensively. "And what about it? Not once have you stood up for me when Father kept forcing me to learn about business. You knew I have no interest in it! You knew my heart was never there in the first place!"
Every sentence he spoke, his voice grew louder and louder until he was hollering at the top of his lungs. It's clear as day that he had been harboring these feelings for a long, long time—how he truly felt as the second son of the esteemed Park Family. Jay, on the other hand, stood rooted to the ground, speechless and startled by his outburst. Sunghoon took his silence as the green light to keep going, the lid long removed.
"Every time we bumped into each other in college, you pretend to not see me. It's like I'm some sort of embarrassment to you! What's so embarrassing about wanting something different from someone else? Whenever Father kept pressuring me, telling me that I need to study hard to be as smart as you, I wanted to tell him, to hell with your stupid company! You only cared about your own futures while forcing your son to work away, like he's a tool."
Jay's eyes widened. This is his first time witnessing Sunghoon's pure, raw and unfiltered fury. "Sunghoon, I—"
"No, you listen to me, hyung. I've tolerated him for eight years. Eight. Years. Eight years of listening to that man forcing me to do this and that, without caring what I truly wanted. Eight years of having to obey his words. It's either that or get disowned from the family."
He paused, letting out a humorless and shaky laugh. It's the kind of laughter that one does when they have lost all forms of hope and when they were being forced into a corner.
"So I decided to leave. I don't care if they are against it. I don't fucking care if they want to disown me. Let them do what they want. Nothing they say or do will stop me from pursuing my dreams," he ended his speech, voice firm and filled with firmness. The firmness of someone who had clearly made up his mind.
Silence.
Jay lets out a long, heavy sigh. His shoulders slumped in defeat with resignation written all over his face.
"…You're right, I've been a horrible brother to you. I wasn't there when you needed me, too caught up in my own world. I should've stepped in the moment I saw Father's persistent attempts to mold you into the son he wants. The type of leader he wants. But Sunghoon, for what it's worth, I'm proud of you."
The second son frowned, confused. "About what?"
Jay's features softened, stepping closer to pull him into a bone-crushing hug. He rested his chin on Sunghoon's right shoulder with his arms tightly wrapped around the other boy's figure.
"For having the courage to throw everything aside and to chase after your dreams. I'm sure you'd succeed and just know that I'll always be proud to call you my brother."
To put it shortly, their parents didn't take his decision well to heart—which wasn't surprising in the slightest. The two of them—Sunghoon and his father, argued like their lives depended on it. Hurtful words and creative insults were thrown at one another without hesitation. His father had the last word. What he said made the younger boy nearly see red.
"Fine. You can go but I want you to remember this for the rest of your life—whatever you do next is not your own decision. It will be decided by me and you have no say in this."
It took all of Sunghoon's self-restraint to hold himself back from saying things he couldn't take back, simply turning to stomp out of the room, slamming the door shut on his way out. He didn't sleep that night, spending the rest of the hours tossing and turning while angrily shedding tears, staining his pillow.
Since his flight bounded to Australia is at seven in the morning, he needs to be at the airport by five latest. He left at three thirty, not wanting to spend another second or minute being under the same roof as his father. The entire house was fast asleep—the way he wanted it to be when he leaves for his flight.
He managed to book an Uber and left for the airport with his house getting smaller and smaller until it was out of his sight. And from that day onward, Sunghoon's Father never viewed him with pride anymore. But rather, it was with disappointment and frustration.
"Huh, never thought I'd see you here."
Sunghoon snapped back to reality, pulled away from his train of thoughts when a familiar voice spoke to him. He straightened himself, looked over his shoulder to see someone standing behind him. Someone who he never thought he'd see again. Not when their last interaction was in Australia.
"Jake? What are you doing here?" He breathed out, confused to see his friend standing right before him in the flesh.
The two were assigned as roommates during their five years spent at law school. They clicked immediately. They are the same age, have lots of common interests and it was also thanks to Jake's help that Sunghoon was able to read, write and speak English fluently. Living in a country that's English-only does that to a foreigner. They also made jokes about how they were fated and meant to be, due to how close they grew.
"I'm on vacation and decided to fly to Seoul. Didn't expect to bump into you though."
Jake smiled, his face brightening up along with as he plopped down into the high stool on Sunghoon's right, turning it to face him with one elbow resting on the countertop. The two men are in a bar. There was a live performance happening right now, with a live band playing—the jazz music they were playing does more than enough to set the mood.
The sounds of people chatting with one another, with the occasional glasses clinking and the sound of cutlery scrapping against the plates echoed in the air, making the bar sounds lively. Sunghoon is a frequent customer of this specific bar, to the point where the staff recognized him and already knew what his orders is with one look at his face.
It was close to nine when he entered the bar, mind lagging with his body starting to shut down after working overtime by spending hours reviewing documents followed by him preparing for a trial tomorrow. A trial for a very serious case, to be exact. Sunghoon sighed and Jake heard it, despite how their surroundings were loud.
"What's wrong man? You looked like you got dumped. I saw the news too," he said, pausing to wave the bartender over, placing his order in fluent Korean with a hint of Australian accent before continuing his sentence, "I didn't take you as the type to move on that quickly."
"It's not real," Sunghoon replied without missing a beat, staring at a random spot of the bar counter. He further elaborated when he felt Jake's inquistive gaze.
"What's not real? The marriage?"
He nods his head.
Jake remained silent as the bartender slide him his order, taking a sip from it before placing it back down on.
"What really happened, Sunghoon-ah? You know you can tell me anything," he asked in a softer tone, like he's talking to a stray, frightened cat he stumbled upon on the streets.
Sunghoon sighed, running a hand through his hair. He absentmindedly caressed the sides of his shotglass.
"I didn't want to be like them, working in the business world and taking over my family's company. That's not what I want but my father refused to see it from my shoes. He didn't want my brother to take over, even though he has passion and interest in it. I, on the other hand, preferred to live in the world of law. I ended up going behind my parents' back, booking plane tickets and enrolling into a law school to fulfill my dreams of becoming a lawyer."
He paused, taking another swing of his alcohol, able to sense his friend's unwavering eyes on him the entire time. Sunghoon placed the now empty glass down, waving one of the staff over to refill it again. Jake noticed this, furrowing his eyebrows with faint disapproval written all over his face but he made no move to stop him. Not when it's clear the younger man needed this.
Once his shotglass was full, he wasted no time in downing it in one go for the second time, barely blinking against the strong taste of liquor going down his throat.
"I didn't tell anyone about my choice. Jay found out by accident and we argued. But he knew no matter what he says, he couldn't convinced me to rethink my decision. I ended up telling my parents and obviously it didn't went well. He ended up letting me go, as the tickets were booked. And then…"
His voice trailed off, starting to zone out with brief memories of the fateful dinner playing in his mind. Jake reached out, resting a hand on his friend's shoulder. The mere contact was enough to snap him out of his trance and he continued, shooting Jake a grateful look.
"And then, my father told me he had set me up for an arranged marriage. Her parents are major shareholders to the company, so the marriage will be helpful to everyone. Everyone except me," he sneered, the final word dripping with disdain that he didn't bother concealing.
Jake clicked his tongue. "Damn, that sucks. Thank god I'm not born into some uptight families." He paused when something hit him and his eyes widened slightly.
"Wait, if you're getting married soon, then what about her?" He questioned and Sunghoon knew who he's referring to, even without saying her name.
"There's nothing I can do anymore. She's just my trainee solicitor. Nothing more and nothing less," he retorted, words borderline slurring with his shotglass being refilled for the third time, to which he gulped it down without second thoughts.
"Yikes, that's harsh but is that what you want? To remain as her superior?" Jake pushed further.
Sunghoon side eyed him, the shotglass now being held in his left hand. "What are you trying to say?"
The previous, usual easygoing expression he had was gone, now replaced with something serious—a rare sight for someone like Jake.
"I'm saying, you're being an idiot."
Silence.
Sunghoon scoffed, snapping his head forward. The abrupt motion made his mind spins and he groaned, squeezing his eyes shut while fighting against the sudden dizziness before reopening them again.
