[ { PAIRINGS } ] †jjk men x f!reader. gojo x f!reader. geto x f!reader. toji x f!reader. choso x f!reader. sukuna x f!reader. nanami x f!reader.
[ [ chapters mlist } ]
ââ"SUCH A GOOD FUCKIN' SLUT," Geto groaned out to you, voice slightly strained and laced with raspiness.
The man is just perfect right now. You're in his apartment now, sitting prettily right in between Geto's muscular thighs. He couldn't even make it to his damn bedroom, he dragged you into the living room and started undoing his belt before you could even process anything.
He didn't care that Gojo was probably trying to sleep in his room, didn't care that he'd be able to hear what was happening, and actually told you he'd like it if his friend heard. You weren't trying to be quiet either.
You managed to reduce Geto to this state after all. His head is tossed back, his shirt long gone, his hair a complete mess, and Adam's apple bobbing with each deep swallow he takes as you suck him off. Geto's not concealing his groans in the slightest.
"Aagh... Shit-," He breathes, shifting his head so he can look down at the sight in front of him. "Juust like that. All the way down your fuckin' throat." Geto encourages.
For starters, his cock is huge. Taking him down your throat was not easy and you definitely choked a few times but, he seemed to enjoy that feeling-- the clamping of your throat closing around his shaft, the wetness of your tongue still trying to lick at him, and even the gaging noise that emits from you.
A hand is carefully placed atop your head, urging you to go all the way down. Your eyes are struggling to stay both open and up on the man in front of you, water building up in the corners due to your actions.
"C'mon, that's it." Geto purrs with a lustful grin on his face.
He's not far from blowing a load into your throat. You've been giving him head for a few minutes and he's not sure he was mentally prepared for you to be this damn good. The fact that you keep looking him in the eyes as you throat his cock only makes it worse. Geto wonders if you're aware of the way you look right now.
"F-Fuck," He curses, taking a handful of your hair into his grip and pulling you off him.
Your tongue hangs out your mouth as you pant in an attempt to catch your breath. Your eyes remain up on Geto's, noticing that he's got one arm held over his mouth. You had him seconds away from letting out sounds he'd be embarrassed by-- only he knows that he was nearly on the verge of whimpering because of that damn mouth of yours.
Slowly, you look down at his member in front of you. Your eyes go wider than they had been-- his dick is... pretty? You're not sure if that's the right word to use for it but you do know that you won't stop staring at it. Aside from the fact that it was just in your mouth, you notice it has a curve to it, something that makes your thighs squeeze together.
With the grip Geto has on your hair, you struggle a little while pushing your face forward. Your tongue presses into his shaft and you watch his body shudder.
"S-Shit, stop." He groans, tugging your head back again.
You chuckle a little and meet his eyes again, "Why?" You ask innocently, "Is it too much for you already?"
Danm you, Geto says mentally. He scoffs, "No, I just don't wanna cum yet."
"So... it's too much?" You tease, smiling up at him.
He releases your hair and sighs, "No." He repeats, sounding a little aggravated now.
Released from his hold, you push up on your knees a bit more and you're quick to plant a little kiss on the tip of his cock. "Then stop pulling me away," You whisper before swirling your tongue over him.
He grits his teeth to suppress all sounds from leaving him, looking off to the side to avoid the sight of you. He had it all under control just moments ago so, how the hell did he let you take over like this?
"Told you I didn't wanna-," His words are lost as you take him into your mouth again, "Shit, ha-ah..." He moans, head tipping back to rest on the couch again. Your hands go to his thighs to brace yourself as you suddenly deepthroat his cock. Geto simply chokes, "G-God... Fucking h-hell..." He stammers.
The sound of him struggling has liquids of your arousal sliding down your leg. The feeling is embarrassing but he still has your underwear so, there isn't much you can do about that.
You pull your mouth off him and tilt to the side, kissing along his shaft gently as you look up at him again. He looks completely out of it. "Thought you could handle this kinda thing, Sugu... What happened?" You whisper against him in between pecks.
His eyes are on the ceiling. "Don't call me that..." He whispers in response.
You giggle before sliding down to lick the base of his dick. "Would you rather me keep calling you a pervert?" You ask gently.
His cock twitches and you think you see him cum a little as your words grace his ears. Geto doesn't respond to you though, he just groans-- the sound being the most he can manage by this point.
"Oh, so you weren't lying," You say before dragging your tongue up against him and pulling away once you reach his tip. "You really do like being degraded..." You murmur.
"S-Shut up," Geto demands.
You smirk, "Make me."
He doesn't even move. You've got his brain stuttering by this point. He wanted to move to do something, y'know, fuck you til' you're the one stuttering. And he will... eventually. But as of right now, followed by your words are you moving to suck him off again.
The moment your mouth closes around him again he can't help but grunt. This time around, you're purposefully loud as you bob your head up and down. Slurping and sucking fills the room, accompanied by the deep guttural groans and moans of Geto Suguru.
You lift your mouth to focus on his tip, your hand moving to make up for the rest of his length in quick strokes. You rotate your tongue and hand in sync, doing what you hope is best to please the man.
And boy does that do it for him.
Geto lets it out-- he whines.
You think you feel something slip out of your sex in reaction and you pray that you didn't just cum from the sound of him whining alone. However, that's exactly what it felt like because a moan leaves you and sends vibrations against his member.
"A-Angh... F-Fuck, okay, okay..." Geto begs, wanting you to stop and continue at the same time. "'M gonna cum if you keep-," His jaw drops and another whine leaves him.
You take your mouth away, "Look at me." He does, his eyes noticeably glossy. Your hand continues its menstruation while you speak in a low tone, "That's it," You utter, mocking his earlier words to you. "Now cum for me, Sugu... Please?" You ask.
Geto isn't sure if it was your words, the please you uttered, the way your hand felt, the facial expression you had, or even the way you took him back into your mouth after asking him to cum but... he does. His mouth is open as he experiences an orgasm, seed spilling into your mouth and sliding down your throat while you stroke him through it.
Between his moans, you can hear him whining continuously. Each one upsets him-- you shouldn't have this effect on him but, you do.
By the time he's done and you pull off him, the sound of his phone buzzing beside him is heard. You'd reflexively swallowed down what he gave to you and both of you are panting as you try to collect yourselves.
Once Geto gets himself in order, he grabs his phone with a slightly shaky hand he hopes you don't notice (you definitely did).
He sighs at first, then you see him smile almost wickedly. "Well, shit. Someone's pissed." Geto says with a laugh.
You wipe your mouth off with the back of your hand and give the man curious eyes. Geto glances down at you and then turns his phone so that you can see what he's referring to.
Shown to you are Gojo and Geto's text messages, the newest one from Gojo reading; 'In the living room, srsly? Fuck you man.'. You blink in disbelief, not knowing exactly what to say. Then, above those texts are messages from a few days ago and you spot your name being said by Gojo.
You try to read what the message said but Geto pulls his phone away before you can. "Guess he heard us," He says with another chuckle, finding his roommate's anger humorous.
"I told you we should've gone to your room..." You hum.
Geto types out something in response to Gojo and then clicks his phone off, tossing it aside and looking down at you. "And I told you I wanted him to hear." He says with a grin on his face.
You shake your head in disapproval, "Freak."
"You wanna get me hard again?" He asks with a scoff.
"Yes, actually." You say honestly, "You're the only one who got something out of this so far..."
Geto stares blankly for a second before nodding in understanding. "Y'know what, you're right, gorgeous. C'mon, get up here." He instructs.
Your lashes bat in disbelief. "Shouldn't we go to your room now....?"
"Nope, Satoru's gotta hear me fuck you too," Geto says cheekily.
You scowl slightly, "But-"
"But nothing. He was probably in there jerking off to the sounds anyway." He says with a laugh.
You wouldn't be surprised if that was true but you still didn't really want to continue knowing that Gojo could hear everything.
"Plus," Geto continues, his thighs spreading even further, "He's gonna hear you either way." He informs you.
Well, if changing locations won't stop Gojo from hearing you then, you guess you'll just continue where you are. And, you can consider this payback to the man for making you do all of this anyway.
Your eyes drop down and you notice that Geto's sprung up again, his hard cock resting against his abdomen. A throb is felt from somewhere below you as you finally move to stand up.
When you do, Geto's eyes widen. "Told you," He says suddenly.
You raise a brow at him.
He nods his chin toward you, "I made you cum without even touching you."
Your eyes sink down to yourself and embarrassment floods through you. "T-That wasn't because of you..." You lie.
Geto tilts his head, "Yeah? So who caused that, hm?"
"Doesn't matter." You sigh, brushing the topic off entirely.
The man chuckles at you and you move your hands to the bottom of your dress, slowly raising the item up and soon over your head. Geto's eyes are all over you as you drop the dress on the floor to the side and move to take off your bra along with it.
He swallows hard while you move slowly to take everything off. Precum seeps out the tip of his dick when you finally slide your bra off and meet his eyes.
"Fuck, he was right." Geto sighs, causing you to raise a brow, "You are sexy." He compliments.
With a roll of your eyes, you move to straddle the man. "You're just now noticing?" You ask him with a scoff.
He smiles up at you, his large hands finding themselves on your waist. "No, I'm just now saying it aloud." He corrects.
You place one hand on his shoulder and the other moves down to align his cock with your entrance. You give him a breathy laugh in response and ease yourself down until you're pressed against his tip.
Geto's staring into your eyes as you do so, watching the way you start blinking as if to prepare yourself. "Don't get all scared on me now," He coos.
Your gaze flicks to his. His face is much closer to you now and as you peer into those eyes of his, you notice how pretty his irises are. They aren't just brown, there's a hint of purple in them. Good god, where did Gojo even find this man?
You swallow hard and remain unresponsive to Geto as you admire his eye color. He simply stares back for a minute before his grip on your waist grows surprisingly tight and he starts pulling your body down on him.
The intense eye contact remains as his cock begins to enter you and your lips part to release a shaky breath. About halfway in, you moan and both your arms move to wrap around the man's neck.
Geto smirks at you, still refusing to move his gaze from yours, "You better fuckin' take it," He whispers to you.
"Mm-mmhm," You hum in response, too engrossed in trying to get yourself all the way down to speak.
Your faces draw closer together and he presses his lips to yours as you finally sink all the way down on him. Your lips are quick to part in a moan against him. The kiss you two share is slow at first, matching the steady pace of your hips moving up and down his length.
The sound of your tongues slotting against one another accompanied by the slickness of your cunt swallowing Geto's cock fills the air. Occasionally, Geto would groan into your mouth as you both get used to one another.
It takes you longer than him to get used to the feeling and position.
His length is much too big. Of course, he's sexy and has a big dick-- you're not sure what you were expecting anyways. And even though you just had him in your mouth, when he's stuffed inside you to the point that his tip perfectly kisses your cervix without much movement, you can't help but take a minute to adjust.
Geto on the other hand simply needed a minute or two to get used to the tight clamp of your soaked cunt around him. Hell, with all the teasing and taunting he did with you all night, he didn't even have to prep you. You were so wet that he slipped right in with almost no issue.
You feel his hands abruptly tighten on your waist again and he doesn't even bother to warn you before lifting you and allowing gravity to push you back down aggressively. You're little make-out session with him is broken with a loud moan from you.
Meanwhile, in the nearby bedroom is Gojo Satoru-- forced to listen to every sound that slips through the thin ass walls of the apartment.
Unlike Geto's prediction, he was not, in fact, jerking off to the sounds of you (for once). Instead, he is actually pissed about the whole thing. He doesn't know why either; he told you to do this, he agreed to everything, and most importantly, he needs you to complete this list.
You're unaware of it but, you're Gojo's only option right now. He wasn't lying when he said he was in debt to the people on the list and it's only you that's able to get him out of it.
"F-Fuck... hah, S-Sugu..." Your sweet voice hits Gojo's ears and he grits his teeth.
He wasn't jerking off and he didn't want to but... Fuck, your voice alone will get him every single time. It's intoxicating the way your moaning makes Gojo's cock spring up instantly.
Gojo looks down at the bulge in his sweatpants. It's the third time today. First was in the shower as he thought of you, then after he made out with you in the hallway, and now at the sound of you moaning his best friend's name.
The man has half a mind to leave his room and see if he could join. Geto would agree in a heartbeat and probably say something like the more the merrier. You, on the other hand, well... Gojo doesn't know how you'd react.
He can only imagine the lustful yet fearful look in your eyes, the shakiness of your voice as you ask both of them if they're serious, and the way you'd probably end up agreeing to it because you're just that much of a slut.
Gojo's cock throbs and he groans in frustration, flopping back in his bed and letting his head hit the pillows behind him.
The sound of a hand smacking against your ass can be heard and Gojo only wishes he was out there instead of his friend. "Take it-, fuck... j-just like that, good girl..." Geto is heard praising you, the sound of his stuttering making his friend smile to himself.
Gojo has never heard a woman reduce his best friend to such a state. Stutter? Gojo's pretty sure he's never heard Geto stutter a day in his life. So of course, the sound makes him smile-- it's funny to him how you just have the effect on everyone.
But, the constant clapping sound and lewd, yet vivid, noise of your ridiculously wet cunt sucking in Geto's length over and over and over again is both frustrating Gojo and making his cock start to hurt.
The man flips over onto his stomach and lets out an annoyed groan into his pillow, bringing another one over his head and closing his ears with it to try and drown out the sounds.
That doesn't work at all. He can still hear and even imagine everything going on in the living room. The worst part of it is the fact that it's you he hears the most-- your moaning, your whining, your slickness, and even your heavy breathing.
Gojo wonders if something is wrong with him. Maybe he's imagining the vividness of your sounds because there's no way he only hears you so clearly.
And that turns out to be one hundred percent true because Gojo didn't realize it but his ears had tuned his friend out and focused only on you. He swears he can picture the way your pussy looks sucking his friend in, how moist it is inside, how warm, and how fucking tight.
"Fuck." Gojo curses, his voice muffled by the pillows he's hidden himself under.
Then it only gets worse.
He hears you cum. How the hell does he do that? He's not quite sure himself but maybe it was the way you moaned or the way the constant plopping sound got louder and you're voice was all broken up...
Gojo could tell what position you guys were in and he just knew you had an orgasm as soon as Geto started thrusting up into you. You could be heard asking the man to slow down but, obviously, he didn't.
And Gojo's assumption was right.
You were currently making a mess of Geto's cock, moaning while the man uttered filthy words to you coaxing you through the whole thing.
"You're makin' such a fuckin' mess." Geto groaned, his hips busy thrusting up into you.
Drool was leaving the corner of your lips and you could barely keep your eyes open. "H-Hnngh... hah, a-aagh..." You moaned weakly, your body seconds away from going limp over the man.
Geto chuckles at the fucked out expression you wore, "C'mon...fuck, don't tap out on me yet." He hummed, his low voice not helping in the slightest.
Your hands shift a little and you claw at his shoulder before choking out nothing but a moan in response to him. Geto hisses at the sudden pain but he doesn't slow down.
"Hah... f-fuck." He breathes before his thrusts grow sloppy and eventually slows down.
Your body does go limp and you end up resting your head on his shoulder until he finishes, feeling him pull out at the last second and cum with a loud groan.
The air goes quiet, only the sound of you two panting heavily heard for a while. Your body shudders a little in Geto's hold and he notices your thighs are trembling ever so slightly, the sight making him grin.
"You alright?" He asks.
You nod slowly, "Mhm..."
"Sure?"
"I have to pee." You whisper.
He chuckles at how soft your voice is. "Go pee then, the bathroom's down the hall." He tells you.
You sigh, "Don't think I can walk yet."
Geto knew that but, he wanted to tease you anyway. The grin on his face turns into a smile before he fully wraps his arms around your waist and stands up with you, "This princess treatment is only a one-time thing, alright?" He teases as he carries you off.
You nod your head but you know he's still just messing with you.
Once you're carried to the bathroom, you tell Geto that you can handle yourself. The man says you can shower in that same bathroom and you're surprised that the guest bathroom even has a shower. Before he leaves you, he informs you that he'll grab you a towel and asks you to call him if you need him.
As soon as Geto shut the bathroom door and looked down the hall to his left, looking to see if his friend was going to come out and say anything yet. He doesn't and Geto heads to his room to clean himself off and put something on.
After a few minutes, the man finds himself back in the living room, cleaning all evidence of you and him up off the area you'd been in.
The second he's done and walks back into the hallway, Geto runs into Gojo.
The two make eye contact and Gojo appears to be annoyed while Geto seems pleased.
"You're an asshole, y'know that?" Gojo says to his friend.
Geto laughs at him, "Hey, no one told you to fuck my ex all those years ago."
"I didn't know." Gojo sighs in response.
A hand is placed on Gojo's shoulder and Geto shrugs, "You're all good now though, thanks to her."
Gojo scowls. "That was torture."
"Was it?" Geto says with a smile on his face.
"Yes, asshole. You guys could've gone to her place..." Gojo says, having assumed that's what was going to happen anyway.
Geto raises a brow, "And what about Shoko?"
"A hotel then." Gojo corrects himself.
"Mmmh, true." His best friend replies, shrugging afterward. "But this was more fun and I expected you to come try and join us at some point."
"Thought about it."
Geto blinks, "What made you change your mind?"
Gojo looks over to the nearby closed bathroom door. He hesitates for an unknown reason before saying, "I dunno."
His friend simply scoffs and shakes his head. "Well anyways, she's all yours now. Don't try killing me in my sleep."
"What?" Gojo asks, confused by his friend's words.
Geto gives his roommate a serious look. "I'm saying that I don't have any feelings for her so, you don't have to worry about me trying to get with her."
"Isn't that kinda fucked up?" Gojo asks.
The man beside him scoffs, taken back by Gojo's question. "How?"
"You made her take you on a date." He points out.
"And you set her up to have sex with your best friend...? Who's really the fucked up one here?" Geto says with a laugh.
"I-"
"I'm pretty sure she knows this was a one-and-done kinda' thing." He cuts off, removing his hand from Gojo's shoulder and turning away. "You're the one that has to try to earn her forgiveness."
Gojo's brows furrow, "Why do I need to..."
"Satoru..." Geto pauses and turns his head back, dropping his voice so low that only Gojo can hear him speak, "You can't have a crush on someone you're using to clear your debt."
"I-I don't have a crush on her." Gojo whispers back, "What the hell are you talking about?!"
Geto blinks. "Yes, you do."
"No, I don't."
"Yeah, you do."
"Nuh-uh." Gojo argues back playfully.
His friend laughs and shakes his head while turning away again, "Yuh-huh."
Gojo opens his mouth to say something else but Geto dips into his bedroom before he gets the chance. Then, the man comes back out after a few seconds with a towel in his hands.
Gojo's not sure why but, he moves and takes the item from his roommate, telling him he'll take care of you for the rest of the night.
Geto shakes his head, "She's gonna think I'm a shitty guy if you go in there."
"What, no she won't," Gojo argues.
"Uh, yes she will. No aftercare? How much of an asshole would that make me??"
"I'll tell her you went in your room, laid down for a second, and passed out."
Geto gives the man a dumbfounded look, "You're not serious."
"Good pussy puts people to sleep," He shrugs, "She'll take it as a compliment," Gojo says with a cheeky grin on his face.
"You're an idiot. But fine," Geto sighs, handing Gojo the towel and turning away. "And if she doesn't take it as a compliment, tell her the truth."
"The truth being....?"
"You wanted to see her, Satoru." Geto sighs.
"Oi, that's not-"
"Quit' being delusional." Geto cuts off as he enters his room again and closes the door behind him.
Meanwhile, you sat in the bathroom in a complete daze. You made your way to the tub and got yourself into a nice bath, patiently waiting for Geto to return. You heard him and Gojo talking but you were too out of it to make out their words.
Eventually, you hear a knock on the door and grant permission for whoever it is to enter.
To your surprise, a white head of hair pops into the bathroom and you make out Gojo's stupidly pleased blue eyes gazing at you. Your mouth opens to ask why he's coming in to bother you but, you're too tired to argue so you simply hum and lay your head back on the tub.
Gojo makes his way inside, closing the door behind him and walking over to you. He places a towel down on the edge and crouches down to you. Your eyes meet his and you wonder why he's so close to you.
"Hi Toru," You greet lazily.
Gojo's heart throbs in his chest and the nickname alone makes him smile way too fucking hard. "Hi sweetheart." He replies in a gentle tone, tilting his head as he studies your face, "Have fun?"
You shrug, "Yeah."
"Yeah? You sound sleepy." Gojo coos, moving a hand to caress the side of your face.
You unconsciously lean into his touch and shut your eyes, "I am..." You sigh.
For a minute, Gojo just keeps caressing the side of your face and you let him without saying a word. He admires your face, adoring the gentle fucked out expression you still have.
Slowly, you open your eyes when you don't hear him say anything. Kind blue eyes peer into your own, his look holding a surprising amount of affection you weren't expecting. You lean up a little, away from his hand, and then turn so that your upper half is facing him.
Most of your body is out of his line of sight, covered by the soapy water you made for yourself. "Toru?" You hum.
Gojo blinks, "Hm?"
"You okay?" You ask.
He smiles at the fact that you even asked such a thing, as if you don't appear to be two seconds away from passing out. "I'm fine, sweetheart. Why?" He questions.
"You keep starin' at me..." You murmur.
Gojo chuckles, the sound oddly attractive to you. He has a nice laugh. "I can't help it," Gojo sighs, "You're so cute."
You pout, "How...?"
He leans close to you, eyes dropping down to your lips. "You look like you got dicked down pretty good and I think that look is cute. 'S that okay?" He murmurs.
Your head nods in response and Gojo grins. He then inhales deeply and you watch his eyes widen. "What?" You ask, referring to his reaction to the smell.
Gojo starts laughing, again making your heart feel all weird because of how it sounds. "You smell like me." He tells you.
Your eyes mimic his own as they widen in surprise. You look down at yourself, as if that'll change the soap you've used.
"Out of the four soaps in this bathroom, how is it that you managed to use mine?" Gojo asks teasingly.
You frown and look back up at him, feeling embarrassed. "I dunno, I just picked the one that looked nice..."
"Don't they all look nice?"
"I mean, yeah but-,'" You sigh, "Stop teasing me Satoru."
"Aw, don't do thaat. Go back to callin' me Toru." He pleads.
You give him a glare, "I was half-sleep when I called you that."
"You said it twice though..." Gojo says with a pout.
You stare at the cute expression he holds.
Gojo slowly starts to smile the more you stare at him. Then, he tips his head to the side and moves his hands onto the edge of the tub. The man pushes to stand on his knees and then leans toward you. You lean back, soapy bubbles keeping your chest covered from his gaze.
Your lashes bat at him in confusion until your head meets the wall and you can't back away from him anymore. Gojo has an almost solemn look on his face all of a sudden.
The words are slow to leave your mouth but you manage to say something. "Lemme guess... You wanna kiss me now?" You whisper.
Gojo nods, the motion nearly desperate. "How'd you know?"
You sigh and shake your head at him, now moving to get closer to him, "You get this little look in your eyes when you want one."
His brows furrow, "You pay attention to me that much?"
You get suddenly flustered. "N-No..."
His heart flutters and he can't help but smile at you. "Fuck, you're adorable."
You move a hand to the back of his neck to pull him close and yourself up at the same time, "Shut up." You whisper.
Gojo's smile remains as your lips press to his and both of you share a surprisingly loving kiss? The gentleness of it makes both of your heartbeats increase. His lips are to tender over yours and he even moves to hold your face in his hands, your cheeks covered by his cold palms in a matter of minutes.
You don't know why the two of you are kissing like this but, it feels good.
When you pull away, your eyes are slow to open. "Toru," You whisper.
He smiles from ear to ear, his face suddenly reddened. "Yes, love?"
Love? Oh hell, that's a new nickname. It makes your heart... swell? Throb? Pound? You don't even know. Your heart just feels all funny in your chest. This is one of those moments where you forget the man is blackmailing you to do things...
You giggle tiredly, "I think 'm sleepy now." You mumble to him.
Gojo sighs, taking in all of your presence for a long moment before replying to that. "That's alright, you can sleep in my room." He hums to you eventually.
"M'kay." You respond softly.
And with that, the two of you are left in the presence of one another for the rest of the night, both having no clue what feelings are building up inside...
GENRE/CW: smut (multiple scenes), angst, fluff, porn with plot, down bad hee, switch!hee, lowkey subby hee, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), lots of kissing, cunnilingus, blowjob, dry humping, fingering, sexting, phone sex, mutual masturbation, multiple orgasms, marking, crying. mentions of nicknames, messy feelings, lmk if i missed anything!
WORD COUNT: 24.7k words!
SYNOPSIS: Money canât buy loyalty, and neither can years of friendship. After your boyfriend and your best friend decide to fuck each other behind your back, the only silver lining is Heeseungâthe one person who looks as hollow as you feel. It begins as a petty revenge kiss and a no-strings situationship, but what will you do if it slowly turns into something dangerously real?
A/N: hihi loves <3 sorry for the wait, i had to edit a few scenes but here we are now, i hope you guys enjoy the fic, also i love jaem (sorry jaem), moon nics ricey cameo lets gaurrr <3 all likes, comments, reblogs are highly appreciated! it keeps me motivated! iloveyou all and happy reading <3
It really was a sight to see.Â
Your best friend pressed up against your boyfriend like theyâd invented the concept of gravity, her hands shamelessly roaming under the hem of his shirt while his mouth dragged along the line of her neck.Â
No shame, not even a flicker of it. To the drunk, sweating crowd around them, it probably just looked like another hazy corner of the partyâtwo bodies tangled in the dim lights, music blasting so loud it swallowed any guilt, if they cared to harbour any that is, but you saw everything.
To be more precise, you found out yesterday when they got bold enough to fuck each other at your boyfriendâs apartment, and oblivious enough to not notice your presence, or your low chuckle at the depravity of the situation. Instead of feeling mad, you felt that bone deep numbness. Why trust anyone at this point?
Emotionally unavailable, the label had never sounded so accurate, but was it truly your fault when you never felt the need to expect anything from him? It certainly was an experience faking your orgasms for him, but you cared on the deeper levelsâwell, till you found him balls deep inside your now ex best friend.Â
So you sat there now on the worn leather couch, legs crossed, drink dangling from your fingers, watching them like it was just another Tuesday night show.
âOh heyâyouâre here! Have you seen Mina?âÂ
The voice cut through the haze of music and chatter, slightly breathless. You turned your head slowly, lashes lowering just a fraction as your gaze landed on Heeseung.
He stood a few feet away, tall and striking even in the crowd, dark maroon hair tousled like heâd rushed all the way here. His sharp jaw was tense, brows drawn together in mild confusion as he scanned the room. The leather jacket hanging off his broad shoulders caught the shifting lights, and for a moment, you wondered how heâd react to the news of his girlfriend in the arms of his best friend.Â
You tilted your head, lips curving into a slow, amused smile that didnât quite reach your eye,Â
âyeah,â you said, voice smooth as you clicked your tongue, âright over there.â
You lifted your glass in a lazy gesture toward the corner, and Heeseung followed your line of sight. The shift in his expression was immediate and downright visceral. His eyes widened, pupils blown with disbelief as he took in the scene of Minaâs leg hooked shamelessly around his best friendâs hip, her mouth pressed to the underside of his jaw while his hands roamed with practiced familiarity.Â
The way they moved together spoke of stolen nights and secret touchesâmonths, maybe longer.
âTheyâre cheating,â you added lightly, almost conversationally, as if commenting on the weather as you took a slow sip from your drink, âbold choice, doing it in plain sight like this. Guess they figured neither of us would actually show up tonightâI mean, I did mention I wouldnât.â
Heeseungâs adamâs apple bobbed visible, a flash of hurt brewed behind his eyes, before it ignited this anger within him, âwhat the fuckââ the words slipped out rather hoarse, broken.Â
He didnât really look at you, eyes locked on them as if he couldnât look away. Before you could say anything else, he was moving, pushing through the dense crowd with single-minded intensity. You watched his retreating back for a moment, that same curiosity curling in your chest. It wouldâve been a sight to stay and watch the fireworks, sure, but you just got up.Â
You wove through the crowd without hurry, heels clicking softly up the narrow wooden stairs, each step carrying you farther from the mess downstairs.
The upstairs hallway was dimmer, and at the end of it, the balcony door was wide open, letting the night air slip in. You stepped outside, pulling a cigarette from the pack tucked in your jacket, lips closing around it as you flicked your lighter.Â
First drag hit deep, filling your lungs with that bitter, familiar burn. You leaned against the railing, letting the smoke curl out slow between your parted lips, eyes half-lidded against the wind tugging at your hair.
For a minute, everything felt almost peaceful, comfortable even, then the door scraped open behind you, and Heeseung stepped out, breathing hard like heâd run the whole way up. His hair was messier now, dark burgundy strands falling into his eyes, and his faceâgod, his face was a wreck. Eyes glassy with everything he was trying not to feel, cheeks flushed, mouth pressed into a thin, angry line.
Without asking, he closed the distance in two long strides and plucked it right from your lips.
A surprised little chuckle slipped out of you before you could stop it, and you observed how he took a deep, shaky drag from where your lipstick had stained the cigarette, holding it in for long before he blew the smoke up toward the dark sky. His free hand gripped the railing tight enough that his knuckles went white.Â
âFucking hell,â he rasped, voice rough, âhow long? Justâtell me how long theyâve been doing this behind our backs.â
âSince at least yesterday,â you said, âI walked in on them fucking in his dorm, didnât even have the decency to lock the door,â a faint smile ghosted your lips, âI just closed it again and left.â
Heeseungâs head turned toward you slowly, eyes wide with shock, the cigarette nearly slipping from his fingers, âyou saw them and didnât say shit?â
You shrugged, âwhat was there to say? They wanted each other, and Iâve never been the type to drown myself that deeply anyway. It just felt odd to see Mina do it, that part did affect me, years of friendship drowned for what? A guy.â
Heeseung let out a disbelieving huff, running a hand through his already tousled hair, âJaemin was my best friend, man. Weâve been tight since freshman yearâshared everything. And now this?â His voice cracked slightly, âfeels like a fucking knife in the back from both sides. They looked guilty for a second but didnât even bother following me here to explain themselves, though they did have the audacity to ask me not to tell you.â
You studied him for a moment through his ramble, the way the balcony light cast sharp shadows across his sharp jaw and the pained lines around his eyes. He looked devastatingly undone, yet there was something resilient in the way he stood there, refusing to crumble completely. The sight stirred a spark in your chestâthat familiar free-spirited curiosity.Â
You passed the cigarette back to him after a puff, âpeople reveal their true colors eventually. Itâs pragmatic to accept it and keep moving instead of letting it rot you from the inside.â
Silence stretched between you, thick with shared betrayal. Heeseung took another drag, then offered it back, his gaze lingering on your face with astute observation, like he was trying to peel back the layers of your calm detachment, he just couldnât understand how you seemed soâunaffected?
You crushed the cigarette against the railing and flicked it into the night. That proactive restlessness bloomed brighter inside you, eyes gleaming with mischievous insight.
âWanna do something fun?â You asked.Â
Heeseung blinked, lips parting in surprise, âfun? Like right now?â
âMhm,â you stepped closer, âare you okay with a kiss, Heeseung?â
His breath hitched audibly, throat bobbing, âaâa kiss?â The word came out hoarse, almost stunned. His gaze dropped to your mouth, lingering, before snapping back up, cheeks flushing darker, âyou serious?â
âVery,â you held his stare, âyes or no?â
âIsnât that cheating?â He looked devastatingly clueless even mumbling that question, and you raised your brow.Â
âYes or no?â You asked again.Â
He searched your face, the raw pain still churning, but something hungrier kindled beneath itâcuriosity. After a beat, he gave one slow nod making you chuckle.
You took his hand and led him back down into the partyâs suffocating crowd, and he followed without asking any questions. In the corner, Jaemin and Mina were still shamelessly entangled, her arms looped around his neck, his hands possessive on her hips.
You stepped straight into their space without hesitation, grabbing Jaeminâs arm to pull him back.Â
The sharp crack of your palm across Jaeminâs cheek echoed through the room, his head whipped sideways. Mina stumbled back with a gasp as the crowd around you froze, then erupted in murmurs and the bright flare of phone screens.
âWhat the fuck?â Jaemin snarled, clutching his reddening face, eyes blazing the instant recognition hit, âwâwait, Y/N?âÂ
Minaâs face drained of color, âweâwe didnât think you would show up tonightââ
You desperately wanted to laugh, but you maintained your character, cause how were they dumb enough to think that you wouldnât find out, especially when Heeseung did too.Â
âClearly,â you said, getting ready to lie beautifully, âHeeseung told me everything. How long have you two been fucking behind our backs?â
Whispers exploded outward. Jaemin fumbled for excuses, mouth opening uselessly.
âI didnât expect this from you Mina,â you mumbled, biting the inside of your cheek as tears started forming in her eyes.
âNoâlisten to me, we didnâtââ
âWhatever,â you continued, a crystalline laugh escaping you, âbe happy with each other, Iâll find someone better.â
You turned away from their frozen faces, and Heeseung stood right there, looking completely wrecked. Your eyes met his, like really met them. For a second everything else including the stares, the phones, the bassâfaded into background noise.
He looked at you like you were the only person left in the room, and maybe to him, you were.Â
You stepped in close, sliding your hands up his chest. His heart was pounding under your palms, doe eyes full of trust and anticipation for what was to come. Heeseungâs breath caught, but he didnât move away. His hands found your waist almost on instinct, fingers spreading wide and warm through your clothes, before pressing in to hold on tighter.Â
His gaze dropped to your mouth before flicking back up, nodding slightly as he understood the question you asked him earlier.Â
Which is why you tilted your head and kissed him.
You slotted your lips against his rather softly, just to test him at first. His mouth was warm, faintly tasting of smoke and the drink heâd had earlier. He froze for half a second, stunned at the easiness of it all, then let out this quiet, broken sound against your lips and kissed you back.Â
The kiss turned deeper fast, hungrier. Your tongue brushed his and he groaned low in his throat, the vibration rolling straight through you. You slid one hand into his hair, tugging lightly at the strands, while the other stayed fisted in his jacket, pulling him closer. Heeseungâs grip on your waist tightened almost painfully so, one arm wrapping further around your back to press you flush against him. His chest rose and fell hard against yours. You could feel every shaky breath, the way his fingers trembled just slightly where they dug into your sides.
It was messy, a little desperate. Tongues sliding, breaths mixing hot and uneven, the faint wet sound of it somehow louder than the music behind. He kissed like he was pouring every bit of hurt and anger and sudden want into you as you took it all, giving the same right back.
When you finally pulled back just enough to breathe, Heeseung was completely gone. Lips swollen and shiny, chest heaving like he couldnât catch his breath, eyes dark and hazy like his brain had short-circuited. A wrecked little sound slipped out of him, half-gasp, half-groanâas he stared at you, dazed and breathing hard.
Your smile embodied satisfaction as you leaned in again and pressed one slow, teasing peck to his parted lips, letting it linger just enough to make his breath hitch all over again.
Jaemin and Mina were staring like theyâd seen a ghost with their jaws dropped, faces pale, eyes wide with pure disbelief. The whole party had gone dead quiet around you, everyone watching, phones still pointed your way like this was the best drama theyâd seen all year (it probably was).
You laced your fingers with Heeseungâs, gave his hand a light squeeze, and tugged him toward the door.
âLetâs get out of here,â you murmured close to his ear, voice low and a little playful against his skin.
Heeseung didnât argue, just followed, still breathing hard, fingers gripping yours tight as the door swung shut behind you.Â
The cool night air hit your heated skin, and for the first time tonight, everything felt wide open again.
A rather loud screech right next to your left ear woke you up, and you wondered if the world had somehow been corrupted by zombies because thereâs no other explanation for such sounds, but your friend made it possible somehow.Â
You jolted, heart kicking once before your brain caught up. Sunoo was practically jumping beside your bed, phone in his hand, âone timeâone single time I decide to stay in and catch up on sleep and you create a fucking scene? Gosh, babe.â
Winter shoved the door the rest of the way open with her shoulder, hoodie sleeves pushed up to her elbows, hair still a wild mess from her deep sleep. She planted herself at the foot of your bed, arms crossed, eyes narrowing at you, âfuck, Y/N,â she said before her tone got softer, âare you okay? I fucking knew that girl was a snake from the first time she came over. And your boyfriend? I always hated him, al-fucking-ways.â
You were still blinking, eyes half open and not willing to adjust to the brightness. Right then, a chuckle escaped your lips at the memory of last nightâand you tried to remember the last time you felt so satisfied (maybe never?).Â
Sunoo dropped onto the edge of your mattress without waiting, âI always said we are your besties. The kind whoâd help you hide a body, no questions asked. Ride or die, baby.â
You sat up straight, blanket pooling around your waist, and opened your arms because of course they were right, âcome here, idiots.â
They didnât hesitate, Winter climbing on first, wrapping her arms around you like she could shield you from the whole damn world. Sunoo piled on top a second later, all limbs and very dramatic sighs, squishing the three of you into a tangled heap of familiar warmth.Â
âYeah,â you murmured into Sunooâs shoulder, voice muffled, âyou two are stuck with me.â
Winter huffed a soft laugh against your neck, âgood, because weâre not letting you deal with that snake ex-bestie and cheating ex-boyfriend shit alone. Weâre burning that chapter together.â
Sunooâs voice came out muffled too, âandâweâre keeping the video forever, that kiss looked cozy girl, what else did you doââ
You let yourself sink into the warmth for a long moment, the bone-deep numbness from yesterday easing just enough to let something real and grateful slip through. The sting of Minaâs betrayal was still there, but it felt distant nowâalmost coherent in its simplicity.Â
People drift apart, friendships end. Youâd always known that. What intrigued you more was how easily these two could make the weight feel lighter, their amiable chaos wrapping around you like a promise that some things indeed were here to stay.Â
Meanwhile, Heeseung was suffering.Â
Jay had shoved his phone into Heeseungâs face, close enough for him to make out, uh, absolutely nothing. It seemed like a blurry mess of lights until Jay yanked it back to show Heeseung a pixel version of you grabbing his jacket and pulling him into what appeared to be a passionate kiss.Â
The angle caught the exact moment his hands found your waist, the way his shoulders had tensed then eased up all at once. Heeseungâs ears burned red so fast it felt like someone had lit a match under his skin.
âBro,â Jay said, grinning, âthe video is everywhere, especially on the uni insta page for students. Someone made it into a trendâitâs actually insane.â
Before Heeseung could even form a coherent thought, the bedroom door slammed open hard enough to rattle the frame, scaring both the boys.Â
Jake came barreling in, hair still sticking up from sleep, eyes wild, âyou bitchâyou kissed Y/N? Sheâs mineâI called dibs on her months ago!â
Heeseung groaned, dragging both hands down his face, âsheâs not an object, Jake.â
âOh fuck youâyou know I like her,â Jake shot back, dropping on his knees.Â
Sunghoon strolled in next, casual as ever, one shoulder propped against the wall. He let out a low whistle and Heeseung wondered what the fuck is wrong with his friends, âso youâre what? Dating now? That was one hell of a plot twist.â
Jay sniggered, not even trying to hide it, ânah dude, you think he can handle someone like Y/N?â
Jake tried to butt in again, âI canââ but the rest of them talked right over him like usual.
Heeseung sat up slowly, the full reminder of the last night coming right back to him. The slap echoing through the room, the way youâd looked at him right before you kissed him, eyes bright with that reckless spark. The way heâd kissed you back like he enjoyed it. He swallowed hard, throat tight.
âDid I cheat on Mina?â He asked quietly.
The room went still for half a second, all three of them looked at him like heâd grown a second head. Jay let out a disbelieving laugh, âshe cheated on you while you were still together.â
âYeah but I kissed someone else literally a few minutes laterââ
âDoesnât matter,â Sunghoon cut in, shrugging like it was the most obvious thing in the world.
Heeseung stared at the blanket pooled over his lap, replaying the kiss againâthe heat of your mouth, the way your fingers had twisted in his hair, that soft, teasing peck you pressed to his lips after. It had been the best kiss heâd ever had. The whole situation felt far too complicated for the simple labels his friends were throwing arounf, and yet he couldnât stop the memory from looping behind his eyes.
Jay sighed, softer this time, leaning back on his elbows, âdid it feel good?â
They all looked at him. Heeseung didnât answer right away, he just swallowed again, the memory burning behind his eyes like it refused to fade.
You on the other hand were absolutely not functioning when Sunoo had a trillion questions lined up for youâall of which consisted of Heeseung. You three had just managed to make coffees when the loud knock interrupted you. A sigh was all you could manage as you opened the door to find your pathetic excuse of an ex standing there withâroses? Wow, he didnât even have the decency to remember that you were allergic.Â
He spoke up before you could, âI know i deserved that slap.â
Well, obviously.Â
âI messed upâI swear I donât want her.â He was looking at you with that pout he mustered whenever you both had disagreements.Â
You bit down your laugh, âyeah? So?â
âTake me back, baby, please?â
Right then someone flew past the door, and your mouth hung open as Sunoo straight up landed a kick on Jaeminâs thigh, resulting in him falling down with pain. Now, you laughed freely as Sunoo bent down to warn him, âstay away from her, okay?â
Jaemin turned to look at you, eyes wide, âwhatââ
âYou heard him, weâre over, Jaemin,â you shrugged, wrapping your arm around Sunoo as you both walked inside, Sunoo glaring at man till the door closed shut.Â
Jaemin stayed on the ground for a few more seconds, roses scattered around him, a thorn making him bleed just enough for him to roll his eyes.
That went well.
The afternoon sun filtered softly through the leaves of the uni garden, casting dappled shadows across the wooden bench where you sat. It had been three days since the party, and the campus still hadnât let either of you forget it. Random students kept approaching you in the hallways, the library, even the coffee lineâsome offering awkward condolences, others straight-up calling the slap and the kiss badass with wide-eyed admiration.Â
You sipped your mango matcha slowly, the garden was quiet now, just the distant hum of students walking between buildings and the soft rustle of leaves overhead. You felt normal, jolly even, like it hadnât affected you, but even you couldnât deny how good of a kiss it had been.Â
Too lost in the pdf in your iPad, you didnât notice Heeseung approaching until his shadow fell across your lap. He stopped a few feet away, hands tucked into the pockets of his jacket, hair still slightly messy and he somehow made it look good.
âHey,â he said, voice polite as it had always been, âcan we talk?â
You looked up, lips curving into an amiable smile, âsure, câmere sit,â you patted the empty space beside you on the bench and held out your mango matcha toward him, âwant some? Itâs good.â
Heeseung only cocked his brow, âsame straw?â
You blinked innocently, âyouâre saying that as if we didnât make out in front of the entire party three days ago.â
He stared at you for a moment, intrigued cause of your carefree answer, before he reached out and took the cup anyway. He drank without hesitation, the straw brushing his lips where yours had been moments ago, and when he lowered it, the corner of his mouth twitched.
You chuckled, watching the way his shoulders loosened just a fraction, âsoâtalk, whatâs on your mind, Heeseung?â
He handed the cup back, fingers brushing yours for a second longer than necessary, âIâve been thinking about that night. A lot.â His voice was quiet, almost hesitant, but his eyes stayed on yours, âthe kiss, the way you just handled everything. I keep replaying it and I canât make it make sense.â
You tilted your head, taking another slow sip before answering, âwhatâs there to make sense of? They cheated, we both saw it. I decided not to let it ruin my night and you were there. The kiss happenedâsimple.â
He let out a short, disbelieving breath, running a hand through his hair, âItâs not simple for me. Mina was my girlfriend, Jaemin was my best friend since freshman year. And so much happened in likeâan hour,â he paused, eyes searching your face, âdid it really not mess with you at all?â
You shrugged, âIt stung a little actually. Losing Mina as a friend after all those years felt kindaâodd? But drowning in it? Not really my thing.â Your lips curved again, âiâve never been the type to hand my whole heart over and expect it to stay put.â
Heeseung watched you for a long moment, âyou make it sound so coherent,â he muttered, almost to himself, âlike itâs all justâlogical. Meanwhile Iâve been walking around campus getting stopped by random people asking if weâre together now. Itâs been three days and I still feel like my headâs spinning.â
You laughed lightly, âsame here, a guy offered to buy me coffee because I deserved better, Itâs weirdly entertaining.â
Heeseungâs mouth twitched into a half-smile, the first real one youâd seen from him today, âyeah, even my friend Jake was sort of, how do I even put it? But yeah, he wasnât thrilled, hes got some crush on you.âÂ
Your eyes sparkled, âwait, isnât he the cute one with an accent? I like him.â
He shook his head at how you would probably encourage Jake, the thought was rather unsettling, then looked at you again, more serious, âbut, yâknowâthe kiss, that part wasnât just for show.â
That made you pause for a moment, and you held his gaze, intrigued by the way he was looking at youâlike he was trying to figure out how someone could be so calm in the middle of the wreckage.