"Watch your mouth."
"No, you shut up and listen to me," his friend fired back, voice growing firmer now. "I may not work in the same firm as you but I know you, Sunghoon. I know what you're doing—you kept shutting her down, acting like she's just another employee, like she means nothing when she means everything to you."
He tightened his grip on his shotglass.
"I'm trying to protect her," he replied, but deep down, he knew that was nothing more than a pathetic lie and a weak, feeble excuse.
"Bullshit."
That one, singular word came out as sharp as a knife. Sunghoon glanced at him from the corner of his eyes but didn't say a thing.
Jake exhaled. "You can keep telling yourself that all you want but it doesn't change anything. Not for you and definitely not for her. What you're doing is a fucking coward move."
That got a reaction from him. Sunghoon's jaw muscle twitched, now gripping onto the shotglass while fighting against the urge to throw it at the wall.
"Sim Jaeyun, I'd watch my mouth if I were you," he warned him in a low tone.
"Why? Because I'm right? Because I struck a nerve?" Jake retorted, unfazed and showing no signs of backing down.
"You don't get to treat her like that just because things didn't go your way. She didn't do anything wrong, Sunghoon. If anything, she's the one who got screwed over when you left without a word, only to become someone she barely knew anymore, like you're nothing more than a stranger."
He remained silent, lips sealed shut but his silence was louder than any response. Jake softened, just a little though.
"Look, if you really don't feel anything towards her anymore, fine. Then act like a decent human being with some manners and give her the closure she needs. Talk to her. Tell her the truth."
Sunghoon looked away, choosing to look out of the windows instead. After all, that was easier said than done. If anything, he'd rather take the truth with him, even when he's on his deathbed.
"Don't just pretend she's nothing to you. Because whether you like it or not, she was something. And from the way you talked about her to that look in your eyes, something tells me you feel something towards her."
Jake paused, letting his words sink in before he speaks up again.
"You're getting married. Married. That's a lifelong bond you'll have and it's not with her. Do you think you can survive watching as she moved on, fall in love with someone else who isn't you?"
Sunghoon didn't respond, not wanting to think about that. The thought of you walking hand-in-hand with someone else, someone that's not him, looking at him with your smile—the same fucking smile that never failed to make his heart melt while giving them that soft, tender and loving gaze, was enough for bile to rise in his throat.
He didn't respond, mostly because he couldn't find the words in him to describe the amount of frustration, insecurity and the huge conflict he had been holding for the past few years. But the way he downed the next shot—faster than the rest, said more than enough.
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You were in the comfort of your couch while slurping instant noodles from a pot as you were catching up on one of your favorite shows when someone knocked on your door. It was faint, barely audible if not for the low volume of the show currently playing on the television. You froze, mouth opened, fork hanging in the air as you were about to take another bite of your noodles.
For a moment, you thought you were hearing things. You didn't move an inch and when it's quiet again, you shrugged it off and continued eating—
Knock knock.
Only for it to happen again. This time, it's louder than before. You sighed, placing your pot on the low coffee table before you as you got up, groaning at the numbness in your toes. You headed to the door, making the mistake of not checking through the peephole, unlocked and opened it. Out of everyone you expected, you didn't expect it to be him.
But he's not alone.
"You don't know me but I know you-Wait, that sounds creepy," the man who's clearly struggling to keep Sunghoon standing upright spoke up, only to mumble to himself under his breath.
You were able to detect the faint Aussie accent in his voice and how he strangely resemblances a dog. Or more specifically, a golden retriever. You stood by the doorway, one hand on the doorknob with your eyes jumping from the two men's faces.
"What happened to him?"
You asked, pointing at Sunghoon whose obviously not alright, considering the evident Asian flush he has, his half-lidded, glossed over eyes and how he's half-leaning and half-stumbling on the spot while trying not to fall face-flat into the hard, solid ground or knocked his head against the doorframe. Although, you would pay good money to see that happen.
Not that you'd wished that on your superior. (Spoiler alert: you definitely would.)
The man had a sheepish look on his face. "He didn't want to listen to me and got drunk."
"I can see that. But why did you bring him here?" You deadpanned.
"Because he kept saying your name."
Silence.
Your breath caught, left fingers curling in on itself as it rested by your side. You stared at Sunghoon, watching as his usual cool, composed and collected demeanor was torn down, now replaced with him drunk, body swaying side to side on the spot. This wasn't the superior you're used to seeing at work, the man who kept pushing you away and never failed to remind you of your position.
No, this is just Park Sunghoon in all of his glory. The raw, unfiltered version of him that you've never seen before.
"..I think you got the wrong person," you ended up saying, grabbing onto any last hopes to push him away. Heeseung and Beomgyu's words echoed in your mind—a reminder and a gentle push to the direction you're supposed to go.
The man arched an eyebrow, pulling out a phone—Sunghoon's phone, from his own pocket and turned the screen around, showing the lockscreen—Sunghoon's lockscreen. What you saw made the air left your lungs, like you were punched right in the guts.
It was you.
Not the current you, now employed and working in the law firm. But rather, the you eighteen years ago. The picture of you was taken with you mid-laughing, head slightly tilted back with your eyes crinkled in a way that made them disappeared completely. Sunlight hits your face at just the right angle, all soft and warm. It even managed to catch the stray, loose strands of your hair.
It wasn't a posed picture nor were you looking at the camera. Heck, you didn't even know it was taken.
"…He took this," You whispered, more to yourself than anyone else.
Your fingers twitched at the side. A strange, unfamiliar feeling settled itself in the depths of your stomach as you stared at the screen. You vividly remembered the day crystal clear. It was an ordinary, regular day, just like any other day there is in the year. You spent the entire day with Sunghoon—from chasing one another, to going to playgrounds or parks to walking home together at the end of the day.
But the same couldn't be applied to him. Just because it was ordinary to you, it wasn't to him. The man observed your expression and reaction carefully, something sharp glimmered in his eyes.
"Yeah. He did."
You remained silent, mind spinning with what you just seen. None of this make sense. The man you once knew—the one who looked at you like you were nothing, who spoke to you with tight politeness, drawing the lines between the two of you and occasionally being unreasonably harsh towards you, doesn't match this.
"Still think you're the wrong person?" The man asked in a gentle, knowing tone.
You parted your lips but couldn't find it in yourself to say a single word. Instead, you opened the door wider, moving to the side to give them space.
"..Come in."
The man—who goes by Jake, left after he set Sunghoon down on the couch. His annoyingly long legs nearly knocked your pot of noodles down to the floor if you didn't move it out of the way in the nick of time. And now, here you are—at eleven on what was supposed to be a peaceful Friday night for you to wind down from work, resulted in you getting an unexpected guest.
The guest being none other than Park Sunghoon himself.
It's clear he passed out the moment his head touched the cushion of the couch, falling asleep right there and then while remaining blissfully unaware of his surroundings or the fact that he wasn't in his own house. You stood by the foot of the couch, your show long forgotten as you looked down at the man in pure exasperation.
"Great, what do I do now?" You muttered under your breath, running a hand through your hair, your brain struggling to think of your next move.
You left the living room, shortly returning afterwards with a damp towel held in your hands and a stack of neatly-folded oversize clothes. You moved closer, now standing closer to him as you bend over from your hips, reaching out to gently dap the towel on his face—an attempt to clean him up. He didn't stir much, allowing you to do as you pleased—much to your relief.
However, the relief didn't last long. When you moved the towel down to his neck, the fabric grazing against his sharp, precise jawline, he reacted. One moment you were on your knees. The next moment, you were being pulled upward. You let out a startled yelp, your vision turning sideways as the towel fell from your grip.
You let out a strangled "oof" when your face was awkwardly squashed into his neck with his arms securely wrapped around your figure, locking you in place as he hugged you, like a koala bear clinging onto its mother. Your hands were poised awkwardly in the air, like you're uncertain if you're allowed to touch him or not despite how Sunghoon is literally hugging you like there's no tomorrow.
Your mind blanked out when he pulled you closer, if that's even possible in the first place as he groaned, furrowing his eyebrows, like he's having a nightmare. You moved your head away as you placed one hand on the armrest of the couch while the other on the back, pushing yourself up with your knees on both sides of his thighs.
Your face was bright red when realization hits you at the rather… scandalous position you're in. It's almost like you're about to ri—
"No, this is fucking stupid. Get a grip of yourself," you muttered, wildly shaking your head side to side to get rid of any unwanted, distracting thoughts in your mind.
You picked up the towel, ready to walk away when Sunghoon's hand shot out to grab your wrist. Your shoulders tensed at the mere contact, freezing on the spot. You didn't dare to look at him, not wanting to see him wide awake and looking at you. And despite that, you decided to risk it and sneak a quick peak over your shoulder, only for you to heave a sigh of relief when you're greeted with the sight of Sunghoon sleeping peacefully with his eyes closed.
You reached out with your free, clean and dry hand, ready to pry his hand away from your wrist when you saw his lips moved, almost like he was saying something. Curiosity getting the better of you, you inched closer, bending forward a little to hear him better and then—
"…Don't go…"
The words were barely audible, all slurred, fragile and weak, like they will shattered with just one simple push. You went as still as a statue, breath hitching and your heart did a somersault when his grip on your wrist tightened, just slightly, like he's afraid you might slipped away from him, even when he's asleep.
"…Just… stay… a little longer…"
What?
Your heart stuttered. It stopped beating for a moment when you fully registered the words he whispered. You knew he was merely talking in his sleep—something anyone can do. And besides, he's drunk. But as the saying goes, 'drunk words are sober thoughts', you hated how a small part of you felt hopeful—something you haven't felt for a long time.
"I…I didn't mean to…" He murmured, furrowing his thick eyebrows slightly, too deep into whatever dream he was having. "I thought… it'd be easier for you if I just…"
His voice and words trailed off, uncertainty seeping into them. You hated how you were waiting with bated breath, anticipation pumping through your veins, dying to know what he was planning to say next.
"..I still miss you…"
The silence that followed afterwards was heavy, thick and deafening. You couldn't hear anything else, other than your own loud, rapid beating of your heart that seems to echo throughout the four walls of your living room.
And just like that, everything you tried so hard to bury, to ignore and to convince yourself that the past doesn't matter anymore. Especially when you were about to embark on a journey, to start the slow, long-term process of moving on. All of it was washed down the drain and you've never been this conflicted in your entire life.
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What the? Where am I?
Sunghoon woke up to find himself laying on a couch that was too small for him. He looked around, noting the unfamiliar but familiar walls. The man pushed himself up, only to hiss when his head spins, causing him to stop as he clutched the side of his head, only shifting when the giddiness stopped. He sat up, groaning at the lingering backache from the uncomfortable position he slept in and it then hit him.
He's in your house.
"What the fuck happened?"
He murmured to himself, trying to recall the series of events leading to this but he came up empty. No matter how much he tried to think back, all he got was a blank space, hitting the dead end. Sunghoon clicked his tongue, annoyed at the wide gap in his memory. Before he could ponder over it, he heard the sound of soft footsteps coming from his right.
His muscles tensed up, already knowing who it was without looking back.
"Oh, you're up. How are you feeling?" You asked, acting like everything's perfectly fine and dandy when it's far from normal.
Sunghoon swallowed, clearing his throat as he pointedly faced the front, staring at the outline of his figure reflected on the blank television screen before him. "Better now, still have a slight hangover but I'd get over it. I should get going."
He hurriedly said the last sentence, not wanting to make you anymore uncomfortable. Or maybe, just maybe, he didn't want to give you the wrong idea. The wrong idea that there's something between the two of you. If he listened closely, he can imagine Jake going off at him again, probably telling him off about how stupid he is but he quickly shoved his friend out of the window.
You stopped, now entering his sights and you slowly turned on the spot to face him. His eyes flicked to your direction, only for him to do a double-take when he realized you had dressed up more than usual. Even more than you during working hours. Sunghoon couldn't helped with the way he scanned you from head to toe with his eyes, taking in your figure, forgoing the thought of being subtle.
You worn a soft, form-fitting dress in a muted pastel shade that complemented your figure perfectly, the fabric hugging your waist before elegantly falling to just above your knees. The neckline was modest but the way it framed your collarbones along with a silver necklace resting just above, drew attention without trying.
A light cardigan loosely hung off your shoulders, sleeves pushed up to your arms, giving you a soft and almost effortless look. Your heels were simple, not too high or low but enough to add a hint of confidence from where you stood. Your hair wasn't how it was at work and one look was enough to tell him that you had styled it, with soft waves framing your face, catching the light whenever you moved.
It makes you looked…
Sunghoon swallowed for the second time.
Stunning.
There was no other word for it and he hated how the thought immediately came to him. He's so caught-up in his mini staring game that he wasn't aware you had noticed it. Noticed how his gaze lingered longer than usual. Noticed how his eyes kept flicking down to your lips. Lips that were covered in a noticeable, glossy shade of lip-gloss. Lips that looked kissable.
To be more specific, lips that he wants to kiss.
You frowned at the prolonged silence and how he kept staring at you. "Is there something wrong?"
No. Yes. You look beautiful. Stay here with me. I'm sorry for how I've treated you. Please come back to me.
Instead of saying any of those sentences, he asked a question instead, with the words slipping from his mouth before his still half-asleep brain could processed it.
"Where are you going?"
Silence.
Sunghoon internally cursed at himself the moment it slipped. You paused, body already angled towards the door, only to freeze when his voice pierced through the silence. You looked over your shoulder, confusion written all over your face. And gods, he desperately wished he can just get up, closed the distance and kissed you until you're gasping for air, until you're begging for him and until you didn't want to leave anymore.
But he held himself back, which proved to be a difficult task for someone who always keep his cool. Not when it comes to you though.
"Uh, I'm going out. Why?"
"With who?"
Not when you're dressed like that. Dressed like you're the main character and how you're gonna draw attention from everyone. Everyone who's not me.
He saw the way you narrowed your eyes and how you ran your thumb over your knuckles—something you do when you managed to pick up something about him. Up to now, it felt like you have some sort of hidden, secret ability to read his thoughts. Like you're a mind-reader and honestly, if you truly were, it will make his life so much easier—not that he'd dare to say it out loud.
"Why are you asking?" You fired back with a question of your own.
Sunghoon stubbornly remained silent—his signature move and you scoffed, making a show of rolling your eyes.
"I'm going out with Heeseung. We're gonna have lunch."
The moment those words left your mouth, something in the air shifted. It was small but it was unmistakable. The air thickened, so thick that one can sliced it apart with a mere butter knife. His eyes darkened a shade, now resting his elbows on his thighs with his legs spread slightly. He intertwined his fingers together—to prevent himself from doing something as reckless as kissing you right there and then.
He exhaled through his nose and looked to the side. "Right. Of course."
Even though he muttered it under his breath, you caught it. Of course you did. You swallowed the sudden rise of irritation that shot up when you heard his words. You crossed your arms, tapping your fingers on your arms while boring holes into his head. If looks could kill, he would've died on the spot.
"What's that supposed to mean?" You asked, sounding defensive but you couldn't help it.
"Nothing," he snapped, his tone cold and harsh—exactly how he sounds like in the office.
In a poor, feeble attempt to distract himself, Sunghoon stood up and ran a hand through his messy hair. He looked everywhere but you, like it's painful for him for his eyes to land on you. And to him, it is painful. Painful that you actually put in effort to meet someone. Most importantly, it's another man. He knows you and Heeseung are close, often seeing the two of you hanging out together whenever Beomgyu was too busy with work.
He remembered watching from wherever he was with a tight jaw, a vice-like grip until his knuckles were turning white, as you conversed with Heeseung. Sunghoon couldn't do anything but to watch, like a bystander, as someone made you laughed until you were shedding tears, until you were gasping and wheezing for breath, until your entire face lits up the entire room—
"I wasn't aware you have plans," he added after a moment, his tone forced into something neutral but the tightness in his voice gave it away.
You didn't catch it, too busy trying not to lose your mind at how weird he's acting. "Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't know I'm supposed to report my schedule outside of work to you."