âSo what are you saying?â You asked, voice soft but direct, âyou regret it?â
âNo,â he answered almost immediately, âI donât regret it, thatâs the problem. It felt good and I keep wondering what the hell that means when everything else is such a mess.â
You leaned back against the bench, letting the sun warm your face for a second, âit doesnât have to mean anything big, I meanâwe both got screwed over.â You watched how pretty he looked under the sunlight, lips slightly red cause heâd been biting them, âmaybe we donât overthink it. Maybe we justâjust see where it goes.â
Heeseung took the cup again, fingers brushing yours once more, and this time he didnât pull away right away, âyouâre really okay with that?â
You smiled, âIâm okay with a lot of things, Heeseung. Especially if they feel good.â
Neither of you said anything more for a moment. The conversation didnât need to be solved today, for now, sitting here with him, sharing the same straw and the same tension, felt like enough.
Heeseung has always been a man of few words, but even those little words seemed to disappear when you were around. And the worst part? You werenât even aware of it.
You werenât the one to intrude on anyoneâs personal space, and that included Heeseung, much to his relief (or dismay?), he was justâconfused.
A week had slipped by since the garden talk, and the quiet tension between you two had only grown heavier. Heâd spent the days avoiding Minaâs messages, the knot in his chest tightening every time her name appeared. But youâyou were everywhere. In literature class you sat three rows ahead, never together, but he stared. He couldnât stop noticing the way the light caught the curve of your neck when you leaned over your notes, the soft way your fingers tapped the edge of your pen, the small, absent smile that played on your lips when something in the lecture amused you. Every stolen glance left him more tangled than the last.
Tonight the restlessness had won. He pulled on a hoodie and walked to the 24-hour convenience store near the dorms, craving something mindless like his ride or dieâramen to quiet the noise in his head.
The annoyingly white lights buzzed overhead as he stepped inside, grabbing a basket and turning down the snack aisle, mind still half-lost in yesterdayâs class when youâd stretched and your shirt had ridden up just enough toâ
He stopped just then, cause you were right there,
standing in the middle of the aisle in soft pink pajama shorts that barely skimmed the tops of your thighs and a matching oversized hoodie that had slipped off one shoulder, you looked unfairly soft and warm, like youâd just rolled out of bed. Your hair was a little messy, and you were reaching up for a pack of strawberry gummies, the hem of the shorts riding higher with the movement.
Heeseungâs mouth went dry, and he wanted to slap himself for acting like a fucking creep.
You turned at the sound of his footsteps, eyes meeting his across the narrow aisle. A slow smile curved your lips, the same one that had been haunting him for days.
âHey,â you waved at him, like running into each other at midnight in pajamas was the most normal thing in the world, âcouldnât sleep either?â
Heeseung swallowed, stepping closer despite the way his pulse kicked up. The faint scent of your shampoo clinging to your hair, âneeded ramen, the boys emptied the fridge I swear,â he groaned, rubbing the back of his neck.
You nodded in understanding, âsame lowkeyâwas staring at the ceiling but then decided to get out.â You tilted your head, looking at him a little closer, eyes tracing the tired lines on his face, âyou look like youâve got a lot going on up there. Want to talk about it while we walk back?â
Heeseung hesitated for half a second, then nodded, âyeah, sounds good.â
You paid for your stuff together, the cashier barely glancing up, and stepped back out into the cool night air. The walk was easy at first, with absolutely no words being exchanged, your shoulders brushed every few steps, Heeseung kept his hands in his pockets, but he could feel the warmth of you next to him, the soft brush of your hoodie sleeve against his every time you shifted.
âBeen a week,â he said after a few minutes, âMina keeps texting, and of course I havenât answered. It feels weird ignoring her, but answering would feel worse.â
You hummed, glancing at him sideways, âI get that. Sometimes the easiest thing is just to let it sit there until it stops stinging, yâknow?â Your arm bumped his again as you walked, and you didnât pull away, âyou holding up okay with all of it?â
He just nodded, granting you a smile which made the corner of your lips lift up too, and he asked you the same, to which you laughed as if nothing had even happened.Â
It was so nice just walking beside you, even in silence, at this cursed hour of midnight, though Heeseung would argue and say that he felt more awake now than he did the whole day.Â
The dorm buildings came into view too soon, but then Heeseung saw something that made his steps falter on the pavement, body going rigid right beside you. It made you follow his line of sight, and of courseâMina was there, walking straight towards his building, head down and mind completely focused on her phone. She hadnât noticed you yet, but it was clear that she was going to approach Heeseung.Â
âShit,â he muttered under his breath, panic flashing across his features in a way you could feel it reach you too.
Before you could provide him with two words of comfort, his hand slid around your waist, fingers spreading wide and warm through the thin fabric of your hoodie. He pulled you in close, so close that your side pressed flush against his, the heat of his body juxtaposing the chill of the air. His palm was steady but his fingers trembled a little against your hip as you caught the faint scent of his cologne, it was clean and woody, just how you liked it.Â
âPlay along, please?â He whispered urgently against your ear, voice rougher now.
You only chuckled, leaning into him as if youâd done it before, slipping your arm around his back, fingers resting lightly against the small of his back. Your head tilted up towards him, a soft smile curving up as you looked at him. Heeseung was flushed cause, damn were you good at acting.Â
âGot it,â you murmured back.
Mina looked up at the exact moment, eyes widened at the sight, a gasp leaving her lips as she watched Heeseungâs hand slide lower on your back as you reached his dorm door.
You didnât even realize you were biting your bottom lip until Heeseungâs gaze dropped straight to it, his breath hitched, thumb pausing on your cheek as his other hand came up to cup your face, warm palms cradling your jaw like he was afraid you might pull away.
âCan I?â He asked, voice barely above a whisper, eyes searching yours.
You didnât answer, just leaned in, closing the small gap between you, and pulled him into the kiss.
Your lips met his softly at first and Heeseung made a quiet sound against your mouth, his hands cupping your face fully now, thumb stroking the apple of your cheek as he kissed you back. The taste of him was faint, a hint of the cherry juice he must have had earlier. Your own hands slid up his chest, fisting lightly in his hoodie as you tilted your head to kiss him a little deeper.
When you finally pulled back, Heeseungâs eyes were dark and a little dazed, lips parted and cheeks flushed. His thumbs were still stroking your cheeks, reluctant to let go.
Mina stood frozen a few feet away, face pale, cause she swore to herself it was an act, but this? It didnât seem like one.Â
Heeseung didnât look at her, just tightening his grip on your waist and guided you through the door, pulling you inside with him. The warmth of his palm stayed glued to the small of your back the whole way, steady now, like he needed the contact to stay grounded.
Inside the apartment, Jake was sprawled on the couch in the living room, a half-eaten pizza box open on the coffee table, some mindless show playing low on the TV. He froze mid-bite when he saw you, eyes going wide.
You smiled, bright and completely at ease, like showing up at this hour with Heeseungâs arm still around you was the most normal thing in the world, âohâhey. Jake, right?â
âY/N? Uh yesâhi, youâre here?â Jake stuttered, making Hee roll his eyes.
You just walked over to him, dropping onto the couch beside him acting all normal though your heartbeat said otherwise, âyeah! Mind if I steal a bite?â
Jake blinked, then grinned like an idiot and lifted the slice he was holding right to your mouth, âhere, go for it.â
You leaned in and took a bite straight from his hand, cheese stretching between your fingers as you chewed, âmhm, this is actually good, thanks.â
Jakeâs face lit up even more, âright? You can have the whole slice if you want.â
Heeseung stood there watching the whole thing, jaw tight. He lasted about five seconds before he groaned low in his throat, âalright, thatâs enough.â He crossed the room in two quick strides, caught your wrist gently but firmly, and tugged you up from the couch, âcâmon.â
You let him pull you up, giving Jake a little wave over your shoulder, ânight, Jakey. Thanks for the pizza.â
Jake just waved back, still grinning, âanytime!â
The second Heeseungâs door clicked shut behind you, silence filled the roomâit was dim, lit only by the desk lamp, the air suddenly too warm and too small. Heeseungâs back pressed against the door, eyes dark and fixed on you before he walked over and plopped on his bed.Â
You clicked your tongue, tilting your head at him, ânow sheâs gonna think weâre dating.â
Heeseung rubbed a hand over his face, looking genuinely sorry, âyeahâI know. Iâm so sorryâI just panicked and pulled you into this whole thing. You didnât have to go along with it.â
You shrugged, stepping closer until you were right in front of him. Then, without warning, you turned and sat right down on his lap, straddling his thighs like it was the most natural thing in the world. Heeseungâs breath caught, hands instinctively landing on your hips to steady you, eyes wide with surprise.
âI did kiss you first at the party,â you said, âso itâs kinda my fault too.â
Heeseungâs fingers flexed on your hips, holding you there. He gulped, throat bobbing visibly as he looked up at you, âso, now what?â he asked, voice rough.
You shrugged again, still sitting comfortably on his lap, fingers playing with the collar of his hoodie, âitâs your call, Hee.â
You kept talking as Heeseung pondered deeply about his choices. He didnât register you saying something about how Jakeâs face was priceless because Heeseung wasnât listening anymore. His eyes had dropped to the exposed line of your clavicle where your hoodie had slipped down, tracing the smooth skin there, then moving up to your lipsâstill a little shiny from the greasy pizza, slightly parted as you spoke. The way you were sitting on him, the soft weight of you on his thighsâit was too stimulating for him.Â
He didnât say anything, just leaned in and kissed you hard, mouth practically crashing into yours, one hand sliding up to cup the back of your neck, the other staying firm on your hip to keep you right where you were. There was nothing hesitant about it this timeâit was hungry, deep. His tongue brushed yours, and he groaned quietly into the kiss, the sound vibrating against your lips. You could feel the way his fingers tightened in your hair, the way his chest rose and fell fast against yours, the way his body reacted instantly to having you on his lap like this.
You kissed him back just as hard, hands sliding up his chest to fist in his hoodie. A soft moan slipped out of you when he sucked on your bottom lip, and Heeseung made this low, wrecked sound in response, hips shifting under you.
âFuck,â he breathed against your mouth, barely pulling back, âthis okay? Tell me if you want to stop.â
You shook your head, lips brushing his as you answered, voice already breathy, âdonât stopâkeep going.â
He groaned and kissed you harder, tongue sliding against yours as one hand slid under your hoodie, palm warm on your bare back. You rocked your hips down against him and he moaned into your mouth, the sound raw.
You pulled back just enough to speak, forehead resting against his, âwe doing this then?â You breathed against his lips, âno strings, just whenever we want or need?â
Heeseung swore you could read minds, âyeah,â he sighed in pleasure, âI want thatâyou and me, no strings.â
You smiled against his lips and kissed him again, deeper, grinding down slowly, âgood fucking boy.â
He groaned louder, the sound vibrating through you as his fingers dug into your thighs, âshitâIâve been so fucking pent up,â he muttered between kisses, hips rolling up to meet yours, âall week because of you.â
You moaned softly, rocking against him again with a chuckle, âthatâs adorable, keep going, yeah? Donât stop.â
He flipped you suddenly, laying you on your back and settling between your thighs. The new position made you both moanâthe weight of him pressing you into the mattress, lips chasing yours mindlessly as his tongue slid against yours, hand tracing higher under your hoodie, hips grinding down slowly.Â
âGod, you feel good,â he muttered, pulling you down for another kiss.
You nodded, moaning softly into his mouth, âso do you.â
The room filled with the sounds of lips, heavy breathing, and quiet moans as you kept moving together, hands roaming, bodies pressing closer. The conversation faded into breathy words and soft sounds between kisses, and honestly, both of you didnât care about much anymore. You both were just two horny adults functioning on a verbal agreement with no rules whatsoever.Â
Outside in the living room, Jake had just taken another bite of pizza when the first loud moan drifted through the door. His eyes widened with betrayalâthe slice slipping from his fingers and landed cheese-side down on the floor with a pathetic splat.
He stared at the closed door for a long second, mouth still full.
âWellâshit.â
You didnât know that the consequences of spending one night with Heeseung could be so dire, granted you didnât go beyond some innocent humping which bestowed you with the absolute pleasure of seeing Heeseung desperate and flushed underneath you.Â
The question bugged youâwhy would Mina even wish to leave such a beautiful man whoâs very willing to provide pleasure?Â
You were still turning that over in your head as you walked down the hallway, iPad tucked under your arm, one AirPod in, but your mind was elsewhereâwhich was odd considering you never were the kind to just stand and ponder about random things, during the day time at least. The last time it happened was when you were a kid and Zayn had left One direction.Â
Regardless, you chuckled at the idea of Heeseung being the one to garner your attention, since you never saw him in that light beforeâsomething about friendsâ partners being inanimate to you. Either way, you started walking back towards your dorm since the lectures were over, only to be stopped by Mina blocking your path with a scowl on her face.Â
You raised an eyebrow, âhey?âÂ
âWe need to talk,â she huffed, looking rather tired, maybe with the way people stopped the second they sensed any drama, and why wouldnât they? You both were the centre of it given the circumstances.Â
âDo we really?â You gave her a lazy look, knowing well it bothered her.Â
Her jaw clenched. âYou kissed Heeseung. In front of everyone. While he was still with me.â
A couple more heads turned. You could feel eyes on you now, phones probably already sliding out of pockets.
You let out a short breath, almost a laugh, âwhile he was still with you? Thatâs rich. Last time I checked, you were the one fucking my boyfriend in his dorm with the door wide open. I walked in on you two, actually. So maybe donât lecture me about cheating.â
Minaâs cheeks flushed, âthatâs not the sameââ
âIt kind of is,â you cut in, keeping your voice even, âHeeseung didnât deserve to find out like that, neither of us did, but at least I didnât sneak around for months like a coward. And yeah, I kissed himâIâd do it again. Heâs too good for the way you two treated him.â
Minaâs eyes flashed with anger, âyouâre no better than me. You basically cheated tooââ
âBro, are you actually serious right now?â
A tall guy with messy black hair and a skateboard tucked under his arm stepped out from the edge of the crowd. Youâd seen him around in a couple electives. He looked Mina up and down, completely unimpressed, having seen the scene at the party in flesh too.Â
âEveryoneâs seen the video,â he said, loud enough that the people nearby nodded, âI literally saw you and Jaemin at the party. Youâre the one who cheated, leave her alone.â
A girl a few feet away nodded like she agreed. Mina glanced around at all the stares, lips pressed tight, then spun on her heel and shoved through the crowd, practically running toward the exit.
You let out a real laugh this time, almost like you couldnât believe this was real, that your own friend would turn against you in such a manner. Riki turned to you, one corner of his mouth lifting.
âDamn,â he said, âthat was satisfying.â
âYeah,â you agreed, still chuckling as you started walking again, âthanks for stepping in. You really didnât have to.â
He shrugged, falling into step beside you, âsheâs been trying to change the perception, i saw her lying to my friend earlier. Someone had to say it. Iâm Riki by the way, or Ni-ki, whatever.â
âY/N,â you said, bumping his shoulder lightly, âseriously, I owe you a coffee for that.â
âBet,â he smirked, already pulling his phone out, âjust text me whenever. Iâm free most afternoons.â
Ten feet away, half-hidden behind a cluster of students, Heeseung had stopped dead in the middle of the hallway. Jay almost walked straight into his back, headphones on so conveniently, he missed the whole commotion.Â
âYou good?â He asked, lifting one side of his headphones, âHeeseung?â He asked yet again when he didnât get a reply.Â
How would he? When Heeseung was deep in thoughts, the tips of his ears red. Everyone knew he was the guy who kept to himself, not the kind to insert himself into a fightâeventually leading to him never getting into a situation where heâd have to defend himself.Â
But you did it so naturally with not a single hint of him witnessing the scene. It was heartwarming to say the least, the way you defended him so casually but your tone clearly portraying the care you harboured for him, even if it was little (as per Heeseung and his never ending self doubt).Â
Before Jay could wave a hand in front of his face, Jake came barreling around the corner like he was late for everything in life, backpack slipping off one shoulder. Without missing a beat he lunged forward, locking an arm around Heeseungâs neck and yanking him down into a tight headlock.Â
âSpill it right nowâthe hell did you do with Y/N last night, huh? Iâm not letting go till you talk, dude, I swear to godââ
Much to his dismay, Heeseung pushed him off with ease, âthe fuck? Get off,â he said, staring at Jake who looked like he hadnât slept at all.Â
Jay was completely lost, headphones now resting on his neck, âwhat am I missing here exactly? What even happened?â
Heeseung groaned, ânothing happenedââÂ
âNah, he took Y/N to his room and then I heard moans. Moansâdo you fucking get it? Heâs actually fucking her.â Jake ranted, eyes blown wide.Â
Jayâs eyebrows shot up, âwait, what? For real?â
Heeseung shoved Jake off properly this time, cheeks burning as he fixed his hoodie, âItâs notâfuck, can you not yell that in the middle of the hallway?â
Jake threw his hands up, looking genuinely offended, âIâm sorry, I was trying to eat pizza and process the fact that my dream girl was getting railed by my roommate. You couldâve at least given me a heads-up, man.â
Jay let out a low whistle, finally catching on. He crossed his arms, which had gotten muscular somehow, âso, you and Y/N? Like, actually?â
Heeseung rubbed a hand over his face, ears still red, âwe have an arrangement of sorts. No strings attached, thatâs it.â
Jake stared at him like heâd been shot in the chest, âno strings? She deserves love, she deserves aftercare and pampering andââ
Jay was never good at hiding his amusement, especially if it consisted of embarrassing one of his friends, âyou sure you can actually do the no-strings thing? Youâre the guy who gets attached after one good conversation. Remember that girl from school who just smiled at you in the library and you were googling how to ask someone on a date at two a.m.?â
âShut the fuck up,â Heeseung muttered, but the corner of his mouth twitched with his mind drifting back to you.Â
Jake however, wasnât done. He threw his hands up again, âIâm serious, I even fucking dropped the pizza slice she ate from.â
Jay snorted, âyouâre never gonna let that go noq, are you?â
âNever,â Jake said, dead serious, âthat couldâve been our indirect kiss.â
Heeseung shook his head, finally starting to walk again so they wouldnât be late for class, âItâs fine. Weâre both adults, itâll be okay.â
Jay fell into step beside him, clapping him on the back a little too hard, âyeah, okay. Keep telling yourself that, I give it ten days before youâre buying her flowers and writing her name in your notes with hearts around it.â
âTwo weeks,â Jake corrected, still sulking, âmax.â
Heeseung didnât bother arguing. He just shoved his hands deeper into his pockets and kept walking, the stupid little smile refusing to leave his face completely.
You, meanwhile, had no idea any of that chaos had just exploded behind you. You groaned, sitting down on the couch, despising the silence that greeted you. Winter had gone to her family home for her cousinâs wedding, and Sunoo had conveniently decided to spend the night over at Hoonâs to torture him with some horror movie.Â
And you were here, unsure of what to do tonight, and the newfound interest youâd found within your exâs best friend.Â
Whatever this was, it was definitely going to be interesting.
Turns out, the night wasnât about to be boring at all. You had just gotten under the warmth of your duvet as your phone lit up, a text brightening your lock screen. Evidently, you seemed to be lurking in Heeseungâs mind as much as he had started persisting in yours.Â
Heeseung: you up?Â
You: thatâs such a fuckboy questionÂ
Heeseung: oh shit i didnt mean it that way
You: hm? whatâs it thenÂ
Heeseung: js felt like textingÂ
You clicked your tongue, rolling to your side, phone propped up against your fluffy pink pillow.Â
You: mhm sure
You: what are you doing rn then
The typing bubble popped up, disappeared, then popped up againâa proper reminder of how Heeseungâs personality shone through even through his texting patterns.Â
Heeseung: just lying in bed
Heeseung: canât sleep for some reason
A second later your phone vibrated with a picture, a selfie to be precise. It was rather cinematic how Heeseung appeared to look even prettier with dim lights, messy dark hair falling into his eyes, no shirt, just the chain he always wore catching the light. He looked way too good for someone who was just lying in bed, lips slightly parted and swollen like heâd been biting them. The angle showed the sharp line of his collarbone and that adamâs apple, a few marks evident on his skin, courtesy of you.Â
You stared for a second longer than you meant to, completely zoned in how beautiful a few marks made him look.Â
You: oh wowÂ
You: donât you look dashing at one in the morningÂ
Heeseung only let out a breathy laugh, clearly preening under your praise, as if he hadnât clicked eight pictures just so he could send you the most perfect one, in his standards at least.Â
Heeseung: your turnÂ
The corner of your lip twitched up as you sat a little, tugged the neckline of your oversized tee down just enough so the soft swell of your tits spilled over the fabric, nipples barely hidden. You angled the camera, snapped it, and hit send without overthinking, knowing that the reply would come within seconds, and so it did.Â
Heeseung: fuck
Heeseung: youâre actually evil
You laughed under your breath and sent another one right after, taking off your tee fully, letting him know how hard your nipples had gotten already.Â
You: now you. donât be shy baby
Heeseung sent back a shot of his hand shoved down his sweats, gripping himself. The outline was obvious, the tip of his cock peeking out above the waistband, flushed and already leaking. Then another oneâhis hand mid-stroke, thumb smearing the precum over the head. A low, rather shaky breath left his lips in the process, and he swore he hadnât ever been the type to be soâso evidently horny before.Â
Youâd say you bring out the worst in people, but Heeseung would contradict it with a goofy smile saying how itâs the absolute best. With that thought, he hit sent.Â
Heeseung: this is what you do to me
Your mouth went dry, the picture being enough for you to spread your legs under the duvet, only to push the duvet away entirely before angling your phone properly to ensure the slick on your cunt would be visible in the picture.Â
You: see what youâre missing?
Heeseung: jesus christ iâm actually throbbing
You bit down on your bottom lip, absolutely letting the pleasure of having Heeseung in control take over. So, instead of texting back, you tapped the voice message button and held it down.
Your voice came through low and teasing, a little breathy already.
âAw, poor baby, youâre throbbing just from a picture? Câmon, lemme hear how good it feels, hm?â
You sent it without thinking twice, and he was quick to listen, his dick twitching just as he heard your voice. A few seconds later his voice message came backâhusky, a little embarrassed, but clearly turned on.Â
âFuckâyouâre so mean,â he whispered, which almost came out as a whine, âIâm so hard it hurts. Iâm stroking it slow at first, like thisââ You could hear the faint, wet sound of his hand moving, âbut I keep thinking about how wet you looked in that last pic. Want my mouth on you so bad right now.â
You caressed your clit gently, letting your head fall back at his not so shy admissions. It was hot how he didnât shy away from speaking his mind.Â
âHmm, good boyâkeep stroking just like that. Faster now, I want to hear how desperate you sound for me. Tell me exactly what youâd do if you were here.â
His next voice message was even shakier, breathing heavier.
âIâd pull you on top of me, let you grind on my cock while you tell me how you want it. FuckâIâd let you use me however you want. Iâd suck on your tits while you ride me, make you moan my name louder, please take my name, please?â
You let out a soft, breathy moan right into your reply.
âYeah? You like when I boss you around, Heeseung? Touch yourself exactly how I would. Tighten your gripâI know youâre close already, arenât you?â
Heeseungâs voice cracked in the next voice note, barely above a whisper.
âShitâyeah, Iâm so close, your voice is driving me insane. Ah, fuck, wanna bury my face between your thighs right nowââ
You were breathing harder too, fingers moving faster. You sent one last voice message, letting your voice be sultry.Â
âThen cum for me, Hee. Let me hear it. I want you moaning my name when you do.â
That did it for him, he could barely even keep the phone in his hand, shivering at the hyper awareness of it all, of you.Â
Somehow, you knew exactly the predicament he was undergoing, and you decided to spare the poor man, hitting the call button to free his hands. He picked up after a single ring.Â
âFuckâyouâre actually perfect,â he panted, the wet sound of his hand still audible. âIâve never been this gone from just voice messages before.â
You laughed softly, sliding two fingers inside yourself with a quiet moan, âthen donât stop. Stroke it faster for me, yeah? Be good, I want to hear every sound you make while you think about fucking me.â
Heeseung groaned, clearly trying (and failing) to stay quiet because of his friends, who were in the living room. âFeels so good but itâs not enoughâI keep imagining you riding me, telling me to go harder, shit,ââ
âYouâre doing so well,â you praised, clenching around your fingers as he moans out your name, âimagine itâs my pussy instead of your hand. Iâm so fucking wet for you right now. Youâd slide in so easy, wouldnât you?â
âYeahâfuck, I would,â he whimpered, âIâd let you use me however you want. Iâd let you choke me while you ride me, I donât even care anymoreââ
You moaned louder, fingers curling just right, âyeah, yeah, just keep talking like that and Iâm gonna cum, be good câmon, youâll cum with me, yeah?â
Heeseungâs breathing turned ragged, desperate little sounds slipping out, âiâm so closeâgonnaâfuck, Y/Nââ
You came first, moaning his name all soft and filthy into the phone. He followed right after with a choked groan, trying to muffle it against his pillow but failing miserably, and god knows what would happen if Sunoo (who was there all thanks to Sunghoon) was to witness this.Â
For a long moment the only thing between you was heavy breathing.
Then Heeseung let out a soft, wrecked little laugh, making you grin lazily, âyou did so well, Hee.â
He didnât expect that, making him whine again, and you swore you could run to see him all flushed and blushing, âyouâre so perfect.â
Your breath hitched at his whispered words, gulping as you stayed silent, letting your breathing even out. He was quiet for a beat too, but his mind wasnât stopping at that.Â
âHey, uh I saw what you did earlier, in the hallway, with Mina.â
You blinked, surprised, âwait, you were there?â
âYeah. I was a little further back, but i heard everything.â His voice dropped, almost like he was in awe, âthe way you shut her down for meâdefended me like that without even thinking. It was really fucking hot. Couldnât stop thinking about it all night, thatâs why I texted you.â
You let out a low chuckle at how unpredictable he was, âso thatâs the real reason you were sending me nudes and moaning my name like a desperate little slut at one a.m., huh?â
If praises led Heeseung to moan, the degradation caused him to cryânot in a bad way of course. It was new for him too, as if he was learning about himself through you. And the voice you heard was beautiful, a broken cry of his desperation.Â
âI see youâre into degradation,â you pointed out.Â
âFucking hell, even I didnât know,â he breathed out, eyes closing.Â
You only smirked, getting closer to the phone now.
âWanna test how it plays out?â
âWhy the fuck did Hoon just tell me youâre fucking Heeseung?âÂ
It was rather hard to distinguish his tone when he sounded both impressed and mad. Turns out, he was mad since he didnât hear it from you first, then, he was impressed with how fast you moved on. Regardless, he didnât let you live that down, trying to force the group together, only to see Heeseung squirming and you being absolutely normal.Â
You were sitting cross-legged on your bed, still in the oversized hoodie youâd thrown on after your morning shower, when Sunoo burst through the door, Winter followed, sipping an iced latte and looking far too amused for someone who was supposed to be your emotional support. And so another interrogation session took place, which you survived (somehow).Â
Other than that, things had been normal. A few changes did occur such as you all having lunch together, even Winter invited her girlfriend, making the group seem livelier than ever. Jake made it his mission to sit next to you each time, and Heeseungâwell, he stared at you more than he ate.Â
That pattern followed you straight into your English lecture later that afternoon. You slipped into your usual seat in the middle row, barely five minutes late, when Riki dropped into the chair right beside you, and you looked up at him, surprised.Â
Heeseung walked in later, eyes on how you greeted the guy easily, and with that, he almost walked into someone. He could only manage to groan, because why wouldnât you talk to him? To be fair, you did talk to him, like a friend, but never more, no initiation of any sort. Heeseung was the one who texted first, and he didnât mind, but with how soft hearted he was, he probably wouldnât mind you texting first either.Â
That being said, Heeseung was basically sulk incarnate watching how you made plans to give Riki a coffee for some reasonâwas it a date? Why would you even like that tall kid? Heeseung knew you better despite the little time he spent with you. It was a given that you didnât offer much about yourself despite your outgoing personality, but he did know how you played with your nails, how your eyes go wide when you eat something good, and how fucking good you sound moaning his name.Â
âWeâre all going to the cafe,â Sunoo chirped the second you stepped outside after the class, Heeseung following behind to see all his friends standing there too.Â
You did find it odd how he was silent today, too silent, even worse when he didnât try to initiate any conversation with you, just falling into step with his friends instead. His hands were shoved deep in his hoodie pockets, shoulders a little hunched as the group started moving.
Halfway there he slowed down just enough to tug Jayâs sleeve, voice low and trying way too hard to sound casual, âHey, can you do me a favour?â
Jay only raised his brow, urging him to continue, âuh, so when we sit down, maybe ask Y/N something thatâll get her talking, like the stuff going on in her life, just anything.â
Jay stopped dead for half a second, then let out a loud, wheezing laugh that practically bounced off the buildings. The sound was so sudden and genuine that you actually turned around mid-conversation with Karina and Winter, eyebrows raised like you were trying to figure out what was so funny. Jay just waved you off, still cracking up as he clapped Heeseung on the back a little too hard.
âYouâre actually hopeless,â Jay wheezed, trying to keep his voice down but failing miserably, âjust talk to her yourself, what the fuck.â
Heeseung shoved him off, cheeks hot, âshut up, man. Justâjust do it, okay? Please.â
Jay sat there as a witness to Heeseungâs internal breakdown, and well, happiness caused by two seconds of your undivided attention. In the midst of it all, everyone gave their orders, famished beyond words for some reason. The table was lively still, Jake trying to initiate conversations with you, even though Heeseung had not so subtly kicked him under the table to shut him up.Â
Jay waited until there was a small lull, then leaned forward with that lazy grin of his.
âSo Y/N,â he said casually, like it was no big deal, âwhatâs the deal with you and Heeseung lately? You two been hanging out a lot or what? Heâs been weirdly smiley these days.â
Heeseungâs heart did a stupid little flip, face clearly trying to play it cool, but his eyes were glued to you, waiting.
You took a sip of your drink and shrugged, knowing that if you say anything remotely wrong, Sunoo and Winter would be on your ass about it, âitâs nice hanging out with him, heâs funny.â
Jay snorted at how Heeseungâs smile widened, âfunny, huh? Thatâs all youâre giving us?â
Before you could answer, Jake jumped in, mouth full of his cup ramen, which he somehow got into the cafe, âgod, I shouldnât have gotten Shin, Iâm telling you, nothing beats Buldak. You team Buldak too, Y/N?â
Jake immediately turned to you with those big puppy eyes, âcâmon, tell him heâs wrong. Buldak or nothing, right?â
Sunoo and Sunghoon couldnât even stand this, staring at Jake with the same expression of disgust, his fascination for you was genuinely funny.Â
You looked up at Hee, who waited for your answer with shiny eyes, then back at Jake again. Maybe teasing Heeseung wouldnât hurt, right? Especially when he looked so innocent and serious about your input as if it mattered.Â
âI mean, Buldak is definitely good,â you agreed with Jake, taking another sip of your mango matcha.Â
Jake beamed at the reply, bumping your shoulder. But Heeseungâs smile faltered for a second, and you almost frowned, not expecting him to surrender, âyeah, fair enough,â he muttered, staying silent the rest of the time, eyes flicking up to you every few seconds, while you observed him openly.
Jay only sighed, and somehow Winter was just as exhausted at the exchange, because Heeseung couldnât hide his feelings to save his life, and you?
You were missing the point of this little conversation entirely.Â
When everyone finally started packing up for their next lectures, the group split off in different directions. You noticed Heeseung hanging back a little, hands shoved in his pockets, shoulders still hunched as he walked alone. With a chuckle, you jogged a couple steps, and grabbed his hand.
Heeseung startled hard, eyes going wide as he looked down at your fingers laced with his, and how perfect your new acrylics looked, the touch being enough to make a shiver go up his spine, âY/Nâ?â
You only walked further, swinging your joined hands, âwhy so silent today?â You asked, looking up at him with a brow raised.Â
He let out a small breath, eyes flickering back to where your thumb brushed his knuckles, âitâs nothing, just thinking I guess.â
âHm, about how I picked Buldak over Shin?â You tilted your head, âyou got all quiet after that. Kinda cute, actually.â
Heeseung glanced away, the corner of his mouth twitching despite himself, âItâs not that, but Jake looked happy, soâyeah.â
âShinâs my favourite actually, I only said Buldak to see you fight back, but yeah,â you shrugged with a smile.Â
Heeseungâs head snapped back toward you, surprised, âwait, really?â
Heeseungâs steps slowed at the implication, and it showed on his face, mixed with the fondness of the simple fact that you noticed such little things. He wasnât the kind of guy who needed grand gestures, yes heâd appreciate it, but the little things mattered more.Â
âYouânoticed that?â He asked quietly, almost shy.
You hummed, then leaned up on your toes, lips brushing the shell of his ear, âyou can eat something else too if you want.â
That sent him into this mode of short circuiting, and before he could even form a reply, you let go of his hand with a bright, mischievous laugh and took off running ahead across the path, glancing back at him over your shoulder with that same playful grin.
Heeseung stood there for half a second, face burning, your words looping in his head like a damn song on repeat. Then a big, flustered smile broke across his face and he took off after you, knowing heâd catch up to you in no time.Â
âFuck,â he yelled, half-laughing as he chased you down the walkway, âyou canât just say that and runâget back here!â
He really hoped it could always stay this easy with you.
You fell on your mattress with a thud, the springs creaking under the sudden weight of both of you. Heeseung landed right on top, chest pressed to yours, mouth already chasing yours in a hungry, desperate kiss that tasted like the faint strawberry from his drink earlier.Â
His lips were hot and insistent, tongue sliding against yours like he couldnât get close enough, letting out every bit of his frustration into this kiss. One of his hands shoved under your hoodie and straight into your shorts, two fingers gliding through your slick folds before pushing inside you without hesitation. You gasped into his mouth, thighs falling open wider as he curled them deep, stroking that spot that made your back arch clean off the bed.
âFuck, youâre soaked,â he breathed against your lips, and you only sank in further, kissing all the way down to his neck, letting an open mouthed kiss linger on his adamâs apple, feeling it blobbing under you as he gulped in need, as if parched.Â
Heeseung let out a shaky groan, fingers stuttering inside you for a second before he doubled down, thrusting them deeper, curling harder, âshitâyouâre gonna make me lose it just from that.â
You smiled against his throat, sucking lightly, then dragged your teeth over the same spot while your hand kept working his cock in slow, tight strokes. He was throbbing in your palm, hot and slick with precum, hips twitching every time your thumb swept over the head, and you almost moaned cause he was big.Â
But it wasnât enough, you wanted him under you, wanted to watch him fall apart.
You pushed at his chest, flipping him onto his back in one smooth motion. Heeseung let out a surprised grunt as you straddled his thighs, yanking his pants and boxers down just far enough. His cock sprang free, flushed dark and glistening, curving up against his stomach.
Wrapping your fingers around his base as you leaned in to give his tip a slow kiss, making him moan shamelessly, âwaitâyou donât have to,â he managed to let out.Â
You looked up at him, lips brushing the wet slit as you spoke, âI know, I want to,â you whispered, âbeen thinking about having you in my mouth since you were sulking on the way here, just to apologize, yâknow?â
Instead of answering, you took him in, lips stretching around the thick head, tongue pressing flat against the underside as you sank down. The taste of him filled your mouth, salty and warm, and you moaned softly around his length.
âShitâbaby,â Heeseungâs hand flew to your hair, holding on like he needed something to ground him, his thighs tensing under you, âyour mouth feelsâso fucking good.â
You hummed in response, taking him deeper until he bumped the back of your throat. You relaxed around him, swallowing, and he let out a broken groan, hips twitching up before he caught himself.
âSorryâgosh I didnât mean to,â he whispered.Â
You pulled off just enough to speak, lips shiny, a thin string of spit still connecting you to him, âdonât apologize. Fuck my throat if you want to.â You stroked him slow and firm, eyes locked on his, âI can take it, I want you to use me.â
Heeseungâs eyes darkened. Heâd never done this before, sure heâd gotten blowjobs, but the permission to take in full control of it? Oh, he swore he was gonna die, âyouâre gonna kill me saying shit like that.â
You chuckled and sank back down, taking him all the way until your nose brushed his stomach. You held there for a second, throat fluttering around him, before you started moving, wet bobs of your head, hand twisting around the base.
Heeseungâs head fell back against the pillow, a wrecked moan spilling out, âfuck, fuckâoh my god.â His fingers tightened in your hair, not forcing, but guiding you a little now, testing the waters, âyou like this? Being on your knees for me?â
You moaned around him in answer, the vibration making his hips jerk. You pulled off with a gasp, spit dripping down your chin, âI like when you stop being so polite and just take what you want.â You licked a slow stripe up the underside, eyes never leaving his, âyouâre always so sweet, Hee, but i also know how desperate you are, wonât you show it to me like a good fucking boy?â
Heeseungâs breath stuttered, it was almost like a switch flipping. His grip in your hair tightened just a fraction more, and when you took him back in, he let himself thrust up a little, shallow and careful at first.
âLike this?â He asked, voice strained, âtell me if itâs too much.â
You pulled off just enough to speak, lips brushing the head, âHarder, I can take it. Use my throat, baby.â
The words seemed to break something in him. He groaned deep in his chest and started moving his hips with more purpose, fucking into your mouth in short, needy thrusts. You relaxed your throat and let him, moaning encouragement around his cock every time he pushed deeper.
âFuck, fuckâyouâre so good,â he panted, voice cracking, âso fucking good at this. Look at youâtaking me so deep.â His free hand came down to cup your jaw, thumb stroking your cheek while he watched himself disappear between your lips, âI didnât know I liked this so much, watching you choke on me.â
You moaned louder, the praise and the way he was starting to lose control making heat flood between your legs. You hollowed your cheeks, sucking harder, and Heeseungâs head tipped back again, a string of curses falling from his lips.
âBabyâslow down or Iâm gonna cum,â he warned, but his hips kept moving, like he couldnât stop himself, âyouâre really gonna let me cum down your throat?â
You pulled off with a wet pop, stroking him fast and tight, lips hovering just over the tip, âlet me taste you.â
Heeseungâs eyes rolled back as he came with a broken moan of your name, hips jerking as he spilled down your throat in hot pulses. You swallowed every drop, working him through it until he was trembling and oversensitive, little whimpers slipping out every time your tongue moved.
When you finally pulled off, lips swollen and shiny, Heeseung was staring at you like youâd rewired his brain. His chest was heaving, hair sticking to his forehead, eyes dark and hazy.
âJesus Christ,â he whispered, voice shot, âI didnât know I could like something that much.â
You wiped the corner of your mouth with your thumb, smirking as you crawled up his body and kissed him slowly, letting him taste himself on your tongue.
âYouâre learning fast,â you murmured against his lips. âand weâre just getting started.â
So, you were true to your word, because by the time you both stopped, all breathless and spent, it was nighttime. In the midst of everything, you both had managed to fall asleep tangled with each other. Heeseung was the one to wake up first, caressing your cheek as he stared at how peacefully you slept in his arms.Â
He stayed like that for a long minute, thumb brushing the apple of your cheek, watching the way your lashes rested against your skin. Something heavy settled in his chestânot regret exactly, but a quiet, gnawing guilt that refused to leave him alone.
Carefully, he slipped out from under you, tucking the blanket around your bare shoulders so you wouldnât get cold. He padded over to the window on quiet feet, pushing the curtain aside just enough to look out at the dark sky. The campus lights glowed faintly in the distance, stars barely visible through the city haze.
Heeseung pressed his forehead against the cool glass, exhaling slowly. What the fuck am I doing? The thought looped in his head. Heâd loved Minaâor at least heâd told himself he did. Theyâd been together for over a year. But even on the best nights with her, heâd never felt thisâfree, this wanted. With you, you didnât ask him to be anything other than exactly who he was in the moment, needy, desperate, a little mean when you pushed him, soft when you let him hold you after. Just a hint of your attention made his chest feel too full and that scared the shit out of him.
Because heâd sworn he loved Mina. But this? He wasnât even sure what to name this feeling anymore, and it felt dramatic when nothing had even happened, just freedom and the best pleasure heâd ever experienced.Â
The floor creaked softly behind him, making him turn his head to find you sitting up in bed now, hair messy, eyes still heavy with sleep. Without saying anything, you reached for his hoodie that had been tossed on the floor earlier and pulled it over your head. It swallowed you, the hem brushing your thighs as you padded over barefoot to stand beside him.
You leaned your shoulder against the window frame, looking out at the same dark sky. For a moment neither of you spoke.
âYou okay?â You asked eventually, voice soft.
Heeseung, however, was in deep thoughts of silent appreciation, because you looked beautiful, you always did, âyeah,â he let out a quiet breath, âI feel like an asshole for even saying this out loud, butâI donât remember it ever feeling this easy with Mina, even when things were good. With you itâs just different. Like I donât have to pretend or hold back or be anyone else. I donât know. That probably sounds stupid.â
You stayed quiet for a second, then bumped your shoulder gently against his, âit doesnât sound stupid. Youâre allowed to feel whatever you feel, Hee, itâs valid. You donât owe her anything anymore, and you donât owe me some perfect version of yourself either, okay?â
âYouâre too nice to me,â he mumbled.Â
You smiled, looking elsewhere for a moment as you gulped, âthatâs what friends are for,â you let out.Â
Heeseung turned to look at you fully, friends, is that what you were? Because friends donât do all this. So, Heeseung only managed to muster one question, hoping the reply would be enough of an action to understand if he was truly alone in this or not.