It's clear you were being sarcastic and honestly, you weren't in the wrong. Sunghoon looked out of the window, noting how blue the sky looks today. He hated how his heart tightened with ache at your bluntess, at how you didn't hesitate to stand your ground. But that was one of the many things he loved about you.
"..Right."
He said quietly and he should stop there. Should let you get going but there was another part of him. Another small, selfish part that wants to keep you here, in the same room as him, as long as possible. Forget Heeseung.
"And you dressed up for that?"
A wave of regret hits him immediately after that. He should say something but it was too late. The damage was already done. You gawked at him, mouth wide open with a mixture of emotions written all over your face—anger, frustration and most importantly, disbelief.
Sunghoon sank his teeth into his bottom lip, shoving his hands into the pockets of his pants to hide how he had curled them into tight fists, actively restraining himself.
"What the fuck are you trying to say? God forbid me from wanting to dress up. It's not like we're going on a date," you retorted, shoulders trembling in rage with the flames gradually rising.
Sunghoon glanced at you from the corner of his eyes and looked away. "..Whatever, it's none of my business. Go on. I won't hold you back any longer. I can see myself out."
You stared at him, rendered speechless with his rude, cold behavior.
"Seriously, what the hell is wrong with you!? You should be grateful that I even let you into my house in the first place. If not for Jake, you would've been lying on the streets. But since you don't care about anything other than work and that fiance of yours, what else do I really have to say?"
You sneered, pausing for a second to let the words sink in before you continued, practically spatting them out, like the words are nothing but toxic venom. And Sunghoon can feel your hatred just from those words alone.
"This is the last time we'd be seeing one another out of work. Never ever try and talk to me again. Good fucking bye, Park Sunghoon. You're a fucking asshole and I hope you know that."
You didn't wait for his response, spinning to stomp out of your house, aggressively slamming the door shut with a loud, ferocious force that it's a miracle it's still attached to the hinges. Once you were gone, Sunghoon collapsed into the couch. He covered his face with his hands and groaned, the sound muffled and full of nothing but pure agony.
"What have I done?"
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You started avoiding Sunghoon ever since then but it was easier said than done. The fact that you're working in the same firm is one thing. But the other fact that you directly report to him is another different thing. However, you weren't blind to notice the small but gradual changes about him.
One good example will be when you were pulling another all-nighter, trying to read through the countless and seemingly never-ending case files spread out before your desk. Sunghoon had accepted a case but unlike any other cases, this was probably the most baffling case you laid your eyes on in your entire life.
At first glance, it was simple—just another hit-and-run case. But that was just the tip of the iceberg. It was thanks to Sunghoon who discovered something was amiss when he read through the report, constantly replaying the CCTV footage he managed to get a hold on, again and again like a broken cycle and that's when it hits him.
"Your report is missing something," he spoke up out of the blue.
After sitting in silence for the past few hours or so in Sunghoon's office, you jerked in your seat when he said that sentence, horribly catching you off-guard. It didn't help that you were exhausted as well, fighting the urge to fall asleep right there and then.
"What is?" You asked, confused.
"The accident was reported at 11.42pm but she passed the intersection at 11.39pm."
You blinked, still not following along. You watched as Sunghoon grabbed a pen and flipped the document to the other end, writing down the timestamps in neat, precise strokes. You had to wheel your chair towards his desk to get a closer look.
"There's a three minutes difference. That's barely enough time for impact, panic and escape, especially on a road with traffic lights and cameras."
Your eyes widened when you started to connect the dots. "…Unless she didn't stop."
"She would've had to slow down at the junction, no matter what," he pointed out.
"So the timeline is off," you concluded.
Sunghoon nodded in agreement, locking eyes with you. "Yes, and that it's done by someone else."
For some reason, you didn't look away from him, like you were having your own moment—just like those moments shared between the two leads in a Kdrama. Time seemed to slow down with everything coming to a stop. You caught the way his eyes flicked down to your parted lips. For a split second, you thought he was about to do something reckless but instead, he broke eye contact and pointedly cleared his throat.
"Let's stop here for today. I'll drop you off since it's late," he said, voice tense.
You mutely nodded, moving to pack your things while replaying the brief moment you had in your mind. You weren't sure why but maybe it was the way he looked at you. Maybe it was that certain look in his eyes. Whatever the actual reason was, you couldn't put a finger on it and you shrugged it off, not wanting to think twice about it.
What you didn't know however, was that was just the start. The start of Sunghoon attempting to redeem himself.
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Another example happened one week later, after the trial was successful in Sunghoon's favor. The client—a woman, was on cloud nine, profusely thanking him and you for saving her life. You had to swallow the sudden surge of irritation when the woman boldly embraced him while shedding happy tears. You knew the gesture doesn't mean anything and how she did it out of pure gratitude.
But that doesn't mean you were blind to how something ugly made itself known as it curled around your heart before sinking its claws in. Something painfully similar to jealousy.
You're being stupid. Why are you getting jealous? It's not like you're his fucking girlfriend.
You shook your head to clear your mind of the distracting thoughts, not wanting it to further ruin or dampen your mood. You felt something sharp being lodged deep in your heart when she rested her hand on his arm, fingers spread out, like she wants to touch more of him. The last straw comes in the form of her stepping closer, invading his invisible personal space and how he stiffened—a subtle move that didn't went unnoticed by you, made you stepped forward.
"Excuse me, Mam, we have somewhere else to be, so if you could excuse us," you loudly said, gathering the attention of the people around you as they looked at you with matching curious stares.
You smoothly inserted yourself in between the woman and Sunghoon. To anyone else, it would be an amusing sight—for you're shorter than your superior and compared to him—someone who often goes to the gym twice per week, he gives off the appearance of someone who knows how to handle himself. You didn't turn around to face him, already able to visualize his surprise with how you rescued him.
The woman was stunned, owlishly blinking her eyes a few times, evidently flustered. She then lets out a strangled, forced laughter, pretending everything was fine when it's not.
"Oh, right, sorry about that. If that's the case, then I won't keep you waiting," she said, bowing slightly before excusing herself, walking away with her face bright red in shame.
You spun around, glaring at Sunghoon and scoffed when you made eye contact. "Why are you looking at me like that?"
He raised an eyebrow. "Like what?"
Like the way you used to, back when we were kids.
Your lips remained sealed shut, not wanting nor having the courage to utter those words out loud.
"..Forget it, let's go. We have another case on our hands," you muttered, walking past him with him easily matching your pace. Even when you refused to glance at him, you can feel the intensity of his firm, unwavering gaze.
Maybe it was the trick of the light or maybe your vision is starting to deteriorate but you sworn you saw something akin to softness when you risked a glance at him as both of you walked side by side. If Sunghoon stepped closer until the fabric of your blazers brushed against one another and how you didn't step away, then that was your secret to keep.
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The last and final example took place at a company dinner that took place at a five-stars hotel. Your jaw practically dropped to the floor when you arrived with Heeseung and Beomgyu, unable to believe what you were looking at. Beomgyu was the first to react as the three of you entered the lobby, following the directions provided to one of the major event rooms where the dinner will be taking place.
"Jeez, I know the company's rich but not this rich!" He hissed under his breath, eyes wildly darting left and right, trying to take in the grand and majestic hallways he's in.
Heeseung nodded along. "Yeah, but didn't the email stated the purpose of the company dinner was to thank everyone for their hard work?"
You couldn't help but scoffed, looping your hands through both Heeseung and Beomgyu's arms as you dragged the two men to the designated room, with the guards letting you in.
"Alright gentlemen, let's not talk about work after hours. Let's just eat and enjoy the moment, shall we? Free food is food," you said.
One look around was enough to know whoever was in-charge of the decorations, they had gone over the top. The hall was breathtaking—high ceilings draped with cascading chandeliers that covered the entire room in a warm, golden glow. Floor-to-ceiling windows lined on one side, revealing the city skyline as it glittered like a sea of stars.
Round tables occupied the floor in pristine white linen with each centerpiece adorned with different kinds of fresh flowers and delicate glass ornaments that caught the light here and there. Along the far end was where your destination was, waiting for you—the long spread of food that seems to stretch almost endlessly.