âCan I kiss you?â He asked, voice barely above a whisper with the hope to earn even something as little as a nod.Â
This means something more, you thought. This isnât just sex anymore, not for him. Truly, Heeseung wasnât even the kind to do this, so why did he agree to this? You wouldnât mind being a rebound for him but him getting attached would be a problem. Would it really, though? You shouldâve said no, but you found yourself being entranced by the beauty in his eyes.Â
So, instead you stepped closer, sliding your hands up his bare chest, and tilted your face up to his, âyeah,â you whispered, âyou can.â
Heeseungâs breath caught as he cupped your face with both hands, thumbs brushing your cheeks like you were something fragile, slotting his lips onto yours almost achingly gentle, this almost felt like a question and an answer all at once to him.Â
When he pulled back, forehead resting against yours, he let out a shaky little laugh, pecking the corner of your mouth once.Â
The reflection on the window catching on everything you both were too afraid to admit.Â
Honestly, the fault was yours for not discussing the boundaries or making one of those contracts like they do in the movies or books (though they never work), cause now, you and Heeseung had been hanging around way more often, some witnesses might even confuse this intimacy for dating.Â
Maybe Heeseung was one of them, because when he texted you to come over, you half expected sex, not sitting alongside him learning League of legends at two in the morning. He was unpredictable to say the least, but he did wear his heart on his sleeve, so you could see the bits and pieces of the things he craved, and right now, he craved your time.Â
You didnât mind giving it to him, but it did come with a cost. The second you walked into the room, eyes widening at this small corner of the desk where a mango matcha, a few blue walkers, and a pack of Ferrero Rocher was placed neatly, alongside two packets of cup noodles (just in case).Â
To Heeseung, it was normal, and you would have agreed had it been some synonym of aftercare, but no. It was just Heeseung being absolutely willing (and needing) to spend more time with you outside of your fancy little arrangement.Â
He had opened the door with a smile so contagious, you mirrored it as he led you inside. A small corner of his desk was full of snacks, a cup of matcha which he knew was your favourite, a couple of Ferrero Rochers because he saw you eating those during the English lecture. You stood there for a second longer than intended, staring at it all, then at the man who had already made himself comfortable on the spare chair, waiting for you with the same gentle smile he always carried around you, making you gulp for a second before you returned it.Â
âCâmere? Sit with me,â he said, patting his main gaming chair right next to him, and he half expected you to tease him for doing this, âI swear Iâm not trying to be weird, and if you donât wanna do this we can stop, or you can make fun of me.â
You let out a quiet huff of a laugh and kicked your shoes off before sliding into the chair beside him. Your knee bumped his under the desk and you left it there, the contact warm even through your clothes. Heeseung rolled his own chair closer right away, leaning in from behind you so his chest brushed lightly against your back, one arm resting along the back of your seat while the other reached around to the mouse, and you didnât notice how he took in your scent with a dreamy sigh.Â
âWeâre playing League of Legends?â You asked, and he nodded.Â
âHave you played it before?â He asked a little hesitant that youâd say you donât wish to play or indulge in this.Â
âNope,â you said, reaching for the matcha because your mouth suddenly felt dry. The cup was ice-cold, condensation dripping down your fingers as you took a sip, âIâm probably gonna suck at this, just so you know.â
Heeseung let out a small laugh, relieved that you arenât opposed to this, âthatâs fine, we can start from the basics,â he covered your hand with his on the mouse, guiding you through the first clicks. âYou just run at people and spin when they get close. Super easy, I promise.â
His fingers were warm over yours, almost careful like he was scared youâd pull away. You felt the way his chest moved against your back when he breathed, the faint brush of his hair against your neck every time he leaned in a little closer to see the screen better.
You clicked around awkwardly and Garen just kind ofâstood there swinging his sword at nothing, âthis feels dumb,â you muttered, but you were smiling a little, âI look like a robot trying to dance.â
Heeseung bit his bottom lip at the sheer joy of having you play his favourite game, even though you looked lost, confused, and too adorable, âyou donât look dumb. You look cute as hell trying to figure it out.â He squeezed your hand gently and moved the mouse for you, making Garen run forward. âSee? Just click on this, okay?â
You tried it and Garen spun like a big metal tornado, actually hitting a couple of the little enemy guys, âoh okay, that was kinda fun,â you admitted, biting your lip to hide the grin. You reached for one of the Ferrero Rochers with your free hand, unwrapped it, and popped it in your mouth. The chocolate melted sweet and crunchy on your tongue, âhowâd you know I like this.â
Heeseung shrugged, his shoulder rubbing against yours, âI pay attention to you, sue me.â He took the half you offered him without hesitation, biting it right from your fingers, his lips brushing your skin for a second too long.
You rolled your eyes but couldnât stop the little flutter in your stomach at how brutally honest he was. He pays attention, he set all this up just so youâd feel comfortable doing something he likes. This isnât what you signed up for, this is him wanting you around, not just in his bed. Stop feeling it. Stop.
The game kept going, as you died a bunchârunning straight into the big tower like an idiot, getting smacked by random enemiesâbut Heeseung never made you feel stupid about it. Heâd just lean in closer, chin resting on your shoulder now, arm wrapped a little tighter around the back of your chair, and murmur stuff like, âtry backing up a tiny bit next time, yeah?â Or, âyouâre getting the spin down though, that last one actually hit three of them, nice.â
You passed him chips from the blue walkers packet, your fingers brushing his every time. He took them without pulling away, crunching quietly while his other hand stayed on the mouse with yours, guiding you through another wave.
Heeseung couldnât say this out loud but boy was he thrilled. It felt so nice, so domestic to do something so simple with someone (you). He couldnât help but compare, simply because he didnât know the basic possibilities of the relationship universe, though you werenât in one. His ex never spared time for such things, indifferent about his interests, while you were soâsweet.Â
âYouâve done this before? Teaching someone like this, I mean?â You asked after a while, âor am I getting special treatment?â
Heeseung went quiet for a second, then let out a breathy little laugh against your neck, âspecial treatment,â he admitted, no hesitation, âand no, itâs my first time teaching anyone.â
You leaned back into him a little more without thinking, the warmth of his chest solid and comforting against your back, the kind of solace that you had never had the pleasure of experiencing before. Was it supposed to be this easy?Â
The snacks slowly disappeared between youâanother Ferrero passed back and forth, the mango matcha cup getting lighter with every sip you took. Heeseung kept talking about random shit that had nothing to do with the game. How Jake had stolen his last ramen again, how he stayed up last night thinking about if aliens eat solid food, or if the Thestrals from Harry Potter can see each other or not.Â
You told him about the fanpage you had at fifteen, he listened like it was the most interesting thing ever, thumb stroking slow circles on the back of your hand the whole time.
At some point the first game ended. You were still pretty bad, but you werenât frustrated anymore. Heeseungâs arm had stayed around you the whole time, his chin heavy on your shoulder, breathing warm against your skin.
He didnât queue another match right away, instead he just sat there for a second, arms loose around your waist, like he was thinking.
âCâmere,â he murmured, voice a little rough as his hands slid to your hips and he tugged you gently, pulling you straight off the spare chair and into his lap like it was the easiest thing in the world. Your back settled fully against his chest, thighs bracketing his, his arms wrapping around you properly so he could still reach everything if he wanted. The chair creaked once under both of you. You fit too well, way too well.
He rested his chin back on your shoulder and clicked into another custom game like nothing had changed, but his arms stayed tight around your waist, like he didnât want to let go.
âWhat are we doing, Hee?â You asked in a low mumble.Â
Heeseung went still, arms locking tighter around your waist like the question had burned him, he was afraid youâd bring it up and thatâs exactly what you did. You felt him swallow hard, breath shaky against your neck.
He opted to answer with his actions instead, turning your face toward him with one hand and kissing you, lips pressing firm like heâd been dying to do it. His tongue slid in right away, tasting like chocolate and the mango youâd been sharing all night. He made this quiet, embarrassed little sound in his throat and kissed you harder, fingers sliding into your hair to hold you there.
You tried to pull back half an inch, though absolutely feeling your heartbeat fastening at how good the kiss, the warmth felt, âHee, waitââ
He chased your mouth instantly, cutting you off with another kiss, deeper this time, tongue lazy and filthy against yours. His hand slipped under your top, palm hot and a little unsteady on your bare waist, thumb stroking slow circles like he needed to feel your skin to stay sane. He was breathing hard through his nose, cheeks burning against yours, but he wouldnât let you speak. Every single time your lips parted he was right there again, kissing you quiet, desperate and messy like talking would ruin whatever this was.
âBed,â he mumbled against your mouth. He stood up with you still in his lap, hands under your thighs, and carried you the few steps across the room. The second your back hit the mattress he was on top of you, settling between your legs and kissing you again before you could even breathe.
This time it was slower but no less intense. His tongue moved against yours in these long, deep strokes while one hand pushed further under your top, palm flat on your stomach, sliding up until his fingers brushed the edge of your bra. His other hand stayed tangled in your hair, tugging gently every time you tried to talk. He was so fucking flusteredâears red, breath shaky, little embarrassed groans slipping out whenever you rolled your hips up into himâbut he still wouldnât let you ask.
Every time you opened your mouth he swallowed it with another kiss, and you groaned, pulling him into you deeper, letting him showcase his feelings through whatever this was, and you understood it, but couldnât stop it or ask any further, because you knew heâd deflect as if it scared him.Â
As if the only answer he could give was this.
You were decent at saying no, in fact, some might even admit how good you were at it, blunt as fuck. But that ability was limited to the world and it most certainly didnât apply to this glorious six foot tall man who wished for you to join him at the basketball court. You could have made up some excuse, maybe tell him you have a lab report due, but you didnât do thatâbecause you wanted to go.Â
âThis is getting ridiculous,â said Winter, watching you change into a loose t-shirt and old shorts, âyou hate sports. You once told me basketball was just a bunch of giants running in circles. Now youâre rushing out at night because Heeseung said come watch me play? And youâre dressing up the part too?â
You shrugged, tying your hair up, âItâs not that deep. Iâm bored.â
âSure, tell yourself that,â she mumbled with her brow raised.Â
Well, she wasnât exactly wrong, but you didnât care much as you made your way out towards the court which was lit up by some harsh floodlights, looking over to find some guys already deep in the game. You could spot Heeseung, Chenle, Beomgyu, and Sunghoonât-shirts sticking to their backs.Â
Nics (Chenleâs girlfriend) and Moon (Sunghoonâs girlfriend) were already on the bleachers with their chaotic friend, Ricey, who always carried snacks in her bag. The second they spotted you, Nics waved you over with a grin, patting the spot next to her.Â
Heeseung was mid-dribble when his head snapped in your direction, the ball bouncing once before he caught it against his hip. Even from across the court you could see the way his face softened, that small, stupidly genuine smile breaking through like usual. He lifted his free hand in a quick wave.Â
âYo, Y/Nâs here!â Chenle shouted, grinning like an idiot as he wiped sweat off his forehead with the hem of his shirt, âperfect timing, letâs do girls versus boys now.â
Nics hopped off the bleachers first, already pulling her hair up, âfinal-fucking-ly. Come on, weâre making this four on four.â
Moon laughed and stood up too, nudging Ricey, âyou in or are you just gonna sit there eating chips the whole time?â
Ricey popped another chip in her mouth before standing, âIâm in, but if I break a nail Iâm blaming all of you.â
You didnât get a chance to sit as you got dragged into the court. Heeseung jogged over to you, still breathing a little hard, hair messy and damp. Up close he smelled like sweat and that familiar woody cologne, and the way he looked at you made you shiver.Â
âYou actually came,â he breathed, grabbing your arm without thinking much at all.Â
âCouldnât let you embarrass yourself alone,â you replied, stealing the ball from his hands just to mess with him. He laughed, eyes crinkling, and for a second it felt like the rest of the court disappeared.
But boy was it chaotic with Moon just distracting Hoon half the time, Nics and Chenle spent the time arguingâwhich was clearly their way of flirting, meanwhile Ricey was enjoying the drama in the middle of this all. The game was messy, and oh so loud.
You mostly ended up guarding Heeseung, and he was clearly not focused on winning anymore.
The first time you drove past him, he barely tried to block you, just let you slip by with this stupid little smile on his face. When you scored, he was the first one clapping, muttering under his breath, âfuck, that was hot,â loud enough for Beomgyu to hear and immediately start laughing.
âYouâre not even guarding her properly!â Sunghoon yelled, hands on his knees, âyou just watched her score and looked proud as hell!â
Heeseung didnât even deny it, just shrugged, eyes still locked on you as you dribbled back.Â
âSheâs fast,â he said, but the way he said it was way too soft, and he wondered why he called you with others around when he shouldâve done this one on one, but even then, he was thrilled to see you fit in so well with everyone.Â
The court lights hummed overhead, casting long shadows across the cracked asphalt, your oversized t-shirt clung to your skin in damp patches, the thin cotton sticking to the curve of your waist and the small of your back every time you moved. Heeseungâs eyes kept dropping to where the hem rode up every time you moved, and honestly? You liked it.
You caught the ball again and drove straight at him. This time his hand found your waist right away, palm warm through the damp fabric, thumb brushing under the hem like he couldnât help himself. You spun past anyway, shoulder bumping his chest, and laid it up clean. When you landed he was still there, fingers lingering on your hip for a second longer than necessary.
âShit, youâre good,â he muttered by your ear.
Beomgyu groaned loud enough for everyone to hear, âHeeseung, your hand was literally on her the whole time!â
Sunghoon just shook his head, âI canât watch this anymore.â
A few plays later you slowed right in front of him, dribbling lazy, then hit him with the poutâbottom lip out, eyes big. Heeseungâs shoulders dropped instantly, âcome on, thatâs cheating,â he whined, but he was already stepping aside, hand sliding to your hip again as you blew past and scored.
Ricey started cracking up from the fence. âHe folded. Letâs fucking go!â
Nics and Moon were dying, âY/N, youâre actually evil,â Moon yelled, âlikeâlook at him.â
The game kept going like that, every time you got near him his hands were on your waist or lower back, like he needed the excuse to touch you. After one layup he caught you around the middle when you landed, pulling you back against his chest for a second, chin brushing your shoulder.
âYouâre killing me out here,â he said quietly, thumb rubbing slow against your side.
You turned your head, âstop letting me win so obviously.â
âCanât,â he admitted, fingers flexing on your hip, âcanât stop you.â
Final possession got you dribbling right up to him. He stepped up, but the second you gave him the pout he let out a soft laugh and just gave up, both hands settling on your waist.
âGo win, baby,â he whispered, not even trying to hide it anymore as you drove and laid it in clean.
Game over.
Nics scooped you up spinning you once while Moon and Ricey cheered like idiots. The second your feet hit the ground Heeseung was there, arm sliding around your waist and pulling you back against him. His t-shirt was damp against yours, heartbeat steady on your back.
âYouâre impossible,â he murmured into your hair, thumb still tracing slow circles on your hip under the hem, âdidnât even wanna stop you.â
You leaned into him, grinning, âyou had your hands on me the whole second half.â
âYeah,â he said, no shame at all, âfelt too good.â
Heeseung didnât get to talk more as a fuming Chenle grabbed his collar and dragged him away for what seemed to be some good beating.Â
Moon and Nics immediately grabbed your arms at the opportunity and pulled you a few steps away, cornering you near the fence while Heeseung was distracted talking (arguing) to Chenle.
âOkay, spill,â Moon said, âwhat the hell is going on with you two? Because that was not subtle.â
Nics nodded, still half-laughing, âgirl, he had his hands on your waist like every single play. Heâs so into you itâs actually funny.â
You tried to play it cool, wiping sweat off your neck with the bottom of your shirt, âItâs not like that. Weâre justâhanging out? No strings, yâknow?â
They waited for you to say youâre joking, or just laugh, but then none of it came and they gasped, collectively.Â
âYouâre not serious,â Moon deadpanned.Â
Nicsâ eyes went huge, âwait. Youâre actually serious.â
Ricey let out a low whistle, leaning against the fence, âdamn, Y/N. I thought you were messing with us.â
You shrugged, trying to laugh it off, but the sound came out rather shaky. Your stomach did that stupid little flip again, like your body was calling you a liar before your mouth could. The cool night air on your damp neck suddenly felt too cold, and your t-shirt clung uncomfortably to your skin, âI mean, yeah, thatâs the deal. We both said it from the start.â
The words felt flat even as you said them. Your eyes drifted across the court before you could stop yourself. Chenle still had Heeseung in that dramatic headlock, ranting about how embarrassing he was, but Heeseung wasnât even pretending to fight back. His head turned and his gaze found yours instantly through the mess of hair falling in his face. That soft, stupid little smile tugged at his lips like getting chewed out didnât matter at all. Just you did.
Your chest squeezed as you looked away, but Moon followed your stare and let out a quiet oh, âgirl, look at him right now. Heâs getting yelled at and heâs still staring at you like that? Come on.â
Nics nudged your side. âhe had his hands on your waist literally every single time you got near him. Called you baby in front of all of us. Folded like a lawn chair the second you pouted. Thatâs a man catching feelings and not even trying to hide it.â
Ricey nodded, arms crossed, âfor real. We were all watching, he was playing how many times can I touch my girl without getting called out.â
You swallowed, heat creeping up your neck that had nothing to do with the game anymore, âItâs not like that,â you mumbled but even you could hear how unsure you sounded. The way Heeseung was still looking at you made the label feel thinner than your sweaty t-shirt.
Before anyone could push harder, Chenle finally shoved Heeseung away with one last groan. Heeseung jogged back over, hair wrecked, cheeks flushed, but his eyes were already locked on you again. His arm slid around your waist without hesitation, palm warm and familiar against the damp fabric like it was the most natural thing in the world.
âYou guys done roasting her yet?â He asked, voice light and a little out of breath.Â
Ricey snorted, ânot even close.â
Heeseung just grinned and pulled you closer, chin brushing the top of your head. You leaned into him without thinking, the solid warmth of his side against yours making that chest-tight feeling even worse. Or better, you couldnât tell anymore.
Your newfound friends exchanged a look behind his back, but you caught it anyway.
Whatever this wasâit didnât feel like no strings anymore. Not even a little.
Heeseung always thought that his partner would an extension of his very soul, and he never achieved that. Maybe the saying can be moulded into perspectives of sort, perhaps connection wasnât about mirroring souls but about finding someone who made the fractures feel intentional, beautiful even.
He mindlessly knocked on the door, heart drumming an uneven rhythm against his ribs, not expecting the door to open so quickly, his breath hitching at the sight of you in front of him.Â
Maybe your partner isnât supposed to be an extension of you, but rather someone whoâd stand on the opposite side of the spectrum and still look like a perfect puzzle when fitted together.Â
You stood there like a living poem rendered in silkâclad in a breathtaking white gown that slipped over your skin with liquid grace, the delicate fabric catching the hallwayâs muted glow, the thin straps tracing the delicate architecture of your collarbones like a loverâs fingertip. It moved with you, shimmering faintly, alive with every subtle shift of your weight. Your hair styled perfectly, lips glossed to a tempting sheen, and the whole vision struck him so viscerally that the air in his lungs simply vanished.
You looked beautiful, like an angel in all white, while he stood in front of you in a black leather jacket, juxtaposing every bit of elegance you exuded.Â
Heeseung forgot how to breathe quite literally as time fractured around him. His gaze dragged over you in helpless reverence, while a razor-edged thought sliced through the haze. Are you going out? On a date? With someone else? The image of another manâs eyes tracing that same silk, another hand brushing the curve of your waist beneath it, coiled hot and ugly in his chest, stealing what little breath he had left.
âHee?â You asked with a smile, tilting your head with genuine surprise, âwhat are you doing here?â
He gulped, forcing his eyes back up and oxygen to cooperate within him, âyouâre breathtaking,â he managed, âI forgot what I came for.â
Warmth crept up your neck at the nervousness of the man in front of you, he was adorableâshifting from one leg to the other, playing with his fingers, as if the simple act of standing there might unravel him completely. His dark hair fell messily over his forehead, cheeks flushed a soft rose, and those wide, doe-like eyes kept flicking back to the silk clinging to your body. You could practically feel the rapid thud of his heartbeat from where you stood, the way his throat worked on another swallow, the subtle tremor in his shoulders as he tried (and failed) to play it cool.
âI, uhââ Heeseung rubbed the back of his neck, letting out a small, embarrassed laugh, âI wanted to show you something. Iâve been carrying it around all day like an idiot because I thought you might like it. Figured tonight could be, I donât know, nice? Just us.â
Your heart gave a small tug, the evening plans youâd been dreading now sitting like a weight in your chest, âgod, HeeâI wish I could,â you said softly, âmy parents are in town and we have this family dinner thing tonight. Itâs one of those non-negotiable things. I was literally about to walk out the door when you knocked.â
Heeseungâs shoulders dropped just a fraction, disappointment flickering across his face before he quickly tried to smooth it over. He nodded, offering you a small, understanding smile that didnât quite reach his eyes, though he was relieved it wasnât a boy youâd dressed up for, âno, gosh. Itâs okay, I hope you have fun.â
He paused, eyes still lingering on you like he couldnât help it, âbutâif youâre not too tired later, maybe we could still meet up? Even if itâs just for a little while. No pressure or anything, I justâI really like being around you.â
All you could manage was a nod, making him smile wider. It was always a surprise at how clearly Heeseung said whatever he meant, and it wasnât the best thing for your poor heart, which probably matched Heeseungâs pace now. Bidding goodbye was another problem especially when Heeseung stared till you got inside the cab. The dinner was a haze, your mom staring at your zoned out state with a knowing smile.Â
âWho is it?â She sighed finally, making you look up in horror.Â
âMomâno,â you warned, knowing just how interested your family was in gossiping, which didnât exclude gossip about you by any means.Â
âWhat? She laughed, feigning innocence while your dad hid his grin behind his water glass, âIâm just asking. Youâve been smiling at nothing and zoning out all night, now spill.â
Your cousin leaned in, eyes sparkling with mischief, âyeah, girl. You look like youâre thinking about someone. Is he cute? Does he go to your uni?â
Heat flooded your cheeks, âthereâs no one,â you lied, though the words felt flimsy even to you, âIâm just tired.â
Your mom reached over and squeezed your wrist gently, âmhm, sure. Whoever he is, heâs lucky if heâs got you looking like this. Just donât forget to eat, okay? Youâre glowing, but youâre also not touching your food.â
You groaned, covering your face with both hands as the table erupted into light laughter. The teasing continued with your dad throwing in a dramatic âIf he hurts you, Iâll find himâ that made everyone chuckleâbut you managed to dodge the worst of it, cheeks burning the whole time. By the time dessert came, your family had mercifully moved on, though your momâs knowing glances never quite stopped.
Meanwhile, Heeseung stood alone on the rooftop of the main university building, the cool night breeze slipping beneath the collar of his leather jacket and ruffling his dark hair. Heâd quietly borrowed the keys from the maintenance office earlierâsomething he wasnât proud of, but tonight the small rebellion felt worth it. Up here, the view was stunning. City lights stretched out below like scattered diamonds across black velvet, the crescent moon hung low, casting a silvery glow over everything. He slipped an airpod in, letting his playlist fill the silence.Â
His hand drifted to the inner pocket of his jacket, fingers brushing the carefully wrapped item inside. Heâd wanted to show it to you tonight, watch your face light up, maybe steal a few more stolen moments of that easy warmth you gave him so effortlessly.
Heeseung leaned against the railing, staring out at the glittering skyline while the music in his earpods played on, and he wondered if you were thinking about him too, somewhere across town amid the family dinner. He didnât mind waiting, in fact, he was good at it when it meant so much to him. Regardless, every couple of minutes heâd glance at the door, half-convinced he was being ridiculous for waiting up here like some lovesick idiot.
As he turned back again, the faint creak of the door was heard, and he went still. You stepped onto the rooftop still wrapped in that white silk gown, the wind caught the hem immediately, making it swirl softly around your legs, and when you smiled at himâhe felt it right in the center of his chest.
âHi,â you said, voice quiet.Â
Heeseung pulled the airpods out slowly, letting them dangle from his fingers, âyouâyou actually came,â he breathed, the words slipping out before he could stop them, his eyes moved over you again, helpless, âin that dress, god, Y/N.â
You walked closer, heels soft against the concrete, âtold you I would. Couldnât stop thinking about whatever you wanted to show me,â a small laugh escaped you.Â
He took a half-step closer, âI wasnât sure,â he admitted, âbut Iâm really glad youâre here. You lookââ he trailed off, shaking his head with a soft, almost disbelieving smile, âI donât even have the words tonight, youâre beautiful.â
It was foreign, the way you felt all mushy inside with a compliment, granted you got those all the time, but this felt new. You stopped just inches from him, close enough to see the way the moonlight caught in his dark eyes, the faint flush still lingering on his cheeks, âshow me, then,â you whispered.Â
Heeseungâs breath caught for the briefest moment. Then he reached into the inner pocket of his jacket and drew out a small box wrapped in simple paper, tied with a slender black ribbon. He placed it gently into your waiting hands, his fingers brushing yours with a lingering warmth that sent another quiet flutter through you.
You untied the ribbon, letting the paper fall away until the snow globe rested heavy in your palms. Inside the delicate glass sphere, a tiny couple danced beneath an invisible skyâher in a flowing white dress that mirrored the silk clinging to your body, him in a dark jacket that echoed the leather draped across Heeseungâs shoulders. Their hands were joined, bodies turned toward one another in quiet, perfect harmony. When you tilted the globe, soft white flakes swirled around them like the first gentle snowfall of winter, catching the moonlight in tiny, luminous sparks.
A rush of something overwhelming bloomed low in your stomach, as if butterflies unfurling their wings until your chest felt too full, too light. You looked up at him, eyes wide and shimmering. âHeeseung,â you breathed, âthis is us. The dress, the jacket, itâs exactly like us.â
He bit his bottom lip, smiling shyly as he nodded, eyes soft with affection that he never failed to display. âYeah,â he murmured, stepping closer until the globe rested safely between your bodies, pressed lightly against the silk over your heart, âI know itâs a little cheesy, but when I saw it, I couldnât stop thinking about you.â
It was yet again when he had rendered you speechless so beautifully, a small smile still graced your lips, and you couldnât hide it, you didnât wish to hide it, âitâs not cheesy, itâs beautiful, Hee. Thank you.âÂ
You held the globe for another heartbeat, letting the tiny flakes swirl and sparkle inside the glass, before you turned gently and set it on the wide concrete railing
Heeseung watched you, nervous as he reached into his pocket, pulling out one of the earpods and holding it out to you between two fingers, âdance with me?â He asked, voice hopeful, âIâve had this song on repeatâuh, I kept imagining what it would sound like with you here.â
It was as if you were facing the real tale of the entanglement after the initial surface level attraction had worn off, which shouldâve made it worse, right? But Heeseung, unlike any other potential love interest youâd met, shone brighter after revealing himself day by day.Â
You took the airpod from him without a secondâs hesitation and slid it in, that familiar, timeless melody of Everybody Loves Somebody filling your ear like an old friend crooning about love that finds you when you least expect it. Heeseungâs fingers brushed yours as he took your hand, threading them together with a quiet certainty that made your breath hitch. His other palm settled at your waist, warm through the silk, and he drew you in until your bodies met, like theyâd been waiting all along. You let your free hand rest against his chest, right over the steady thud of his heart beneath the leather.
Heeseung let out a soft, breathy laugh, âfuck, I actually feel stupid right now,â he muttered, âIâve never danced before.â
You laughed, leaning into his scent further, âyouâre doing great, Hee.â
âYeah?â Another dorky chuckle rumbled through his chest. He adjusted his hold on you, thumb moving in a slow, absent circle at your waist, âI donât know, lately I keep catching myself doing shit I never thought Iâd do. Like stealing keys to a rooftop, buying a snow globe because it reminded me of you. Itâs weird, I feel like Iâm figuring out all these parts of myself I didnât even know were there.â
He stole keys, the thought itself made you chuckle again. Youâd once read somewhere that the act of loving someone doesnât stop at accepting them but furthers by coaxing their selfhood out of themâit felt that way for you too because who would have thought youâd be dancing with someone at a rooftop wearing a gown?Â
You squeezed his hand gently, âI like that,â you said, âI like that youâre figuring it out with me.â
The proximity was perfect, yet your bodies kept on gravitating towards each other every few steps, and eventually the melody began to fade. You pulled back just enough to meet his eyes, the position mirroring that of the snow globe miniatures. Taking another step, you leaned forward just enough to slot your lips against his, almost as if breathing each other in, lips parting at the same time before pressing into a gentle peck. Heeseung exhaled shakily against you, his hand tightening at your waist for a second like he was trying to remember how to breathe.
When you finally drew back, you gave him that smile you knew he couldnât resist. You slipped the airpod out of your ear and dropped it into his open palm, fingers brushing his one last time. At the same time you reached over, picked up the snow globe from the railing, and tucked it carefully against your chest.
âNight, baby,â you whispered as you turned toward the door.
Heeseung just stood there, completely still, breathing a little harder than before. His eyes were wide and utterly lovestruck as he watched you walk away. The rooftop door clicked shut behind you, but he didnât move for a long timeâjust stayed right where he was under the moonlight, that dazed, helpless smile slowly taking over his face.
You were panting as Heeseung pressed his lips on the base of your spine, sending a shiver up your back. He hadnât been patient pulling you in his bed, turning you over to unzip your dress. He groaned with each kiss as if he was pleasuring himself instead of you while savouring every inch of skin exposed.Â
Heeseung pressed his forehead against the middle of your back for a second, breathing hard, âyouâre trembling,â he whispered against you, âis my mouth really making you feel that good?â He kissed between your shoulder blades, then higher, until his lips brushed the nape of your neck, âtell me, baby. Tell me how wet you are right now just from this.â
âSo wet,â you gasped, pushing your hips back against him, âHeeâplease.â
He let out a broken groan and shoved your panties to the side with impatient fingers, not even bothering to pull them off. The thick head of his cock nudged against your slick entrance, hot and heavy, before he sank into you in one long, relentless thrust.
âFuck,â he groaned, the sound guttural as he bottomed out, stretching you wide, âyouâre soaking my cock, baby. So fucking tight and wet for me.â He pulled back slowly, then drove in again, harder, the wet slap of skin echoing in the room, âlisten to that. Hear how greedy your pussy is for me?â
You cried out, fingers clawing at the sheets as he set a deep, punishing rhythm, each stroke dragging perfectly against that sensitive spot inside you.
âHeeseungâoh god, yesââ your voice broke on a moan, tears of overwhelming pleasure already stinging your eyes, âharderâplease, I need it harder.â
Heeseung cursed under his breath and fucked you deeper, hips snapping forward with filthy precision, âlike this?â He panted, voice hoarse âyou want me to ruin this pretty little pussy? Tell me how good it feels, baby. I want to hear you fall apart.â
âIt feels so good,â you sobbed, pushing back to meet every thrust, âyouâre so deepâfuck, Hee, I canâtââ
The pleasure coiled tighter and tighter, white-hot and devastating, until it finally snapped.
âI love youââ the words tore out of you, raw and desperate, âHeeseung, I love youââ
He froze mid-thrust, buried to the hilt inside you, body going completely rigid.
âWhat?â His voice was barely a whisper, shocked and trembling.
You whimpered, hips twitching helplessly around his cock, the confession spilling out again in a blurry, broken rush, âI love you, I love you so muchââ
Heeseung pulled out suddenly, making you whine at the loss. In one swift motion he flipped you onto your back, hovering over you with wide, dark eyes and a chest that heaved like heâd forgotten how to breathe.
âSay it again,â he demanded, voice hoarse and shaking as he stared down at you, one hand cupping your jaw, âlook at me and say it again, baby. Please.â
Your eyes were glassy, lips parted on a shaky breath, but the words seemed to have blurred, your face disappearing right in front of his eyes as you said, âI loveââÂ
He woke up with a sharp, ragged gasp, bolting upright in his own bed, heart slamming violently against his ribs. The room was dark and silent except for his own frantic breathing. Sweat slicked his skin, and when he looked down, the front of his sweatpants was soaked with a warm, sticky mess.
âFuck, fuck, fuck,â he whispered hoarsely, dragging a trembling hand down his face, cheeks burning with heat.
It was hard for him to contain himself when this is all he could dream of the past six days, feeling it deep despite it being a dream. Wet dream was fine really, but the confession that echoed? Yeah, that definitely made Heeseung feel eccentric because he needed to hear that for real despite the terms of the relationship between you both. It was bound to bloom into something more.
You two had fallen into a rhythm that didnât need a label really. He showed up outside your lectures with your stupidly specific drink (matcha), the one with the exact ratio you liked, because heâd paid attention the one time you made a face at the wrong version. Youâd started leaving your oversized hoodie at his place just so you could steal his instead and he could wear yours, the sleeves swallowing your hands while you lounged on his bed scrolling through your phone. He noticed how you always tugged at your bottom lip when you were thinking too hard, how you stole the last sip of his drink without asking, how your shoulders relaxed the second you kicked your shoes off after a long day. You noticed the way he rubbed the bridge of his nose when he was tired but too stubborn to admit it, the soft little hum he made when something tasted exactly right, the way his eyes lingered on you a beat longer than necessary whenever you laughed at something dumb he said.
You werenât calling it dating, you werenât calling it anything. But you also werenât fighting it. Youâd never been the type to deny yourself something that made you feel good, and Heeseung made you feel good in a way that snuck up on you. So you let yourself have it without the complications of overthinking.Â
Later that morning, Heeseung walked across campus still half-dazed from the dream, that stupid, lingering smile refusing to leave his face. The memory of your voice saying those three words kept looping in his head, well, until a voice didnât wish to hear ruined his train of thoughts.Â
âWell, well. If it isnât the thief.â
Heeseung slowed to a stop and turned. Jaemin stood there with his arms crossed, wearing the same smug, pissed-off expression he used to think was charming.
Heeseung let out a dry, humorless scoff, âthief? Thatâs fucking hilarious coming from the guy who was literally balls-deep in my ex while we were still together.â
Jaemin stepped closer, eyes narrowing, âwhatever helps you sleep at night. You really think youâre gonna keep her interested?â His voice dripped with condescension, âY/N doesnât do soft boys. All that cute shit you do, yâknow? All that bringing her drinks, playing with her hair, looking at her like sheâs the only person in the room? Sheâll get bored so soon. She needs someone who can actually keep up with her, not some pathetic, whipped little romantic who gets all starry-eyed at the sight of her.â
Heeseung forced out a dry laugh, âyeah sure, keep telling yourself that.â
Jaemin stepped even closer, that ugly little smirk twisting his mouth, âyouâre playing house while sheâs used to getting fucked properly, Iâm sure youâre not offering much to at all, youâre nothing but a rebound to her,â he scoffed once, and walked away.Â
But the damage was done, because yes, Heeseung was soft, almost a whipped little romantic who let you take the lead when things got heated, how you pinned his wrists down or told him exactly how you wanted him, and how much he fucking loved giving in to you. The dream from this morning flashed behind his eyes again, your voice breaking on those three words while he was the one completely undone above you. Now it all felt suddenly pathetic, like something Jaemin could point at and laugh at.
Jealousy, envy, insecurity, these were the things he didnât wish to feel, and gladly so, he never felt that with you, so why was an outsider here to remind him of his so called weaknesses? It felt like a spiral how he skipped the next lecture and pondered on Jaeminâs words. Did you actually not enjoy your time with him? Was he enough? Did you want a more intense relationship? Was it just a rebound?
He couldnât find the answers to any of those questions, and managed to ignore every single text and call that came his way, letting himself cool down on the rooftop yet again.Â
What he essentially forgot was how communication wasnât a part of the relationship but the very pillar that ran practically any relationship on this earth, this being the very first instance of him not being able to express himselfâsomething he did so freely around you.Â
And so, the day passed without him replying to you.Â
You felt the absence like a missing pulse.Â
âYou look crazy checking your phone every two minutes,â Sunoo pointed out, and you huffed, grabbing your phone again to stare at the unread texts youâd sent him through the day.Â
The screen glowed mockingly in the low light of your dorm room, the blue bubble of your last message still floating unanswered beneath the others, heeseung? talk to me. you okay? iâm coming over if you donât answer. Just silence that didnât sit right with you.Â
Sunoo flopped dramatically across the foot of your bed, legs kicking up behind him, while Winter perched on the windowsill, she watched you with that knowing tilt of her head, the one that always preceded a lecture of affection.Â
âBabe,â she said, âheâs been ghosting the group chat too, somethingâs off. Like, capital-O off.â
You set the phone face-down on the blanket, but your fingers still twitched toward it. Sunoo nudged your ankle with his socked foot.Â
âGo, seriously, and if heâs being a dramatic little shit, tell him Sunoo said to grow a pair and answer his damn phone.â His grin was bright, âyouâre so in love itâs pathetic.â
Your lip only twitched, and you didnât admit nor deny it. It was too early to even overthink what happened, was he drowning himself in self destruction while embracing pain for absolutely no reason? Regardless you frowned with disdain, pushing yourself up to actually do something about the situation, choosing to wear his hoodie he gave you a few days earlier.Â
You didnât bother fixing your hair or changing out of the soft shorts youâd been rotting in all evening. This wasnât about looking put-together, it was about the fact that Heeseung had never once left a message on read without answering, in fact, he was the one who usually texted first, shared his problems, and discussed any and everything this world has to offer. Whatever had him locked down like this, it had teeth, and you were done waiting for him to chew through it alone.
By the time you reached there, a feeling of nervousness washed over you. Jake pulled the door open almost immediately, like heâd been hovering behind it. His eyes were wide, hair sticking up in about six different directions, and he looked so relieved to see you that it almost hurt.
âJesus Christ, youâre here,â he sighed, stepping aside so you could slip in, âhe got back from class and just shut down. Told me to fuck off when I asked if he wanted pasta. Jay tried the concerned roommate bit and got the door slammed in his face. This isnâtâhe doesnât do this, yâknow?â
You nodded, throat tight, âI know.â
Jake hesitated, then added almost sheepishly, âif heâs being a dick, tell him I said to stop being a dramatic prick or iâll take you away, or whatever.â
You gave him a chuckle and headed straight for the bedroom door, hoping that it wouldnât be locked. It wasnât, thankfully so, and you pushed the door open before you could talk yourself out of it. Heeseung sat on the edge of the bed in those black sweats that hung too low on his hips, elbows on his knees, staring at nothing. His hair was a mess, like heâd been running his hands through it for hours. The silver chain sat against his collarbone, rising and falling with these tight little breaths. He looked exhausted, hollowed out even.
He heard the door and his head snapped up.
For a second his eyes went wide, like he couldnât believe it was really you standing there. The whiplash of emotions was too much, especially when you were clad in his hoodie with sadness gracing your pretty face that he really always wished to see happy. He stood up so fast the bed creaked, crossed the room in two strides, and pulled you against him like heâd been waiting to do exactly that all day.
His hands were rough as he grabbed your nape the second the door closed shut behind you, breathing hard as your lips parted to ask a question, but he only closed his eyes, slid his hand up to your head as he pushed you against the door, pushing his lips against yours in a messy claim.Â
He can be rough, he can be the one to give you pleasure, of course he can. His fingers tightened in your hair, tilting your head exactly how he wanted it, tongue sliding in deep. You tasted the faint cherry from whatever heâd been drinking, felt the way his chest heaved against yours like heâd been running.
âMissed you,â he mumbled right into your mouth, the words half-bitten off by another rough kiss, âfuck, I missed you so bad today.â
âHeeseungâwait, what the hell happenedââ you tried, but he swallowed the question with his mouth, sucking on your bottom lip hard enough to sting before dragging his teeth down the side of your neck. His free hand shoved under the hem of the hoodie, palm sprawled over the expanse of your waist, fingers digging in like he needed to feel skin right now
âShh,â he breathed against your throat, voice wrecked, âdonât talk. Justâlet me.â He sucked a mark right below your ear, like he was stamping proof that you were here, that you were his. His hips pressed forward, pinning you tighter to the door, and you could feel how hard he already was through his sweats.
The force of him made your breath hitch, your back flush against the cool wood while every inch of him burned insistent. He was never like this, not with you. Heeseung had always been careful, as if afraid that wrong move would make you slip away. But tonight something had snapped in him, and the way his fingers trembled just slightly against your skin told you he knew it too. He was trying to prove a pointâto himself, to the ghost of Jaeminâs voice still echoing in his headâthat he could be the rough, ravenous version he thought you wanted.
He spun you around so fast your palms slapped against the full-length mirror on the back of his closet door. The cool glass kissed your bare chest, making your nipples tighten instantly. Heeseungâs chest pressed flush to your back, one hand sliding up to grip your jaw, forcing your head up so you had no choice but to look at your own reflectionâparted lips, eyes already glassy.Â
âLook at yourself,â he rasped, âlook how fucking pretty you are when youâre like this for me.â
His other hand snaked down your stomach, fingers dipping between your thighs without warning. Two thick digits pushed inside you in one smooth glide, curling instantly against that spot that made your knees buckle. You gasped, forehead dropping forward until it rested on the mirror, but Heeseungâs grip on your jaw tightened, yanking you back up.
âEyes open, baby. Watch, yeah?âÂ
It most certainly was hot to see him take control, but you couldnât understand the sudden switch, the implications, your mind was too foggy with the way youâd missed him through the day. Heeseung was too in his head, as if on some mission to make you feel goodâwhich he always achieved, yet was not satisfied.Â
He pumped his fingers slow and deep, twisting them on every drag out so you felt every ridge, every knuckle. The wet, slick sounds of your pussy taking his fingers echoed obscenely in the quiet dorm room. In the mirror you watched it all: the way your lips parted on a shaky moan, the flush crawling down your neck to your chest, the way your tits pressed and flattened against the cool glass with every rock of your hips. Heeseungâs reflection behind you was devastatingâdark hair falling into his eyes, jaw clenched tight, that chain around his neck swaying every time he thrust his fingers harder.
âGod, youâre so deep already,â you whimpered, hips rocking back to meet his hand, âkeep going like that, yeah, just like that, Hee.â
Heeseung groaned low, forehead dropping to your shoulder for a second before he forced himself to look up again, as if in pain, âthatâs it. Fuck, listen to how messy you sound. Youâre dripping down my wrist, baby. Such a good girl for me.â
You bit your lip, eyes fluttering, but he tapped your jaw again.
âDonât close your eyes. Want you to see how pretty you look when I finger fuck you like this.â
âBossy tonight,â you teased breathlessly, even as your thighs started trembling, âI like it, but youâre gonna make me cum already if you keep rubbing my clit like that.â
âGood,â he rasped, thumb circling faster, fingers curling relentlessly, âcum for me. Right now. Let me see it.â
You moaned his name loud, walls fluttering and clenching around his fingers as you came, slick coating his hand. Heeseung kept working you through it, slower but deep, murmuring against your neck, âthatâs my girlâfuck, youâre so pretty when you cum. Look at you shaking for me.â
He pulled his fingers out slowly, then brought them to your lips.
âTaste yourself, baby, hm? Câmon, open up.â
You sucked them clean, eyes never leaving his in the reflection, and he cursed under his breath the second your tongue swirled around his fingers.Â
âFuckâyouâre gonna kill me.â
Before you could catch your breath he dropped to his knees behind you, hands gripping your hips and yanking you back so your ass arched toward his face.
âKeep watching the mirror,â he said, voice hoarse with need, âI want you to see me eat this pussy like Iâve been starving for it.â
Then his mouth was on you, as filthy as he could manage. His tongue dragged slow and broad from your clit all the way up, and you moaned loud, hands sliding down the glass.
âOh my god, Heeââ
âMhm, fuck, you taste even better after you come,â he groaned against you, the vibration making your legs weak, âspread your legs a little wider for me, baby. Let me get deeper.â
You did, pushing back against his face. His tongue fucked into you while his nose nudged your clit, then he sucked your swollen clit into his mouth hard.
âYesâright there, donât stop,â you panted, âyour tongue feels so fucking good, baby, keep sucking like that.â
Heeseung moaned into your pussy, one hand reaching around to rub your clit while the other spread you open wider, âtell me how much you like it,â he mumbled between licks, voice desperate, âtell me you love my mouth on you.â
âI love itâfuck, I love your mouth, Hee. Youâre so good at thisâshit, Iâm gonna cum again if you keep going like that.â
He sucked harder, tongue flicking fast, fingers joining to curl inside you, âthen let go again, right on my tongue. I want to feel you fall apart while you watch yourself in the mirror.â
Your second orgasm crashed over you even harder, a high pitched moan leaving your mouth, almost as if you were chanting his name like a mantra, thighs shaking violently as you came on his tongue, and Heeseung licked you through every pulse, slow and greedy, humming happily like he couldnât get enough.
You were still trembling when he finally pulled away, breathing hard against the inside of your thigh. His eyes met yours in the mirror for a second, looking all desperate, almost frantic before he stood up and turned you around. His hands were shaking as they gripped your waist.
âCome here,â he said, voice rough, like the words were being dragged out of him. He kissed you immediately, with the need to taste the way youâd just fallen apart for him, âbed. I need you on the bed right now.â
You nodded, legs still unsteady, and he didnât wait. He lifted you, your back hitting the mattress a second later. He climbed over you fast, knees bracketing your hips, but instead of diving right in he paused, hovering above you, chest heaving. His eyes were wide, pupils blown, and for a split second you saw the soft Heeseung underneath all that intensityâthe one who always checked on you, the one who was terrified of messing this up.
âYou really want this?â He asked, voice cracking a little even though he was trying to sound sure. His hand came up to cup your cheek, thumb brushing your skin like he couldnât stop himself, âall the way, me inside you. Tell me you want it, baby, please.â
âI want it,â you whispered, reaching up to pull him closer by his chain, âI want you, Hee. Stop holding back.â
He let out a shaky breath and nodded, like he was steeling himself. He shoved the rest of his clothes off as you watched the pretty boy in front of you. It was clear how he wanted to prove a point, and you were gonna let him, granted he wasnât in the mood to talk, his faint muscles flexing was distracting you as well, but yeah, you were letting him take control.Â
He gripped your thighs and spread you open wider, breathing hard as he tried not to stare to the point he starts drooling because, lord, you looked absolutely stunning all spread out on his bed, looking up at him with need, bottom lip bitten. He lined up, the blunt head of his cock pressing right against your entrance, and for a second he just stayed there, breathing hard, eyes flicking up to yours like he was still fighting whatever storm was in his head.
âTell me again,â he said, âtell me you want this.â
âI want this,â you breathed, pulling him down into a messy kiss, tongues sliding deep right away, âI want you inside me, Hee. Stop thinking and just take me.â
He groaned into your mouth and pushed forward.
The first inch stretched you open, slow and thick. You both gasped against each otherâs lips.
âFuckâyouâre so tight,â he muttered, forehead pressed to yours, hips trembling as he held still, âjust the tip and youâre already gripping me like that. You okay?â
You nodded quickly, nails dragging lightly down his back, âkeep going, I can take more.â
He kissed you again, deeper this time, almost desperate, and rolled his hips forward on the second thrust as another inch sank in. The burn was sharp but so fucking good your back arched.
âShitâbaby,â he groaned, voice cracking. He sucked a hard mark right under your jaw, teeth grazing your skin as he pushed in a third time, slower, letting you adjust, âyou feelâgosh, you feel unreal, iâm trying not to lose it already.â
Your nails dug in harder, scratching down his shoulder blades as he gave one more careful thrust and finally bottomed out, hips flush against yours. The full stretch made you moan loud into his mouth, legs tightening around his waist.
Heeseung stilled completely, breathing ragged against your neck, trying not to whimper, âtalk to me. Does it hurt? Tell me the truth.â
âA little,â you whispered, âbut I love it. You feel so deep already. Move, baby, I need you to move.â
He started with slow, deep rolls of his hips, grinding against you on every stroke like he was still trying to stay in control. But you could feel the tension building in his body, the way his fingers dug into your thighs a little harder each time.
âYeah? Like this?â He asked, voice rougher now as he snapped his hips forward a little sharper, âyou want me to fuck you harder?â
âHarder,â you moaned, nails raking down his back again, leaving red lines, âdonât be gentle tonight. I want all of it.â
He dropped his head to your neck and bit down hard, sucking yet another dark mark into your skin as his hips suddenly slammed forward. The thrusts turned brutal, the bed creaking loudly under you. His chain slapped against your chest with every snap of his hips. He was fucking you like heâd been holding back for monthsâdesperate, almost punishing strokes that knocked the breath out of you.
âFuckâfuck, baby,â he groaned against your throat, voice completely wrecked, âyouâre taking me so fucking good. This pussy is mine tonight. Mine.â
You cried out and he kissed you again, tongues sliding messily while he pounded into you without any rhythm left. His hips stuttered, slamming harder, faster, completely mindless now, like every doubt in his head was being fucked out with every brutal thrust.
âShitâI canâtâcanât slow down,â he panted, âyou feel too good, gonna fuck you until you canât walk tomorrow.â
He was goneâeyes hazy, sweat dripping down his chest, hips snapping wildly as he lost himself inside you, chasing that raw, desperate need to prove he could be everything he thought you wanted. His chain bounced wildly against your chest, his fingers digging bruises into your thigh like he needed something to hold onto.Â
You were right there with him, body tightening, moans spilling out against his mouth, when the intensity tipped over into something too much, too fast. Your hand shot back, fingers digging into his hip.
âHeeseungâstop. Stop for a second.â
He froze mid-thrust, buried to the hilt, every muscle locking up at once. His breath hitched hard against your neck. For a long second the room was just the sound of both of you breathing, ragged and uneven. You could feel the panic crashing over him.Â
âFuckâdid I hurt you?â His voice cracked, he pulled back just enough to look at you, eyes already glassy with tears that spilled over when he blinked, âshit, Iâm so sorryâI got too rough, I didnât mean to, I was trying so hard not to be soft and I justâfuck, I thought if I fucked you harder youâd want me, youâd stay, Iââ
His lip trembled. Another tear slid down his cheek and landed warm on your skin. He looked completely shattered, still deep inside you, like the idea that he might have hurt you was breaking him apart right there.
You cupped his face with both hands, thumbs gently brushing the tears from under his eyes, âbaby, shh. You didnât hurt me,â you whispered, voice soft, full of warmth, ânot even a little. I promise. You feel so good, Hee. Câmon breathe with me, okay?â
He stared at you, eyes wide and wet, lips pressed tight together like he was trying not to fall apart completely. He gave the smallest shake of his head, refusing to speak at first.
You leaned up and kissed him, just a gentle press of your lips until he softened into it, a shaky little exhale leaving him. When you pulled back you kept your forehead against his, thumbs still stroking his cheeks.
âTell me whatâs wrong,â you murmured, voice barely above a whisper, âI can feel it, baby. Somethingâs been eating at you. Please talk to me.â
Heeseung swallowed hard, eyes fluttering shut for a second as another tear slipped free. His voice came out small, cracked, almost ashamed.
âJaemin cornered me after class,â he whispered, âuhâhe said Iâm too soft, fucking whipped. That Iâm just a pathetic rebound and youâd get bored of me in a week because someone like me could never keep a girl like you. Said you need someone who can actually fuck you right, not some gentle loser,â his breath hitched, âI justâI didnât want to be that guy anymore. I wanted to prove I could be what you need, I know this isnât what you wanted, our whole FWB thing.â
You stayed right there, forehead pressed to his, thumbs still gently wiping his tears as you looked at him with nothing but softness in your eyes, heart hurting at how the guy who makes you the happiest was reduced to some loser by your pathetic excuse of an ex.Â
âI like you exactly how you are,â you let out, heat creeping up your neck, the position only making you feel more with his cock still buried deep in you.Â
âYâyou like me?â He gasped as you licked his tear away, âreally?â
âI do, Hee. I forgot about the whole no strings arrangement long back, I found myself wanting to spend more time with you, and who am I to deprive myself of happiness?â You chuckled, âyou canât force your feelings to go away, or change yourself, yâknow? Fuck Jaemin, he doesnât know shit, he could never make me cum and he definitely could never make me feel the way you do.â
Heeseung let out a shaky, broken exhale, his forehead still resting against yours as fresh tears welled up, âI thoughtâI thought I was ruining everything. I was so scared youâd realize Iâm just the rebound, and youâd leave. I didnât want to lose you, so I tried to be someone else tonight. Iâm sorry, baby. Iâm so sorry.â
You shook your head, âyou didnât ruin anything, Hee, not even close. You could never ruin this. Iâm right here, okay? Iâm not going anywhere, I donât mind you being rough or soft, yeah?â
He swallowed hard, âI donât want to be rough, I never really did. I just, I thought thatâs what you needed from me. But I want to be soft with you, can Iâcan I do that? Please?â
You couldnât help the soft chuckle that escaped you, the sound made his lips twitch, and then he was smilingâsmall, shy, and so genuinely relieved it made your heart squeeze. He immediately hid his face in the crook of your neck, embarrassed, his breath warm against your skin as he let out a quiet, shy laugh of his own.
âStop laughing at me,â he mumbled into your neck, but you could hear the smile in his voice, the way his shoulders relaxed.
âIâm not laughing at you,â you whispered, still chuckling as you threaded your fingers through his hair, âIâm laughing because youâre adorable, and I like you like this. Exactly like this.â
Heeseung lifted his head just enough to look at you again, eyes still glassy but now shining with something brighter as he managed another kiss, pouring every unsaid feeling into it. When he pulled back, his voice was soft.Â
âI love you,â he breathed out, âIâm so in love with you. I donât want no-strings, I want everything. Mornings where I wake up and youâre stealing my hoodie. Nights where we fall asleep tangled up like this, and I want all of it with you.â
You smiled against his lips, heart so full it felt like it might burst, âIâm falling in love with you too, Hee, I want all of that with you too.â
He whined, kissing you all clumsy, rolling his hips in long, loving strokes that made you feel every inch of him. The pace was unhurried, like he wanted to savor every second.
âFeel that?â He whispered, forehead pressed to yours, eyes locked on you, âI love being inside you like this. I love feeling you around meâso warm, so perfect.â
You moaned softly, legs wrapping tighter around him as you rocked up to meet his slow thrusts, âyou feel so good, baby.â
Heeseung smiled again with a giggle, hiding his face in your neck for a moment before kissing along your throat, âyouâre so beautiful,â he murmured between kisses, âthe way you look when Iâm inside you, the little sounds you make, I could stay like this for hours. Just loving you, just making you feel good.â
His hand found yours, lacing your fingers together and pinning it gently above your head while the other slid down to cup your breast, thumb brushing over your nipple in slow, tender circles. Every thrust was accompanied by quiet wordsâI love you, you feel incredible, never letting you go, whispered against your skin like prayers.
You squeezed his hand, âI love how you make me feel safe, donât ever change, okay?â
âI wonât, I promise, i just want to make you feel loved. Every single day.â
The room filled with nothing but the soft creak of the bed, your quiet moans, and his gentle praises. He kept the pace slow and deep, grinding against you on every thrust so your clit rubbed perfectly against him. His lips never left your skinâkissing your neck, your jaw, your mouth, your collarbone like he couldnât bear to stop touching you.
âYouâre everything to me,â he whispered, voice thick with emotion as he rolled his hips again, âIâm so lucky youâre mine. So fucking lucky.â
âIâm the lucky one, baby. Now keep loving me just like this, I never want this to end.â
Heeseung smiled against your mouth, eyes shining with pure adoration, and did exactly thatâloving you slow, deep, and full of so much tenderness it felt like the rest of the world had disappeared.
Just the two of you, and the moonlight in the room.Â
MEANWHILE:
You shushed Heeseung for the nth time as he smiled against your palm, but you were serious, peering down the hallway from the narrow alcove where youâd both hidden behind a pillar.
âStop smiling, youâre going to get us caught,â you whispered, though your own grin was fighting to break free.
Heeseung only chuckled quietly, pressing a soft kiss to your wrist, âcanât help it. You look so adorable trying to be all serious.â
You rolled your eyes, but your heart felt warm as his arms stayed wrapped around your waist from behind, chin resting on your shoulder.
The classroom door finally swung open. Students spilled out, and then Jaemin stepped into the hallway, laughing loudly with his friends.
The second you saw him, you stepped out without hesitation, you lifted the chilled cup and poured the entire icy matcha straight over his head from the first floor, the aim being too good to your surprise.Â
Jaemin gasped, stumbling back as green liquid drenched his hair and hoodie, âwhat the fuckââ
Loud laughter exploded from the crowd around him. Phones came out instantly, people whistling and clapping, and you didnât stay to admire your work.
You grabbed Heeseungâs hand and ran, both of you sprinting down the side hallway until you ducked into an empty stairwell, breathless and laughing.
âOh my god, his face,â you wheezed, back pressed against the wall.
Heeseung leaned over you, one hand beside your head, smiling so beautifully it made your knees weakâeyes crinkled, full of pure adoration and joy.
âYouâre insane, taking revenge for me again,â he said softly, âand Iâm so in love with you.â
You reached up, cupping his cheek. He leaned in and kissed you sweetly, so full of everything you two had become. When he pulled back, forehead resting against yours, he was still smiling that same breathtaking smile.
âI love you,â he whispered.
You kissed the corner of his mouth, grinning, and you did mean it with your whole heart as you proceeded to say.Â
genre:Â royalty au, soulmate au, fantasy elements, friends to lovers, angst
word count:Â 20.7k
warnings:Â jealousy, copious amounts of yearning, complicated family dynamics, swearing, magic and prophecies and other fantasy elements, arranged marriage, mild depictions of injuries and blood, a disgustingly romantic kiss
soundtrack: echoes - enhypen / no way back - enhypen ft. So!YoON! / ivy - taylor swift / too much is never enough - florence & the machine / if only - raveena / die 4 u - dean
note: Here it is! The second and final part to echoes. If you haven't already, read the first part (which you can find on my masterlist). If you have, then buckle up and enjoyyyyy âĄ
â.Ë⥠àŁȘ Ëâ.Ë⥠àŁȘ Ëâ.Ë⥠àŁȘ Ë
In a kingdom marred by instability and unrest, a prophecy is made. Your bloodline - common, ordinary, unremarkable as it may be - will bring peace to the nation and ensure the long-lasting success of the royal family. As such, your elder sister has been in an arranged engagement with Jungwon, the crown prince, since before either of you could walk.
But despite the prophecy, people continue to suffer. The kingdom continues to decline. Cracks continue to form. And when time eventually reveals that you, not her, have a strange, supernatural connection to the prince, everything begins to change.
or, every word you say is on repeat. every thought of you is bittersweet.
â.Ë⥠àŁȘ Ëâ.Ë⥠àŁȘ Ëâ.Ë⥠àŁȘ Ë
Jaeyun is pacing when you finally pull Nabiâs reigns to a halt, the city unfolding beneath you as you finish your ascent up the familiar hill. This time, however, you have one overly curious crown prince in tow.
â___,â Jaeyun breathes as you dismount. âFinally. What happened? Why are you so laââ
The word dies on his lips as Jungwon follows in your wake, carried by Maeum. Even without his crown, he rides with the unmistakable posture of a royal. You do your best not to wince.
âWho the fuck,â Jaeyunâs lips flatten into a tight line, âis that?â
âJaeyun, look at me,â you plead. âYou have to promise me youâll listen.â
But his eyes are already past your shoulders, watching Jungwon dismount with a practiced grace.Â
Immediately, he straightens his spine. Neither him nor Jungwon is particularly tall, but the way he stretches his neck makes you think heâs hoping for a sudden growth spurt. Â
âListen,â you try again, urgent to say as much as you can before Jungwon has the chance to approach. âI promise Iâll explain everything later, but itâs okay. Really. It sounds absolutely inconceivable, I know, but this isââ
âItâs a pleasure to make your acquaintance,â Jungwon interrupts, although his tone is rather tight. Stepping forward, he doesnât stop until heâs in line with your shoulder, directly at your side. âI am Crown Prince Yang Jungwon, son of the king and heir to the throne. May I know with whom I am conversing?â
Jaeyunâs gaze slides to you, a mix of incredulous and shocked. âYou have got to be fucking kidding me.â
âJungwon,â you hiss, âI think Maeum might want a treat.â Pulling a carrot from your bag, you all but shove it into his hands. âWhy donât you go feed him and meet us back here in a minute.â
Jaeyunâs mouth is still hanging open. âYouâre on a first name basis with the fucking prince?â
Much to your horror, Jungwon opens his mouth as if he wants to answer that question for you.Â
âPlease,â you beg before he has the chance.Â
Letting his lips fall shut, he gives a minute nod. Looking only at you, he concedes. âVery well.âÂ
Jaeyun watches him retreat, shock still widening his features. And then, once heâs made it a few paces awayâ
âWhat, and I really do mean this, on the graves of my ancestors, do you think youâre doing?â
âItâs a terribly long story,â you try to explain. âBut I wasnât going to be able to come tonight unless he came too. But listen, Jaeyun. He found out. About the resistance network and me sneaking out from the castle at night. He discovered all of it.â
âWhat?â Youâve never seen your friend so pale.Â
âBut itâs okay.â Switching to a whisper, you add, âAt least I think it is. He says he wants to be different, Jaeyun. Heâs not his father. He wants to listen to his people. Learn the problems of the kingdom and make a true attempt at resolving them.â
âAnd you believe him? Are they putting something in the castle water supply? What are you thinking?â
âIâm thinking about what you said. About how maybe sometimes we just have to believe in something to make it real. You said it yourself. Everyoneâs desperate for a chance at a better future. A little bit of hope. What if this, what if he, is exactly that?â
âThatâs⊠Heâs the prince, ___.â
âExactly. What if this didnât all have to be some dark, treasonous attempt to change things? What if we could work with someone with real power instead of just of against them?â His expression is still marred with distrust, and you canât blame him entirely. âLook, I donât know how fully I trust him yet either, but I do believe that he wants to try making things better. Iâll pass you the notes I have. You can review them later, if you want. I havenât shown him anything. But,â you add, âhe is expecting some information. I was planning to just divulge something small, but if youâd prefer, we can feed him a lie. See what he does with it and reassess from there. Maybe just something small to stââ
You wouldnât dare.Â
You freeze as if youâve been submerged in water. Itâs him again. Wincing, you adjust your neck, as if that can make the sensation of whispers against your ear disappear.Â
âWhat?â Jaeyun frowns. âWhat is it?â
âNothing.â You shake your head. âI justââ
Youâll tell me the truth. The reports you have. All of them. I donât care what your friend thinks.Â
Forcing a smile for Jaeyun, you direct a scathing return message.Â
Would you stop that?
What? Even in your head, he manages to sound smug. Should I have just walked over an interrupted instead? Iâm happy to, if you prefer it so. Maeumâs done eating.Â
He doesnât bother waiting for a response. Before you can send any thoughts his way, Jungwon is once again taking long strides until heâs at your side.Â
âJungwon,â you breathe. If tension were tangible, you would be able to cut the space between them with a knife. âThis is Jaeyun. Jaeyun, this is Jungwon.â
âPrince Jungwon,â he corrects.Â
That little shit. âI thought you werenât interested in maintaining titles.â
âIâm not,â he agrees. âWith you.â
You can practically see the vein throbbing in Jaeyunâs neck.Â
âThatâs not how this works.â You shake your head. âIn our resistance efforts, weâre all equal. Status doesnât exist, much less matter. If you truly want to be part of this, youâll have to follow our rules.â
âVery well,â he agrees. âJust Jungwon will suffice then.â A beat of silence passes. Jaeyun looks to you, a mix of helplessness and agitation. âWell,â Jungwon finally speaks. âDonât let me stop you. What reports have you received this week?â
Sighing, you pull your notes from your pocket. âLetâs sit.â
Sat on the grass, the three of you form a haphazard circle. In the center of it, you place your first gathered tidbit.Â
âFrom the kitchens,â you explain. âJâ I mean, the informantââ
âWho?â Jungwonâs mouth pulls down in thought. âJay?â
You balk. âHow did youâ?â
You practically shouted it at me.Â
Even as you look at him, confirm with your own two eyes the respectable distance between your bodies, you canât help the heat that rises on your cheeks at the uncanny sensation of him whispering directly into your ear.Â
Itâs hard not to panic at the insinuation. You resolve to keep a tighter reign on your thoughts.Â
âAnyway,â you press on. âJay told me that theyâve been using potatoes in almost every meal, despite the kingâs insistence on variety. It could point to crop shortages, or at least a lack of diversification. Sunoo confirmed this.â You pull out another report. âHe looked through the ledgers, and potato crops have replaced multiple vegetables, both in the castleâs private gardens and in the fields allocated for common food production.âÂ
Jungwon frowns. âI hadnât even noticed. We have been eating more potatoes than usual.â
âRevolutionary,â Jaeyun drawls, voice dripping with sarcasm. âLife must be so hard for you.â
âBut in a recent agricultural strategy meeting,â Jungwon presses on, ignoring him, âthe senior groundskeeper advised this switch. He explained that the relatively lower cost and high nutritional profile of potatoes would mean a higher overall food production, especially in the common fields. Itâs a good thing, no?â
âThat is one possible explanation,â you agree. âJaeyun, has there been any increase in food rations? Or potatoes specifically?â
Jaeyun shakes his head. âI wouldnât call it an increase, exactly. Rations are just more limited now. The only vegetable most people can access is potatoes. The overall amount is comparable to before. If anything, itâs actually slightly lower, especially in the outer districts.â
âSo the switch to potatoes may be an effort to bring more food to people,â Jungwon starts.Â
âBut overall production is still likely decreasing,â you finish for him.Â
âWell, hopefully full production will be restored soon,â Jaeyun adds. âWith your wedding approaching so soon.â He nods towards Jungwon.Â
The two of you freeze, equally statuesque where you sit in the grass. Youâre not sure why it catches you so completely off guard. The man at your side is to be married in less than a month. And youâve had an entire life to become accustomed to that knowledge. Still, something in you stirs at the reminder. Something not entirely pleasant.
 Jungwon is the one to gain his composure again first.Â
Looking at you, he ventures, âYou told him of the prophecy?â You canât quite decipher if the narrowness of his gaze is scrutiny or disapproval. Either way, your answer remains.
âOf course,â you nod. âI trust him with my life.â
âThat prophecy,â Jungwon begins, âwas made by a seer on her deathbed, far before any of us were old enough to understand the gravity of it. Of course,â he reasons, and you see his training in diplomacy bleeding through the cracks, âI hope nothing more than for it to be true. I hope, with every fiber of my being, that this union will bring unshakeable peace and abundance to our kingdom. But,â he pauses, gathering his thoughts. You see a lone muscle in his jaw tick. âIn a monthâs time, I will wear a different crown on my head. Regardless of what magic may awaken, this kingdom and its people will be in my care. It is my duty to be informed and prepared, regardless of the manner in which this prophecy may or may not manifest.â
You admire it, the way he speaks with such conviction. Heâs well-spoken, yes, but his words are rough around the edges. They lack the polish of rehearsal. Youâre confident that when he speaks, itâs from the heart.Â
âThatâs probably wise,â is all Jaeyun says, but you can tell heâs more satisfied with Jungwonâs response than he expected to be.Â
As the night continues to deepen, the three of you go through the rest of the reports in a similar fashion. At some points, youâre pleasantly surprised by Jungwonâs perspective. His attendance at royal strategy meetings offers an insight you and Jaeyun arenât accustomed to.Â
By the end of it, Jaeyunâs eyes arenât burning with quite as much hatred, his words arenât dripping with quite as much distrust, as when you started.Â
Still, hours later, he catches your gaze. Dawn is on the horizon, and the town beneath you is just beginning to stir. Your unlikely trio is too exhausted to ponder any more hypotheses, to create any more plans for change.Â
When Jungwon stands to check on Maeum, Jaeyunâs gaze follows him. And then his eyes slide to you. âI still donât like it.â
âI donât expect you to.â You smile ruefully. Exhaustion weighs heavy on your bones. âThanks for doing it anyway.â
âHeâsâŠâ His eyes fall to the space over your shoulder before returning to you. âHeâs weird around you.â
âHeâs just like that.â You roll your eyes. âYou know royals. I think we ought to give him some grace. Growing up with those expectations on your shoulders must make anyone a little strange.â
âI donât mean it like that,â Jaeyun shakes his head. You donât like the way heâs looking at you, as if heâs trying to dissect your very thoughts. âYouâre weird around him, too.â
âIâm not weird,â you deny, even though the observation has something uncomfortable settling in your gut.Â
âJustâŠâ He trails off, searching for the right words. âJust be careful, okay? And be safe. Youâll send a note next time youâre ready to meet?â
âOf course,â you agree. âJust like always.â
âYou wonât keep me waiting too long, will you?â
You grin. Scoffing, you reach out to push against his shoulder lightly. âDo I ever?â
A bit of playfulness drains from his gaze. Jaeyun is far too serious for your liking when he responds, âAlways.â
A glimmer of confusion flickers across your face. âIâll do my best,â you promise, not entirely sure what else to say.Â
âGood,â he nods. âIâll see you soon.â
Spinning on your heel to meet Jungwon near the horses, you hear your name once again.Â
Turning your head back to Jaeyun, youâre surprised to find him already closing the distance. He brings his hands up, lets one land on your shoulder as he spins you fully, pulling you close as he brings you into a hug thatâs almost crushing.Â
âBe safe,â he whispers again, this time against your hair. You feel the way his mouth moves against the crown of your head.Â
Behind you, a throat clears. Itâs loud in the predawn stillness.Â
Jaeyun lets you go. Slowly, as if he doesnât want to. As if he isnât quite ready to say goodbye.Â
But your brain is exhausted and your body is heavy. Youâre too tired to ponder it now. Instead, you follow Jungwon, accepting the hand he offers in assistance as you mount Nabi.
Handing you the reins, his fingers brush yours. Linger for just a fraction of a second. Â
âGoodbye, ___.â Jaeyun calls one last time. You wave to him, a small smile on your lips.Â
âJungwon,â he nods, with decidedly less warmth in his eyes.Â
âJaeyun,â he returns, inclining his head in a small bow.Â
And then, just as the day begins to break over the horizon, the two of you begin your journey back to the castle, Jaeyun fading further and further until heâs nothing but a speck in the distance.Â
âŠ..
The following weeks continue in a similar fashion.Â
Despite the strangeness of it all, the unlikely routine surrounding Jungwon, Jaeyun, and the other palace informants you keep in touch with begins to feel routine.Â
Your sister wiggles her way in, too. With the wedding drawing closer and closer, youâve been asked to attend more dress fittings, more cake tastings, and more salon appointments that you can count with your fingers.Â
Oddly enough, the impending ceremony has yet to make its way into a conversation between you and Jungwon. Other than Jaeyunâs brief mention on the hilltop, both with your words and inside your minds, the subject has never been breached.Â
But as the days continue, your abilities sharpen. Until speaking to him through your mind becomes almost second nature. Even when the physical distance between you is significant.Â
Where are you now? He asks one afternoon, nearly startling you off of Nabiâs saddle.Â
Riding, you tell him. And you?
In a meeting. Defense strategy. Terribly boring, I fear.Â
Pay attention, you urge. You might learn something useful.Â
Or I might perish before the hour is done. Tell me, ___, have you ever heard of a person dying of boredom?Â
You roll your eyes. Donât be dramatic.Â
Easy for you to say. Youâre out riding. Iâd kill to be out with Maeum right now.Â
Iâm sure you would.Â
A moment of silence passes. And then, Where are you going, anyway? Just taking her out for some exercise?
No, you explain. Iâm going to see Jaeyun.Â
RIGHT NOW? Itâs difficult to describe, the sensation of someone shouting at you inside your own skull. You can practically feel the way he suddenly sits up straight in his seat. Itâs daytime. Are you trying to get caught?
Relax, you urge. Iâm allowed to leave the castle. Iâm not a prisoner. And now that I have a horse of my own, I donât have to steal someone elseâs. Besides, a daytime errand will draw far less suspicion than a midnight one, no?
Still. Itâs not safe.Â
You resist the urge to roll your eyes. Iâll be fine.Â
With what? That tiny dagger you carry around? I doubt you even know how to use it.Â
Of course I know how to use it.Â
Really? Heâs goading you now. How?
With the pointy end.Â
The silence is deafening.Â
Youâre incredibly irritating.
Me? If you were face-to-face, your mouth would drop open in indignance. Iâm not the one interrupting a perfectly lovely afternoon ride right now.Â
You should consider yourself lucky, he argues. And let me know when youâre back. Iâll have to add dagger lessons to my schedule today.Â
Yes, Your Highness.
Weâre back to this again?
Well, you are ordering me around.
Iâm trying to keep you alive.Â
A noble task.
I think youâll find Iâm very altruistic. AlthoughâŠ
What?
I do rather prefer it when you say my name.
Despite the fact that the conversation is in your brain, thereâs nothing imaginary about the way your heart skips a beat.Â
Very well. Yes, Jungwon.Â
Much better.
If you didnât know any better, youâd think he was smiling. Â
Jungwon is waiting for you when you return to the castle. This time, you arenât blindfolded for your descent into his secret chamber.Â
Although, you are rather distracted for other reasons. Youâre not sure youâd be able to remember your way on your own.Â
The two of you fall into silence. It isnât uncomfortable, exactly, but something in you is restless, begging to fill it.Â
âAll is well with you?â You ask, turning down yet another impossibly maze-like corridor. Jungwon walks in step with you, following your stride, matching your pace.Â
âAs well as it can be, I suppose.â But he sighs on the final syllable.Â
Not for the first time, you consider what daily life must be like for him. Strategy meetings, physical training, preparations for his upcoming coronation. For his wedding. It must be tiring in a way even you canât quite imagine.Â
âYour coronation is less than a month away now, no?â Your words are quiet, not loud enough to echo in the halls. âYou must be quite busy.â
âThereâs much to prepare,â Jungwon agrees. âAlthough the majority of it does not fall under my scope of duty, actually.â
âThatâs a relief.â Your words trail off into silence again. Only the sound of light, quick footsteps fills the space. And then, âAnd your⊠your wedding?â
Beside you, Jungwonâs steps nearly falter. Heâs quick to correct the error. If you hadnât been watching, you would have missed it.Â
âWith that,â he finally says, voice quiet but sure, âI have even less involvement.â
He, much like you, does not seem interested in pressing the topic further.Â
Instead, after a few more paces, he informs, âWeâre nearly there.âÂ
You havenât yet begun the descent, but you suppose that is the final step.Â
Desperate to bring back a bit of the lightheartedness, you ask, âYouâre not going to blindfold me this time?â
âDonât tempt me.â Jungwon smiles.Â
But your sight remains intact as you round one final corner, feet coming to stop in front of a nondescript door.Â
Jungwon steps forward, hand wrapping around the handle as he heaves it open. The lithe muscles of his back strain beneath his shirt with the effort.Â
In front of you is a set of stairs. Peering into the darkness, light swallows your line of sight before you can see where they end.Â
âI suppose itâs a bit ironic to ask if youâre afraid of the dark.â
All you offer is a knowing smile. You might be accustomed to the dark, and yet, your heart is pounding. âAfter you,â you nod.Â
The downward climb doesnât feel quite so long the second time. Eyes forward, you can barely make out Jungwonâs shadowy silhouette in front of you. Instead, you focus on keeping your footsteps measured, even. The last thing you need is to go tumbling down these stairs.Â
After a matter of minutes, the two of you finally reach the bottom.Â
Jungwon strikes a flint and uses it to ignite the first torch.Â
You watch, in nearly as much awe as the first time, as the flame sets off a chain reaction, one torch giving light to the next. Before the next minute is done, the room is bathed in a warm glow once again.Â
Glancing around, you canât help but offer a compliment. âYou have excellent taste in secret chambers.â
âItâs not much,â is all he says. But the slight flush dusted across his cheekbones disagrees. After a moment, he clears his throat, then adds, âSo, about that dagger.â
âI told you,â you remind, âI already know how to use it.â
âIâm afraid I donât find âwith the pointy endâ satisfactory evidence of that statement.â
âStill,â you protest, âI donât nââ
Are we going to argue all evening or will you just allow me this one peace of mind?
He doesnât ask you out loud. And despite the growing familiarity of your connection, you canât help but gasp at the sudden sensation of his words against your ear.Â
âVery well,â you tell him, not daring to use your mind.Â
Bending down, you begin to lift the hem of your skirt to retrieve the weapon strapped to your light.Â
Across from you, the crown prince of the kingdom coughs. Loudly.Â
When you look up to ensure heâs okay, you find his gaze already pointedly averted. That same pink flush is rising high on his cheekbones, this time more pronounced.Â
Undeterred, you free the blade from the holster at your thigh, letting your skirts fall back into place.Â
âSo,â you begin, âother than the pointy end, what should I be aware of?â
Jungwonâs gaze is still lost somewhere on the tapestries on the opposite side of the room from you. You watch as he takes a long, shaky breath before turning back to face you.Â
With a voice that only trembles slightly, he says, âShow me.â
Your brow furrows in confusion. He sighs. Adds, âShow me how you would hold your dagger, if approached by an enemy.â
Frowning, you begin to sink into a stance that feels natural. Knees bent, you try to keep your weight evenly distributed between both legs. Extend the dagger outwards, it does feel more foreign in your hand than youâd like to admit.Â
Jungwon turns his eyes to the ceiling, expression marked with exasperation. âGods have mercy on us all,â he mutters beneath his breath. âThe pointy end.â
Turning back to you, he assesses you once again. âThatâs a good way to get disarmed.â
Despite yourself, you bristle at the insult. âDonât be dramatââ
In one silent movement, heâs lunging towards you, knocking the dagger from your outstretched hand. It clatters to the carpeted floor with a muted thud.Â
Mouth open in surprise, you bend down to reach for it. Jungwon beats you to it. Before you can retrieve your weapon, he kicks it, just outside your reach.Â
Then, with a flourish youâre positive is more for show than function, Jungwon stomps on the handle, sending the blade spinning upwards into the air and landing perfectly between his fingers.Â
For a moment, shock renders you immobile. It all happened so fast, and your mind spins to keep up. Finally, you cross your arms over your chest.Â
âThatâs hardly fair. I doubt most of my foes will have spent years training in royal⊠theatrical dagger flipping.â You wave him off dismissively.Â
âDonât underestimate them.â Jungwon shakes his head. âThere has been nearly constant small-scale warfare along every one of our borders for as long as anyone can remember. Youâd be surprised what a man learns to do with a blade when he has things to protect.â He pauses for a moment, considering. âAlthough youâre not entirely wrong. I am highly competent in most forms of combat.â
âAnd exceedingly humble about it, too,â you mumble lowly.Â
Ignoring you, Jungwon presses forward. âFor you, weâll focus on the basics. Your stance is too low. Try not to bend your knees so much.â
Sinking back into your stance, you make an effort to keep your legs straighter.Â
âGood,â Jungwon praises, âbut youâre still too tense. A dagger can only be used in very close combat. You need to be agile, light on your feet. Ready to move at a moment's notice. Before your opponent can predict it.â
Exhaling slowly, you try to release tension from your lower body.Â
You must be at least somewhat successful, because the only feedback Jungwon offers is a small nod of approval.
âAnd your arms,â Jungwon continues. âYouâre holding them out too far. Your movements have to be quick, precise. You have no control when your limbs are extended. Keep them close to your body and only reach at the final moment of your attack.â
Nodding, you draw your arms up again, this time keeping them close to your chest.Â
âRight,â Jungwon nods. âLike that.â Stepping closer to you, he doesnât stop until he stands directly before you, close enough to touch. Taking the dagger, he places it back into your hand, wrapping your fingers around the handle.Â
Heâs still in your space. If he were to learn just a few inches closer, it would be just like it is when he speaks in your mind. His words ghosting along the shell of your ear.Â
âOut there,â he says, âyour most likely enemy will be a man. Brute force and strength are on their side. You have to be quick,â he advises. âAnd you have to use this.â Reaching up, he taps the side of your temple with his fingertip. âYou have to be smarter than them. Faster, on your feet and in your mind. Keep your core braced. Keep your chest up and your chin down. Aim for the weak points on the body, and keep yours protected.â
Heâs so close. You can see the way his eyelashes flutter as he blinks. His voice grows more fervent as his instructions continue. âIf circumstances allow, you run. All the way back here.â He inhales, a shadow crossing his features. âAnd if they donât, you protect yourself at all costs. Even if it means doing the unthinkable. And with whatever is left in your mind, you scream for me. Do you understand?â
Your breath is shallow in your chest. âYou act as though Iâve been getting in dagger fights daily. Iâve never evenââ
âDo you understand?â He repeats, cutting you off.Â
âYes,â you breathe, taken aback by the urgency in his tone. âI understand.â
âGood.â The lesson is over, the agreement is done, but he doesnât back away.Â
Itâs all a bit preposterous, this strange version of reality your life has become. You wonder what Jaeyun would say, if you told him you were receiving private dagger lessons from the crown prince himself. You wonder what Mina would sayâ
Mina.Â
Itâs as if youâve been doused in a bucket of water from the lake in the dead of wintertime.Â
Youâre not doing anything⊠untoward, but Jungwonâs proximity is suddenly a difficult thing to miss. While she prepares for a wedding, you meet her fiancee in secret chambers. Letting him crowd your space as he insists on keeping you safe.Â
Itâs necessary, you tell yourself. Not treasonous in the slightest. And yet. Something unpleasant simmers in your gut at the thought of your sister ever becoming privy to any of it.Â
Disentangling yourself from the prince, you step backwards until reasonable space separates the two of you once again.Â
âItâs getting late,â you say, even though you have no concept of time this far from the sunlight. âWe should return.â
âIndeed,â Jungwon nods. âI will escort you back to your chambers.â
âThat wonât be necessary,â you assure. âBesides, as you said, itâs probably best that the two of us are not seen together.âÂ
Jungwon just shakes his head softly. âI know this castle more intimately than you could imagine. We will not be seen.â
Despite the nature of your relationship, something in you still hesitates to go against his wishes. And deeper yet, something in you mourns the thought of parting ways.Â
âVery well,â you nod.
True to his word, the path Jungwon leads is winding in its secrecy. You pass forgotten hallways, echoing chambers, an atrium filled with dust reflected by the starlight above.Â
After long minutes, you tell him, âI never knew any of this existed.â
âItâs by design,â he nods. âThese passageways are intentionally difficult to navigate. Full of dead ends and false doors and hidden detours. You can reach nearly every corner of the castle this way.â
âReally?â Your eyes widen. âWhere are we now?â
âJust behind the throne room, actually. Itâs empty now, of course, butââ
Suddenly, you hear the sound of voices, muffled but near. Jungwonâs words die on his tongue.Â
The two of you turn towards one another, equal expressions of confusion on your faces. Jungwon motions you silently forward a few more steps.Â
Pressing your ear to the wall, the voices are still still difficult to make out, although you do catch some fractured fragments.Â
â...Proceeding as normally,â you hear one voice say, âconsiderations to be made in regards to the dowryâŠâ
You frown. A dowry? The only upcoming wedding of royal concern is your sisterâs, and it has long been accepted that her hand comes with no dowry.
âAvoiding retaliation,â the voice continues, â...ensuring the union can be blessed without formal annulment.â
Your frown deepens. Turning to look at Jungwon, you wonder if he can make sense of any of this.Â
âAnd the prince?â you hear a voice ask.Â
The response is too muffled to catch.Â
â...New trade routes, and a strong, unified ally,â is the last thing you manage to make out, until the voices fade, further and further. Then, theyâre gone entirely.Â
You part your lips to speak. Jungwon just shakes his head, a deep line etched between his eyebrows. Wordlessly, he begins to move forward again. You follow silently.Â
A handful of moments later, the two of you reach a dark alcove. Only then does Jungwon stop, turning to face you.Â
âWhat was that?â you ask, still not daring to speak louder than a whisper.Â
âI donât know.â Jungwon shakes his head. âBut one of those voices belonged to my father. The other, I cannot be sure.â
His father. The king.Â
âWhy was your father speaking of marriage dowries?â you wonder, trying not to let unease settle too heavily. Maybe thereâs a perfectly logical explanation for all of it. âAnd annulments?Â
But Jungwonâs expression is no reassurance. âI have no idea.â
Despite yourself, a seedling of distrust begins to sprout at the edge of your mind. Regardless of what claims he makes about trying to rule the kingdom with a gentler hand, the man in front of you is the prince. There are far more things that would motivate him to remain loyal to his father than to you.Â
âTruly?â you ask. âNone at all?â
Jungwon bristles, as if he can sense your thoughts. âYes, truly. As I told you before, I have little to do with this marriage besides finding my place at the end of the aisle.â
âOkay,â you placate him. âOkay. I just donât understand the purpose of such discussions. Considering the involvement of my sister, Iâm sure you can understand my unease.â
Jungwon sighs, some of the tension easing from his shoulders. âI do understand. But I swear to you, on this matter, I truly know nothing.â
âWell then,â your eyes meet his, âI suppose weâll just have to find someone who does.â
Your search begins fruitlessly.Â
It starts with Jay, who has heard nothing. And in an unfortunate stroke of bad luck, heâs been tasked by the king himself with locating a rare fruit that hasnât grown locally for nearly a century. Although Jay makes time to talk to you, his answers are short and his time is limited as he tells you he cannot be late for his meeting with the royal importer.Â
Sunoo is equally clueless. You know crops have little to do with marriages, and you leave the fields empty handed and thoroughly disappointed.Â
Even Riki, who has the most direct involvement with the upcoming wedding, has no information for you. Dressmaking is proceeding normally, and no strange royal orders have reached his ears.Â
When he offers to let you try on your gown, you wave him off. âLater.â
âAre you sure?â he asks. âItâs absolutely gorgeous. Even more than I thought it would be. I think youâre going to love it.â
But youâre already halfway out the door. Â
Walking through the gardens as fast as your legs will carry you, you make a beeline for the stables. The sun is just beginning to dip on the horizon, casting a warm, golden glow over the earth.Â
Were your head less jumbled, perhaps you could enjoy it more.Â
Frustrated to no end at all of the dead ends, you figure maybe a ride with Nabi will help to clear your thoughts. But when you finally reach the stable, youâre not the only one paying a visit to the horses.Â
This time, it is no crown prince that disturbs your peace.Â
âSunghoon,â you startle, even though youâre the one that snuck up on him.
â___,â he turns to greet you. âItâs been a while. How is Nabi doing for you?âÂ
âSheâs perfect,â you nod. âI couldnât have selected a better horse myself.âÂ
âThe prince does have excellent taste,â he agrees. His words surprise you. You suppose Jungwon did say he asked Sunghoon to look after Nabi in the daytime, but something about the stable hand knowing the crown prince all but gifted you a horse has you shifting your weight uncomfortably.Â
âSo does her owner,â you nod to the horse currently in Sunghoonâs care. With light, fur that shines even in dying light, she truly is a sight to see. With short golden fur, sheâs not as stark white as Maeum, but sheâs just as striking within her own right.Â
âSheâs a beauty, isnât she,â Sunghoon agrees. âPrincesses tend to be picky.â
âPrincesses?â you echo. Jungwon has no siblings, no sisters to speak of. And he is not yet married. Unless youâve missed something terribly important, the kingdom has no princess.Â
Sunghoon nods. âThe princess from the northern kingdom. Her horse has been sent here to be cared for. To acclimate.â
âAcclimate?â At this point, youâre little more than a parrot. But why would the princess of the northern kingdom send her horse here to acclimate? Even if she were part of some political envoy or trade negotiation, it wouldn't make sense to send a horse here for such a short visit.Â
Sunghoon only shrugs. âI only know what Iâve been told. Iâve been asked to take good care of this horse until future notice.âÂ
âRight,â you nod, gears in your mind beginning to spin. âItâs alright if I take Nabi out?â
âOf course,â he concedes. âSheâs all yours.â
You wait until the castle is far enough away for comfort. No stray patrols or royal guards to be seen. And then you send a message.Â
Meet me at the edge of the forest outside the eastern gate. As soon as you can.
It takes less than a heartbeat for his response to come to you.
Iâm on my way.Â
âŠ..
Jaeyun is already waiting for you by the time you reach the hilltop. Again, the greeting he gives you is far warmer than the one he offers the prince, but your mind is far too jumbled to notice.Â
A handful of moments later, the three of you are sitting, facing each other in a loosely formed circle. And then you tell them what you know. All of it.Â
You tell Jaeyun what you and Jungwon heard, that night in the secret alcove. The voice of the king, discussing dowries and allies.Â
You tell them both about what you just heard from Sunghoon - the princess of the northern kingdomâs horse that has been placed in his care. To acclimate.Â
At that, the crease between Jungwonâs eyebrows becomes so deep you have to fight the urge to smooth it away with your fingertips.Â
âDid you visit the kitchens?â he asks.