It has everything—from gourmet canapes to full-course dishes plated like pieces of art. Soft classical music instrument played in the background from a live band, perfectly setting the mood and it was loud enough to fill the silence without countering the chatters. Everyone put on their best outfits for tonight's dinner—tailored suits, elegant dresses and polished shoes that clicked against the marbled, polished floor.
Laughter came here and there as people mingled among themselves, talking about everything and anything at the same time. Unlike the usual stiff, tense and fast-paced atmosphere everyone was used to, this was more softer, relaxed and lighter. It felt like a much-needed break to everyone, considering how hard they had worked.
"I don't think insane is enough to describe all of this," Beomgyu continued, grabbing a plate for himself as he greedily helped himself to the wide selection of food, filling his plate up in no time.
You snorted as you grabbed a plate for yourself, walking behind him with Heeseung behind you. "Told you so. Less thinking and more eating. We gotta eat our salaries' worth."
Heeseung laughed, the most relaxed as compared to the two of you as he grabbed some food here and there. "I swear, both of you are unbelievable."
Beomgyu was about to retort with something when a group of colleagues standing nearby shouted his name. He turned to them before back to you and Heeseung, looking conflicted, like he doesn't want to leave the two of you alone. You made the choice for him, shooing him away, like he's some sort of pest.
"Go on, we'll be fine. Just find us whenever you're done," you said.
Beomgyu dramatically gasped, placing his free hand over his chest. "You traitor!"
He exclaimed as he was being dragged towards the group of colleagues who had been eagerly waiting for him, excitedly slapping him on the back. You and Heeseung watched from the sidelines as he effortlessly fall into their conversation within seconds, blending in with them, like the true social butterfly he is.
Heeseung sighed, shaking his head while taking a bite of his food. "Poor guy. Let's hope he's still sober by the time it's over."
You let out a sudden, loud laugh, startling the people around you and slapped a hand over your mouth. "I don't know about that. I think he'd be gone before it ended."
At that, the two of you walked around the room while chatting with other people, exchanging small talks or catching up with colleagues from different departments. It's easy like this—allowing you to temporarily escaped from reality as you chatted about anything but work. It's the kind of conversations that comes naturally, without the weight you had been carrying for the past few days.
Eventually, Heeseung oh so kindly led you to one of the tables for you to sit down, take a breather and relaxed your legs. You practically heaved a sigh of relief the moment you sat down, leaning over to rub at your slightly swollen feet.
"Maybe it was a bad choice for me to wear heels," you complained, straightening yourself as you leaned back into the chair, holding your plate with your left finger while trying to finish the remains on your plate.
Your friend chuckled, diagonally sitting on your left with one leg crossed over the other. "You could've worn sneakers and no one would've bat an eye."
You gasped, shooting him an incredulous look. "That would ruin my outfit!" You gestured to yourself. Just like the other ladies, you were dressed in a dress that fits the guidelines of the company dinner.
It's a sleeveless black dress with the hem reaching just above your knees. The length itself is modest enough but the way it hugged your body in the right areas was enough to gather stares with some daring to look longer than usual. You may not have noticed it—the effect you have but the same doesn't apply to a certain someone.
Someone who had been watching you the entire time, right from the moment you stepped into the room. Sunghoon nearly dropped his glass of half drank white wine when you entered, feeling his breath leaving his lungs. His mind blanked out at how stunning you looked, easily drawing everyone's eyes onto your approaching figure, whether they knew it or not.
That's another thing Sunghoon loved about you—how you're able to capture the entire room's attention without lifting a finger. He watched with a tight jaw, hands nearly snapping the glass into half in his vice-like grip as you were deeply engrossed in a conversation with Heeseung. From where he stood, he was able to get a clear view of how you leaned in slightly to say something into the man's ear, followed by you laughing as you covered your mouth with your hand after he made a joke.
Seriously, is he really that funny?
Sunghoon sulked, downing the rest of the wine in one go, not even flinching when someone threw an arm around his shoulders. He didn't have to turn to know who it was, for there was only one person who dares to lay a hand on him.
"Damn, you're beyond whipped, lover boy. Stop glaring and do something already. Did you remember what I told you?" Jake snickered, earning a nasty, signature side eye from the pale man.
"I know, I tried to make up for it by starting small," he replied, recounting the small, little but precise moments that happened with you to Jake—how he drove you home, how he stood up for you and how he didn't raise his voice at you, point out your mistakes and the list goes on.
His friend whistled, impressed once he was done. "Damn, didn't know the Park Sunghoon is capable of putting in effort in something that's not related to work."
He groaned. "Jake."
"Right, my bad man. So, when are you gonna man up and talk to her?"
Sunghoon went silent, eyes automatically and unconsciously drifting towards you, watching as you were now telling Heeseung something while wildly flailing your arms about like a wild, frantic chicken as you were retelling what seemed to be a thrilling story, judging from the starry look in your eyes and how they were practically glowing.
When was the last time you looked at him like that?
Sunghoon sighed, robotically facing the front while swiping off another glass of white wine from a tray of a passing waiter. He swirled the glass, watching as the colorless liquid sloshed around before taking a slow, deliberate sip.
"…Not yet, Jake. I don't want to mess this up."
Jake rolled his eyes and crossed his arms. "Really? That sounds like an excuse than anything else. You know what it sounds like? It sounds like you're scared. And that you're a fucking coward."
"You've already said it before at the bar."
"Yeah, but it's clear nothing has changed. Which is why I'm repeating what I said before. Park Sunghoon, get your fucking shit together before you lose her. Forever. Once you're married, you can't go back anymore."
"I know that!" Sunghoon snapped. His sudden outburst drew the attention of the people around him but they didn't think twice, returning to their respective conversations.
"I know I'm a coward but what am I supposed to do, huh!? Tell me! How does one even tell someone he truly love and cherish with his entire heart that they are sorry for the things they have done and said? Do you know how painful it was for me to get through every day, when she's so fucking close but so far from me!?"
Jake's eyes widened, cursing under his breath as he looked around, to see more and more people were now looking in their direction.
"Uh Sunghoon, you might wanna lower do—"
"Do you have any idea how much I want to apologize to her, wishing I could turn back time, go back to the past where everything was fine, just like the way it used to be? How I didn't want any of these? How I didn't want anything else but just (Name) by my side? That's all that I care about!"
"Sun—"
"Then tell me, why the fuck am I still standing here doing nothing!?" His voice cracked at the end, louder than he intended—whether he knew it or not.
Silence.
"Sunghoon."
Your voice cut through everything, as sharp as a dagger but it's clear and unmistakably yours. His breath hitched in his throat, fully turning around and there you were, standing just a few feet away from him with an unreadable look on your face. He couldn't helped but wondered if this was how you felt while trying to decipher his feelings but the thought was kicked out of his mind when you approached him, closing the distance in no more than six large strides.
Your hand shot out, grabbed his wrist. The sudden contact made him flinched, startled and his eyes snapped down.
"Come with me."
It wasn't a request but rather, it was a demand—giving him a sense of deja vu. But Sunghoon didn't resist or say anything. He allowed himself to be pulled through the gathered crowd, turning a blind eye to the multiple, curious stares and the whispers following you like a shadow. Jake remained silent, watching from where he stood. He can only prayed that whatever happens next won't end up on the news.
◟‿୨୧‿◞
You didn't stop walking until you reached a secluded corner of the long hallway, until you were far enough that the noise from the dinner event was reduced to nothing but a distant hum. You came to a stop, dropping his hand and sharply turned to face him. Your chest rose and fall, the emotions you had buried for so long were clawing their way back to the surface, threatening to break free.
"Park Sunghoon, what the hell was that all about?" You demanded, your voice low but borderline shaking.
The man—your childhood friend didn't respond. He simply stared at you, like he hasn't seen you in years, like you were something he wasn't sure he was allowed to look at, like you were nothing more than a figment of his imagination. And that whatever was happening right now, is nothing more than a dream.
You clenched your fists, nails digging into your palms hard enough to leave indents behind. "I asked you a question. Answer. Me."
He swallowed. "…You weren't supposed to hear that."