âYes,â you nod. âBut Jay didnât have much to tell me. He was busy actually. Something about a rare fruit.â
Jaeyun nods, waving it off as dismissively as you had. But Jungwonâs frown remains.Â
âWhat fruit?â
âHm?â Youâre not sure why youâre wasting time on this, when other matters feel far more pressing. âI donât remember. Something exotic, I think. He said heâd have to talk with the royal importer.â
Jungwon wonât let it go. âWas it moonberry?â
âYeah,â you nod slowly. âThat does sound right, actually. Why? Do you know it?â
Jungwon nods, jaw tight. âIt used to grow in the northern kingdom in abundance. Until they destroyed nearly all of their natural flora and fauna nearly three decades ago. Now, itâs considered a rare delicacy. Itâs⊠itâs common, in marriage gifts for noble families.â
âOhâŠâ you trail off, trying desperately to ignore the sinking feeling beginning to form in the pit of your stomach. âThat could be fine, then. Maybe theyâre just preparing a gift. For Mina.â
Jungwon shakes his head. âIt is not a tradition in our kingdom.â He avoids your gaze when he adds, âOnly in the northern kingdom.â
âThat doesnât make sense.â Your hands flip in exasperation. Turning to Jungwon, you add, âUnless you have some secret brother none of us know about, the only royal marriage happening anytime soon is between you and my sister. Thereâs no reason for the king to be thinking of dowries or preparing royal marriage giftsââ
Jaeyun is the one to interrupt. âUnless theyâre not planning for the marriage to last.â
âWhat do you mean?â Your eyes widen, voice thinning. âTaking more than one wife is forbidden. And royal marriages cannot be annulled once the sacred oaths are taken.â
Jaeyunâs gaze holds no joy. But it does offer a fraction of understanding. âUnlessâŠâ
Jungwonâs gaze snaps to his, a flicker of shock crossing his features. Between them, something passes. A realization still outside of your grasp.
âUnless what?â you ask.Â
Jaeyun remains silent, something pained in his eyes when he turns to look at you.Â
The desperation in his gaze only makes you panic further. âUnless what?â you repeat.Â
âUnless my wife is dead,â Jungwon finally says, eyes trained directly on you. âThere is no violation of the sacred oaths,â pausing for a moment, he repeats, âif my wife is dead.â
For a moment, the space around you is still. It doesnât make sense. It doesnât.Â
Mina was discovered; she was brought to the castle to be the bride of the future king. To fulfill the prophecy the king worked so hard to obtain.Â
Sheâs a promise, a beacon of peace and prosperity. Of course the king would have every reason to protect her, to ensure that any enemies never have the chance to touch so much as a hair on her head.Â
So why on earth would the king feel the need to make alternative arrangements? To prepare for her death? There might be instability among the people, yes, but there has been no real insurrection. It doesnât make sense.Â
You cannot think of anyone in the kingdom who would want her dead, and even less of someone who would have the ability to do so.Â
Mina is protected by the castle, by the crown.Â
No one would be able to end her life except forâ
No. You donât say it out loud, but Jungwonâs eyes turn to you all the same.
âTheyâre going to kill her.â Itâs hardly a whisper, but in the silence of the hilltop, it feels like youâre screaming. Realizations are churning through your mind, dots connecting in a way that makes you sick. âThe king never had full faith in the prophecy. Heâs been planning this. But he couldnât just abandon the marriage fully, just in case the seer was right. He wants to see this marriage through but it isnât enough for him.â
Your voice mounts in desperation, every sickening realization like a blade against your heart. âHe still wants more. More resources. More power. Peace and prosperity were never enough. A common girl with no name and no gold was never going to be allowed to rule alongside his only son.â
You donât know much of the northern kingdom. Neither friend nor foe, your neighbors have only limited interactions with you, primarily in the form of trade.Â
Even that is kept quite discreet, as their⊠methods used in ruling are far from favorable. Torture, forced servitude, food rations that are become even more scarce than your own.Â
The northern kingdom has funneled its resources into only two things over the last handful of decades: the royalsâ lavish lifestyles and its increasingly large military.Â
Theyâve accumulated massive amounts of wealth and power through terrible means. The thought of Jungwonâs father idolizing their methods, of killing your sister for a chance to superimpose them here, is enough to have your stomach rolling with nausea.Â
âOr maybe thereâs something weâre missing,â Jaeyun suggests. âThis prophecy⊠so much seems to be riding on it? I know the gist, but what does it say exactly?â
âI donât know.â You shrug, helpless. âIâve never heard the original form. I was only told that we were brought to the castle to ensure the prosperity of the kingdom. That a marriage between Mina and the prince would instill great favor upon his reign and all that come after.â
âThat is what I know as well,â Jungwon agrees. âI have also never heard the prophecy verbatim.â
âIs it possible then,â Jaeyun asks, âthat this could be part of it?â
You raise your eyebrows. âYou believe a seer instructed the king to marry my sister and then murder her?â
âI donât know.â Jaeyun shakes his head. âBut we need to hear the original prophecy, not just what the two of you have been told.â
âAnd how should we go about that?â Your anger is misdirected, but you can hardly contain it now. It stings like a sharp blade. âWhat would you have us do? Roll the seer out of her grave and ask her ourselves?â
âThat might not be necessary.â At your side, itâs the first time Jungwon has spoken in minutes. Despite the revelations of the night, his expression betrays little. All you see is a set determination as his lips draw into a thin, straight line. âThe castle keeps archives of everything related to the royal family. Medical histories, anomalies, anything deemed worth noting. Itâs possible an original transcription of the prophecy is housed in the archives as well.â
âThe palace archives?â you echo. âYour wedding is in five days. How could we possibly begin to locateââ
âHeeseung can help,â Jungwon interrupts. Heeseung. Youâve nearly forgotten. Your escort to the princeâs chambers, all those weeks ago. Now, you remember. Jungwon had mentioned it, too. When heâs not running covert errands for the prince, heâs a scribe. In the royal archives. âHe spends most of his time there. Heâs well acquainted with the system of organization.â
It takes Heeseung two days to locate the prophecy in the archives. Two days of which you spend every waking moment so restless you think you may actually implode.Â
Youâre summoned for a dress fitting with Mina. You hardly feel the fabric against your skin, can barely force a stilted smile when Riki asks if you like it. Can hardly even brush him off when he ventures further to ask if everything is alright.Â
And Mina. Gods, you canât even look at your older sister. Youâre certain sheâs a vision of radiance. How could she not be, with so much careful attention on her? When sheâs been prepared her entire life for this very moment?
But no matter how hard you force yourself to smile, all you can see when you look at that pristine, sparking, white dress is red.Â
Ruby red crimson that starts at her stomach and radiates outwards like some kind of sickening bloom. Staining the front of her dress, dripping down to her satin shoes. Her expression, forever frozen in a picture of youth.Â
Of muted horror. Because even in her last moments, sheâs expected to be a lady.Â
The vision follows you, your sister, mutilated in her wedding gown, as you trace the familiar path back to your bedroom. Time feels like a thing suspended. Every ticking second is torture.Â
Lost in the violent visions of your head, you barely even remember arriving back at your room, closing the door firmly behind you. Sliding the lock into place.Â
Itâs getting late now. The end of another day.Â
Where is Heeseung? Where is Jungwon? Youâve tried calling for him, but your mind feels like an endless spiral. Without something to tether you to reality, your control over your connection slips. Until it fades almost entirely.Â
You said it yourself: youâre no prisoner. But trapped in your bedroom, haunted by the confines of your own mind, it certainly is beginning to feel that way.Â
Youâre not nearly ready to face another sleepless night, not prepared to toss and turn in anxious agony once again, but youâve resigned yourself to it.Â
Maybe your sleep tonight, when it eventually finds you in the darkest hours of the night, will be dreamless. Maybe it will spare you some of your waking torture.Â
In the end, you never find out.Â
Long before sleep finds you, the knock comes to your door.Â
Sharp, rapt, and light, itâs the opposite of the pounding that summoned you weeks ago. Still, it puts the last of your nerves on edge, has even your bones trembling beneath your skin.Â
With shaking hands, you stand, drawing your robe tighter around your body. Securing it with a flimsy knot.Â
For a moment, you pause, just on the inside of your door. You take a deep breath in. Force it back out. You have to face this. You know you do. But the anxiety clawing at your throat is difficult to ignore.Â
Itâs me. You hear, right against the shell of your ear. Itâs okay.
Is it? You wonder. Some of the fear dissipates, but itâs replaced with a certain kind of sadness, a deep sort of longing. You donât know how to put into words the way you suddenly feel like crying.Â
Still, you swallow your tears, hoping the last of your frayed nerves will go down with them. Sliding the lock to the side, you open your door. Slowly, as if this can be delayed any longer.Â
Jungwon, too, seems hesitant. Teetering at the edge of your doorstep, his eyes make quick work of scanning you head to toe.
In the deepest corners of your mind, youâre aware of the impropriety. Despite the fact heâs seen you in this state before, itâs hardly appropriate to be wearing nothing but nightclothes and a robe, hair loose around your face.
Jungwon, too, has foregone his formal clothing. Similar to the night in the stables, heâs dressed in nondescript, dark clothes. His head bears no crown. In his left hand, he holds a scroll.Â
This time, it feels different. Heeseung isnât here to serve as a buffer. Itâs just you and the prince. Clothing aside, itâs hardly appropriate for him to be in your bedroom.Â
He seems to sense it as well. âMay IâŠâ He clears his throat, voice suddenly scraped raw. âMay I come in?â
Wordlessly, you open the door wider. You take a step back, a silent invitation for him to follow.Â
Closing the door behind him, itâs just the two of you. Moonlight streams in through the window. Along with the single candle on your bedside table, itâs the only light in the room.Â
Jungwon breaks the silence. âHeeseung found it,â he tells you, sparing theatrics as he holds up the scroll in his hand. âA transcription. Taken on the date the prophecy was foretold. Written by a royal scribe at the side of the seerâs deathbed.â
You can hardly get the words out, voice a shadow of a whisper. âWhat does it say?â
âI donât know.â Jungwon matches your eye, the scroll still suspended between you. âI waited for you to read it.â
âVery well,â you nod.Â
Despite the way your heart hammers in your chest, you know you canât delay any longer.Â
Now it is the prince who hesitates. âPerhapsâŠâ he starts. âPerhaps we should sit down.â
Looking around your room, embarrassment enters your swirl of feelings. Your room is comfortable, yes, but it was not designed to be luxurious. You were not the sister afforded extra amenities. You have no table. No chairs.Â
Your voice is small. âIâm afraid the bed is the only place where we could.â
Jungwonâs breath is shallow. Still he nods, âIt will do.â
Sitting at your side at the foot of your bed, Jungwon turns to you, eyes earnest. âThis doesnâtâŠâ He struggles for a moment, searching for words. âThis doesnât change anything. I still mean every word Iâve ever told you. I have resolved to be a good king, to make things better. No matter what this scroll contains, that remains my sole intention.â He pauses, looking at you. âAnd if some part of this implies any sort of harm towards you or your sister, I vow to do everything in my power to stop it.â
Moonlight dances over his resolve. All you can manage is a nod.Â
You tell him, afraid your voice may fail you if you delay too long, âUnfold it.â
Slowly, the scroll unravels. Until he must hold his hands in front of his body, one across from his chest, the other parallel to his navel.Â
In the faint light, the words are just decipherable. With a voice that trembles only slightly, he reads aloud in the silence of your bedroom,
âA kingdom torn is a kingdom lost.
Even royal blood is ruined by frost.
But salvation will come through an unlikely pair.
A royal prince and a blacksmith's heir.Â
She will bear no wealth, no gold, no fame.
But the kingdom will prosper all the same.
You'll find her where the river flows,
With braid full of flowers, and a heart that knowsÂ
The name by which you call your heir.
Despite never hearing it,
Sheâll whisper it there.â
For a moment, neither of you says anything. Jungwon tugs at the bottom of the scroll, as if he expects it to unfold further. âThatâsâŠâ Jungwon frowns, âmore vague than I hoped. But this doesnât answer our questions. At least we now know there is no mention of anything⊠deadly.â
Thereâs not. It should provide a bit of relief. But your heart is dropping in your stomach for an entirely different reason.Â
Like Jungwon said, the prophecy is vague. It sounds more like a childâs nursery rhyme than a foretold fate. So much so that you can hardly believe the king would hinge the livelihood of an entire kingdom on its fulfillment.Â
And he was right, you think. All those years ago. Even with nothing but rhymes to work with, he found who he was looking for.Â
The prophecy matches Mina. A blacksmithâs heir. No wealth, no gold, no fame. The two of you had been playing, next to the bank of a river. And you had spent the afternoon finding the most beautiful flowers to weave into the identical braids your mother had given you that very morning.Â
But the last stanza. It echoes now, inside your mind. Like a death march on loop.Â
With braid full of flowers, and a heart that knowsÂ
The name by which you call your heir.
Despite never hearing it,
Sheâll whisper it there.
The day was so long ago. The details are blurred, hazy around the edges. But there are things you know for certain. Call it memory or intuition or the same strange magic that allows you to speak with the prince inside your mind, youâre sure of it.Â
When the man, the king, approached the two of you, you were terrified. Barefoot in the grass, you were shaking. One year older, Mina was always the braver one between the two of you.Â
Even with the river roaring behind you, the kingâs voice boomed like thunder. It made you flinch, tucking yourself even further into your sisterâs shadow.Â
He had asked only one question. âWhat is my sonâs name?â
For a moment, the two of you were silent. His request was strange, preposterous. You didnât know what this manâs name was, much less that of his son. All you knew was that he dressed funny. Full of gold and furs and a strange looking hat.Â
Crown, you think your mother had told you once.Â
And as was tradition in your kingdom, the princeâs name had not yet been revealed to the public. Jungwonâs name would remain a mystery until his fifth birthday. Even if you had known this man to be the king, neither of you would have any way to name his son.Â
He repeated his question, even louder this time. It frightened you so much you thought you might die. In front of you, even Mina began to tremble.Â
âI donât know,â you wanted to shout, desperate to do anything to make the man go away, leave you alone. You were too far from your parents. Even if you screamed, they would never hear you.
It started with a tickle, a strange sensation against the back of your mind. You craned your neck to the side, as if you could escape your own thoughts if you stretched just right. Your hand flew to the back of your head, as if that strange feeling would have some sort of physical manifestation.Â
It didnât. But it grew stronger. Until sensation became sound. And sound became a word.Â
Jungwon.
The king repeated his question a third time, and you swear you saw even the trees tremble.Â
âJungwon,â you whispered in Minaâs ear.Â
âWhat?â she asked, looking over her shoulder at you.Â
âJungwon,â you repeated. You didnât know where it came from and were even less sure of what to do with it. But you knew, somewhere deep down, that it would make his shouting stop.Â
Minaâs eyes were clouded with confusion, but she still nodded at you. Still gathered the last of her bravery and turned back to the king, shoulders straight in an effort at bravado.Â
âJungwon,â she shouted, loud enough to be heard over the roaring of the river.Â
The kingâs draw dropped open in surprise. And then he smiled.Â
It was done.Â
Now, sixteen years later, back in the sanctity of your bedroom, a different mantra whispers through your mind.Â
It was me.
It plays like a sickening loop, only grows louder the more you try to stop it. You have to get a reign on your thoughts. He canât know.
You canât tell him. You canât say it. You canât.Â
But Jungwon, much to your horror, turns to you and, breaking the silence, asks, âWhat?â
You shake your head. You feel three years old again, shaking in fear at the side of a river. âI⊠I didnât say anything.â
But itâs already too late. He heard you, loud and clear. As if you had leaned in and whispered it, lips pressed against his temples, words ghosting over his skin.
âItâs not her,â he shakes his head, eyes darting over the scroll. Rolling it back into place, he sets it aside. âIt was never her.â Thereâs something akin to wonder in his gaze when he turns to look at you. âItâs you.â
And then, like a stack of dominoes falling one by one, heâs clicking pieces of a magical puzzle into place with certainty. âThatâs why we can hear one another in our minds. Why I feel this⊠this sort of magnetism whenever youâre nearââ
He meets your eye, pleading. You can practically see the gears in his mind turning. You can feel the way they whir a million miles a minute. âItâs why the kingdom still suffers. The prophecy wasnât being followed. It still is not being fulfilled. Of course.â Heâs hardly pausing to breathe. âThis will change everythingââ
But you cannot listen to him any longer, canât let him continue to draw his own errant conclusions. Before his realizations can continue to tumble out, you interrupt, âMina can never know.â Your voice, quiet and steady, cuts through your bedroom like a knife.
At your side, Jungwon goes suddenly still. His brow furrows, confused. âOf course, you may be the first one to speak to her if you wish, butââ
You shake your head, expression resolute. You repeat, âShe cannot know, Jungwon. Not from my mouth or yours or anyone elseâs.â
For a moment, Jungwonâs lips do nothing but open. Close again. As if there are things he would like to say but canât quite remember how to form words. âBut youâ but the prophecyââ
You force your voice into something cold, detached. âThe wedding is in three days.â You shake your head. âA few moments ago you said this would change nothing. That you were willing to overlook such fickle magic. You said it yourself, itâs your new crown and title that will give you the power to make real change for your people, not the words of a dead seer.â
âThis was beforeâŠâ Jungwon trails off. Itâs strange, you note offhandedly, just how favored he truly seems to be. With moonlight streaming in through your window and confusion overtaking his features, he still manages that effervescent sort of beauty. It feels too potent, too overwhelming, here on the foot of your bed, among the threadbare decorations of your room. âI was making adjustments based on what I knew then. But this⊠this changes things.â
Your brow furrows, eyes narrowing. You pray youâre misunderstanding. âI donât see how.â
Sensing your unease, Jungwon ventures lightly, âPerhaps if the prophecy were to be followed truly, thenââ
âThen what?â You shrug helplessly. âThen I can become a prop, a doll for the castle? Then my sister can despise me for all eternity? Then I can lose my connections and ability to help the resistance as I spend my days at your side, nothing but a false figurehead? Then your father can kill me too?â
âThat wonât happen,â Jungwon shakes his head. âThis will change things. People wonât suffer anymore.âÂ
His naivety frustrates you to no end. Where has your level-headed prince gone? âIt will change nothing! Your father has decided that peace and prosperity arenât enough. Donât you see, Jungwon? He wants power. Money. It doesnât matter which one of us walks down the aisle toward you. I doubt he can even tell my sister and I apart. Whichever one of us it is, heâs going to murder, just as soon as he thinks the prophecy has been sealed into place. In fact, maybe heâll just kill us both. We both know Iâm just dead weight without her anyways.â
âDonât say that.â His brow dips in frustration. âThis isnât⊠Youâre not dead weight.â
âWhatever I am, I wonât be a prop for royals to use and discard as they see fit.â You shake your head, resolve tightening. Even if you canât quite look him in the eye as you say it. âI wonât forever ruin the life of my only living family.â
Jungwon is begging for a bit of your understanding. Trying to chip away at an unbreakable wall. âEven if it means saving a kingdom? Preventing unnecessary violence and death?â
âI am not the one tasked with ruling the kingdom,â you remind him.Â
âNo,â he agrees, âbut you are one half of the prophecy designed to save it.âÂ
Itâs as if he forgot his earlier words. You remind him, âA prophecy you decided to place no faith in until mere moments ago.â
Jungwon suddenly rises from the edge of your bed. Standing, he turns to face you, forcing your gaze to his. âAnd even then I was willing to sacrifice everything on the feeble hope that it could be true!â His eyes are wide, chest heaving. âI wouldnât do you the dishonor of complaining about my life, not when my circumstances are more favorable than most men could dream. But if you think that for even one moment, I rejoiced in the idea of being forever wed to a woman for which I hold no affection, you are sorely mistaken.â
In the dim light of your bedroom, itâs a confession that feels dangerous.Â
As his words heat, you force yours into ice. Your tone is considerably cooler when you reply, âIâm terribly sorry for your misfortune. The duty of marrying someone so far beneath your status is truly an unthinkable taskââ
âHer status has nothing to do with itââ
âI didnât pin you to be such a bleeding romantic,â you finish, sarcasm laced through every syllable.Â
The tension, the fight, drains from his shoulders. Heâs not arguing now. Heâs begging. And heâs looking deep into your eyes when he asks, helplessly, âHow could I not be, when Iâve met someone who speaks to me inside my own head?â
For a moment, your bedroom is silent. Save for the sound of your breaths, heavy, heaving, mingling with his. You wonât ask him to clarify. You know what he means. Youâd be a fool not to feel it too.Â
The first time you spoke, hidden beneath the castle. The orchids. The night in the stables when he gifted you a horse of your very own. Your silent arguments in front of Jaeyun. Checking in on one another no matter what distance kept you apart. Every moment in between.Â
This bond, this connection, is more than just functional. Itâs tied you to him in ways you canât explain, with feelings youâre afraid to admit.Â
Itâs the most damning piece of evidence that the seer, all those years ago, was still lucid in her prophesizing.Â
Itâs why you canât look at him when you say, âI think itâs best if you take your leave.â
â___,â he says your name. Soft, quiet, pleading.Â
âPlease,â you beg, shaking your head. You still wonât match his eye. âPlease, just go.â
With your eyes trained on his shoes, you watch as they remain motionless for moments longer. âVery well,â he finally says. You wish you didnât know him well enough to recognize the pain etched into his voice. âCall upon me, when youâre ready.âÂ
He doesnât tell you where, how to find him. You already know. All you have to do is think it, and heâll be at your side.Â
But your lips and your mind remain equally guarded, motionless, as you watch his footsteps turn from you. Then disappear.Â
The door shuts behind him with a resounding click.Â
And you let the single, heavy tear fall onto the fabric of your robe.Â
âŠ..
No matter how deeply sorrow burrows itself into your heart, the day of your sisterâs wedding somersaults forward with little grace until itâs in an undeniable heap at your feet.Â
Itâs both agony and sheer relief. With every passing second, you find yourself more and more tempted to do something. Anything. Some action that will make the restlessness beneath your skin disappear. Something that will have your mind cease its war with your heart.
It would be so easy to tug at that familiar connection. To send a message to Jungwon with your mind. But what would you tell him?
Please donât marry her. Itâs a selfish, vile wish. One with ugly green horns and a steadiness that remains even when you forget the prophecy.
Fulfill the prophecy. Marry me instead. Itâs even worse. You can frame your desires as altruism, but you know yourself better than that. The guilt, the shame, regardless of the outcome would eat at you forever.Â
Iâm sorry. For what exactly, you're not sure. But you hate the expression that was on his face when he left you three nights ago. Hate the way that itâs still burned into your mind, etched across your vision every time you close your eyes.Â
âCall upon me,â heâd told you, âwhen youâre ready.âÂ
But now, sitting in your sisterâs dressing room, watching her prepare for the ceremony that will bind her to Jungwon forever, you doubt you ever will be.Â
You donât think you can stomach it, the polite distance expected between a prince and the sister of his bride. You donât think you can ever look at him again and feel anything resembling detachment.
So instead, you forced a smile this morning when you dragged yourself out of bed. It was another sleepless night, full of dreams that felt more like mirages than rest.Â
You made your way to her dressing room at the time you were summoned, dressed in the gown Riki completed for you.Â
Sitting here now, looking at her, you pretend the unease in your stomach is something other than jealousy.Â
You try your best not to hate that version of you at the riverâs edge, all those years ago, who wasnât quite brave enough to look the king in the eye and whisper the name in your mind.Â
And then, on your next exhale, you do your best to let it go.Â
The dressing room, at least, does provide some distraction.Â
Youâre not sure how the tailor managed to do it, but Minaâs gown is somehow even lovelier in the light of her dressing room than it was in his salon. Â
Itâs white, starkly so, and the intricate beading that covers the corset only stands to make it more blinding.Â
Youâre still having a hard time looking directly at her, though. Mostly because every time you do, that awful vision returns. The one where her dress, right at the center, begins to bleed crimson.Â
Your own reflection is difficult to observe, too. Riki was right. Gold is your color. And the attention the ladies maids paid to your hair and makeup have made you hardly recognize yourself.Â
Youâre not sure if itâs pride you swallow or merely nerves, but you turn to sit in a way that angles you away from the mirror. This choice puts your older sister in your direct line of sight. Sheâs beautiful, truly. And itâs her wedding day, death sentence or not. You should tell her as much.Â
Once again, she beats you to it.Â
âYou look beautiful, ____,â she says. âTruly stunning. That gold looks wonderful on you.â
âPlease,â you shake your head. Your voice still sounds rusty, raw. You cough lightly in an effort to disguise it. âItâs nothing compared to you.â
She looks at you for a moment, as if she canât quite decide what to say. For a moment, you feel transparent. As if she can see all the way to your bones, to the desires you swore to hide from her forever. But the moment passes as quickly as it comes. Eventually, she settles on, âI did not intend to compare.â
Youâre sure she didnât. But it happens anyway. Murmurs behind hand. Gossip between the castle ladies. Rumors at the dinner table. Your existence here has always been one of comparison. One you fall short of every single time.Â
âHow could I not be, when Iâve met someone who speaks to me inside my own head?â
Well, except in one case, perhaps. Even now, Jungwonâs words echo in your brain like an omen. It feels like treason to sit here and trade pleasantries with your sister when less than three nights ago, you were sitting at the foot of your bed with her husband-to-be, trading secrets in the dark.Â
You shake your head, as if the action alone can clear your illicit thoughts. Itâs no use. Your mulling, your questions, your feelings. They donât matter. In the span of hours, your sister will be married and the prophecy will be left to die in your memory.Â
Then, your only objective will be to figure out the rest of the kingâs plan. Discover exactly when he plans on murdering your sister.Â
For now, you simply need a moment.Â
Standing, you excuse yourself for some fresh air. You feel Minaâs eyes on your back until the door to the dressing room shuts firmly behind you. Leaning back against it for a moment, you place a hand over your hammering heart. Try to catch your breath.Â
Itâs little use. The air outside the dressing room is just as stifling.Â
Deciding youâre in need of something fresher, you let your footsteps carry you further, all the way until you reach a small, secluded balcony overlooking the garden youâve become so very fond of.Â
A fresh ache begins in your heart. Despite it all, the castle is your home. Even if it wasnât of your own volition. Even if it never truly opened its arms to you fully.Â
This is the place where you grew up. It holds all of your memories, your secrets. Your deepest fears, your greatest desires.Â
And now, you fear it may steal the rest of your life just as surely. Something in you aches at the thought of growing old here. Living out the rest of your days as nothing more than the sister of the queen. Watching your sister and Jungwon build a life, a family.Â
You decide then, with your eyes on the roses and wind in your hair, that you hate prophecies. Magic and sorcery and seers, all of it. Who was the old seer to decide your fate? Who was the king to seal it in stone?Â
For a moment, you wonder privately if youâre glad the king set his sights on the wrong sister. The only thing worse than watching this marriage from the periphery, you suppose, would be existing at the center of it.Â
Then again, if things were different, you might disagree. Would the prophecy do to you what itâs done to Mina? Would time make you indifferent and malleable and perfectly suited to supporting the future king from the sidelines? Youâre not sure. And somehow, that stings even more.Â
Silently, you watch as the wind plays with the flowing fabric of your sleeves.Â
Not for the first time, you imagine leaving all of this behind you for good. Closing your eyes, itâs all too easy to picture. Abandoning the castle. Leaving your sister a short note that conveys your affection but betrays nothing of your whereabouts.Â
Letting Jay, Riki, Sunoo, and Sunghoon learn through rumors that youâve escaped into the night. Joining Jaeyun for good, living out the rest of your life as far away from the palace walls as the wind will carry you.Â
Letting Jungwon discover you missing. Mourning the loss, perhaps. Eventually moving on.Â
But whatever the fantasy is, itâs too late now.Â
No matter how you picture it, no matter what escape route this particularly mutinous version of yourself takes, he is always there. In the shadows. Echoing through your mind.Â
Youâd have to escape on horseback, of course. And you can hardly look at Nabi without wondering what exactly made Jungwon know sheâd be so well suited to you.Â
You can hardly return to the hilltop, once your favorite sanctuary, knowing that the ghost of his footsteps would only follow.Â
And even if you could find somewhere outside the incumbent kingâs reach, you can never escape your own mind. No, peace will certainly never have you. Not as long as he keeps hold of the space heâs been given there.Â
Would he try, you wonder. Reaching out to you through that strange connection in your mind? Would it fade with time and distance? Or would it just lay there, dormant, unused, but always waiting?
Heâs left you in peace the last three days, and you can quite decide if itâs a blessing or a curse. Â
Regardless of the prince, even if you truly wanted to, itâs not as if you can abandon the castle now. Not when Minaâs life could possibly be in jeopardy.Â
So instead, you open your eyes. Let them gaze over the garden just a moment longer. Try not to think too hard about what the roses would think of you, if they could speak.Â
And then, with one final breath and the last of your aching resolve, you turn on your heel.Â
Or, at least, you try to.Â
The sound of voices below has your feet faltering in their tracks. The hushed, secretive cadence reminds you of that day in the hidden corridors with Jungwon. Only, this time, theyâre far easier to distinguish.Â
Thereâs no thick stone wall to serve as a barrier. Only the garden air.Â
âItâs a shame,â the first voice says. You donât recognize it, but it sends a chill down your spine. Itâs a man, you think. But that is all you can decipher. âI still donât understand why it has to be today. Itâs a wedding, for godsâ sake.â
At the mention, your breath stutters.Â
âI know,â the second voice responds, far more detached. Another man, youâre sure. This one with a sharper tone of haughtiness. âBut the kingâs orders are iron bars.â
The first speaker still isnât sure. âIt just isnât right. Why should she die todayââ
âKeep your voice down,â the second interrupts, voice bitingly cold. âIt isnât our place to question. Besides, you know how this works by now. Itâs her or itâs us. Are you willing to take that risk?â
The first must shake his head. Or nod. Whatever his response is, itâs inaudible.Â
And your heart hammers in your chest, pulse pounding in your ears, for an entirely different reason.Â
Desperate for a glimpse, a clue, you lean as far over the balcony as balance will allow you. But itâs not enough. You canât see anything but roses and empty space. Panic begins to claw at your throat.Â
Why should she die today? Itâs a wedding.
Like a demented chant, snippets of their brief conversation echo in your mind. It doesnât matter how you look at them, how you spin them. You donât need a gut feeling or a strange stroke of intuition to guide you now. You know, no matter how terribly you wish you didnât, exactly what they mean.Â
The clues you put together, they were right. Mina's life is in danger.Â
And for whatever terrible reason, despite the prophecy, the king is no longer waiting. Whatever death theyâve planned for your sister, it will happen before she says her vows.Â
Panic takes a firmer root now, somewhere deeper inside you. Through the haze in your mind, you search. Until itâs there. Like a muscle youâve begun to train, a mechanism youâre starting to understand.Â
Desperation rising, you only hope his anger or hurt or whatever emotion he left with three nights ago isnât enough to sever what lies between you.Â
Jungwon, you try. Itâs as easy as ever, a practiced motion.
For a moment, there is nothing in your mind but silence. And thenâ
Iâm here.
You can almost envision his expression. That gentle warmth. Those damn eyes. No matter what terms you ended your last conversation on, you knew it would come to this. He would never leave you to drown in your own silence.Â
I need you to do something, you tell him, mind spinning a million miles a minute. His response takes less than an inhale.Â
Anything.Â
Stepping back inside, you let your feet make quick work of carrying you back to the dressing room where Mina puts on the last of her finishing touches.
This is the day sheâs trained for, prepared for, her entire life. Her childhood was stolen too, her parents left to die in the cold. This wedding, this future, is the only thing that's ever belonged to her.Â
And you're about to ruin it.
 Bursting through the door, several pairs of eyes turn to you, widening at the sudden interruption.Â
âMina,â you say, breathless as a plan begins to take shape in your mind, âI need you to trust me.â
âŠ..
The grand hall is nearly blinding. Above you, the ceiling has been replaced with windows at intermittent points. Sunlight, high in the daytime sky, streams through in long, bright beams.Â
Even if the sky were more melancholy, the thousands of candles filling the room would illuminate it all the same.Â
The hall is filled with flowers. Rare, exotic blooms that catch your eye. And among them all, scattered in intentionally placed bunches, are orchids.
Looking down at your sleeve, you see them embroidered there too. Itâs beautiful beadwork, truly. The tailor has outdone himself. Light reflects from every square inch of fabric, making you nearly as radiant as the sun.Â
Along the aisle, members of the royal court stand, eyes on you. For a moment, youâre grateful to the way your dress has become all but reflective. It makes it easier to ignore their assessing stares.
Theyâre all doing it, you know. Whether theyâre smiling, frowning, or some odd mix of both. Theyâre scanning every inch of you for the sole purpose of finding something to criticize behind closed doors.Â
Itâs a strange feeling, and one you certainly arenât accustomed to. Like a zoo animal in a cage, meant for observing and picking apart.Â
Shaking their stares away, you look straight ahead.
Your vision is obscured, only slightly, by the thin, white veil that covers your face. It flutters against your skin as onlookers take a hushed gasp at your entrance. And, you hope, it conceals your identity.Â
Eyes trained on your feet, thoughts consumed with not tripping over your own skirts, the sudden intrusion in your mind nearly startles you into stumbling.Â
Your name. You hear it in your mind, clear as daylight, in a voice that doesnât belong to you.Â
For a moment, you remain silent. You donât even dare to look up at the end of the aisle where you know he stands, waiting.Â
He told you once, weeks ago, that his only role in this ceremony was to wait for his bride at the end of the aisle. You never imagined you would be the one walking towards him.Â
This time, it doesnât matter. He tries again. Itâs you. You pretend not to hear the hope in his voice.
Despite it all, you canât leave him in silence forever. It is, you reply.
The orchestraâs march is agonizingly slow. Your steps are small, measured. The aisle that extends before you is still long. The space that separates you decreases slowly, in tiny increments.Â
Whyâ
I need you to listen to me. You cut him off. You were right, that night on the hilltop. Theyâre going to kill Mina. I heard voices, just now, before the ceremony. Your heart beats in your chest, pulse in your throat, thrumming in your ears. They wonât wait until after youâre married. Theyâre going to kill her now.
What do you mean theyâre going to kill her now?
I heard them, you explain. Assassins, I think. They said they had orders from the king. To kill her today. At the wedding.
That meansâŠ
Under the veil, you nod. I think theyâre here now.
Only then do you lift your chin. Only a matter of footsteps separates you now. The prince, Jungwon, is within reach.Â
Across from you, he looks every bit the royalty he is. Dressed in well fitted garments, color as deep as midnight, he is every bit your opposite. Your equal. Where your gown flows, his ensemble sits against his skin with structure, a rigidness meant for rulers. Where yours is light, airy, his is dark, stable.Â
On his head, he wears his crown. Golden, heavy, impossibly intricate where it rests across his forehead. His hair, dark and well groomed, barely brushes the tops of his shoulders. And his eyes, full of constellations, are trained directly on you.Â
Where? He asks. The desperation in his voice is difficult to mix as you step onto the small, raised platform. Stand directly across from him. Heâs so close now, within reach. Where are they?
You shake your head, a minute motion. I donât know.Â
To your right, the royal minister begins his speech. The traditional marriage rites of the kingdom.Â
Above him, in the only seat higher than the two of you in the room, sits the king. In his throne, he looks almost bored. Lazy with the indulgence of it all.Â
Beneath him, Jungwon and you stand facing each other. At the front of the grand hall, in the dead center. The position is intentional. Meant to provide a clear view for onlookers.Â
Now, you feel like little more than sitting ducks.
You watch as Jungwon does his best to remain inconspicuous, as his eyes rake over the audience, the room. For a moment, a deep sense of hopelessness overwhelms you. The room is too full, too crowded.Â
An assassin, especially one hired by the king himself, is like a needle in a haystack.Â
It strikes you then, in the middle of a marriage ceremony in a stolen gown, that you are not ready for death. Your life is something you mull over only occasionally. Youâre not sure what impact youâve made, what lives youâve touched.Â
Itâs a bit of a selfish desire, perhaps, to hope that it will extend longer than today. But there are things, so many of them, that you still want to do. Words you still want to say. Days, simple, unremarkable, routine, that you still want to experience.Â
Your dagger is still strapped to your thigh, even beneath a wedding dress. But what use is a dagger against what youâre sure will be a trained assassin? Fleetingly, you remember your lesson. The adjustments Jungwon made to your posture. The advice he gave you. To be smart. To be quick.Â
Itâs useless now. On the precipice of what very well may be your death, your mind spins. Itâs hard to concentrate, difficult to gather your thoughts into something rational. And your gown is as restrictive as it is gorgeous. It would be difficult to run in skirts these heavy, these long, much less flee for your life. Reality settles with a chill.
Grief feels like a sudden punch in the gut, a cold sense of clarity that cuts through the adrenaline and has you wanting to run back down the aisle the way you came.Â
Mina, you hope, will be safe. You pray she listened to your instructions, that sheâs heeding them now. If life is waiting for her on the other side of this, you suppose you can make your peace with your decisions.Â
Looking at Jungwon for a moment, his eyes are still darting around the room, frantic in his search. You would join him, but thereâs little use. The veil obscures too much of your vision. Besides him, you canât make out much of anything. Not clearly, anyway.
With a startling suddenness, his gaze is back on you. You doubted him. Forgot, perhaps, that he has the vision of a trained hunter.Â
Again, you hear him in your mind. The balcony, he says. Behind you. Two men in dark clothes. Their faces are concealed.Â
Something akin to hope blooms in your chest. Maybe, you think, even if you hardly dare to believe it, you wonât die on this pedestal. A gruesome vision of crimson over white come to life.
Across from you, Jungwonâs eyes narrow. Almost as if heâs suddenly furious. Youâre not going to die. Â
His words are sharp, angry. You hadnât meant to send your thoughts to him, but as always, he heard them regardless.Â
Beside you, the ministerâs words are beginning to slow. He motions for the rings, a symbol of your eternal devotion and connection to one another, to be brought forth. For the crown that will soon belong to you to be placed on a pedestal next to you.Â
The ceremony is drawing to an end. Whatever the king has planned, it must be happening soon.Â
Jungwonâs eyes fall back to the space above your shoulders, where youâre sure the assassins must be lying in wait. Next to you, the minister instructs the two of you to join hands.Â
Removing your gloves, your fingers tremble slightly. Placing them on a cushion next to you, you reach out, interlacing your bare fingers with his.Â
Beneath your touch, his skin is warm. Your hands arenât quite sure what to do. They canât decide if they should settle into his heat or jolt at the sudden contact. It strikes you then that despite the connection in your minds, the way it feels as if his lips are well acquainted with the shell of your ear, this is the first time you and the prince have truly touched. Â
His skin is smooth under yours. Calloused in the places he holds reins, a sword. Gentle as his fingers envelop yours.Â
Again, his eyes narrow in on the balcony behind you. You watch as his jaw sets in determination, a resolution made.Â
Next to you, the minister instructs you to release your hands, to gather your rings and place them on one anotherâs respective fingers.Â
You begin to disentangle your grasp to follow his direction, but Jungwon holds strong. His fingers suddenly a vice grip against your own. Looking to him, confusion marrs your features.
You reach for the connection, about to ask in your mind what heâs doing, but you never get the chance.Â
Before you can draw another breath, he pulls.Â
So suddenly, so firmly, that your center of gravity is thrown entirely. Unable to regain your balance, you fall. Down, down, down, impossibly fast towards the ground nearly a foot below the platform.Â
You close your eyes, bracing for impact that never fully comes.Â
Instead of hitting the stone floor of the grand hall, solid and unyielding, your fall is cushioned by the body beneath yours.Â
Jungwon.
Pulled tight to his chest, your head rests right over his heartbeat, legs tangled on the castle floor. Lifting your head, your vision is still partially obscured by your veil.Â
Your pulse hammers, blood rushing in your ears. Distantly, you hear the sound of screams. Chaos erupting around the hall as realizations begin to settle. Turning your head to the side, you can just make out the shape of a singular arrow, long as sharp, lodged into the podium. Exactly where youâd been standing seconds ago.Â
Your lips part in surprise. A hand over your head pulls you tight to his chest once again. You feel your body flip through the air, a sudden motion that nearly knocks the air from your lungs as youâre spun onto your back.Â
Eyes screwed shut, you open them slowly. Above you now, Jungwon hovers, caging you in with his body. Above you, desperation laces through his eyes as they bore into yours, every nerve a live wire.Â
His crown, lost somewhere in the chaos, lies alone in the space youâd been in moments ago. Next to it, a second arrow rests, useless on the ground.Â
Jungwonâs hair falls over his face, brushes the tops of his eyelashes. Your foreheads are nearly touching.Â
Around you, the room explodes as royal guests begin to flee, their terror echoing through the hall.Â
In your private sanctuary of Jungwonâs making, you hardly hear them. Your focus rests entirely on him. With one swift motion, he lifts his hand, pushing your veil back from your face. Thereâs no barrier between you now.Â
âWe have to run,â he whispers, breath caressing your cheekbone. Even now, heâs gentle with you, delicate. Itâs a stark contrast to the horror that unfolds around you.Â
âI know,â you nod, heart in your throat. âThis dressââ
You donât need to explain further. Before you can form another coherent thought, you feel his hand slide under the back of your knee, pulling it up until it rests next to his ribs, caging him in.Â
One palm rests by your ear, supporting his weight above you. The other you feel brush against your ankle. Suppressing a shudder, you feel it traveling higher, beneath your skirts now.Â
Despite everything, you feel heat on your cheekbones, confusion in your brow. Your throat is dry, nearly choking around a swallow.Â
Jungwon doesnât leave you in the dark for long.Â
You feel the moment he finds it, long fingers wrapping around the dagger holstered to your upper thigh. Itâs horribly intimate. Itâs indecent, itâs obscene. Itâs a matter of survival as he draws it out of its sheath, pulling it free and letting your skirts fall back into place as he removes his hand from your skin.Â
You feel the resistance as he puts his blade against the fabric, cutting away at months of effort. You pray the tailor forgives you as you hear beads scatter over stone, silk fraying as he cuts in frantic, uneven strokes.Â
And then heâs done. With the train of your gown gone, your legs are far less restricted. You can move. You can run.Â
We have to go, he repeats, this time in your mind.Â
You nod in lieu of replying. He stands first. You take his outstretched hand, placing your fingers in his.Â
And then youâre running. Only once, before leaving the grand hall, do you glance back. Your eye sweep over the upheaved seats, the strewn flowers. The candles that have begun to fall, flames extinguishing as wicks kiss stone.Â
And the king, high on his throne at the center of it all, has his furious, enraged gaze trained directly on your unveiled face.Â
Jungwon leads you with practiced speed, weaving once again through secret passageways and hidden chambers that he knows like the back of his hand.Â
Minutes blur in your mind. The only marker of time is the growing burn of exertion in your legs.Â
Just a little further, he assures in your mind.Â
True to his word, the two of you reach an exterior exit less than a minute later. Immediately, you recognize the eastern gardens. Crouching low behind the thickest of the foliage, the two of you follow the outskirts until you reach the stables.Â
Nabi is gone when you arrive, and you allow yourself a sigh of relief. Mina, you hope, is long gone by now.Â
Jungwon makes quick work of saddling Maeum. Holding you steady, he helps you mount him before following suit.Â
And then, the two of you are off, reins in his hands and wind in your hair as the castle turns to nothing but a speck on the horizon, far in the distance behind you.Â
âŠ..