You stared at him and let out a disbelief laugh, the sound wreck, sharp and fragile. "Oh, I'm sorry. Should I have covered my ears and let you yell your feelings out in the middle of a company dinner?"
"That's not—" He stopped himself mid-sentence, exhaling in frustration. "That's not what I meant."
"Then what is it? I don't know about you but it sounds pretty clear to me," you shot back, stepping closer now. Your eyes were glowing with flames of anger, like you're desperately trying to rip the truth out of him.
Silence.
It stretched until you were about to walk away when—
"I'm sorry."
The words were quiet, barely above a whisper. And yet, they hit you harder than any of his previous cold, ruthless words. You froze, heart nearly stopped beating in your chest when you heard it. You thought your ears were playing tricks on you and that you were mishearing things.
"…What?"
"I'm sorry. For everything," he repeated, his voice much steadier this time but it's still packed with the same amount of rawness.
You narrowed your eyes, your fight mode instinctively kicking in. It was one, last and final attempt to distance yourself before you dug a deeper grave for yourself.
"No. No, you don't get to do that now," you said, frantically shaking your head as you took a small step back.
"(Name), I know I don't deser—"
"Don't say my name or anything else. You don't get to just fucking stand there and say sorry like it fixes anything," you interrupted him.
"I know it doesn't fix anything."
"Then why not!? Why now, Sunghoon? After everything you've done. After the way you treated me, you suddenly what? Feel gulity? You think your pathetic apology can mend everything? Can it bring back the past!?"
Your voice cracked, leaving you to shriek and scream at the top of your lungs in the hallway. You no longer cared about maintaining professionalism, not when you're in front of the man who had seen you at your worst and best. Not in front of the man who you came to love with your entire soul, only for him to toss you aside, like you were nothing. Like you weren't worthy.
He flinched—such a small movement but you saw it.
"You're right, I apologize because I felt gulity," he admitted, his voice low and defeated.
Your breath caught.
"And because Jake's right. If I don't do something now, I'll lose you forever. And honestly? That fucking terrifies me," he continued, running a hand through his hair in frustration, messing it up in the process.
The pure, raw and unfiltered honesty made your heart skipped a beat and your breath stuttered in your throat. But you didn't let it show, refusing to show him the effect he still has on you, much to your disappointment.
"You didn't seem scared when you treated me like I meant nothing. Or when I was just another employee," you pointed out, each word deliberate, like you had taken great care to choose them out of the entire dictonary.
"I was a coward."
You blinked, not expecting the sudden confession. "Yeah, you are one. Why did you do that? Why did you pushed me away, looked at me like I'm nothing? Like I'm just another employee?"
The man lets out a shaky breath, the sound itself so painful and raw it made you want to step closer to hug him. But you held yourself back.
"I thought if I do that, you'd be able to find someone better. Someone who deserves your love, your smile, your kindness, your attention and everything about you. I.. I don't deserve you."
You let out a bitter, broken laugh as you felt something warm and salty stinging your eyes, blurring your vision slightly. Sunghoon faltered at the sight of your face and he stepped forward, slow and careful. When it's clear you're letting him move closer, he took another step, one move at a time.
"Who do you think you are?" You croaked out.
The man stilled, looking like a deer caught in headlights. "I—"
"No, shut up and listen. Who do you think you are, thinking that I don't deserve you? What makes you think that way, huh? Did God told you all of those and you decided to went along with it? Willingly? You don't get to make my choices on my behalf," you started, closing the distance to forcefully jab your finger into his chest as you hissed at him.
Sunghoon's expression broke. "(Name)—"
"You don't know what I've been through because of you. I couldn't stopped crying every night after work. I kept asking myself: just when did everything go wrong? Was I the one at fault? What can I do to make up for it? What can I do to make him look at me again, just like the way he used to? No matter how much I think, I couldn't think of anything! You left without telling me and came back, looking like a completely different person."
You paused, letting your words sink in before you continued.
"My friends told me to move on."
This time, it was his turn for his breath to stutter. "..What?"
You weakly nodded your head, tears now freely rolling down your cheeks. Sunghoon's hands twitched, tempted to reach out to wipe them away but he restrained himself. Not yet.
"They said I don't deserve you, that I deserve someone better."
He looked away, jaw tight and clenched. "They're right."
You made a sound of frustration, reaching out to grab his face, turning him so he can see you. "I don't care what anyone has to say! I've already made up my choice!"
"Your choice? Wait, you mean—"
"Yes! For fuck's sake, you're the only person I want! I don't want anyone else but you!" You exclaimed, heaving to catch your breath after you quite and literally, confessed your feelings in a hallway.
Sunghoon stared at you, lips parted, dumbfounded and rendered speechless. "I—You love me? For my personality?"
You rolled your eyes. "Ye—!"
You weren't given a chance to finish your sentence, barely getting the word out when he cut you off by crashing his lips against yours. Sunghoon expertly moved his hands—one hand supporting the back of your neck while the other pulled you in by your waist, until you're directly pressed chest-to-chest.
Your mind blanked out with you stilling in his arms, only for your eyelids to flutter shut as you returned the kiss, sighing into his mouth. He greedily swallowed the sound, shuddering when you wrapped your arms around his shoulders. The kiss was slow and languid, like you're trying to convey your true feelings to one another.
I'm sorry. I really am.
Thank you for choosing me.
Despite everything, it's still you. It will always be you.
I love you. I really do.
You ended up breaking the kiss but you didn't pull away completely, resting your forehead against his with your noses grazing against one another. You opened your eyes, to see he was already looking at you. Unlike before, when his gaze was cold, blank and emotionless, this was full of nothing but pure love and adoration. It's enough for your heart to soar, spreading its invisible wings.
"Really? Did you really mean what you say?" He murmured, eyes darting between your eyes and your parted lips.
You chuckled. "Yeah, I mean it. I love you, Sunghoon."
He groaned, the sound low and dangerous. Hearing it does something to you, making heat pooled in your stomach. You attempted to rub your thighs together but he was faster. Without wasting time, he carried you bridal-style in his arms. You squeaked, throwing your arms around him as he walked with purpose, heading to where the elevators are.
"What are you doing!? Put me down!" You hissed, looking around and thankfully, there wasn't anyone around to see you in such a humiliating state.
He paid you no mind, jamming his finger into the Up button. The lift in front of him opened and he wasted no time in entering. Sunghoon pressed one of the many floors of the hotel. He didn't even wait for the doors to close, already crowding you against the wall to kiss you again. His firm, tall and strong body easily held you upright as he steals your breath away.
"W-Wait-hngh-s-stop-hah," you wetly and openly panted against his mouth. Your hands rested on his chest, fingers straining as you tried to push him away but it's futile, with his strength completely overwhelming yours.
He blindly grabbed both of your hands and pinned them above your head with one hand, holding you in place. None of you cared that you're in an elevator, a semi-public place or how the camera was able to capture every heated moment shared by the two of you. Sunghoon sworn under his breath, his free hand sliding up your thigh, pushing your dress up in the process.
His touch made your skin warm, leaving nothing but a tingling sensation and goosebumps behind in his wake. You gasped into his mouth when he toyed with the hem of your nude stockings, tugging on the thin fabric before letting it go. The fabric snapped against your skin, causing you to jolt on the spot. You sworn you felt him smirked against your lips at your reaction.
Ding!
The elevator came to a stop and the doors opened. Fortunately for you, no one was standing on the other end or they would have gotten the jumpscare of their lives. The two of you tumbled out of the elevator in a mess of limbs, struggling to walk with Sunghoon leading the way. Although, it was easier said than done when he kept kissing you, like he couldn't get enough of how sweet and soft your lips taste.
Eventually, he broke the kiss with a feat of amazing self-restraint, pulling out what looked like a keycard to a room as he stopped before a door. You watched as he pressed the card against the door and a green light lit up. The moment the door was opened, you were yanked into the room, only to be shoved into the door, closing it in the process and he's on you again.
Unlike before, the kiss was more intense, frantic and desperate. His hands were everywhere—greedily touching you in places he wasn't allowed to. Just like before, Sunghoon pushed your black dress up, revealing the stockings you worn underneath it. He boldly cupped you through your underwear, chuckling into your mouth at how you're already wet.
"Look at you, already dripping for me. All from what? Just a kiss? It's all for me, isn't it?"
He hummed, lightly pressing his thumb down on your cunt through the fabric, savoring the choked out whine you let out at the light, fleeting contact. You canted your hips forward, craving more friction but to your utter frustration, he dropped his hand. He pried your lips apart with his skillful tongue, exploring every inch of your warm mouth, ensuring nothing was left untouched.
Your legs buckled, threatening to give way when he gave a harsh suck on your tongue, the sound seemingly loud and lewd in the quiet hotel room. It made your ears turned red. Sunghoon easily lifted you up, maneuvering you to the bed. He placed you down on the pristine white, soft linen sheets with utter care and gentlness that it made your heart stuttered.
You whined, blindly tugging on the blazer of his suit as he hovered over you, careful to not crush you with his weight.
"Off. Take it off," you pleaded.
He chuckled. "Since you asked so nicely."
He withdrew from you, long and slender fingers making quick work of the buttons of his blazer. You pushed yourself up, aiding him in it while ignoring how your hands were borderline trembling. Thankfully, he didn't comment on it. Once the final button was unbuttoned, Sunghoon carelessly chucked it aside. He unknot the tie, ready to throw it to the floor when he paused, an invisible lightbulb going off in his mind.
"Mind if I try something?" He asked, holding the now long, black fabric in his left hand.
You nodded, granting him permission. He scooted closer, grabbed your wrists, telling you to hold them together and you obeyed. Your breath caught when he tied the black fabric around your wrists, binding them together. Once he's done, he observed your face, trying to search for any signs of discomfort.
"Is it too tight?" He questioned, genuinely concerned.
"No, it's perfect."
He nodded. "Let me know if anything hurts, alright? Green's to continue and red's to stop."
"Got it."
The moment those words left your mouth, the switch was instant. His eyes darkened a shade as he pushed you back until you were lying flat on your back. You watched, unable to look away as he unbuttoned the buttons of his white dress shirt at a slow, teasing pace. You squirmed about on the sheets. Now that your wrists were tied together, you couldn't do anything, only able to helplessly watched while you're dripping nonstop.
Sunghoon chuckled, the sound low, mean and degrading at how your reactions. "Aw, what's wrong, princess? Need something?"
You let out a pathetic keen—barely able to recognize your own voice. "P-Please."
"Please what? C'mon, use your words and tell me, baby. I'm not a mind reader," he drawled, finally unbuttoning the last button and shedded the dress shirt, leaving him shirtless.
Your eyes moved, shamelessly oogling him in all of his glory, drinking in his toned chest and the very solid abs he got—results from his hard work at the gym. Sunghoon caught you eye-fucking him. Of course he did. He didn't say anything but the way he smirked was enough. He made quick work of the rest of his pants and boxers, leaving him completely bare while you were still fully clothed, unable to lay your hands on him.
You instinctively looked down, nervously swallowing when you saw his cock. And wow, it's huge. You never knew your childhood friend can be packing down there, hiding and growing a third leg but you can only assumed puberty must have hit him like a truck. The mushroomy tip had already turned a ferocious shade of red due to the lack of attention and neglection. Heck, there was even a bead of precum on the tip that glistened under the dim lights.
You attempted to close your legs but Sunghoon moved. His large hands grabbed both of your thighs, his fingers touching as he held you down, forcing you to spread and present yourself before him. Even though you still have your clothes on, you couldn't helped but feel small under his intense, unwavering gaze.
"P-Please touch me," you whimpered and who was he to deny you?
Sunghoon groaned, wasting no time in removing your clothes from your body, tossing all of them to the floor—ending up in the same fate as his own clothes. Although, the same couldn't be applied to your stockings as he ripped them into shreds instead, too impatient to roll them off your legs. Now that you were completely bare, he had to pause to drink in the sight, almost wishing he can imprint this gorgeous scene into his mind.
Your lipstick was already smudged and nearly wiped off due to the intense make-out session you had. Your hair was spread out like a halo on the pillow, making you looked like an angel. Your lips was swollen and bruised, eyes dazed and slightly glossy as you stared at him, wanting him to do something already.
"Fuck, you're so gorgeous. I can't believe you're mine now," he breathed out, sounding in awe and somehow, that made your breath caught.
He didn't give you time to recover, shifting down until he's on his stomach and dived in. Sunghoon started with a flat stripe up your dripping, aching cunt. The first contact has your mind spinning, nearly making you see the white pearly gates of heaven. You cried out, the sound raw and was ripped from the depth of your throat.
He licked you open with his tongue. Each swipe was slow, deliberate and full of purpose. Your thighs trembled in his grip as you jerked your hips forward, pushing yourself into his mouth. He groaned in appreciation, face buried deep in your leaking pussy. The vibration traveled through your body, drawing a loud and shameless moan from you.
He continued working you open, eventually pushing his tongue inside you. The sudden intrustion of the wet, slimey and slippery muscle made stars explode in your vision. Your back arched off the back, creating an amazing arch that could put even the crescent moon to shame. Your tied wrists were hanging over your head, leaving you helpless and vulnerable to his assault.
"Oh fuck. Hngh, d-don't stop-" You moaned, eyes rolling to the back of your head when he slides two of his long, slender fingers in, moving them in a scissors-like motion, spreading you open and preparing you for what's to come.
"Shit, you taste divine, baby. Could stay here forever and eat this pussy for every meal. Forget food when I can have a five-stars meal here," he growled, his voice vibrating through you.
You've never heard him like this—all pent-up as he gets drunk on your slick, sounds and body. The thought of that was enough to make you rocked your hips against his mouth and Sunghoon lets you do it, letting you ride his tongue. He continued to finger you while fucking you with his tongue.
The double pentration drew a series of angelic, sinful sounds from you. Sounds that you never thought you were capable of making. You can feel your climax coming, with how the pressure kept building as it coiled tighter and tighter in your stomach, like a rubberband being stretched to its limit—
Only for him to pull out, both fingers and tongue.
"Wha—"
"Can't have you cumming on my fingers and mouth. I'd rather have you cum on my cock instead."
Maybe it's the way he said it without hesitation. Maybe it's how firm he is, knowing the effect he has on you. Maybe it's the determined and desired look in his eyes. Whatever it was, it drew an soft, involuntary and needy whine from you. Sunghoon situated himself in between your legs. He aligned himself against your entrance and slowly pushes in.
You felt his mushroomy tip breaching past your folds, sinking deeper and deeper until he eventually bottomed out, buried to the hilt. Your mouth dropped open, forming an "O" shape. You felt impossibly full, like you were being split apart on his cock. Heck, you sworn you could feel him hitting the back of your throat, with how deep he is inside you.
Sunghoon fisted the sheets, twisting them between his fingers while resisting the tempting urge to just pound you six ways into heaven. He doesn't want you to feel uncomfortable and gods, if anything happen to you, he wouldn't know how to continue living after that.
"C-Can't-" You choked out, your pussy being stretched obscenly wide to accomdate to the huge grith of his cock.
He was quick to reassure you. "Shh, it's okay, princess. Just take a deep breath for me, alright? And then breathe out."
You copied him, managing to calm down. Sunghoon took that as his cue to move, pulling out until only the tip was still inside you before sheathing himself back in.
"Fuck!"
You moaned, wrists evidently straining against the temporary bondage as he repeats the movement, setting an even pace. He thrusted into you whole holding himself upright with just his hands. Sunghoon gritted his teeth at how you kept sucking him in, how there was close to no resistance at every thrust.
The hotel room was filled with the lewd, obscene sounds of skin slapping against skin, his balls slapping against your inner thighs along with your pleasured moans that gradually get higher and higher. Until he had to duck his head, muffling it by kissing you while swallowing it down his own throat, treating it like an offering from the Gods themselves.
With your lips still interlocked, Sunghoon slung your legs around his waist as he bends you forward, putting you in a mating press. The new position allowed him to hit deeper. You sworn you can feel his tip constantly kissing the entrance to your womb. You couldn't keep up with the kiss, simply moaning and babbling incoherent words that sounded a lot like "more", "please" and "Sunghoon".