âOh, thank the gods.â Jaeyun is nearly beside himself, pacing across the hilltop by the time you and Jungwon arrive.Â
Jungwon waits back for a moment, tying Maeum next to Nabi. He ensures he has plenty of water and food after carrying you both all the way here.Â
Meanwhile, Jaeyun pulls you into a hug so tight you think your lungs might be robbed of all their remaining air. Releasing you after another long moment, he pulls back, mouth opening. His words die on his lips as he scans you head to toe.Â
You imagine you must be quite a sight to behold. Hair coming undone haphazardly, dress a tattered mess around your legs, skin full of scratches and shallow cuts, youâre quite a striking image.Â
In the commotion of your arrival, your older sister breaches the crest of the hilltop, eyes glassy as she runs towards you. Again, youâre pulled into a hug, this one less crushing, albeit only slightly.Â
âThank goodness,â she breathes against your ear. Pulling back, she keeps her hands on your shoulders. Looking directly into your eyes, Mina scolds, âDonât ever do that to me again.â
Youâre not sure why the sight of your older sister has you wanting to burst into childish tears. Itâs sheer relief, perhaps. Or maybe residual guilt. A stew of feelings youâre not quite ready to observe.Â
âYouâre okay,â you whisper, emotions plain on your face.Â
Mina nods. âSunghoon helped me. Brought me here. Introduced me to yourâŠâ she trails off a moment, looking at Jaeyun, âfriend.â
âGood,â you nod. Looking around, you ask, âWhere is he now?â
âBack to the castle,â Jaeyun explains. âSaid it would be too suspicious for him to stick around for long.â
A new thread of worry weaves its way through your heart. Wherever he is now, you hope heâs safe.Â
It had been difficult, back in Minaâs dressing room, asking Jungwon through your mind to send Sunghoon to you. You prayed that you werenât sending him and your sister both to their doom when you asked, no begged, him to help her escape before the ceremony.Â
Quietly, Jungwon joins the three of you, coming to stand at your side.Â
If Mina notices your proximity, she doesnât comment on it. Instead, she drops into a deep curtsey.Â
âMy prince,â she greets, eyes trained turned the grass.Â
âYou donât have to do that out here,â Jaeyun smirks. In a voice thatâs nearly a sing-song, he adds, âWe get to call him Jungwon.â
âOh,â she flushes, facing Jaeyun as she stands. âI could neverââ
âReally, Mina,â you interrupt after giving your friends a withering glare. Your voice is gentle. âItâs alright.â
âIâŠâ She trails off, eyes flickering between you and Jaeyun. Just once, they dart to Jungwon before lowering again in deference. âI donât understand.â
You sigh, heart suddenly heavy in your chest. âDid Sunghoon explain anything?â you ask. âOr Jaeyun?â
âNo.â She shakes her head.
âI wasnât sure it was my place to tell,â Jaeyun says, voice suddenly solemn.Â
You nod at him, thankful for his tact. Turning back to your sister, you suggest, âMaybe we should sit down.â
In the grass, sat directly across from her, you find eye contact a difficult thing to maintain.Â
âMina,â you start, trying to deliver your blows gently. âToday, at your wedding.â You pause, lips sealing. You canât think of a way to make the truth cut any less sharply.
âWhat,â Mina presses. âWhat is it?â
âThe king,â you start. âThe king was going to have you murdered.â
Mina recoils as if youâve slapped her. âWhat?â She shakes her head. âThatâs impossible.â
âItâs true,â Jungwon says. Sitting at your side, his voice is solemn. âThere were assassins at the ceremony. Two of them. With arrows. The grand hall has only one entrance. They must have been invited in.â
âBut whyââ she pleads, eyes wide.Â
âSunghoon confirmed our suspicions,â Jaeyun nods. âHe told me when he brought Mina. The northern kingdom gave an ultimatum yesterday. The king wouldnât allow his daughter to be married to anyone who had already taken a wife, regardless if she wasâŠâ he trails off, looking at Mina, âyou know.â The implication hangs heavy in the air.Â
âThe northern kingdom?â Mina frowns. âI donât understand. What do they have to do with this?â
âWe think,â you start, âthat our king was hoping to unite our kingdom with theirs. For more power, resources, maybe. We thought at first that he would still want to see the prophecy through, that he would proceed with your marriage ceremony and then laterâŠâ
âWhat?â Mina laughs, no trace of humor in her voice. âKill me?â
âYes,â you nod. The time for mincing words has come and gone. A flicker of shock, of hurt, crosses your sisterâs features. âBut with these new demands from the northern kingdom,â you nod towards Jaeyun, âhe must have changed his mind. He would rather have this new alliance than a chance at peace.â
âThatâs not all,â Jaeyunâs voice is grim. âSunghoon also heard that the public nature of the assination was intentional. The plan was to frame it on vigilantes. Resistors. To use it as an excuse to superimpose the northern kingdomâs justice system along with the union between Jungwon and the princess.â
âThe justice system?â you echo.Â
âIs barely even an excuse for justice,â Jungwonâs eyes are narrow. âThe northern kingdom has long shunned any form of opposition. People are not allowed to speak freely, especially not about the royal family. Citizens are sentenced to death with neither evidence nor trial. In recent years, movement between cities has been restricted. Trade that doesnât directly serve the crown has come to a near standstill. Any form of dissent, even if itâs only rumored, is punished,â he looks towards you. âHeavily.â
âBut the prophecy,â Mina protests. âIt was meant to change things for the better. Why would the king risk losing that?â
You canât help but look at Jungwon. When you turn to find his eyes already on you, youâre quick to turn your gaze back to the grass.Â
âDid you two ever find it?â Jaeyun asks. âThe original prophecy?â
âThe original prophecy?â Mina echoes, breathless.Â
âWe did,â Jungwon confirms, voice steady.Â
âAndâŠ?â Jaeyun presses.Â
A beat of silence passes.Â
Jungwon finally speaks. âIt was what we knew, more or less. The seer foretold that a marriage between myself andâŠâ he trails off for just a moment as your vice echoes suddenly in his mind
Donât tell her anything.
â⊠A blacksmithâs daughter,â he finishes, âwould bring peace and prosperity to the kingdom.â
âYou must be wrong then,â Mina concludes. âThe king wouldnât make orders against that.â
âI think he would, Mina,â you argue, not unkindly. âHe chose power over peace. Control over prosperity.â
âThe prophecy,â Mina says. âI want to read it too.â
âMina,â you sigh.
âDonât Mina me,â she tells you. âIâm one half of it, arenât I? I have just as much right as anyone.â
âItâs impossible,â Jungwon shakes his head. âThe scroll is back in the castle archives.â
But the explanation isnât satisfactory. She stares at you a moment longer, gears turning in her mind.Â
Then, so low you almost miss it, she says, âIt isn't me.â Itâs not a question.
âWhat?â You nearly gasp.
âEarlier,â she turns to Jungwon, âyou didn't say me. You said a blacksmith's daughter.âÂ
âHe only meantââ you try, but Mina was raised among the court ladies. She's well versed in the language of secret glances and hidden meaning and conveying the truth with something more palatable. She sees right through you.
âDonât tell me what he did or did not mean. You're my sister. I know when Iâm being lied to. It isn't me, is it?â
âMinaâŠâ you plead, eyes wide. You try to hide your surprise, your guilt, but itâs too late. She sees it all. She sees you. Everything youâve been trying to bury ever since you learned the truth yourself. Itâs no use now. She knows.Â
The wind on the hilltop whips against your skin, scatters your hair. Across from you, your sister wears an expression of shock. Of betrayal.Â
âItâs you.â She breathes.
âItâs not,â you shake your head fervently, lying through your teeth. âItâs not, I swearââ
âStop,â she says. Itâs the most authority youâve ever heard in your sisterâs voice. Itâs not unkind, but it is firm. âStop,â she repeats. Addressing Jaeyun and Jungwon, she adds, âIâd like to speak to my sister. Alone if we can.â
Jaeyun sends the two of you a wary look before nodding, making himself scarce. Jungwon lingers a moment longer but eventually follows suit.Â
In your mind, you hear, Are you okay?
I am, you assure. And then you turn to face your sister.Â
âPlease,â she urges, âspeak plainly with me. I am not the one named in the prophecy, am I?â
âNo,â you shake your head. When eye contact becomes unbearable, your gaze falls back to the grass.Â
Minaâs lips draw into a thin line, but there is no trace of anger in her voice when she asks, âIs it you?â
Itâs as if youâre a child again. Helpless, at the mercy of your own fickle emotions. You feel like crying, like shouting. You do neither. Instead, you nod slowly. âIt is.â
Mina exhales, a sound that gets lost in the wind. âWhy did you⊠why did you lie to meââ
âIt didnât mean to,â you rush to explain, words tumbling out faster than you can contain them. âI only found out myself a few days agoââ
âBut you had no intention of telling me.â She sees right through you. âDid you?â
âMina, please,â you beg. âHow could I? You gave up your entire life for thisââ
âGave up?â she echoes, mouth falling open as she scoffs. âFrom the moment we were taken from that river, my life was never my own. You know as well as I do that I had nothing to give.â
âWhich is why I could never tell you.â You fight the urge to reach for her. âThis wedding, your marriage, was meant to be a perfect conclusion to your story. I couldnâtââ
âAnd what a story it was! Was this truly better? To let me live the rest of my days as a lie? To leave the prophecy unfulfilled and rule over a kingdom that continued to suffer? Alongside a man who will never truly love me? To take the choice from me and make it yourself?â
âMinaâŠâ
âDid you think I would be angry?â she asks. âIâm not. Well, I am,â she amends, âbut not for the reasons you think.â
For a moment, she says nothing. She simply looks at you, really looks.Â
Youâre struck with the sudden realization that you may have misjudged your sister terribly. That all these years you spent thinking her life must be some kind of fantasy, full of material comforts and doting attention and lessons in royal etiquette, maybe she was suffering too.Â
Your suspicions are confirmed when she asks you, âDo you know what it's like to live a life that feels like it will never truly belong to you? To be prepped and pampered to become the perfect doll from someone elseâs vision? I donât even like embroidery,â she laughs. âI can barely tolerate tea ceremonies, and I find studying table manners and posture a terrible bore.âÂ
She looks at you, gaze imploring. âThe prince has never treated me with anything but polite, detached kindness. He owes me nothing more, nor do I think I truly want it from him. But do you know what it feels like to be told that you will marry someone who holds no affection for you? For whom you hold no affection? To know that you will spend the remainder of your life as little more than a prop? Even I was not delusional enough to think Iâd ever be allowed to rule, no matter what title or crown they put on my head.â
âI thoughtâŠâ you trail off, lost for words. Youâre seeing your sister more clearly than you have in your entire life, and the adjustment has you feeling off-center. âI thought you enjoyed palace life. I thought you were excited for the wedding.â
âI did not wish my burden to become yours. I cannot imagine life was easy for you either.â She looks at you, voice gentle. âYou know, I blamed myself for it all these years. For damning us to this fate.â Sheâs not angry, just in disbelief when she adds, âBut it was always you, wasnât it? Even that day at the river, all those years ago, you had to whisper his name to me.â
âYou remember that?â
âOf course I do. His name felt wrong in my mouth even then. It always has.â
âI wish I knew.â You shake your head, tears in your eyes. âAll these yearsâŠâ
âWhatâs done is done,â Across from you, her eyes are glassy, too. Youâve spent so long thinking your sister frivolous, in need of your protection. Now, you remember your age. Your birth order. She sounds wiser, older, when she says, âFrom here, we can only go forward.â
âYou donât hate me?â You hate how small your voice sounds, how unsure.
âYouâre my little sister,â Mina smiles. âI always have a little annoyance wherever youâre concerned. But not nearly as much as I have love.â
You canât help the laugh that bubbles in your throat, falls from your lips. And this time, the tears do spill over. Across from you, Mina too begins to cry.Â
The sun begins to set on the horizon. The end of a day, the fall of an illusion. The hilltop glows with the last golden rays of the day, and the two of you reach for each other. Youâre not sure who initiates the embrace, but your sister holds you close, just as you do her.Â
Eventually, the two of you separate again. Mina leans back on her hands, gaze conspiratorial when she asks, âSo how exactly do you know - whatâs your friendâs name again - Jaeyun?â She presses on before you can begin to answer. âAnd how are you on a first name basis with the prince? The two of you looked awfully cozy on that horse, you know.â
âMina!â you whine, even as color begins to rise on your cheeks.Â
Your older sister only laughs. Leaning in to ask you another question that will make you blush, the two of you stay there, seated in the grass for hours longer.Â
Thereâs a kingdom to uphold and an insurgency to address, but for now, youâre here on this hilltop, making up for lost years with a sister you think you may finally be beginning to understand.Â
âŠ..
Jungwon finds you late into the night. Despite the hour and the exhaustion weighing at your bones, sleep canât seem to find you.Â
Your sister, luckily, rests a bit easier. Sheâs asleep in one of the makeshift beds Jaeyun prepared. Afraid to draw unwanted attention with a fire, youâre sure sheâs grateful for the warmth. Even with the lingering heat of the season, the open air carries a certain chill at night.Â
Jungwon must sense your cold. He finds you where you sit, looking out towards the city. Settling in next to you, he wraps one of the blankets around your shoulders.Â
Grateful, your gaze settles on him as he sits beside you.Â
âIt went okay?â he asks. âWith your sister.â
âIt did,â you nod. âBetter than I could have hoped. This whole time, I thought I understood her, but I had no idea what she was feeling, what she was thinking.â Thereâs optimism in your voice when you add, âI can hardly believe Iâm saying this, but I think she may actually have a chance to be happier now.â
âSheâs not interested in returning to the castle?â Jungwon asks.Â
âNo.â You shake your head. Youâre done putting words in her mouth. You tell him only what she told you, earlier this evening as the two of you passed hours together. âThe king wants her dead. She doesnât want to step foot there again.â
âOf course,â Jungwon agrees. âThat must be difficult.â A beat of silence passes. He breaks it. âAnd you?â
âMe?â you question.
Jungwon nods. âWill you be going back to the castle?â
Will you? Youâve been warring with the same question all evening.Â
Instead of answering, you ask, âIs there a place for me there?â
Itâs not the castle youâre concerned with now. Then again, neither is Jungwon.Â
He doesnât hesitate for even a moment. âThere is. There always will be, so long as you will have it.â He sighs, head dipping. âI cannot pretend it will be easy. It could even be dangerous. My father is⊠difficult. But the kingdom has suffered enough. I think we all have.â
âYou have a plan, then.â You nod. You suspected as much. Youâve been running probabilities of your own, trying to craft the best steps forward. âWhat will you do? Marry the princess of the northern kingdom to appease him and thenââ
âThe northern kingdom and its princess,â Jungwon interrupts, âwill never step foot here. And marriage,â he continues, âis not something I wish to use as a bartering tool. Ever.â
âWhat is it?â you ask, breath suddenly shallow.Â
âMy plan?â he asks, âor marriage?â
âEither,â you feign nonchalance. âBoth.â
âMy plan,â he begins, âshall be revealed in due time. And as for marriage,â he pauses, turning his eyes to the stars, âI suppose that too shall be revealed in due time. When the proper⊠sentiments are involved.â
âOh, my,â you tease. Here in the starlight, under the cover of partial darkness, itâs easy to pretend your heart is skipping beats for reasons unrelated. âIs the crown prince of our kingdom trying to say that he wishes to marry for love?â
âIt could never be anything less,â he says, turning now to look at you, âwhen I know what it feels like to have a voice in my head.â
To that, you have nothing to say. At least none you're brave enough to tell him yet.Â
Instead, you join him in putting your eyes on the stars, focusing on the days ahead.Â
It wonât be easy, youâre sure. But thereâs something there that wasnât before. Hope perhaps, that your life is something you will take part in shaping, instead of being tossed around at the whims of others.Â
Dreams that you will have decisions of your own to make. Choices that may be wrong or right or exist somewhere in that gray space between. It hardly matters now. They'll be yours to make.Â
There is duty on the horizon, the threat of an uncertain future. But sitting here next to Jungwon, gazing down at the town below, you canât help but think that no matter what outside forces conspire against you and what prophecies attempt to steer your destiny, the two of you will be alright.Â
âŠ..
The end of summer always brings heavy rains. This season is no exception.Â
You watch in fall now, in heavy, thick, unrelenting sheets from your makeshift shelter in the garden gazebo.Â
Typhoons are unpredictable, and late summer rain is the same. The sky had been bone dry when you ventured out without so much as an umbrella to shield you.Â
You donât mind so much, though. Itâs become rather entertaining, in a mundane sort of way, to watch as raindrops gather on the leaves that snake around the gazebo. The vines that twist and turn, nearly covering the stone completely.Â
You only hope that Mina, wherever she and Jaeyun are now, is staying dry as well. Sheâs always been prone to catching terrible colds this time of year. Although maybe some fresh air is doing her well.Â
Itâs been less than two days since you left her on the hilltop, waving goodbye until she and Jaeyun were nothing but specks on the horizon. She looked happier even then. Lighter, somehow. Unburdened and full of that same sense of freedom youâve come to know rather well.Â
You only hope it lasts. That before too much time passes, the two of you will be able to see one another often. Speaking freely of topics as frivolous or serious as you please.Â
For now, you have the gardens. And its endless supply of rain-soaked flowers.Â
I hope Iâm not disturbing you.Â
The voice against your ear is so sudden you nearly jump in your own skin. Spinning on your heel, you find Jungwon, closing the last of the distance between you as he ascends the gazeboâs steps.Â
He wears no crown, no regalia. Only the dark, fitted attire of someone who prefers to go unnoticed. Who chooses to let his actions, not his title, speak for themselves.Â
âYou frightened me,â you admonish.Â
âMy apologies,â he bows slightly, but his grin gives him away. He meant to startle you.Â
It would seem youâre not the only one who forgot an umbrella. Although youâre not sure what Jungwonâs excuse is. He didnât come to find you until after the rain had started. And now, heâs just as thoroughly soaked as the petals outside.Â
âI hope Iâm not disrupting you,â he repeats, this time out loud.
âNot at all.â You shake your head, trying to act as if you havenât been waiting for him, for news, since the moment you stepped foot back on the castle grounds and the two of you parted ways.Â
Jungwon wonât leave you in agony of wondering any longer. âItâs done,â he tells you as a stray drop falls from his hair to his shoulder. âMy coronation is to be held in three dayâs time.â
You remember his fatherâs earlier conditions. The path to fulfilling the prophecy. The original claim that Jungwon must first marry before he can ascend the throne. You say, only partially teasing, âI hope you havenât come here to ask me to marry you.â
âWithout the prerequisite of a marriage this time,â he amends.
âHow did you do it?â
âA good old-fashioned threat.â Jungwon smiles, but thereâs no humor in it. âI told my father that I would expose his plan, his attempted murder, if he did not let me proceed with the coronation. He knew it was a losing gamble. Public favor is a currency more valuable than gold, and he knows he has little to spare.â
There are a million questions you could ask. How did he do it? How did he gather enough evidence of his fatherâs involvement to make him agree so easily? What will he do, now that the throne is nearly within grasp?
Above it all, another question rings in your mind. âAnd the prophecy?â
Your breath falters. You almost regret asking. Youâre not sure youâre prepared for a response.Â
Jungwon just looks at you. âThe prophecy remains.â
âJungwonâŠâ you sigh, trying to gather your spinning thoughts.Â
He presses forward before you have the chance. âBut you were right. I refuse to use it as a crutch. I will have a kingdom in my care in three days.â His jaw sets, suddenly solemn. âThere is plenty I can do, with or without ancient magic.â
You release your breath, not sure if the sudden feeling surging deep within you is relief or disappointment. âYouâve abandoned it, then.â
âIâmâŠâ Jungown weighs his words carefully, âletting it rest. For now, at least. Although, I do have a favor to ask.â
That intrigues you. âWhat is it?â
âI wonât ask for your hand in marriage.â Despite yourself, a thrill races through your spine at the mere prospect. âBut I do request that you stay here with me, if you so will it.âÂ
You arch a brow. âIf I will it?â
Jungwon nods. âYouâre not a prisoner. But you are a rather well-connected source of information. I could use that brain of yours to help make the transition to my reign smoother, more peaceful. I meant it, that day in my chamber. I want to be different. I want to be better.â
Itâs an echo of a similar request he made, not so long ago. You had been so unsure then, frightened of the princeâs true intentions. Too terrified of your strange connection to trust it fully.Â
Now, itâs easy to accept.Â
You mean it when you reply, âAnd for that very reason, I have every confidence you will be.â Around you, the rain begins to slow. Torrential downpour transitions to a gentle patter of scattered drops. Moisture strikes the earth in erratic patterns. It makes you bold. âIs my brain your only point of interest?â
Jungwon turns his head to the side, eyes widening in surprise. Between the two of you, heâs always been bolder, more giving in his confessions. His gaze makes quick work of scanning your features, searching for any sign of misunderstanding. Finding none, he tells you, âYou know the answer to that question.â
âIâm afraid I donât.â But the smile that stretches across your lips is playful, teasing. It only grows as you lean back from the gazeboâs rail, taking a handful of steps backwards towards the entrance. âYouâll have to elaborate.â
Youâre nearly halfway down the stairs by now, stray raindrops catching in your hair, sliding against your skin.Â
Jungwon follows, first with his eyes. And then with his feet.Â
You take another step back, just as he reaches you at the base of the stairs.Â
Youâre teasing me. He doesnât say it aloud.Â
I wouldnât dream of it. You send back.Â
Still, when he steps forward, you fall back. Itâs like a dance now. A game. One that leaves you more and more soaked with every inch you put between you and shelter.Â
Jungwon fares no better. His hair is dripping again, weighed down across his forehead.Â
He follows your movements with the practiced ease of a hunter, gaze never straying from you.
Itâs a terrible offense, you know, to torment a prince.
I should be careful, then. I can only imagine the extent of Your Highnessâs wrath.
Heâs nearly caught up to you by now, just as you reach the edge of the rose bushes.
But the garden and your boldness and the prince can only spare you for so long.Â
Just as you step to the left, ducking under the branches of a weeping willow, Jungwon decides heâs had enough of your game.
You feel it first. Warm fingers circling your rain soaked wrist. He always manages to catch you off guard, though. You expect him to pull you out, to continue this game of tag youâve begun.Â
Instead, he uses your arm as leverage, until he too is half concealed beneath the branches of the willow.Â
âPray tell, my prince,â you whisper as he closes in on your space, hair dripping, eyes locked on your mouth, âwhat is my punishment for such impudence?â
âYou must think me terribly cruel,â he whispers, breath fanning over your cheek, âto be giving out punishments so easily.â
âI think nothing of the sort,â you shake your head as his hand comes to rest against the side of your face, thumb brushing along your cheekbone. His fingers splay against your jaw. Soft, desperate. âI only meant to prepare myself.â
âFor what?â he asks, voice barely audible. Heâs so close you think you could count the stars in his eyes.Â
Your hand comes to his elbow. To maintain distance or ensure he never breaks it, youâre not sure. âFor whatever Your Highness sees fit.â
His lips are nearly brushing yours now. You feel his words as much as you hear them. âYou know I hate it when you call me that.â
âVery well,â you nod, eyes fluttering shut. âJungwon.â
The pressure of his mouth is undeniable then. Light at first, he hardly dares to breathe against you. Almost as if unbidden, his second hand comes to rest at your waist, bunching your skirts near the hem.Â
His fingers against your cheek widen, tilting slightly, angling you. And then, the pressure increases. His mouth becomes more insistent against yours.Â
Itâs no longer a ghost of a kiss. Not with his hands in your hair and yours splayed helplessly against his chest.Â
Not as he presses you against the base of the tree, gasping in forgotten breath with his mouth still against your own, unwilling to break contact. Until he decides he finds the pulse point just under your jaw fascinating, that is.Â
Then, his attentions are on your neck, learning which places make you gasp, which make you whine, and his favorite of all, which make you say his name in that breathy little whimper he wants to taste right off your lips.Â
Beneath the branches, skirts soaked and hair loose, the rest of the world fades into a comfortable sort of nothingness. Thereâs nothing here now but Jungwon and the blossoming feelings that lie between you.Â
It doesnât matter if itâs prophecy or your own doing or some wonderful mix of them both. Youâve had enough of magic, of bending to its whims, forcing yourself into something that will please it.Â
You wonât marry Jungwon just because old magic foretold your fate. Instead, youâll spend long minutes, hidden beneath the branches of a weeping willow, with his lips against yours and his teeth making you gasp. Not because an old seer willed it, but because it feels good.Â
Because no matter what titles or crowns or royalty he wears on his shoulders, he will always be Jungwon. A name you knew even before you had a face to put it to. Magic is there somewhere, too. Whether itâs of your own making or far beyond your control, youâre glad itâs brought you here. To this.Â
Feelings blooming in your heart and echoes of a voice inside your mind, the future feels like something worth hoping for.Â
The kingdom is still in turmoil. People still suffer. There is work yet to be done.Â
But this feels like change, like progress. You wonât have to hide your wishes for better days to come in secret letters and illicit meetings. Youâll get to be part of something, someone with the power to enact real change.Â
You donât know what Jungwonâs coronation will bring. If the king has truly left his scheming to rest or not. Youâre not sure what the next year or day or even hour will bring.Â
But regardless of what comes to pass, youâre sure, now more than ever, that you have what you need to face it.Â
âŠ..
epilogueÂ
Keeping your footsteps light and your breath silent, you follow the familiar, winding path of the castle corridors.Â
Itâs not that youâre hiding, not really. Itâs just that you have a rather important errand to run. One that you donât wish to delay. Not even for the latest report on crop yields in the newly planted fields near the southern border. Certainly not for the details of the recently reinstated trade routes with your neighbors to the west. Even if theyâre the reason your personal favorite variety of strawberry is now widely available for all.Â
You donât even wish to be stopped to hear about the progress of the schoolhouses you helped open a matter of months ago, the literacy rates that are beginning to boom across the country as citizens, old and young, gather to learn the rather ornate reading and writing system of your kingdom.Â
Minaâs been hard at work there, if the latest letter from Jaeyun is anything to go by. Sheâs nearly developed an entirely new strategy for teaching letter formation to children.Â
Itâs amazing, your friend had reported, and you could sense his wonder even in writing. The kids actually like learning to write with her.Â
Even now, on your own stealthy mission, the thought makes you smile.Â
Finally, a handful of minutes later, you arrive at the closed door youâd been seeking. Knocking on it twice, you smile when a familiar face greets you.Â
âRiki,â you grin, âis the tailor in today?â
Riki gasps, feigning disbelief. âLook who decided to grace us with her presence today? Did I miss a holiday? A birthday? A special occasion?â
âHardly,â you roll your eyes. âMy presence is nothing special.â
âAre you kidding?â he asks. âYouâre practically the most sought after person in the castle these days. Well, besides the king, I suppose.â You canât quite help the small smile that threatened the corner of your lips at the mention of Jungwon. âI mean, thatâs why you came here at the crack of dawn, isnât it? To avoid running into anyone.â
âItâs not the crack of dawn,â you argue. âBreakfast was served an hour ago.â
âRegardless,â Riki points out, âitâs early. To answer your earlier question, no, heâs not. You even beat the tailor here.â
âHm,â you hum, considering. âCould you pass along an order, then?â
âSure,â he nods, âyour stack of dresses isnât sufficient these days?â
âDonât be ridiculous,â you shake your head. âYou know I have more than I could possibly need. Mostly thanks to you. I just⊠donât quite have the right thing for this.â
âFor what?â His brow furrows. âThat upcoming ball? When is it, again? Next month? I can do something green again, if you like.â
You shake your head.Â
âNo?â Riki turns towards the stack of fabrics. âAlright, what color then? Blue,â he suggests. âOr we just got this really gorgeous maroon silk from abroad. Drapes like a dream.âÂ
âWhat about somethingâŠâ you trail off for a moment, âwhite?â
In front of you, Riki falters, hands freezing halfway towards his stack of silks.Â
Slowly, he turns back to you. âWhite?â he echoes, eyes wide.
âYeah,â you nod, teeth pulling at the inside of your lip as your smile widens. âI think I need something white.â
genre: royalty au, soulmate au, fantasy elements, friends to lovers, angst
part one word count: 15.4k
warnings: jealousy, copious amounts of yearning, complicated family dynamics, swearing, magic and prophecies and other fantasy elements, arranged marriage, mild depictions of injuries, minor character death
soundtrack: echoes - enhypen / no way back - enhypen ft. So!YoON! / ivy - taylor swift / too much is never enough - florence & the machine / if only - raveena / die 4 u - dean
note: I am splitting this into two parts, because post block limit got me once again. It's alright though! You get to enjoy this now and look forward to the rest of the story soon. It's nearly all finished and will be posted within the next few days. For now, this is part one. I hope you enjoyyyyyy
â.Ë⥠àŁȘ Ëâ.Ë⥠àŁȘ Ëâ.Ë⥠àŁȘ Ë
In a kingdom marred by instability and unrest, a prophecy is made. Your bloodline - common, ordinary, unremarkable as it may be - will bring peace to the nation and ensure the long-lasting success of the royal family. As such, your elder sister has been in an arranged engagement with Jungwon, the crown prince, since before either of you could walk.
But despite the prophecy, people continue to suffer. The kingdom continues to decline. Cracks continue to form. And when time eventually reveals that you, not her, have a strange, supernatural connection to the prince, everything begins to change.
or, every word you say is on repeat. every thought of you is bittersweet. Â
â.Ë⥠àŁȘ Ëâ.Ë⥠àŁȘ Ëâ.Ë⥠àŁȘ Ë
The palace gardens are most stunning at sunset. Bordering the eastern gate of the royal pavilion, the grounds are extensive. Flowers in full bloom, winding labyrinths, crystal blue ponds that nearby ducklings make a habit of visiting.Â
There's a serenity here. One that becomes especially prominent as the last rays of sunlight begin to die on the horizon. The roses face the light, too. As if they want to kiss the day goodbye.
Wordlessly, you run a gentle finger over a stem, careful to avoid the thorns. Itâs quiet. The only sounds that reach your ears are the gentle flow of a nearby stream and soft calls of birds in the trees above.Â
One, a blue jay, captures your attention as it flits between branches. Captivated, you watch as it jumps to a different tree. Dipping its beak as if to assess its new landing spot. It doesnât stay in one place long. Restless, you think. Itching for something new. Or perhaps craving the comfort of familiarity. Itâs difficult to tell.
You inhale sharply at the prick of pain that suddenly radiates from your fingertip. In your absentmindedness, you threw caution to the wind. Retracting your hand from the rose stem, youâre met with a tiny drop of ruby red blood. Â
At least, you consider, life here hasnât yet been able to strip you of your ability to feel. Even if it is pain. And surface level, at that.
Letting your fingers drop to your side, the singular drop of blood rolls to the tip of your finger, hesitating for a moment before falling to the ground below.
Swallowed up by grass and dirt and earth. Now forever a minuscule, insignificant part of the palace around it.
Again, you turn your gaze to the sky. The trees that line it.
The blue jay tests one last branch before it inevitably decides itâs had enough. With one final assessment of the garden, it spreads its wings. And then, with little fanfare, flies in the direction of the sunset.
You watch until it becomes nothing but a blip. A blur of motion on the horizon.Â
Itâs long gone by the time the last rays of light vanish at the edge of the earth.Â
The garden isn't dark, not entirely. The lanterns and torches that intermittently line the perimeter make it easy enough to find your path, as long as you know your way around.Â
But they are a bit more conducive to stealth, to concealing things that donât want to be found. Avoiding the most well lit paths, you let quiet, expert steps carry you through the winding labyrinth until you arrive at the stables.Â
The palace horses have been fed and groomed for the night. You know. Youâve memorized the stable boyâs routine. And found that even on the nights he strays from it, is quite willing to turn a blind eye under the correct circumstances.Â
Just like youâve memorized which horses are less predisposed to whinny when taken out for the evening.
Just like youâve memorized which palace gates are less heavily patrolled. What time the guards switch shifts. Which ones take longest to station themselves into position.
The palace is a well-oiled machine. But even the most streamlined systems have their flaws, their cracks. The best part about being someone of little consequence within the palace walls is that you have ample time to find them.Â
As long as youâre present and accounted for on the rare occasion your presence is required, no one notices if you slip through the gates most nights. No one cares if the dark circles beneath your eyes become a bit more prominent every harvest season.Â
No one keeps track of your unusually high number of trips to the tailorâs assistant for all of the strange tears and rips you always seem to have in your clothes.Â
Closing in on the stable, you wrap a silent hand around the handle. The door creaks, ever so slightly, when you open it. Despite the fact that you know there are no patrols in this area this time of evening, you can't help the way your heartbeat picks up speed anyway.Â
You close the door behind you, just as quietly as you opened it. Taking quick, measured steps, you approach your favorite horseâs stall.Â
Rounding the corner, your brow furrows in confusion when you find it empty. Glancing around in worry, it takes your eyes a moment to land on the tiny, folded piece of paper wedged between the stall door and the wall.Â
With steady hands, you pull it free. Unfolding the paper, you bring it close to your eyes in the dim light.Â
Itâs a letter, you realize, once you open the paper fully. From the stable boy. Youâd recognize Sunghoonâs rather neat handwriting anywhere.Â
Sorry, it reads.Â
Blossomâs front left hoof was bothering her, so sheâll be in the western stable until the vet has a chance to assess her. Maeumâs in the fourth stall from the door. Heâs not quite as quiet as Blossom, but heâs fast and wicked smart. Have him back by dawn.Â
And at the bottom lies one final instruction.Â
Burn this letter.Â
Sighing, you read the message once more. Twice. Itâs hardly ideal. You and Blossom have come to know one another like the back of your hand, but you suppose youâll have to make due. You tuck the letter into the pocket of your dark, fitted jacket, fingers brushing against the small stack of papers already there.Â
And then you look up again, silently counting four stalls from the door.Â
Approaching slowly, you pull the door open as quietly as you can, doing your best not to startle Maeum.Â
And you know heâs only trying to help, but one glance at the stallion in front of you has you wondering what the hell Sunghoon is thinking.Â
Blossom was built for stealth. With a midnight black coat and the softest whinny youâve ever heard, she always knew when you needed her to be quiet. The perfect trait for late night, unauthorized rendezvous from the most secure place in the kingdom.Â
Maeum, however, is white. Startlingly so. And the second you have the stall door open enough to reveal yourself, he whinnies at you. Loudly.Â
âShhhhh,â you whisper, eyes widening in panic. You hold your open palms towards him, hoping heâll understand the sign that youâre not a threat. âItâs okay.â
It takes him a minute. With large, intelligent eyes that seem almost a bit too cognizant, Maeum takes a moment to assess you. Finally, with one final, and thankfully much quieter, sigh, he acquiesces, tilting his neck towards you.Â
Reaching forward, you stroke his mane in a long, gentle rhythm.Â
âItâs okay,â you assure once again. âWhat do you say, Maeum? Are you up for an adventure?â
It sounds ridiculous to think it, much less say it, but you swear something sparkles in his eyes at your question. In either case, he lets you saddle him without so much as a peep of protest.Â
And when you climb up onto the saddle, he gives only one experimental stomp before settling into stillness. Acceptance, you think.Â
Turning his reigns towards the eastern gate, you check the position of the moon just beginning to rise in the sky. Itâs late. Nearly time for the next guard shift switch.Â
Perfect, you think.Â
And without so much as a glance back, you and Maeum are off into the night.Â
âŠ..
âWhat the hell is that?â Jaeyun is whispering, albeit rather harshly, despite the fact that this hilltop is isolated. WIth the city stretching far beneath you, thereâs no one else around for miles.Â
Sliding off of Maeumâs back, you gently pull him a few steps forward before offering an apple from the bag at your waist.Â
âA horse.â You donât even bother to look in Jaeyunâs direction. You already know what youâll find if you do. With a friendship that spans nearly ten years, his expressions have become second nature to predict.Â
âYes, thank you very much.â His voice drips with sarcasm. âI can see that itâs a horse. Why is it white?â
âI donât know,â you shrug. âSomething to do with recessive genes, probably.â
âAre you trying to get spotted? A coat that bright practically screams âIâm from the palace.ââ
âBlossom was out of commission,â you explain. Finally turning to face your friend, you add, âSunghoon said one of her hooves is hurting. Sheâll have to see the vet.â
âAnd this was the next best option?â Jaeyun eyes your substitute horse warily. âHeâs so⊠pristine. I mean, seriously. If you told me he was the princeâs horse, I wouldnât even question it.â
The sudden mention of the prince has you curious. Does he have a horse? You suppose he must, but the thought of him doing anything other than attending strategy meetings and making carefully curated appearances with your sister at his side is almost unimaginable.Â
Shaking the prince from your thoughts, you argue, âItâs not like Blossomâs exactly shabby.âÂ
âNo, but she is far less conspicuous.â
âI still managed to get out, didnât I?â
âPlease.â He rolls his eyes. âPalace security is lax these days.â
âEasy for you to say. Youâre not the one putting it to the test every night.â
Jaeyunâs lips part like he wants to say something else, like he wants to keep the banter going, but then he looks at you. Really looks.Â
Takes in the deep shadows beneath your eyes. The exhaustion that has your shoulder slumping forward, words losing their bite around the edges. The work the two of you do is taxing in nature, but few people ever feel the strain as acutely as you do.Â
At this point, youâre practically living a double life.Â
During the day, youâre the younger sister to the future heir of the throne. Itâs true that youâre largely left alone. While she attends dress fittings and lessons in etiquette, youâre left to your own devices. But that doesnât mean there arenât still appearances to maintain. Expectations to meet. Like it or not, youâre still a product, a belonging of the palace. Youâre expected to maintain a smile and respond appropriately when spoken to. Itâs a shallow life, yes, but draining in its own right.Â
And with the wedding date creeping closer and closer, youâre doing your best to provide support to your older sister. Even if the distance between the two of you only ever seems to widen.Â
And then there are the nights. While Mina and the rest of the palace are asleep, youâre usually out on an errand like this. Meeting Jaeyun on a remote hilltop with a fresh stack of secrets to trade.Â
Because no matter how picture perfect life in the palace appears from the outside, there are cracks in every surface. Pressure points in every household.Â
Much like you, there are plenty of people inside the palace walls who donât come from money or nobility. Theyâre cogs in the machine. Their existence, their purpose, is to serve the crown.Â
Like Sunghoon, the stable boy. And Sunoo, one of the groundskeeperâs assistants. Jay, who works in the kitchens, and Riki, the tailorâs apprentice.Â
Despite the roles and the palace theyâve sworn to serve, they have identities outside of their titles, just like you. They have family and friends and people they love that live outside the palace walls. Who suffer from the hunger and unrest and turmoil the royals could easily mitigate if they had any interests outside of themselves and their firm grip on power.Â
Itâs how you ended up in the palace in the first place. Power. Or, at least, the illusion of it.Â
Sixteen long years ago, three years after you were born, the royal seer became gravely ill. It wasnât all too devastating, considering that for several years, the royal family had stopped relying on prophecy and started relying on military power to maintain their control of the land.Â
But it was considered bad luck to lose a seer, and considering that the old woman had no children or family to carry on her legacy, the king became nervous. Ancient myths of crumbling kingdoms and vanishing wealth after the death of a seer began to haunt him.Â
With a young son of his own, the only heir to the throne, the king was determined to protect his family at all costs.Â
He visited the seer, as she lay in her deathbed. And he begged her for one final vision. One last prophecy that would ensure the longevity of his reign, the safety of his family.Â
Barely cognizant, the seer used the last of her remaining power to reach through the veil and foretell one final prophecy.Â
The kingâs son, now just past his fourth birthday, would live a long, prosperous life. He would succeed the throne on his twenty-first birthday with little difficulty. He would enjoy a stable reign with absolute power and adoration from the kingdom at large.Â
But there was one condition. He must marry first. His queen would not come from nobility. She would bear no wealth, have no resources that the royal family could possibly benefit from. Instead, she would have a connection to the prince. One born of ancient magic, one that supersedes mortal understanding and wisdom.Â
She would be the daughter of a blacksmith, the seer told him. He would find her before the end of a fortnight. With flowers in her hair and the ability to tell him his sonâs, the princeâs name without ever hearing it. After all, it was customary to wait until a royal childâs fifth birthday before publicly announcing their name.Â
The king begged for more information. The kingdom was vast, and blacksmiths were as abundant as trees. But the seer has used the last of her energy. Her heart had stopped beating. And his pleas fell on unhearing ears.Â
Still, it unfolded just as she foretold.Â
And your life was swept out from beneath your feet when you were three years old.Â
The memories are faint, hazy around the edges. It happened so long ago, and you were so very young. But you do remember playing with Mina near the river. Finding flowers to weave in each otherâs hair. A man, scary and strange, approaching you both.Â
He asked only one question.Â
âWhat is my sonâs name?â
As children, Mina was always the braver between the two of you. There was no fear in her eyes when she looked at the king and whispered.
âJungwon.â
The king had only wanted her. But your parents, struggling to keep their daughters fed and cared for, begged him to take you as well. In a rare stroke of kindness or perhaps just impatience, he agreed.Â
You were raised in the palace, parallel to your sister but never quite touching. After all, she was a miracle. A beacon. A prophecy come to life.Â
You were nothing but extra baggage. An unextraordinary and damningly unimportant presence that faded into the castle walls as easily as moonlight on a dying day.Â
You didnât hate the palace. People there didnât waste their kindness on you, but they werenât cruel. You had everything you could ever need, and every month, you were allowed to leave the palace walls with your sister and a chaperone to visit home.Â
For ten long years, your life proceeded in similar strokes. You studied. You played. You wandered. You felt moments of joy learning to ride a horse for the first time and swim in the lake without sinking. You felt the icy grip of loneliness, of isolation. Of being left in the dust as your sister began to take on more and more of her role as the future queen.Â
In the dead of one particularly brutal winter, you learned to knit. Your monthly visit to your parents was approaching soon, and you thought your mother might like a warm pair of mittens. Thought your father might appreciate a new scarf. One without holes and the faint scent of dust and metal that always lingered no matter how many times it was washed.Â
When you, your sister, and your chaperone finally set out, snow piling around you as you peered through the carriage window, dread was already gathering in your stomach. You werenât sure why, but something was wrong. You could feel it, deep in your bones.
The closer you came to your parentâs home, the stronger the feeling became. By the time your feet dragged up to the doorstep, nausea was rolling so hard in your stomach you thought you might actually be sick.Â
What greeted you inside was no remedy for illness.Â
It was the cold, they told you. Frostbite. Weakened immune systems. While you had been huddling behind blankets and fire hearths inside the palace, your parents froze to death.Â
You were thirteen, Mina fourteen.Â
You didnât want to hate the palace, the nobility, the royal family. Even then, you understood how inextricably you were bound to them. How much of your fate rested between the fingers of their iron grip.Â
But the strongest thing you felt that day wasnât sorrow or loss or even despair.Â
It was hatred. Burning, deep, fiery hatred.Â
You hated the way they told you these kinds of things were common in winter. The way the king didnât look the slightest bit surprised to hear the news. The way the death of a commoner was as revolutionary as sunset, as predictable as sunrise.Â
Jaeyun had lost his parents too, that very same winter. Only he didnât have a palace to return to. Just the same four walls that the only family he ever had passed away in.Â
The mittens meant for your mother were too big on his hands, but they were still warm. And that was enough. Combined with your shared sorrow, shared tragedy, shared hatred, it was enough to build a friendship. A resistance.Â
Even now, thinking back, you only remember one person in the palace bothering to check on you. To ask how you were.Â
Hidden in the depths of the library, you had been searching for something to distract yourself. Something to numb the pain of losing both parents in a single day.Â
The voice that came behind you was careful, quiet. âI heard about what happened.â
Started, you whipped around with wide eyes, book of fables falling from your fingers and landing with a dull thud by your feet.Â
Across from you, scant feet away, stood your sisterâs betrothed. The prince. Jungwon.Â
You gave him no response, brows furrowing.Â
âIâm sorry,â he continued. âYou must be devastated.â He was only one year your senior, but the gap between you felt larger. You had been educated, yes, but not in the manner of princes. He used words you didnât fully understand and spoke with the gentle grace of a scholar youâd never be.Â
âIâŠâ You trailed off. It was hard for the initial shock to wear off. In the last ten years, you can count on one hand the number of times youâve been in the same room as the prince. Youâre not sure if heâs ever spoken to you directly before. But even in your grief, you remembered some of your propriety. Your curtsey wasnât nearly deep enough, but the prince was kind enough to let your misstep slide. âThank you, Your Highness.â
His lips dipped at the edges. âPlease, ___. You donât have to call me that. Just Jungwon is fine.â
But even then, in your adolescent brain, it felt wrong. He was a prince. The future heir to the country. And you were nothing but a blip. One prophecy and a stroke of luck away from dying alone in a freezing house with no one to mourn you.Â
You didnât want there to be any familiarity, any common ground between you and the prince. It was all an illusion, anyway. The two of you would never share anything but a connection through your older sister, a girl he never would have looked at twice under different circumstances.Â
âThank you, Your Highness,â you repeated, voice guarded, âfor your condolences.âÂ
Something had flickered in the crown princeâs eyes then. Disappointment, contempt, you couldn't quite be sure.Â
In the end, it didnât matter. Quiet as the stray cats you sometimes crossed paths with in the stable, he had only turned and left the same way he came.
Now, years later, sitting on a hilltop with Jaeyun, you can only wonder if the prince remembers that short-lived conversation, too. If he revels in his palace comforts or finds them rather stifling. If heâs excited for his upcoming wedding or dreads it with every fiber of his being.Â
If he has any idea that the sister of his betrothed who refuses to call him anything but his title, along with several members of the palace staff beneath his nose, engage regularly in treason.Â
Pulling Sunghoonâs note, along with a stack of others, from your pocket, you turn to your friend. âEnough about horses. I have a new round of reports.âÂ
âAnything of note?â
âNot particularly.â You shake your head. âJay says the kitchen is operating normally, although a few spices have been difficult to come by these days. Potential disruptions to trade routes on the western border, maybe.âÂ
âThat could be.â Jaeyun frowns. âIâve been hearing about some recent skirmishes up in that area. What about Riki? That old tailor he works for is an awful gossip.â
âUsually, yes,â you agree, âbut these days heâs quite consumed with a certain white gown.â The flatness in your voice is difficult to miss.Â
Jaeyun pauses, eyes scanning you warily. Finally, he ventures, âHow is that going? I mean, itâs pretty soon right, the wedding? How are you feeling about things?â
âItâs proceeding normally,â you tell him, ignoring the last part of his question.
âRight,â he doubles down. âAnd you?â
âDonât do that.â You shake your head. âIâm fine. Besides, it doesnât matter.âÂ
He looks like he has more to say, but youâre pressing forward before he can question you further. âSunoo had an interesting report, actually. It looks like crop yields may be down this season. Theyâre being stingy with the plans for the new fields.â
âThatâs odd,â Jake frowns. âThe weatherâs been pristine. Ideal for cultivation.â
You give him a meaningful glance. âIt must not be the weather, then.â
âSkirmishes on the western border, lower crop yields even though the last census still shows significant population growth.â He pauses for a moment, considering. âItâs strange.âÂ
âItâs suspicious,â you amend. âEveryoneâs convinced that a wedding and a new king will make things better, but the royals are doing what theyâve always done. Theyâre hiding things. Overexaggerating peace reports. Underreporting crimes. Theyâre building an illusion. Trying to create a population that trusts them blindly.â You shake your head. âItâs not a coincidence.âÂ
âMaybe,â Jaeyun considers. But heâs always been more optimistic than you. âBut border skirmishes are nothing new. And low spice and crop production doesnât automatically mean anything bad. Maybe theyâre planning to relocate some of the fields. There were rumors about more arable land down south, too, remember? And who knows, maybe that old seer was right. Maybe this wedding will lead to a long period of peace.â
There arenât many people who youâve shared the truth with. Even now, saying the word prophecy makes you feel like a fool.Â
You scoff. âDonât tell me you believe in magic.â
âWhy not? Jaeyun shrugs. âIâll believe in what I can. People here have suffered. Food shortages. Increased crime.â He pauses for a moment, gaze on the horizon. âLong winters. If believing in magic means better days are coming, then Iâll take it.â
You shake your head. âBelieving in something doesnât make it real.â
âDoesnât it?â he counters. âBelieving in something is the only thing that makes it real.âÂ
To that, you have nothing to say. You wish you could agree, that blind faith could guide you somewhere worth being. But time and trial and error have taught you to only believe in tangible things.Â
Things you can wrap your fingers around. Hold between your own two hands.Â
Looking down at the city from the top of the hill, itâs easy to believe that nothing there is real. That this world is made only of you and Jaeyun and his optimistic dreams for a better future.Â
The silence extends comfortably before he breaks it, gaze against the side of your face.Â
âYouâre sure youâre okay?â Jaeyun speaks softly, carefully, as if trying to soften his words. âI donât mean this in a bad way, but you just look⊠tired.âÂ
âYeah, well, never sleeping will do that to a girl.â
Jaeyun isnât so easily convinced. âYouâre sure thatâs all it is? You havenât been having more of those⊠visions?â
You sigh. âNo, but ââ
âBut?â
âTheyâre not visions,â you correct. âNot exactly. I donât see images, or anything. Itâs just⊠feelings.â
âFeelings?â Jaeyun presses.Â
âYeah,â you nod. âLike intuition, almost. Sometimes itâs this overwhelming urge that Iâm in the right place or the idea I have is true even though I donât have any real evidence. But sometimes, itâs the opposite. Like everything is wrong and my body wants to fight it.â
He frowns. Extends his arm as if he wants to wrap it around your shoulders where he sits next to you. Drops it back to his side as he thinks better of it. âThat sounds exhausting.â
âIt is. Itâs like using an entirely different part of my brain. Overusing it. Until itâs sore and aching and I canât think straight. And sometimes⊠never mind.â You trail off, shaking your head. It sounds too ridiculous to say out loud.Â
âWhat?â Jaeyun urges. He wonât let it go so easily.Â
You sigh. âSometimes, I have these thoughts. But they donât⊠they donât feel like mine. I mean, theyâre in my brain, in my mind, but they feel like theyâre coming from somewhere else. Like itâs someone elseâs voice.â
His brow furrows. âHave you told anyone? Seen a healer or anything?â
âAnd then what?â you scoff. âHave them tell the king that the future queenâs sister has gone insane? Is a liability to the crown and should be locked away for the wellbeing of the kingdom? Yeah, right.â
âStill,â he insists. âIt sounds like there could be something else going on.â
You shake your head. âIâm sure Iâm just tired. All these nights were bound to catch up to me eventually. Iâll sleep more the next few days, and Iâm sure it will all be fine. Everything will go back to normal.â
âOkay,â he finally agrees, even if you can tell he doesnât want to. Doesnât quite believe you. âBut I want you to tell me if it doesnât change or if it gets worse. You know you can talk to me about these things too, ___. It doesnât always have to be border skirmishes and crop yield reports.â
Despite yourself, you canât help the way your heart swells a bit with fondness. âI know,â you nod. âThank you, Jaeyun. You know, youâre my only real friend.â
âWell, now thatâs just sad.â But his grin is stretching ear to ear. Even when you land a slightly too hard punch right on his solar plexus.Â
And a handful of hours later, tucked into a bed thatâs never quite felt like yours, sleep begins to tug at the edges of your consciousness.Â
Despite your exhaustion, rest doesnât come easy. Especially when that familiar, unpleasant feeling starts to build in your bones. It starts in the pit of your stomach, a deep discomfort. A distinct feeling of wrongness. Of being misplaced. Not belonging.Â
It radiates through your limbs, over your skin, screams in your mind until you feel it everywhere, from the erratic beat of your heart to the very tips of your fingers.Â
Until finally, finally, exhaustion outweighs the sensation.Â
Still, when you fall asleep, itâs with a singular phrase looping through your mind on repeat. Like the mutterings of someone out of their mind. Like a demented chant you canât escape from.Â
Not her. Not her. Not her. Not her. Not her. Not her.Â
Not her.Â
âŠ..
One of your favorite perks of being someone of little consequence within the palace walls is that your mornings are mostly undisturbed. Other than the illicit errands of your own making, that is.Â
Often, the meager hours of sleep you manage to find are here, extending late into the morning as sunlight streams through your window in increasingly long slants.Â
Dawn had nearly broken the horizon by the time Maeum was tucked safely back into his stable. Usually, the sun is allowed to creep across the sky for hours before anyone is in need of you.Â
Tucked away in the small but pleasant room youâd been given once you were old enough to require very little supervision, you sleep. Itâs a wing of the palace rarely touched by anyone other than an occasional palace maid.Â
Your window is small, but the west-facing orientation makes the sun dance beautifully across your few belongings and gives you a rather stunning view of the palace grounds.Â
Most mornings, itâs the birds that wake you. Or the general chatter of a day in a motion.Â
Increasingly, itâs been a feeling in your gut, the same one you tried explaining to Jaeyun last night. A voice in your head that youâre sure doesn't belong to you.Â
Rarely, if ever, is it a knock on your door. Especially not one that thuds heavy and harsh against the quiet stillness of mid-morning.Â
Startled from slumber only a handful of hours after finding it, the knock comes again. This time, even louder than before. It pounds in a way that rattles your door and has a deep sense of unease surging through your stomach.Â
âOne moment,â you call, but your voice is weak as you search for a robe to throw over your night clothes. Your hands are frantic, shaking, as the pounding starts again.Â
Finally, you locate your plain, deep burgundy robe. Shrugging it over your shoulders, you wrap it around your body. Hardly daring to draw a breath, you take small, light steps to the door.Â
With no peephole, dread gathers deep in your body as you turn the lock, slowly opening your bedroom door.Â
Across from you stands a man. Fist raised to land another round of knocks, youâre sure, but his position is also perfect for delivering blows. Despite yourself, you flinch.Â
At the sight of you, he drops his arm. The tension in his posture, the tight set of his shoulders, remain.Â
âMiss ___.â His voice is as tense as he is. Thereâs no question in his voice. He knows who you are.Â
Dressed in simple, utilitarian garments, you assess him for any hint of his position. Well acquainted with the inner workings of the palace, you know what the people who serve it wear.Â
This man puzzles you. Thereâs no kingdom sigil over his heart to mark him a guard, no silver cuff links to identify him as a healer. Just loosely fitted, nondescript dark clothing. Not entirely dissimilar from what you wear on your nighttime errands. Built for stealth.Â
âI am her,â you nod. Your gaze becomes more narrow in its assessment the more dead ends you run into. âMay I ask what this inquiry is about?â
He spares little fanfare. âYouâve been summoned, Miss.â
âSummoned?â you echo. Immediately, your mind jumps to terrible conclusions. Youâve been noticed. Youâve been seen. Youâve been caught.Â
Forcing a steady breath, you reel in your thoughts. Panic isnât logical. The most likely reason for your summoning is surely something to do with your sister. Perhaps sheâs requested your presence for some flippant reason. Perhaps sheâs come down with a head cold and craves the nostalgia of a once familiar presence.Â
Still, your heart wonât rest entirely until your question is answered. âMay I ask by whom?â
The man just looks at you for a moment, eyes revealing nothing but a faint trace of distrust. âCome with me, Miss.â
His words ring with finality. Brow furrowing, you feel your heart lurch somewhere near your throat. Surely they wouldnât be so vague if it was merely something concerning your sister.Â
But you also know better than to argue with a summoning in the palace. Especially from a man whose uniform likely hides at least a dagger, if not a weapon of more lethal consequence.Â
Shifting slightly, you confirm the location of your own small, metal blade. Tucked away between your innermost layer of clothing and the warmth of your inner thigh, it sits snug to your skin. Even clothed in nothing but a nightdress and your rather flimsy dressing gown, even in slumber, it remains.Â
Forcing away the waver that threatens your voice, you agree, âIâll just take a moment to dress andââ
The man shakes his head. âWeâll go now.â
Any last semblance of calm is shaken from your system. Youâre barely dressed. Your hair is an unkempt mess around your shoulders.Â
Itâs improprietous to walk around the castle like this. Itâs scandalous.Â
You falter for a moment, confusion and fear marring your features. But the man remains stoic, insistent in his unrelenting posture.Â
âVery well,â you nod. Your voice is small as you cling to your last threads of composure.Â
Your bedroom door closes behind you with a quiet click. You canât bring yourself to spare a backward glance, nor can you shake the deep growing sense of unease, as you fall into step just behind the manâs shoulder.Â
At the very least, he doesnât seem interested in parading you in a state of undress around the castle. With the quick, practiced steps of someone well-versed in stealth, he leads you silently through winding corridors and back passages.Â
Just who is this man? Only an expert could lead you so wholly undetected through the winding maze of palace passageways.Â
Even you, with your wealth of knowledge, are having a hard time keeping up as you try to commit your path to memory.Â
Eyes tracing over the manâs back, your mind spins through plausible explanations. Eventually, you land on two.Â
Either resistance forces have fully infiltrated the castle or your illicit activities have been discovered. The thought sends a shiver down your spine.Â
Youâre not sure what they would do, if they discovered your role in the network of resistors actively working against the crown.Â
Scenarios have crossed your mind on sleepless nights. Perhaps youâd be brought in front of the king. Made to answer for your crimes and tortured to reveal the names of others doing the same. Perhaps you wouldnât have to speak at all. Considered an enemy and a traitor to the king, maybe youâd just be executed without trial.
You wonder what would happen. If your sister would still be wed to the prince. Or if your treachery would be dire enough to overrule even something as sacred as prophecy.Â
Footsteps never faltering, you suppose itâs not worth mulling over now. Youâll know soon enough. The man who you follow now is either a friend or a foe.Â
And in either case, heâs leading you somewhere. To something. Perhaps someone.Â
Whatever your fate is, it doesnât rest on a messengerâs shoulders.Â
You reach the end of another impossibly long, dimly lit passage. The man in front of you stops so suddenly you nearly walk straight into his back.Â
Startled, your eyes widen as he turns to you.Â
He pauses a moment, something almost apologetic in his gaze. âIâm sorry, Miss, but Iâm afraid Iâll have to conceal your sight from here.âÂ
Reaching into his pocket, he reveals a nondescript black scrap of fabric. Itâs frayed at the edges, just slightly. A makeshift blindfold.Â
âIâm not permitted to see?â This time, you canât quite contain the tremble in your voice. You work in dying daylight, yes, but the thought of losing your vision frightens you more than you care to admit.Â
The man only shakes his head.Â
Taking a deep breath, you nod. As if he needs your permission to secure the fabric over your eyes, tying the ends into a firm knot against the crown of your head.Â
With a surprisingly gentle grip, he places your hand against the crook of his elbow. And then youâre walking again.Â
At first, you try to remember your steps.Â
Straight. Approximately seventy paces. A left turn, followed rapidly by a right.Â
But the longer minutes continue to pass, the more unsure you become. Was it a right turn followed by a left? Or two right turns in a row?Â
Your mind begins to falter, unsure of itself. Unease increases steadily.
Surely if this were the work of the resistance, blindfolding you would be unnecessary. You would need to learn this path, find your way back to their stronghold independently.Â
You refuse to panic. Youâre alone with nothing but a dagger strapped to your thigh. With every step, it begins to feel more and more like a wooden sword. A table knife.Â
You think of your sister. Of Sunghoon and the others.Â
Of Jaeyun.Â
You never got to say goodbye.Â
The arm beneath your hold pauses, steadies the both of you. You hear hinges protesting as a door opens. And then you're going down.Â
Down, down, down an endless set of steps. So far that youâre sure you must be walking yourself straight to the deepest castle dungeons.Â
Minutes pass, or maybe hours. Itâs difficult to tell, in this blanket of darkness.Â
Until suddenly, youâre on flat ground again. The manâs voice, still curt, instructs, âYou may remove your blindfold.â
Pushing the fabric upwards, it doesnât take your eyes long to adjust.Â
The lighting is dim here, but far warmer than youâd expect so deep beneath the ground. Glancing around, you find yourself in the center of a small chamber. Seats, full of cushions and fine fabrics, line the spaces where you expected to find prison cells.Â
Thereâs a carpet on the ground. One embroidered by expert hands, if the detail work is anything to go by. Paintings on the walls. Landscapes, primarily. Scenes from flowing rivers and dense forests and wide, open fields blossoming in the springtime.Â
There are maps, too. Of the kingdom and its neighbors. Some that center the castle and others that extend far beyond it. You could easily locate your childhood home if given a few seconds to concentrate .Several are marked with ink. Scribbles, lines, symbols you donât recognize but wish you had a chance to study.Â
And in front of you, at the head of the room, in a chair that is no throne but bleeds authority all the same, sits the crown prince Yang Jungwon.Â
Immediately, you drop into a curtsey. Even under the strangest of circumstances, it would seem that old habits die hard.Â
âYour Highness,â you breathe, gaze trained on the floor as your heart hammers against your ribcage.Â
When the prince speaks, itâs not to you. âGood heavens, Heeseung, did you drag the girl out of bed?â
Remembering your current state of dress, heat gathers in your cheeks. Youâre suddenly grateful for your position that obscures your face from view. Although you rather wish the ground would just swallow you whole.Â
âYou said it was an urgent matter,â the man, Heeseung, explains. âThat no time was to be wasted.â
âI didnâtâŠâ The princeâs words trail to a sigh. âPlease, Miss ____,â he addresses you. âStand.â
Rising to full height, your eyes make slow work of trailing the ground in front of you, flickering over the carpet beneath your feet without really seeing any of it, continuing forwards until your head stands straight on your shoulders, eyes landing square on the kingdomâs only son. Your sisterâs betrothed.Â
For a moment, he just looks back at you, lips slightly parted.Â
You suppose the prince is handsome, in an untouchable sort of way. Your sister has always spoken highly of his looks, and you canât fault her for it.Â
Dark hair kisses his cheekbones, frames delicate, almost feline features. His skin is smooth, unblemished. High angles and sharp lines and the prominent, traceable slope of his nose, his jaw, his neck.Â
The prince wears a lithe frame, coiled in muscle won from function, from use. Long afternoons on horseback, refining skills in archery and swordsmanship.Â
And his eyes. God, his eyes. Sharp and distinguished. Burdened with the knowledge of a scholar and diplomacy of a politician. Assessing, searching, reflecting the few sources of light in this chamber like theyâre made of stolen stars.Â
Deep beneath the castle, time holds little meaning. But you know it canât be much later than noon. Suddenly, youâre struck with the strangest urge to see him in sunlight. Watch it dance over his royal features with favor.Â
Across from you, the prince does the same. He assesses you, silent as his eyes find new places to land. Youâre not sure what heâs looking for. What he finds. But eventually, you grow tired of the impasse.Â
âForgive me, Your Highness, for speaking out of turn.â The prince takes the slight with nothing more than an arched eyebrow. âBut if I may, I would like to know the meaning behind this⊠visit.â
âYouâre bold, Miss ____.â Itâs the second time heâs said your name, and it rattles something deep inside you. âFirst you steal a manâs horse and then you speak out of turn to beg him for answers.â
Thereâs no trace of malice in his voice, but your blood runs cold all the same.Â
âForgive me,â you repeat, chest tightening, âbut Iâm not sure I understandââ
âAllow me to be plain, then.â he interrupts. âLet us establish a common truth first. Last night, approximately five bell chimes after the midnight hour, you left the castle grounds.â
Panic claws at your throat. âYour Highness, Iââ
The prince wonât hear your excuses. âAll I require is a simple true or false.â
Thereâs no use lying. He knows. He knows.Â
Rocks forming in the pit of your stomach, you whisper, âTrue.â
âExcellent,â he levels, voice betraying nothing. âWeâve established one truth, then. Now, for our second. When you fled, you did so on horseback.â
The white horse. That damn white horse. You want to laugh at the irony, at the terrible absurdity of it all. Jaeyun said it himself:Â
âIf you told me he was the princeâs horse, I wouldnât even question it.â
Now, all you can do is stand as dread gathers in your gut. Was this all some sort of elaborate scheme? Was the note from Sunghoon falsely planted? Is Sunghoon a palace spy?
Your mind is whirring. Against every nerve in your body screaming in protest, you whisper, âTrue.â
âRight. This horse, heâs kept in the eastern stable, near the gardens. Responds to the name Maeum.â
âTrue, Your Highness.â
âI suppose you may not have known,â the prince pauses, âbut Maeum is my horse. He was a gift, actually, for my sixteenth birthday.â
The words are tumbling out before you can stop them, âForgive me your highness, please.â Dropping to your knees, you plead for your life, âI meant no disrespect to you or your stables. It was foolish, I know, but I was craving a bit of fresh air, and Maeum seemed to be the horse with the best temperament. I had no idea he belonged to Your Highness. If I had, I would have neverââ
âFresh air?â The princeâs voice is controlled, but something simmers beneath it. As if he knows something you donât. âIs that how itâs referred to these days?â
âI mean no disrespect, Your Highness. The air inside castle grounds is of course excellent, as wellââ
âI am not concerned about air quality but rather your excuse itself.â The prince leans forward, eyes narrowing. âUnless fresh air suddenly refers to trading insider secrets about crop production and diplomatic peace reports, then Iâm afraid I find your explanation rather lacking.â
No.
No.
No no no no no no.
He knows. The crown prince knows. Youâre not sure how much, but it's enough. Itâs treason. Itâs a death sentence.
This chamber may not look like a prison, but you're suddenly confronted with the reality that you very likely wonât make it out of here alive.
âPlease, Iââ Begging for your life feels useless. âPlease, my sister. She has nothing to do with this, I swear.â
A crease forms between his eyebrows. âIâm not⊠your sister has no place in this conversation.â
Oh, thank the heavens. If nothing else, at least you can rest knowing your sister wonât be punished for your crimes. âThank you, Your Grace, for your mercy. I know my life holds little value, but I swear to you that if you spare me, Iââ
âYou misunderstand. Please, Miss ___. Lift your head.â
You remain on your knees, but you know better than to ignore a princeâs command. Dragging your head up, you lift your eyes until your chin is parallel to the floor.
Looking you directly in the eye, he says, a bit softer, âIâm not going to kill you.â
Confusion, relief have you forgetting propriety. âYouâre not?â
The prince shakes his head. âWhat youâve done is treason, yes, but I find that things are rarely that simple.â
He takes a slow breath. âYouâve lived in the castle since you were a child. You are no fool. You know the expectations and the rules. And the consequences of breaking them. So it begs the question, Miss ___. Why?â
âWhy?â You echo.
âWhy you risk your life multiple times a day, gathering intelligence, obtaining secrets, passing along parcels of information. I imagine itâs not for lack of entertainment. From my understanding, most palace ladies of your age enjoy hobbies such as painting, embroidery, and the occasional dance lesson.â
âIâve never been much of a painter.â
âRegarless,â the prince shakes his head, âyour painting skills do little to change the fact that outside the castle walls, food rations continue to shrink. Failing diplomatic policies are leading to unrest with our neighbors. Disruptions in trade that people rely on for their livelihood.â
It takes a good deal of effort to keep your mouth from dropping open in shock. Never once have you heard even the slightest whisper of a royal caring what happens outside the palaCe walls. âI wasnât aware that the strain had reached all the way to Your Highness.â
âIt hasnât.â He shakes his head. âNot directly. Our tables are full. Our finery well stocked. But a good king looks beyond his castle, does he not?â
Here, you must tread carefully. âI wonât pretend to know the burden of ruling. But goodness is subjective. It seems a king would have many other considerations to make.â
âPerhaps some do,â he agrees. âBut only a fool with a crown considers himself before his people.â
Matching his eye, you say, âThis kingdom will be lucky, then, to have a ruler who holds them in such high esteem.â
âI hope so,â the prince nods. Pausing for a moment, he continues, âMy wedding is to be held at the end of the month. And my coronation shortly thereafter. I know it sounds strange given my position, but there are things, whispers, rumors, that I believe you are far more well versed in than I. I would appreciate any⊠guidance you could provide me. At least until then.â
âGuidance?â You echo.Â
The prince nods. âWhich systems are failing, which people are feeling the strain the most. Which royal decrees have a favorable impact outside the castle grounds and which do not. This sort of thing.â
For a moment, itâs difficult not to doubt your own ears. Itâs ridiculous, all things considered. âAre you sayingâŠ?â
âThat I want your assistance in committing crimes against the crown? Yes, I suppose I am.â Across from you, the prince sighs. âThis kingdom has been allowed to run at the mercy and whim of its rulers for too long. People are suffering. Relations are collapsing. My birth, my reign, theyâre meant to bring peace. Prosperity. Iâve warred and struggled with myself, and Iâve always come to the same conclusion. Can it really be called treason if done for the betterment of the kingdom? Can it really be called allegiance if done solely for a king?â
For a moment, silence stuns you. And thenâ
âI wouldnât dare to speak my thoughts on kings in front of Your Highness.â
âWhy not?â Heâs looking at you now. Really looking. âBecause itâs improprietous? Because itâs treason? I was under the impression that youâre rather well acquainted with both already.â
Your lips remain fully sealed.Â
âVery well,â the prince acquiesces. âI wonât push any further. The man who escorted you, his name is Heeseung.â A glance around the chamber reveals that sometime during your conversation, Heeseung has made himself scarce. Itâs just you and the prince. Glancing over your state of dress, a faint flush rises on his cheeks. âI apologize for his⊠imprudence earlier. He works as a scribe in the royal archives. You can pass information along to him. Or to me, of course, although I may at times be a bit more difficult to find.âÂ
He has it all figured out, your arrangement. But youâre still hung up on one crucial piece of information. One you find thus far to be rather lacking.Â
âHow do I know I can trust you?â
The prince pauses for a moment, considering. Eventually, he says, âI suppose you donât. But isnât trust a bit superfluous? I donât mean to speak too bluntly, but I donât believe youâre operating under any illusions. If I truly wished it, youâd be dead.â
You wonât give in so easily. âI trust that you want me alive for the time being. That is not what I inquire. How do I know that our views are aligned, that any information I may pass along will be used in a way I also see fit? How can trust be⊠superfluous, when itâs what builds empires, what crumbles them?â
For a moment, your prince does nothing but look at you. His expression is guarded as he weighs his words carefully.Â
A moment passes. Another. An all too familiar feeling of nausea begins to roll in your gut.Â
You try your best not to let the sudden urge to be sick affect you, but you canât quite suppress the wince that crosses your features.
 And then, as if heâs whispering it directly into your ear, you hear, âA leap of faith, then. It will have to be. And in time, Iâll hope to earn just a fraction of your trust.â
Itâs the voice. The one that's been haunting your dreams. Your waking visions. The source of your migraines, the interruptions to your intuition.Â
And in front of you, the princeâs lips remain shut.
Still, you ask, âWhat?â
He sighs, and this time with his own mouth, tells you, âI am your prince. Soon to be your king. Fortune may not be a fair thing, but it has decided for the both of us that your trust belongs to me. I hope to use it well.â
You have a million questions. A thousand unfinished thoughts. But no matter what voices speak in your mind, he is right about at least one thing.
He is your prince. He will be your king. He holds your, your sisterâs, and an entire kingdomâs lives in his hands.Â
And this, you realize, is an order.Â
Ignoring the tremble in your legs, you once again stand to full height. And immediately drop into the deepest curtsey you can manage. âVery well, Your Highness.â
âŠ..
Despite it all, life proceeds with an almost uncanny sense of normalcy. You begin your morning the day after meeting with the prince in the same way you always do. With a visit to the castle kitchens.
Jay is expecting you. An apron tied around his waist, and a small plate of fresh fruits he slides across the counter towards you, he speaks in hushed tones while he dices vegetables for tonightâs supper.Â
âPotatoes,â he whispers. To anyone else, it would look like a simple meeting between friends.Â
Your brow furrows. âWhat of them?â
Jay nods to the cutting board currently beneath his hands. âItâs the fourth evening in a row weâre serving them.â
You frown. âIs that strange? Theyâre a hearty vegetable, and they grow in abundance this time of year.â
âRight,â Jay nods. âBut the king grows restless if served the same dish more than once within a fortnight. The last head chef was demoted to kitchen help less than a year ago for a much less egregious repetition.â
âWhat does that mean? Low crop production?â You speculate.Â
âPerhaps,â Jay agrees. âIt could also be trade issues. More valuable crops being used to barter for other necessities.â
Itâs confusing. Just yesterday, the prince told you that the royal kitchens were still well stocked. The royal family was still eating well.Â
âIs this a recent development?â You ask.Â
âFairly.â Without ever pausing his cutting, Jay adds, âThe choice of potatoes is also interesting within itself. Nutritionally, theyâre quite dense. Itâs much easier to create a full, hearty meal, or at least the illusion of one, than it is with other vegetables."
âIâll speak with Sunoo,â you nod. âHe mentioned last time that the plans for new fields are quite conservative this year. I wonder if low overall production, or at least low variety, has anything to do with it.âÂ
Taking a bite of the apple slices he prepared for you, you add, âThank you, Jay. Take care of yourself.â
At that, he does pause. Setting the knife down, he looks up at you for a moment. âYou too, ___. Be careful.â
You smile, easy and bright. âI always am.â
The straight set to Jayâs lips doesnât budge. âI mean it, ___. Things are⊠strange these days. I know how valuable your information is, but you need to look out for yourself too.â
You frown at the sudden urgency in his voice. âI know, Jay. I will. I think people are just on edge with the upcoming wedding and coronation. Transitions in a kingdom are always a bit unnerving. Especially since Minaâs just⊠well, you know.â You shrug. âWeâre certainly not royalty.â
âCould have fooled me.â Jay grins, but the tension in his shoulders doesnât quite disappear fully. âLook at you, sitting like a lady, eating my apples.âÂ
You roll your eyes, taking another bite with an exaggerated crunch.Â
âRight. Well, this lady has a groundskeeper to visit.â
âI wonât keep you, then.â
âThank you, Jay,â you tell him, standing up from the counter. âFor the apples and the⊠conversation. Iâll see you again soon.â
âIâll look forward to it.â
Making your way back through the corridors, his words play back in your mind. First, you wrestle with the idea of poor crop production. Itâs strange, but you wonât know anything for sure until you have a chance to speak with Sunoo.Â
Tucking that away for later, your mind spins through some of Jayâs other claims.Â
Lady. Despite the childhood youâve spent in the castle, youâve never really considered yourself such. You and Mina were brought here as children, but the distinction was always clear. The separation was always made.Â
The only reason you were behind these walls instead of outside of them was because of a prophecy. One you were far too young to understand.Â
Even if you had been older, itâs not as if you had the chance to hear it from the seerâs mouth yourself. Instead, it had been divulged to you in the one direct conversation youâve ever had with your king.Â
That night, so many years ago the memory is beginning to blur around the edges, the king of your nation told you and your sister in plain words that the two of you were to come to the castle. To live there.Â
That in due time, your sister would marry his son, the prince. Even now, you remember how he spat the words like venom, as if they tasted bitter on his tongue.
The world could never know, he said. Prophecies were a fickle thing, and the less people to know, the better. To the kingdomâs knowledge, you two would be the daughters of his late wifeâs dear friend from a distant kingdom. Children whose parents had been lost to senseless violence.Â
Not royal, not noble, but at least somewhat respectable members of society instead of the daughters of an impoverished blacksmith. A symbol of the kingâs graciousness and goodwill.Â
You would be trained, of course, in the manners of court. How to sit, how to speak, how to walk. The bulk of this particular attention had always gone to Mina, the future bride of his son, but you were not exempt entirely.
Looking down at your hands now, you wonder, not for the first time, where the truth begins and ends. Your hands are well versed in embroidery, in poetry, in penmanship.Â
But theyâre also rough, full of callouses from you illicit nightly errands on horseback.Â
Are you a lady? Youâre not really sure. Itâs never been the identity youâve pondered when others feel far more pressing.Â
Rebel. Traitor. Forgotten sister.
And now, apparently, personal informant for the crown prince. Â
Whichever it is, you still have a job to do. And Sunooâs expecting you.Â
By the time you make it to the eastern crop fields, Sunoo is taking fertilizer inventory. Sunlight shining on his dark hair, he startles a bit when you clear your throat behind him.Â
âOh!â He turns in surprise. âHow many times do I have to tell you not to sneak up on me like that?â But heâs smiling at you like an old friend.Â
âSorry,â you apologize. âI didnât realize fertilizer could require so much fascination.â
âFascination, no,â Sunoo corrects. âConcentration, yes. You might find this interesting, actually. Weâve been asked to ration it.â
âRation fertilizer?â Your nose scrunches. âIsnât it just made of cow dung?â
Sunooâs lips flatten. âAmong other things, yes. Primarily a nitrogen-rich soil that weâve been trading with our northern neighbors for decades. I guess itâs becoming a bit more difficult to come by these days.â Â
âOr,â you counter, âsomething is disrupting trade.â
âThatâs possible as well,â Sunoo nods.
Pausing for a moment to consider, you press forward, âI actually came here to ask about something. Potatoes. Has there been an increase in potato allocation?â
A mild flicker of shock crosses his features. âYes, actually. Iâd have to check the records to be sure, but some of the other fields, mostly carrots, beets, and radish, were ordered for replanting with potato crops. How did you know?â
âThe kitchens,â you explain. âTheyâre serving potatoes almost nightly. Do you know why they increased potato crops?â
Sunoo shakes his head. âI havenât heard anything directly, but potatoes have always been fairly abundant. They grow well here. And it is cheaper overall to have less diversity across the fields.âÂ
âSo itâs a way of cutting costs, then.â
Sunoo nods. âProbably.â
âHave any other crops been removed?â
âNothingâs been taken out entirely, but there have been similar orders, particularly in fruits. Theyâve reduced vineyard production, as well as plums, figs, and strawberries. The only place that was expanded was the apple orchard.â
You think of the apples Jay gave you this morning. âAnother less expensive crop.â
Again, Sunoo nods. âIt is.â
You pause for a moment, considering. âThank you, Sunoo.â
âOf course.â He hesitates for a moment. âIs there⊠I know there have been rumors. Increasing unrest. More disrupted trade routes. Is it true?â
âI donât know,â you tell him truthfully. âBut I think it very well could be. You know as well as I do that the people outside these walls are no stranger to struggle. But the king has always gouged himself on grapes and wine and exotic vegetables. For even the royal kitchens to Jace such limits⊠Something else must be happening.â
Sunoo pauses for a moment, thinking. âI hope what they say is true, about the prince.â
âWhat do you mean?â
âItâs just speculation.â Sunoo shrugs. âLikely wishful thinking, but people are ready for change. The fact that the prince selected a bride without a crownââ He pauses, suddenly remembering your relation. âI mean no offense, of course.â
âNone taken,â you shake your head. âItâs the truth.â And only a fraction of it.Â
âWell, people hope that itâs a sign. That their new king values power and status less than his father. That heâll consider the needs of his kingdom and not just live out a reign in search of self-serving pleasures.â
You canât help it, the way your mind immediately goes to the prince.Â
âBut only a fool with a crown considers himself before his people.â
âItâs unfounded, I know,â Sunoo adds when you remain silent. âNothing but a foolâs hope.â
âPerhaps,â you nod. âBut perhaps not.â Turning to him, thereâs a genuine earnestness in your gaze when you say, âPerhaps our prince will surprise us yet.â
Despite yourself, you hope itâs true too.
Youâve nearly made it back to your bedroom when the second summons in the span of days comes.Â
This one, at least, is a bit less terrifying. Although it does inspire a similar sense of dread.Â
The ladiesâ maid waiting outside your door holds only a letter in her hands. One she passes to you with a bow and a customary greeting before hurrying back down the hall.Â
Unlocking your bedroom door, you close it tightly shut behind you before sitting at the foot of your bed. Then, you slide your finger under the seal of the envelope, feeling nothing but slight resistance as it opens in your hands.Â
Miss ____, the letter reads.Â
Your presence is requested at the eighteenth hour of the same day this message is delivered. Please arrive promptly to the royal tailorâs fitting rooms at the requested time.Â
Youâre not entirely sure what to expect. When Riki has information, he usually goes about summoning you in less formal manners. But itâs difficult to think of any other business you could possibly have with the royal tailor.Â
Well, you suppose, looking at the clock, you only have approximately an hour before your summoning time. Youâll find out soon enough.
âŠ..
Itâs a shame you arenât in need of more gowns. The royal tailor is in possession of one of the loveliest rooms youâve ever seen.Â
Surrounded in golden dipped mirrors, the room reflects shiny things like it loves them. Instead of a traditional ceiling, the space above you is lined with windows. Skylights, theyâre called. Designed to maximize the amount of natural light inside the room. To show how fabrics will looks and dresses will move beneath the sun.
In the early hours of the evening, candlelight picks up the slack for dying rays of sunlight. Still, the room is beautiful. Sparkling in a way thatâs almost alive.Â
In the center of the room stands the royal tailor. Hands always full of fabric and pincushions and a measuring tape, he places another pin in Minaâs bodice.
Mina. Your sister. Despite the fact that the two of you technically share a home, this is the first time youâve seen her in nearly a week.Â
A year your elder, age has been nothing but kind to her. She may not be royal yet, but sheâs been groomed for queendom since she was a toddler.
Her skin glows with a certain vitality, hair shines from the efforts of custom hairbrushes and rare, expensive serums.
You see some of your own features reflected on her impossibly beautiful face, and you canât quite explain in words the way it makes you feel like hiding.Â
Beauty has never been at the top of your list of concerns, but it would be a lie to say you didnât care at all. To say that the sight of your older sister positively glowing at her wedding dress fitting doesnât make you simmer with something akin to jealousy.Â
Even if Minaâs beauty werenât so certain, the gown she wears would certainly pick up the slack. Much like the room around it, itâs less white than it is iridescent. It glows and glimmers and glides across each plane of your sisterâs body like a loverâs caress.Â
Sheâs practically dipped in starlight. Ethereal, stunning, painfully beautiful.Â
She must know it too.
Still, thereâs a hint of uncertainty in her voice when she catches your gaze in the mirror. âWhat do you think?â
âItâs beautiful, Mina,â you tell her truthfully. âYouâre glowing, truly.â
Still, something in her wavers. âIs it fit for a queen?âÂ
âHow could it not be, when itâs fit for you? And you are to be queen.â In this moment, you almost wish you knew her better. Itâs a strange thought, that her ladiesâ maid could probably provide her more comfort than you. Abate her woes with a more expert hand.Â
âI suppose so. Have you thought more, about what you might wear to the wedding?â
You scoff. âNo one cares what I wear.â
âOf course they do,â Mina counters. âYoure the sister of the queen. It would be foolish to think no eyes will be on you.â
âWhatever you think will suit me, then.â
Mina sighs, shaking her head slightly. âYouâre hopeless. Iâm to try on my coronation gown as well. Come, stand with the tailor and decide on a fabric while I change.â
âForgive me,â the tailor speaks, âbut Iâm afraid I must accompany you, my lady. I would like to place a few more pins.â
âVery well,â Mina nods. âThen your assistant can accompany my sister.â
âIndeed,â the tailor agrees. âRiki,â he calls, âwould you please assist Miss ___ in finding a suitable fabric?â
Stepping to the center, Riki bows in agreement. âOf course, sir.â
Your sister takes careful, measured steps on the arm of the tailor, and you watch as they exit to the adjoining room, door clicking shut behind them.
âLet me guess,â you mumble wryly, âlemon yellow would be just perfect for my features.âÂ
Riki just laughs. âI was thinking vomit green might suit you more.â
âOf course you were.â You roll your eyes.Â
âStand up,â he instructs, tone still light. âCome stand here.â
Your feet drag, but you follow his instructions. Stood in the center of the room, you canât help but find the mirrors rather unforgiving. You understand Jaeyunâs concern from a few nights ago. You really do look like you havenât slept in ages.Â
Even if you were well rested, Mina is a difficult act to follow. Your clothes are plain. Utilitarian. Clean and well-made, yes, but nondescript all the same. Eyes trailing upwards, you canât help but think the same of your face.Â
Everything is duller in comparison. Your hair doesnât shine the way hers does. Your skin doesnât glow with radiance. Thereâs nothing special or royal or extraordinary in your reflection. Youâre just⊠you.Â
Still, Riki treats you like a high paying client.Â
When he returns to your side, he holds two fabrics. One a rich burgundy and the other a deep violet.Â
âWhat do you think of these?â he asks. In the mirror he holds them up to your chest, eyes narrowing as he tests them against your reflection.Â
âTheyâre pretty,â you nod, suddenly finding it hard to maintain eye contact with your reflection. âEitherâs fine.â
Riki drops the fabrics back to his side, exasperation crossing his features. âThat is not the reaction I want from someone choosing a gown.â
âHow can I?â you ask. Riki turns from you, takes a few steps back towards the dresser. He sets his original choices to the side and begins searching for another fabric. âYou of all people know I have other things on my mind.â
âI suppose youâre right,â he says, back still turned.Â
âSpeaking of which,â you glance over your shoulder, ensuring the door to the adjoining room is still firmly shut. âAnything new to report these days? Any more tidbits from the palace ladies?â
After all, no one has a better penchant for gossip than them. Itâs why youâve learned some of your most valuable secrets from Riki. Itâs amazing what people will divulge in the presence of someone they deem lesser than themselves.Â
âNothing much.â He shakes his head. âMore of the same, mostly. Complaints about not being able to purchase their favorite tea leaves or jewelry or rouge anymore. A lordâs daughter did request a pair of leather shoes that we had to deny. Our stock has been low for months. Reserved for the royal family only.â
âLow leather supply?â you echo.Â
âYeah,â Riki confirms, still rifling through drawers. âItâs unusual, but not uncommon. Supplies ebb and flow. Some things are hard to come by for a while and then suddenly, theyâre available in abundance again. Iâm not sure if itâs anything worth noting.â
âRight,â you nod, but you tuck away the information regardless.Â
After another moment of searching, Riki stands back up to full height. Turning to face you, he asks, âWhat about this?â
Your lips press together. âGold?â you inquire flatly.