Whatever it was, it seemed to do the trick on him. Your bodies were covered in a layer of sweat with salty droplets rolling down his back. Some even landed on the sheets as they trickled down his face. He glanced down, his thrusts faltering mid-motion when he saw a bump on your stomach. A bump made by him, due to how big he is.
He moved his left hand and pressed down on it.
His action elicited a high-pitched keen from you which to him, it was the most delicious sound he has ever heard from you. Sunghoon's mind spins, starting to spiral as he began to wonder: how will you look when you carry his children in the future? How will you treat them?
The thoughts kept flooding his mind and with the newfound vigor, he ruthlessly pounded into you like a madman. You whimpered at the sudden change of speed, body going limp against the sheets as you struggled.
"Gonna make you carry my kids. Pump this pretty little pussy full of my cum," he snarled, seemingly lost in his own world and thoughts.
You moaned, instinctively clenching down on him at his words. Sunghoon cursed, hand snaking down to rub at your clit, timing it with his thrust.
"Yeah? You'd like that, don't you? Walking around in the office with everyone not knowing you're carrying my children," he cooed, voice lowering an octave.
You frantically nodded your head, too far gone and intoxicated on the feeling of his cock constantly hitting that one spongy spot hidden between your gummy walls.
"Mhm! Please, m-more-hah."
Sunghoon continued fucking into you at a faster pace, if that was even possible. The bed creaked at every movement with the bedframe slamming against the wall. He knows he'll be getting a complaint from the hotel staff tomorrow but that's for future him to handle. Now, he has a more important issue to settle. The issue that comes in the form of impregnating you.
It took a few more long and timed thrusts for you to feel your climax reaching.
"G-Gonna cum-pleasepleaseplease," you babbled, too cockdrunk to think straight.
Sunghoon took pity on you. "Yeah? You wanna cum, pretty girl? Then cum for me."
He delivered one final thrust, burying himself to the hilt and you cum while chanting his name like a sacred prayer. Your walls violently convulsed around him, milking him dry as body-length shudders traveled through your body. Sunghoon was quick to follow suit. He spilled thick and hot cum inside you, painting your gummy walls in the shade of his cum.
You grimanced at the uncomfortable feeling of being pumped full, able to feel how bloated your stomach felt afterwards. Sunghoon didn't pull out. Instead, he collapsed onto you with an "oof" and you made a disgusted sound, reaching out to weakly smacked the back of his head.
"Ow!"
"Get off of me. You're gonna crush me to death," you retorted.
Sunghoon rolled his eyes but obliged. He pulled out first, drawing a hiss from you and he laid beside you. None of you said a word, laying on the same bed, bodies covered in sweat and body fluids as you stared at the ceiling, trying to catch your breath. You ended up breaking the silence, wanting to address the invisible elephant in the room.
"…So, what does this make us now?" You asked, not daring to look at him.
"What do you want us to be?" He countered.
"You're not supposed to answer my question with your own," you retorted.
He chuckled, reaching out to place his hand above yours. When you didn't push him away, he took that as a green light to intertwine your fingers together.
"I'd like us to be partners. Romantically."
You snorted. "No one says that, Hoon. It's actually boyfriend and girlfriend."
He furrowed his signature, thick eyebrows. "What's the difference? They still mean the same."
You let out a long, heavy sigh. "Never mind, forget it. But sure, let's be partners. Romantically."
Sunghoon narrowed his eyes at you. "..You're mocking me, aren't you?"
You gave him an innocent look but the glimmer of mischief in your eyes said otherwise. "Me? I would never!"
He didn't budge an inch before pounching on you, fingers ruthlessly tickling your sides without a care in the world. You squealed, trying to push him away and shielding yourself but your efforts was futile. You can only make yourself small while he continued, your laughter and pleas of mercy bounces among the four walls of the room.
"S-Stop-pft-m-mercy-HAHAHA!" You exclaimed, gasping and heaving for breath with tears prickling your eyes.
Sunghoon stopped his tickling attack, only for him to lean forward with his hands now on both sides of your head, caging you against the bed. You stilled, locking eyes with him. He swallowed, eyes flicking down to your lips.
"There's something I need to tell you," he started.
"Well, that doesn't sound good," you teased—a poor attempt to lighten the atompshere."
He didn't react to your words.
"It's about the marriage the articles posted. I want you to know it's not real," he continued. Your heart dropped when you heard that. But despite it all, a part of you felt relieved.
"Oh."
He nodded, eyes searching for something in you. "Yeah, the marriage was set up by both of our families. They believed it's beneficial to both parties if the marriage goes through, in terms of business wise. My father also wants to use it to tie me down, so I won't do it again."
You frowned. "Do what?"
Sunghoon sighed, lowering his head before lifting them up again. "…The reason why I left without telling you was because I didn't know how to. The Parks—my family, is a line of business people. But I'm not like them. I wasn't interested in business. I was interested in law and that's something my parents refused to accept or acknowledge. No matter how hard they kept teaching me, I refused to accept it. It was torture, trying to learn something you didn't want to learn."
Your heart shattered at how small his voice became. You wordlessly reached out, cupped his face with your hands and he leaned into your touch, eyes fluttering shut.
"So I decided to risk it all, book a plane ticket to Australia and enrol myself in one of the law schools there. I didn't know how to tell you. It was out of a sudden. My brother found out about it and he supports me. My father, on the other hand, harshly rejected the idea. We fought before I left and he told me he'd let me go but in the future, whatever major decisions regarding my life is in his hands now."
Your eyes widened. "..And one of it was the marriage. It's to bind you to the Parks."
He glumly nodded.
"Oh, Hoon…" You sighed, craning your neck up to brush your lips against his in an almost-like kiss. He shivered at how heavenly the nickname sounds from you. The very same nickname he kept close to his heart since young.
"Your father's an asshole. It's your life, whether he likes it or not. He doesn't have a say in what you want to do," you continued.
"I know, which is why I'd be telling him to cancel the marriage tomorrow," he replied, determined.
You paused. "Uh, are you sure that's even possible? What about that fiance of yours? Will she be mad and upset?"
"Huh? No, why would she? She's just like me. Both of us didn't want the marriage in the first place," he pointed out.
"…Oh, okay," you mumbled, face turning as red as a tomato as you looked away.
It took him a few seconds to realize why and when he did connect the dots, he smirked teasingly. "Don't tell me you were jealous."
"I'm not!" You defended yourself, replying without hesitation.
"Mhm, sure. And I'm the president of Seoul," he answered with sarcasm seeping into his voice.
You shot him an annoyed glare, ready to shove him off the bed when he stopped you, grabbing both of your hands, causing you to stop.
"I love you," he confessed.
The words were raw and it's a deadly combination with the utmost sincerity in his voice. So deadly that it made you teared up. Seeing this, Sunghoon's features softened. He ducked his head so he can pressed his forehead against yours.
"Jeez, I guess you're still a crybaby huh," he teased.
"Yeah, but I'm your crybaby now," you fired back, voice cracking at the end.
Sunghoon blinked once. Twice before a wide smile stretched across his face from ear to ear.
"Yeah, you're mine. Forever and ever."
ITS OUT ITS OUT YALL
「 💌 . . . 」
ꪆ୧ NUMBER ONE GIRL ─── sunghoon smau
ᰍ৩⠀⠀ֹ ⠀exboyfriend!sunghoon x fem!reader⠀⠀ㅋᩚㅋᩚ
warnings : narcissistic personality, cheating, manipulation, gaslighting, sexting, cursing
🗯️ JO’s NOTES < 🐻❄️ 3 ! : i had fun coming up with this , also part two & taglist ????
「 001 , 002 . . . 」
TAGLIST : @wonscrchy @miniij @ni-kichromeheartzz @evansfangz @jakeycakeys @addictedtohobi @babydumplingpandabamboo @simjakeyjake @angelhyuka @nodoubtily @chanchamm @ni-k1ttie @yangw0ni3 @mystgene @enheenie
i need more. im being so fed rn.