âSomething shiny for the vision of radiance herself.â
You roll your eyes. âDonât mock me.â
âIâm not.â He shakes his head. âI really think this would suit you.â Stepping back to your side, he holds the shimmering fabric against your reflection in the mirror.Â
You hate to admit it, but he might be right. Immediately, your features look softer. Something about the shimmer brings out your eyes, makes the curve of your lips appear almost more feminine.Â
âSee,â he urges. âIt looks nice.â
âIsnât gold a bit much for a wedding guest?â
âYouâre more than a guest. You may not be queen, but this wedding will make you royal, too, you know. Even if itâs by relation. Eyes are going to be on you. You may as well look the part.â
A moment passes. Another.Â
And then, you nod, almost imperceptible. You watch in the mirror as your chin moves. Quietly, you acquiesce, âOkay.â
âGood, then,â he nods. âItâs decided. Now, for silhouetteââ
âIâll leave that to you,â you interrupt. âReally, Riki,â you add when he gives you a look, âIâm sure you know much more about silhouette than I do. Besides, I trust you.â
âOkay,â he agrees, âIâll send you a summons when itâs time for fitting.âÂ
âIâll await it eagerly,â you tell him, trying not to let yourself sound too sarcastic. Glancing again towards the door, you ask, âDo you think I can sneak out before Mina starts her coronation gown fitting?â
Riki smiles, but shakes his head slightly. âProbably not. She values your opinion, you know. Besides, youâre not the only one who will be giving input.â
âWhat?â you ask. âWho elseâ?â
A knock sounds sharply against the main door, interrupting your question.Â
With an exaggerated sense of urgency, the adjoining room opens, the tailor practically running to the source of the knock. In his wake, your sister trails. This time, the gown she wears is far less ornate.Â
Itâs a beautiful shade of violet, not dissimilar from the first fabric sample Riki showed you earlier. Fit for royalty. Perfect for a new bride to celebrate the ascension of her husband to the throne.Â
To your left, the tailor falls into a deep bow as Riki slowly pulls the door open.Â
And in walks the crown prince of the kingdom.Â
Itâs hardly been a day since you saw him, but still, the sight makes you draw in a sharp breath.Â
It feels different. He feels more real, more solid somehow here, above the ground than he did in the chamber in the underbelly of the castle.Â
At your side, your sister drops into a curtsey.Â
Across the room, the princeâs eyes land on you. He holds eye contact, and you forget yourself for a moment longer.Â
The sound of rustling fabric breaks your trance. Remembering yourself, you fall into a curtsey identical to Minaâs.Â
âYour Highness,â you whisper beneath your breath, too low for him to possibly hear.Â
âPlease,â he addresses the room. âStand.â
âThank you,â your sister says, voice breathier than youâve ever heard it, âfor joining us, Your Highness.â
âOf course,â he responds. The edge from his voice, the tremor of desperation, is nowhere to be found. Heâs every bit the measured prince when he adds, âIt is tradition for an incumbent king to approve the coronation gown of his bride.â
Your eyes are still trained on the floor. You can feel his flickering over your features.Â
âThis is what weâve decided on, my prince.â Your sister speaks with an even tone. âA violet color to represent the transition to the highest form of royalty. With flowers, lillies, embroidered into the sleeves to represent luck and prosperity for our kingdom.â
âIt suits the occasion,â he nods. âPerhaps I too could have lilies embroidered on my sleeve.â
Orchids, you think, still not daring to look up fully. Your sister is a well-trained royal, but you were always a bit better at your studies. Particularly with details requiring memorization.Â
Botany was a favorite subject of yours, reinforced by the time you still spend in the gardens. Even now, you remember the text as if it were laid in front of you.Â
Lilies for harmony and fortune, peonies for wealth and honor, lotus for inner peace and spiritual growth.Â
And orchids. For luck and prosperity.Â
You dare not speak to correct her. It is hardly your place. And, you suppose, in the end, it will make little difference. Harmony and fortune are fitting wishes for his reign as well.Â
âOf course,â the tailor agrees. âIt would be an honor to add a lovely lily motif to your slââ
âOr perhaps,â The prince interrupts. âWe could change the flowers to orchids.â
At that, your gaze does snap up. And it locks right onto his.Â
âForgive me,â the prince continues. âBotany was never my strongest subject, but I believe itâs orchids, not lilies that have historically symbolized luck and prosperity.âÂ
Itâs a terrible offence of propriety, the way you stare at the crown prince as if heâs grown a second head.Â
But to hell with propriety. If you didnât know better, you would think that the prince just read your mind.Â
âI apologize,â he says. âI know you must have already dedicated much time and effort to embroidering such lovely lilies, but orchids were practically shouting at me.â
âPlease!â the tailor practically exclaims. âIt would be an honor to do the embroidery a thousand times over if Your Highness so wished it. And what a great mind you have. I should be embarrassed to have made such an egregious error, but I am rather so very impressed with your knowledge of flowers.â
âThank you,â he inclines his head. âFor your gracious understanding. With the changes, I approve this coronation gown.â
Thereâs a moment of suspended silence. The prince's mouth closes. Opens again. Â
Your head is still spinning, racing a million miles a minute. It could just be a coincidence, but you have that feeling again. Deep in your gut. Something that burns like nausea but begs you to lean in. To embrace the discomfort and discover what lies beneath.Â
Then the prince looks at you and asks, âWhat will you be wearing?â
You must have misheard him. He must be addressing someone else. He must.
âMe, Your Highness?â
But the prince only nods.Â
âIâŠâ You trail off, lost for words. âI donât know. It hasnât been discussed yet. Iââ
âSomething light, I think,â he interrupts. Looking directly at you, he tilts his head to the side, considering. âA pale blue, perhaps. Or maybe gold. With orchids too, of course. Iâd like to be consulted before you make a final decision.â
Heat rises in your cheeks, your skin flaming as he assesses you.Â
The tailor coughs. âOh, I⊠of course, Your Highness. You shall be the first to know when weâve decided on a color for your brideâs sisterâs gown.â
âVery well,â he nods. âIâll take my leave, then. Thank you for your timeâ Glancing around the room, his eyes land on you once again. Linger for a moment too long before he breaks contact. First, he addresses your sister. âUntil next time, my lady.â And then he says to you, âGoodbye, Miss ___.â
And then, just as quickly as he came, heâs gone once again.
A rather uncomfortable silence settles around you as the room reels in his absence. The tailor is the one to break it.Â
After another forced cough, he says, âWell, I think we have our work cut out for us, Riki.â
Riki, doesnât even spare the man a glance. Instead, he looks at you, gaze sharp and all too knowing. âIndeed we do.â
âŠ..
The eastern stables are quiet tonight. Just as they always are.Â
No matter how many alarming pieces of information you pick up around the castle and how many ways the prince manages to catch you off guard, at least this is always the same.Â
You havenât had a chance to speak to Sunghoon yet, so youâre praying that Blossom has made a full recovery and will be waiting for you behind the stable doors. If sheâs not, you donât know what youâll do. Jaeyunâs expecting you tonight.Â
But if Blossom is out of commission, you can hardly ride Maeum again. Not after what happened with the prince.
Pushing open the door at the far edge, you avoid the pressure points that make the hinges whine. The last thing you need is a startled horse. Especially one that whinnies.Â
Pulling the door closed behind you, the light is too dim to make out much of anything. Counting down to Blossomâs usual stall, you nearly give a shout of joy when you find it occupied.Â
âGood girl,â you whisper, pulling a carrot from your bag. âGood job, Blossom. You made a full recovery, didnât you.âÂ
But as you reach up to stroke her mane, you realize that something is amiss. Youâre at Blossomâs stall, yes, but the horse in front of you is not Blossom. The light is too dim to make out much of anything, but you can tell through touch alone that this horse is taller. By at least several inches.Â
Squinting, you try to make out any details. You can tell that the horseâs coat is dark, but thatâs about it. Reaching into your bag, you pull out your lantern. Striking a flint, youâre careful to avoid any wood and hay as you light the candle inside.Â
Holding it up, you assess the horse in front of you.Â
Lips pulling downward, you frown. âYouâre not Blossom.â
âNo, but she might suit you even better.â
In your surprise, you nearly drop your lantern. A certain disaster in a stable full of hay.
Spinning on your heel, heart hammering against your ribcage, you whip your head around to find none other than the prince of the kingdom. Leaned against the wall of the stable like it was made to do so. Like thereâs nothing strange about him being here well past midnight.Â
âWhat,â you hiss, still finding yourself short of breath after the fright he gave you, âare you doing?â
Itâs no way to address a prince, but in the cover of midnight, he hardly looks the part. Wearing black head to toe, gone is the regalia, the finery that marks his position.Â
His head is bare. Empty of the crown youâve come to associate so closely with him. It makes him look strange. Younger, maybe.Â
And you never realized just how long his hair was.Â
In the glow of lanternlight, he doesnât look like a prince. Just a boy. A young man. One you canât seem to take your eyes off of.Â
âI could ask you the same,â he counters.Â
âIâŠâ you trail off, remembering yourself. Your status. Dropping into a curtsey, you say, âForgive me, Your Highness. I did not realize it was you. You startled me.â
âPlease, ___.â Your name sounds strange in his mouth, without the âMiss.â More intimate somehow. âStand up. You can forget your propriety now. Just Jungwon will suffice.â
Jungwon. Jungwon.Â
Distantly, youâre aware that itâs his name. But itâs not as if youâve ever used it before. Even in your mind, the most private of your thoughts, heâs always been the prince or Your Highness. Nothing more, nothing less.Â
âIs it really so strange?â he asks. âTo call me by my name?â
Your eyes fly to his. âDonât do that.â
âDo what?â
âSpeak to me as if you can hear whatâs in my head.â
For a moment, he does nothing more than look at you. His expression betrays nothing.Â
After another beat of silence, he finally says, âClose your eyes.â
âWhat?â you balk.
âPlease,â he says. âIf I need to command it, I will. But Iâd rather you just trust me.â His eyes are imploring, begging for a bit of faith. Again, he asks, âClose your eyes, ____. Please.â
You stare at him a moment longer. What youâre searching for, you arenât entirely sure. And then, despite your better judgement begging you not to, you draw your eyelids closed.Â
Losing what little light your lantern provides, the world around you goes dark. Hands clenched into fists, you can only hope your small shreds of trust havenât been misplaced.Â
A beat passes. Another. Nothing happens. The night stands still.Â
And then, as if whispered against the shell of your ear, you hear it. Clear as day.Â
Hello.
Itâs his voice. You're sure of it. Eyes flying open, you expect to find him standing so close you could touch him. But the prince is still motionless, still leaning against the wall of the stable. A good four paces from you.Â
âYou heard it,â he asks, lips drawing thin as if heâs just confirmed a hypothesis. âDidnât you?â
âI⊠I heard you, but it wasnât real. It was likeââ
âLike it was coming from inside your own mind,â he finishes.Â
You stare at him, lips parted.Â
He laughs humorlessly. âYeah. For months, Iâve been hearing this⊠this voice in my mind. It wasnât mine, but sometimes it felt like it was. It was impossible to tell where my thoughts ended and this voice began. I thought I was losing my sanity. The stress of the upcoming coronation was making me insane.â
He looks up at you, eyes assessing. âBut then, that day in my chamber beneath the castle. You spoke to me, and it was familiar. Too familiar. And yesterday. In the tailorâs room. It was you, was it not? With the orchids.â
You nearly gasp. You hadnât been imagining things. He had read your mind. âI thought of them, yes, but I certainly did not intend to⊠speak to you.â
âI didnât either.â He shakes his head. âJust now was the first time I attempted to send my voice to you. But it wasnât the first time you heard it, was it?â
âI cannot be sureââ
He wonât let up so easily. âIf you had to guess, then.â
Youâre quiet for a moment, weighing your answer. And then you tell him truthfully, âNo. No, I suppose it was not.â
The prince looks at you, considering. âThereâs something strange between us. A connection.â
With the way your cheeks flame, you're suddenly grateful for the cover of darkness.Â
âI cannot pretend to understand it, Your Highness, butââ
âFor heavenâs sake,â he exasperates, pushing himself off the stable wall, âwe hear one another in our heads. Please, call me Jungwon.â
âI⊠I couldnât possiblyââ
âFine,â he says. âDonât say it then. At least not out loud. Speak it to me. In my mind.â
âI donât know how,â you protest.Â
âTry.â
You stare at him.
The prince doesnât give in. Instead, he suggests, âIt may help to close your eyes.â
For a moment, you just look at him, everything in you screaming in protest. Then, on a long exhale, you close your eyes.Â
First, you let the thought pass through your mind.Â
Jungwon.Â
Even in the sanctity of your mind, it sounds like treason.
Next, you try again. This time, you imagine shouting it across an open field, sending it as far as the wind will carry it.
Jungwon.Â
Itâs to no avail. You open your eyes. Across from you, the prince just shakes his head.Â
Itâs not about volume, then.Â
This time, you close your eyes, let your eyelids relax as if you were sleeping. You donât shout. You donât whisper. Instead, you search.Â
For something, anything that might lead you to him.Â
The inside of your mind feels like a chamber. Vast, expansive, but entirely self-contained.Â
You think about what it sounds like, what it feels like, when he speaks in your mind. The way it always seems as if heâs whispering against your left ear.Â
Opening your eyes slowly, you ask aloud, âWhen you hear my voice, where does it come from?â
He doesnât need to ask for clarification. The prince knows what you mean.Â
Wordlessly, he draws his hand upward, taps the space just beside his right temple, next to his eyebrow. âHere.â
Nodding, you close your eyes again. This time, you imagine closing the space between you. Your hands tremble, heart racing as you picture this phantom of yourself leaning in, far closer to the prince than you could ever dream of being.Â
You imagine leaning forward, lips tracing that spot against his temple, feeling a stray strand of hair rustle beneath your lips.Â
Itâs like using an untrained muscle, stretching a long forgotten ligament. It strains a little. Burns with effort. But itâs there, and itâs real. At least in the expanse of your mind.Â
Jungwon, you whisper. But your lips never move.Â
You donât even need to open your eyes. You know he heard it.Â
When you do finally look at him again, heâs already staring at you, lips parted. And those eyes. Those damn unnerving eyes that seem to see right through you.Â
Now, heâs looking at you in awe. As if youâve just performed a miracle for him.Â
âDo it again,â he whispers.
âJungwonâŠâ
âMy name,â he nods. âGood. Was that so difficult?â
The look you send him is withering. âI hate to part ways early, but I do have a rather important errand to run.â
âMore important than the duty you discussed with me?â He arches an eyebrow. âDo you have anything to report yet?â
You shake your head, trying to be firm while remaining subordinate. âIâd be happy to have this discussion at a later time, but Iâm afraid Iâm occupied at the moment.â
He wonât let you go so easily. âWith what? Where exactly do you sneak off to in the night? And donât tell me itâs for fresh air.â
âNo,â you pause for a moment, deciding how much of the truth you should give him. âI have a meeting.â
âA meeting?â He echoes.
âYes.â You nod. âA rather important one. Hopefully, Iâll have more information to share with you when I return, so if youâll excuse meââ
His gaze never strays from your face. âWho are you meeting?â
You frown, suddenly defensive. âI donât see how that's any of your concern.â
The prince disagrees. âItâs entirely my concern. You're an informant for me now. Highly valuable. If anything were to happen to you, I could lose a very important source of information.â
âI havenât even told you anything,â you protest.Â
âSo you understand my problem.â
It takes a great deal of effort not to roll your eyes. âIâm meeting a friend.â
Heâs unrelenting. âWho?â
âI hardly see how that information is relevant to you.â
âI should like to know where to look, who to question, if anything were to happen to you. After all, you are planning to leave the safety of the castle.â
Itâs infuriating, the way he has an excuse prepared for every rebuttal you make. âNothingâs going to happen to me. This is a routine meeting. One that I am now going to be late for.â
âStill, I insist.â An edge of command, of order slips into his tone. One youâd have to be a fool to miss.Â
The information youâve divulged thus far already feels like too much. Youâre not sure how much more you can bear to give. âHeâs part of the resistance,â you sigh. âHeâs like me. Someone who talks to people and monitors tensions and skirmishes and other strange patterns.â
âHe?â If you didnât know better, youâd think there was an echo in the stable.
âYes, he.â
âWhatâs his name?â
Jungwonâs been begging for your trust, but this is pushing too far. Jaeyun is one of the only people in the world you consider a true friend. Someone youâd protect with your life. It doesnât matter if Jungwonâs intentions are entirely aligned with your own. Youâre not giving up his name.Â
âIâm not telling you that.â
âVery well,â he agrees easily. Too easily. âThen Iâm coming with you.â
Your lips draw into a thin line. âYou most certainly are not.â
For a moment, Jungwon just looks at you.Â
âFine,â you throw your hands in exasperation, still mindful of the lantern in your grasp. âFine. His name is Sunghoon. Will that information suffice?â
His voice is low now, dangerous. âHow lowly you must think of me, to assume that I donât even know the name of the castleâs own stable hand.â
A burst of surprise flickers through you. In all honesty, you didnât think he would know Sunghoonâs name.Â
Then, the prince gives you an ultimatum. âEither I come with you, or neither of us goes. And I believe you did say something about already being late.â
You sigh. There is no way you can bring the kingdomâs prince to an illicit, treasonous meeting. Jaeyun will just have to forgive you the next time you manage to sneak out.Â
âFine then,â you drop your shoulders. âWeâll stay. The horse I usually ride seems to be missing, anyway.â
âYou didnât hear me earlier?â Jungwon raises an eyebrow. âHer name is Nabi. Sheâs new to the castle. A young mare with a sweet temperament. She rarely whinnies even when startled. And sheâs quite tall. Long legs. She has one of the fastest gallops Iâve ever seen.â
âA horse that impressive is surely valuable.â You shake your head. âPeople will notice if sheâs ever missing. More tired than she should be.â
Jungwon just looks at you for a moment, and you feel youâve missed something entirely.Â
âSheâs yours, ___, if youâll have her. I know Blossomâs a good mare, but her hoof is taking longer to heal than the veterinarian thought. You wonât be able to ride her for a while. Plus, I happen to know her owner.â Jungwon winces. âNot a very pleasant man, despite his excellent taste in horses. Not someone you wouldnât want to cross.â
But youâre still stuck on his earlier words. âWhat do you mean, sheâs mine?â
âI mean just that. She wonât be ridden by anyone else here. Sunghoon will take her out for general exercise and care, but sheâll be able to rest during the day when she needs. You wonât need to worry about overworking her at night.â
âIâŠâ you trail off, lost for words. âYou did this?â
Jungwonâs expression betrays nothing. âAn informant needs to be quick, do they not?â
Turning your back to him, you approach the horse, your horse again.Â
âWhat did you say her name was?â
âNabi,â Jungwon repeats. âIt meansââ
âButterfly,â you finish for him. âYes, I know.â Taking a deep breath, you turn back to face him, âListen, Jungwon.â His name still feels strange against your tongue, but that sensation of wrongness is fading quickly. âI understand that you want to rule differently than your father.â Youâre not sure when you lost your inhibitions, but something about the low light of the stable is making you feel bold. âI admire it, actually. But my friend, this network of resistance, theyâre important to me. I know that youâre used to giving orders, but please just⊠please listen to me while weâre out there. I donât think anything out of the ordinary will happen, but if it does, I need to know that I can trust you.â
For a moment, Jungwon says nothing. And then you hear it, quiet and familiar as a loverâs caress in your ear.Â
I promise.Â
The shudder that runs the length of your spine has nothing to do with the nighttime chill.Â
And then, a handful of minutes later, dressed in black and trading in secrets like a pair of bandits, the two of you set out from the stables into the inky darkness of the night.
ââ âžș pairing: tribute choi beomgyu and tribute female reader
Your gaze snaps back to the Cornucopia. Bows and arrows gleam among the weapons, familiar shapes that pull your attention. You need them. Your body tenses, calculating distance, timing, the risk of being too slow. Your eyes lift without you meaning them to, and they meet Beomgyuâs. He is already watching you and the world seems to narrow to the space between.Â
âFuck,â you mutter under your breath.Â
The timer finishes, the horn sounds, and you leap.
ïž” àœŽ warnings:  hunger games au! , dystopian , romance , enemies to lovers , slow-burn , politics , societal issues, power imbalance, violence! , mature! , used diff idols as characters , we're now in the GAMES!! MDNI â if any of the warnings above might be triggering for you, please step back. let me know if I missed anything. this is a work of fiction.
ïž” àœŽ wc: 25k â see the series masterpost here. àœŽ previous part | next part
ïž” àœŽ notes: part one of act two! okay, so the whole the spectacle of fire act is done! but i hit 40k on it so i'm splitting it into two parts for easier read! i'm just letting it breathe a little so the part two will be up on monday! hope you enjoy. đ€
Whatâs the survival value of a sunrise?
The next morning comes too fast. Hands guide you where you are meant to go. Voices explain things you already know, or maybe things you will forget the second they stop speaking. You are given your arena uniform, a black long sleeve shirt made of flexible, breathable material that clings without constricting, black cargo pants with deep pockets, running shoes that feel solid beneath your feet. It is practical. Comfortable.
You are ushered onto an aircraft before your nerves can catch up with you, the roar of engines swallowing every stray thought. At some point a tracker is driven into your arm. It is large, a sharp white pain that steals the air from your lungs, and no one waits for you to recover before moving on. You are taken underground to a bunker, metal doors sealing behind you, then pushed toward a room with your name printed cleanly on the front. Inside, the room is bare except for a massive glass tube rising from the floor, a digital timer mounted above it.
Two hundred seconds, it reads. Your heart stutters.
Yeonjun stands beside it, and the moment the door closes he is already reaching for you, fingers tugging at your sleeves, smoothing fabric, adjusting seams that do not need fixing. He talks as he works, rambling instructions and where to keep your hands, his voice trying to outrun the fear written plainly across his face.
You barely listen. You watch him instead, the way his jaw keeps setting and unsetting like he might crack if he stops moving. The panic he is trying so hard to hide sits right beneath his skin, his eyes too bright, his mouth set too tightly. His hands shake when he thinks you are not looking.Â
âHere,â he says, stepping back to reach for something. He presses a pin into the right side of your shirt. It is circular, about the size of a large button, gold catching the low light. A ring frames the image inside. A bird in flight. âItâs your district pin.âÂ
AÂ mockingjay.Â
âThank you,â you say quietly. The words feel too small for everything he has done. âThank you for everything.âÂ
He swallows and nods, fingers lingering near the pin. âMockingjays, despite the Capitolâs best attempts, theyâre survivors. No matter what the Capitol tried, they never got rid of them.âÂ
It is you. It has always been you. He grips your shoulders, hands firm, grounding. âTrust the pin,â he says, and his voice shakes despite himself. âTrust the pin. Promise me, Y/N.âÂ
âWhat?âÂ
âI need to hear it from you,â he insists, eyes searching yours. âI need you to trust me. Trust the pin. Promise me.âÂ
âIâll trust the pin,â you say, without hesitation.Â
His face softens, âYouâve got this.â He pulls you into a hug. âJust remember who your enemy is.âÂ
You nod against his shoulder, then step back before either of you can falter. You turn toward the tube and step inside. It hums as you enter, the door sealing shut in front of you. The floor begins to rise and light spills down from above, growing brighter by the second. You look back one last time. Yeonjun meets your eyes and gives you a smile that is all faith and fear tangled together, and then he is gone, swallowed by the walls as the arena opens to receive you. The platform shudders once, then stops. You straighten yourself instinctively, shoulders back, chin lifted, forcing your body to stand steady even as your pulse hammers against your ribs.Â
You are in the arena now.Â
The sun crashes into you all at once, blinding light so sharp it makes your eyes sting. Heat presses down on your skin, and a strong gust of wind slams into you hard enough to send you stumbling backward. You catch yourself just in time, boots scraping against stone, heart jumping into your throat. You breathe and take in what surrounds you. Your lips part despite yourself. You are standing on the top of a mountain.Â
Brown dirt and jagged rock stretch out in every direction, uneven and unforgiving. The ground slopes and drops away, the height dizzying when you look too long. At the center of the circular clearing stands the Cornucopia, smaller than you imagined but no less striking, a tent like structure gleaming gold beneath the sun. Weapons and supplies spill out around it in chaos, metal catching the light, packs and tools scattered like offerings.Â
The arena walls rise around the clearing in rough stone ridges, some towering high, others broken and climbable if you are desperate or stupid enough to try. Your eyes trace the terrain quickly. Tunnels cut into the rock at different points, dark mouths leading somewhere unseen, and your jaw tightens. You curse quietly, wishing for trees, for shade, for the familiarity of forest and water, anything that feels like home. District Twelve taught you how to survive among coal dust and roots, not exposed stone and open sky.Â
The timer ticks down to thirty seconds.Â
You force yourself to focus, scanning the tributes around you. To your right stands the girl from District Six, pale and shaking, her eyes darting everywhere at once like prey already running in her mind. To your left is a boy from District Eight, breathing too fast, fists clenched, terror written plainly across his face. You look farther out. Sunoo is positioned across the clearing, too far to reach, but his posture is solid, his jaw set with quiet determination. He looks ready to move, ready to fight for every second he gets.Â
Your gaze snaps back to the Cornucopia. Bows and arrows gleam among the weapons, familiar shapes that pull your attention like gravity. You need them. Your body tenses, calculating distance, timing, the risk of being too slow. Your eyes lift without you meaning them to, and they meet Beomgyuâs.Â
He is already watching you and the world seems to narrow to the space between you. I want to be allies. âFuck,â you mutter under your breath.Â
The timer finishes, the horn sounds, and you leap.
You should be feeling anxious, stressed, or scared. You should be terrified, bones shaking with the knowledge that the odds are stacked so violently against you. Everything in you should be screaming to run, to hide, to beg the earth to swallow you whole.Â
But you are not.Â
Your feet slam against the ground as you sprint forward, faster than you have ever moved in your life. The rock beneath you is brutal, nothing like the soft forest soil on the outskirts of District Twelve. Instead of slowing you down, it throws you ahead, every step sharp and clean, every breath burning in your chest. Your heart pounds, but it is steady. Focused. You dip low as you pass the pile of supplies. The backpack you marked flashes beneath your hand and you wrench it free in one smooth motion, swinging it over your shoulders without breaking stride. Survival secured, for now. Now you need a weapon.Â
You hit the center alongside the fastest tributes, bodies colliding and scattering in every direction. The Cornucopia looms above you, chaos erupting beneath it. You angle toward the inner wall where the bows and arrows rest, already reaching, already planning, when a battle cry splits the air.Â
You drop instinctively, heart spiking, and something whistles over your head, close enough to stir your hair. Shouts and metal crash together around you. You donât think. You scramble for whatever is closest, fingers closing around cold steel. A sword. You yank it free, the weight of it almost pulling you off balance. The blade bites at your skin as you fumble for the grip, nicking your fingers, and you hiss as warmth slicks your palm. It is too long, too heavy, unfamiliar in your hands.Â
Shit. You donât know how to wield a sword.Â
Another cry splits the air and you react on instinct alone. You roll onto your back and bring the sword up in front of you, one hand clenched desperately around the handle while the other slides up to pinch the blade near its tip. The metal shrieks, the impact rattling through your arms and nearly tearing the weapon from your grip. Whatever hit you skids away with a violent scrape.Â
Your vision finally snaps into focus. It is the boy from District Seven, you think, eyes wide and sweat streaking down his face as he lifts his axe again. His hands tremble around the handle, knuckles white, breath coming in ragged gasps. You are still on the ground. You are still holding a sword you do not know how to use. âIâm so sorry!â he shouts, voice cracking even as he raises the axe high over his head.Â
The apology gives you just enough time. You roll hard to the side, dirt and stone tearing at your clothes as you tumble away. The axe crashes down where your head would have been, the impact shuddering through the ground. The boy wrenches the axe free and lunges after you, face twisted with panic and resolve all at once.Â
Then his body jerks sideways. A knife sinks into the side of his head with a sickening sound, and his momentum carries him past you before he collapses in a heap. Your neck snaps to the side, pulse roaring in your ears. The girl from District Five. Kazuha, you think. She stands over him for half a second, expression hard and focused, already pulling her blade free. Ryujin is beside her, moving with the same efficiency, eyes scanning for the next threat. Kazuha glances at you once, her stare stern. Then they are gone, disappearing back into the chaos together.Â
You lie there for a heartbeat longer than you should, fingers still locked around the sword, chest heaving, mind struggling to catch up. What? Why did she save you?
You scramble upward, muscles screaming as you shove yourself behind a stack of tall supply crates, wood splintered and stacked unevenly, barely enough cover but better than nothing. You press your back to them and try to breathe. The arena is alive with sound now. Screams tear through the air, metal clashes against metal, bodies collide somewhere. Your head spins. You need a plan. You need something solid to grab onto before panic eats you aliveâÂ
A strong hand clamps around your arm and yanks. You whirl instantly, sword jerking up in your grip, fingers tight and clumsy around the handle as you swing blindly, heart slamming into your throat. âHey!âÂ
It's Beomgyu.Â
For a split second your brain refuses to catch up. This is it, you think wildly. You should have expected it, of course he would find you. Of course he would strike now, when everything is chaos and blood and instinct. He is close enough that you can see the grit on his cheek, the tension in his jaw, the way his eyes flick briefly to the sword in your hands before snapping back to your face. He's gonna kill youâ
Then you see what he is holding. Your bow. Your arrows. Your fucking bow gripped in his hand, the quiver slung over his shoulder. He has your quiver too. He taps his chest quickly. Your eyes follow the motion, a gold mockingjay pinned against his shirt, catching the light. The calm you did not even realize had settled over you evaporates instantly, replaced by panic so fierce it makes your vision blur. Confusion crashes into it just as hard. Why does he have your weapon? Why does he have your pin?
Trust the pin. The words slam into you all at once. Yeonjunâs shaking hands. His voice pleading. Beomgyuâs eyes on you across the arena before the horn sounded. Everything collides inside your chest.Â
âBow and arrow, right?â Beomgyu snaps, dragging you back into the moment. He jerks his head toward the sword in your hands. âSwap.âÂ
Fuck fuck fuck fuck Choi Beomgyu. You meet his eyes, searching for hesitation, for betrayal, for anything that tells you this is a mistake. You find none. You loosen your grip on the sword. He steps in at the same time, movements quick, shoving the bow into your hands as you pass the useless blade to him. Your fingers close around the familiar curve of the wood and something inside you steadies instantly, like your body finally remembers who it is.
Beomgyu does not thank you. He only smirks, fierce and wild, already turning away. âTry to keep up,â he says, hands grab a random pack on the ground.
"Twelve!" He shouts when you don't respond, "Come on!"
You snap out of it and your feet move, following the dark line of his back through the chaos. Your fingers set an arrow on instinct, muscle memory guiding you as you draw and keep it ready. No one comes close to you. They circle wide, wary, as if the space around you has turned sharp. All around, tributes clash and scatter, bodies colliding and breaking apart again. Beomgyu cuts toward the edge of the clearing and you chase, bow still raised, eyes flicking to the sides in case someone is brave enough to try. He heads straight for one of the tunnel mouths carved into the mountain, and when you reach the edge you look down and your breath stutters. The ground is far below, the forest a dark sprawl waiting to swallow anyone who falls. The height makes your stomach twist, but it also makes something else spark in you.
A way out.
The rock here slopes just enough that you could slide, and you spot a narrow ledge about twenty feet down, pale stone cutting across the cliff. You glance left and right, both ends of the ledge vanish into tunnels that burrow into the mountain, black and waiting. The arena feels wrong, like it is herding everyone into those holes on purpose, like the Gamemakers want the tunnels to be your only choice. You bare your teeth to yourself, the taste of anger thick in your mouth.
Fuck tunnels. Fuck the Capitol. You glance up and find Beomgyu already halfway to the tunnel, one hand braced against the rock wall, the other gripping his sword. âWhat are you waiting for? Come on!â
You look back at the Cornucopia. Most of the tributes have scattered, but four still linger, watching you like predators. One of the boys breaks from the group and starts toward you. Your breath catches. The tunnels gape behind Beomgyu, dark and swallowing, and you know what waits inside them. No light. No distance. No space for a bow to matter. Blindness would turn your best weapon into dead weight. If you go in there, you go in wrong. âDonât even think about it,â Beomgyu warns, stepping back toward you as if he can physically drag you the way he wants you to go.Â
You turn and loose an arrow. The District Four boy jerks aside just in time, spear raised, eyes flashing as if he is deciding whether to throw. You do not have time for this. You do not have arrows to spare. The moment stretches, thin as wire, and something in you snaps. Fuck it.Â
You meet Beomgyuâs stare once, then vault over the lowest part of the rock wall and throw yourself into open space. Gravity takes you immediately, ruthless and fast. Your free hand scrapes along stone, skin burning as you try to slow yourself, boots skidding and sending loose rock and dust into the air. The mountain drags you downward in a blur of impact and breath and fear, until you hit the ledge below with a hard jolt that rattles your bones. You stagger but stay upright. The bow is already back in your hands, another arrow drawn, your chest heaving as you lift your gaze.
Beomgyu comes over the edge a heartbeat later. You almost shoot him, there is a very real second where your fingers tighten and you consider it, but then his boots hit the stone beside you and the moment passes. âYouâre fucking insane!â he snaps, breath sharp from the jump.Â
âYou didnât have to follow,â you shoot back, already scanning the ridge above you, bow lifted again.Â
âYouâre insane,â he repeats, and you wish you could prove it by putting an arrow through him. You almost do, too, until your eyes catch the pin on his chest and something ugly and complicated knots in your stomach. âCome on. Move.âÂ
He turns toward one of the narrow openings carved into the rock, and you follow despite yourself, walking backward with your arrow still aimed at the sky. You hear footsteps scrape above you and a head appears over the ledge.Â
You donât think. You fire.Â
The arrow strikes true, straight through the center of the District Four girlâs forehead. She drops out of sight without a sound, her body swallowed by the height. Your breath stutters. Your hands shake around the bowstring. You have killed someone. You have actually killed someone.Â
âTwelve,â Beomgyu says. âCome on.âÂ
Beomgyuâs voice is low and unexpectedly soft. When you look up, his gaze skims your face as if counting you back into yourself, as if saying You're okay. There's no time to break apart now. You did what you had to do. His frustratingly deep brown eyes seems to steadies something deep inside you that you didnât know was trembling.Â
You look away, refusing him any vulnerability, swallowing the sob that claws at your throat. One last glance steals up to the sky, a cold blue expanse indifferent to the suffering below, and you let it anchor you. You step forward, into the tunnel, and with each echoing footstep, the world of light and death recedes behind you, leaving only the hum of your own pulse and the heavy realization of survival.Â
The tunnels swallow sound, swallowing space, swallowing time.
It is dark enough to make your chest tighten, but your eyes slowly adjust, shapes emerging where there were none before, the faint outline of Beomgyu moving ahead of you. Your fingers brush the stone walls as you go, grounding yourself. Light begins to bleed in from the far end of the tunnel, thin at first, then brighter, and relief floods you so sharply it almost makes you dizzy. You have never liked the dark.
The light pours in all at once and you squint as you stumble out of the tunnel, air rushing cool. You find yourselves on a narrow path carved into the side of the mountain, a rough ledge that curves along the rock face, eerily similar to the one you slid down when fleeing the Cornucopia. You are lower now, noticeably so, the ground no longer dizzyingly distant but still far enough to make any descent reckless. Trees crowd closer below, their tops swaying in the wind like they are waiting for you. Beomgyu doesnât say anything at first. He simply drops down onto the edge of the path, legs dangling over open air like the height means nothing to him. He exhales and tilts his head back toward the sky. âRest,â he says finally, voice firm. âWeâre far away now.âÂ
The moment he says it, your body rebels. Your legs buzz with leftover adrenaline, your chest still tight with urgency. Standing still feels wrong, dangerous. You glance down the path, eyes tracing the curve toward the next tunnel opening that would take you back into the mountain. âI could keep going,â you say, already half convincing yourself.Â
He looks at you then, unimpressed. âYouâre breathing hard,â he says flatly. âYouâre tired.âÂ
âSure,â you reply, swallowing, âbut I can keep going.â Beomgyu does not argue. He sets his sword down beside him and pulls his pack into his lap, methodically opening it. He ignores you completely.Â
You pull an arrow from your quiver, notch it, and draw the string back until it hums with tension, the tip aimed squarely at the back of Beomgyuâs head. Your arms are steady despite everything, despite the adrenaline still buzzing beneath your skin. âGive me one reason I shouldnât shoot you right now,â you say.Â
You do not understand him. You do not understand why he is so determined to stay at your side, why he went as far as dragging Yeonjun into whatever silent agreement this is. The questions pile up faster than you can sort through them, and every instinct tells you that evasiveness in the arena gets people killed. Nothing about this makes sense. Beomgyu does not turn around. He does not even flinch. He keeps rummaging through his pack like there is not an arrow trained on his skull. âYeonjun,â he says simply, as if that explains everything.
And fuck him for it, because he is right. You do not trust Beomgyu, but you trust Yeonjun, and Yeonjun told you to trust the pin. The gold mockingjay on Beomgyuâs chest catches your eye, irritating and undeniable, and it feels like being cornered by your own promise. With a frustrated sound, you let the bowstring slacken. The tension drains from it and from you all at once. You slide the arrow back into your quiver and shrug the heavy backpack off your shoulders, irritation simmering under your skin. You drop down beside him and let your legs swing over the edge of the ledge, the open air yawning beneath your feet. âI hate you,â You mutter, âYouâre irritating as hell.âÂ
âGlad weâre bonding,â Beomgyu replies dryly without looking up. He glances into his pack again. âYou get anything useful?âÂ
âHow do I know you wonât kill me?â you counter instead, eyes drifting to the terrifying distance between you and the trees below. One shove. One misstep. Either of you could be gone in seconds.Â
âBecause I would have already,â he says, finally looking at you, expression flat and almost tired. âAnything else?âÂ
You could shove him off the ledge while he is sitting right there. You could draw your bow and end it cleanly. You do not need him to survive, but you have seen him fight. You have watched him move in training, fast and ruthless, all sharp instincts and precision. In a place like this, that makes him dangerous, yes, but it also makes him useful.Â
Trust is a luxury you do not have. You exhale slowly, resignation settling in your chest. Fine. You will go along with it. Not because you believe in him, not because you want to, but because the arena does not care what you like. For now, Beomgyu stays, whether you trust him or not.
You set your bow down carefully beside you and let the quiver slide from your shoulder onto the path, the sudden lightness making you roll your neck once in relief. Your shoulders ache now that the adrenaline has begun to ebb. You unzip the backpack you grabbed in the scramble and dig inside, fingers brushing past unfamiliar shapes until you pull out the first solid thing you find. A small box. You turn it over once, then snort. âCrackers.â Crackers. Food.Â
You have been running on instinct and survival and blood pounding in your ears, and somehow you nearly forgot that hunger will be just as dangerous as any blade in this place. You will have to fight for food here. Every bite will matter. âDried meat,â Beomgyu says, pulling an item from his own rucksack and tossing it lightly between his hands.
âRope,â you add, fishing another thing out of your pack.Â
âWater purifying kit.â You pause at that, brows knitting together. That would be useful, if you could actually get to water. And even then you would still need something to carry it in. As if on cue, your fingers close around metal.Â
âWater bottle,â you say, a little too brightly, lifting it up. It is light but sturdy, the kind meant to survive being dropped from heights. Durable. Useful.Â
Beomgyu leans closer, peering at it. âAnything in it?âÂ
You twist the cap open and look inside. Empty. Your brief optimism collapses instantly. âNo.âÂ
âWeâll get to water,â he says, brushing it off like it is inevitable. He reaches back into his bag. âSunglasses.âÂ
You blink at him. âWeâre in an arena designed to kill us and they give you sunglasses?âÂ
He hands them over anyway. You slide them onto your face, squinting experimentally. If these are sunglasses, they are terrible ones. The glare barely fades at all. âIâve seen those before,â Bepmgyu says thoughtfully, and before you can stop him, he plucks them straight off your face. You consider, very briefly, breaking his fingers. âNight vision glasses,â he finishes.Â
Your head snaps up. âNight vision glasses?âÂ
Beomgyu looks at you then, one eyebrow lifting. âYou sound excited.âÂ
You press your lips together, trying and failing to smother the small spark warming your chest, and you turn away before he can comment on it. âHow did you know?â you ask instead, letting the question sound casual even though it is not, âabout the bow. The arrows. I never told anyone.âÂ
Beomgyu stills for a moment, âFirst day of training,â he says finally. âYou went straight for the weapons. Picked up the bow, set the arrow, tested the draw. Then you put it back the second I walked over.â He shrugs, eyes dropping to his pack as his hands keep moving. âMost people couldnât even string the thing without swearing. Even Ryujin needed a few tries. You didnât hesitate. You didnât think. That kind of ease doesnât come from guessing.âÂ
The realization settles uncomfortably in your chest. So you were never as invisible as you thought. You huff softly and roll your shoulders. âGuess Iâm better with it than I give myself credit for.âÂ
He lets out a quiet scoff, not looking up. âThatâs one way to put it.âÂ
Silence stretches between you, filled only by wind and the distant, hollow sounds of the arena below. âDo we have a plan?â you ask at last, staring out over the ledge instead of at him.Â
He looks up, brows lifting slightly. âA plan.âÂ
âYes,â you say, firmer now. âA plan to stay alive. Because if youâre tying yourself to me, youâre doing it on my terms. I know where Iâm going. You donât have to follow.âÂ
Something in his posture eases, tension draining from his shoulders like he has been waiting for this. âAlright,â he says. âWhatâs the genius idea?âÂ
You point down toward the valley, where green presses up against stone like it is trying to reclaim the mountain. âTrees.âÂ
He blinks. âTrees?âÂ
âI need cover,â you say, standing and reaching for your bow. âI need space. I canât fight properly boxed in like this. Down there I can see, I can move, I can shoot. Thereâll be water, wood for fire. We wonât freeze the first night.â You pause, then add quietly, âThatâs where I survive.âÂ
He studies you for a second longer than necessary, then nods once. âFine.âÂ
âGood. Then letâs go.âÂ
He gestures down the path with an exaggerated flourish. âAfter you.âÂ
You snort. âAbsolutely not. Expendable people first.âÂ
His eyebrows shoot up so high you almost laugh. âYouâre insane.âÂ
You shrug, tightening the strap of your quiver. âYouâre the one who wanted to be allies. Plus,â you add, glancing pointedly at the gear in his hands, âyouâve got the night vision.âÂ
He sighs, but there is something like amusement in it as he slips the glasses on. Without another word, Beomgyu starts down the narrow path, careful and steady, and you fall in behind him, close enough to follow his steps, close enough to hear his breathing, the two of you moving together toward the trees like the mountain is finally loosening its grip.Â
You hate the dark. Not in the dramatic way people talk about fear, not with shaking hands or whispered confessions, but in a quieter, more practical sense. You simply do not like it. Darkness takes away distance and choice and the space you need to think. You have been in the mining tunnels of District Twelve before, lungs burning with coal dust, walls closing in around you, so this is not unfamiliar. Still, that does not make it easier. In the dark, you cannot maneuver the way you want to. You cannot see an exit before you need it. It presses too close and asks you to trust what you cannot control. Beomgyu proves to be a capable guide, as far as guides in an arena built to kill you can be. His voice stays low and steady as he moves ahead of you, warning you when the tunnel narrows or widens, pausing when the stone underfoot shifts. At one point he stops entirely, murmuring something about a split in the path, and you tell him to take the route that feels closer to the outside of the mountain, closer to air and light. He does not question it. He just nods and moves.Â
Time stretches thin and strange underground. You lose any real sense of it, but you can feel the steady downward slope in your legs, the subtle promise that ground level cannot be far now. Your calves burn. Your shoulders ache. Still, you keep going. Then Beomgyu stops.Â
âWhat is it?â you murmur, straining your eyes uselessly into the darkness.
âIt opens up,â he says quietly. âBig. A cavern. Maybe half the size of the training center.âÂ
Your breath catches. Even half that size is massive, a space large enough to hide danger in every corner. âWhatâs the ground like?âÂ
âUneven,â he answers. âReal bad.âÂ
âHow many ways out?âÂ
âFive,â he says after a pause. âThat I can see.âÂ
âWhich one do you like?âÂ
You cannot see his face, but you can picture the look he gives you. âWhich one do I like?âÂ
You lift a shoulder in a small shrug. âThe Capitol probably planted something awful behind all of them. Weâre walking into a mess no matter what.âÂ
âYour optimism is truly inspiring.âÂ
You huff softly, fingers tightening around your bow. âThatâs me. A glowing beacon of hope. Alright. Lead the way, Mr. Doom and Gloom.âÂ
âIf the Capitol doesnât kill you,â he mutters as he starts forward again, âI will.âÂ
You let out a soft small chuckle, and step after him, senses straining. You cannot see the cavern, but you feel it. The air shifts, opening up around you, cooler and heavier, carrying sound in a way the narrow tunnels did not. The darkness remains absolute, hiding the height of the ceiling, the distance between the paths, the shape of the ground beneath your feet. You move carefully, every step slow, knowing that in a place like this, one wrong move is all it takes. Your toe catches on stone and pain jolts up your leg as you stumble, arms flailing for balance before you manage to steady yourself. The sound echoes too loudly in the cavern, scraping against the silence.Â
âWatch your step,â Beomgyu says, his voice flat but sharp.Â
âA little late for that,â you mutter, irritation flaring as you straighten. âYou couldâve at least warned me that the ground was trying to kill me too.âÂ
âQuiet.â The single word lands heavy. The tone shifts instantly, Beomgyu's humor evaporating, and you freeze where you stand. Every muscle locks. If sight has abandoned you, then hearing is all you have left, and you cling to it desperately.Â
There is a sound in the dark. Scratching. Light and skittering, like small claws dragging over stone. Your chest tightens as panic rushes in hot and fast. Capitol mutts you can handle. Mutated creatures, engineered horrors, at least you can see those. This though, this unseen thing moving around you in the dark, it makes your skin crawl. âWe need to go,â you whisper, dread bleeding into your voice.Â
Beomgyuâs hand clamps around your arm and you nearly jerk away on instinct. âMove,â he hisses.Â
He takes off running and you have no choice but to follow, trusting him blindly because he can see and you cannot. The ground is treacherous, uneven rock slamming into your feet at the wrong angles, ankles screaming with every misstep. You barely manage to keep upright as the darkness swallows you whole. Then Beomgyu stops so suddenly you almost crash into him. There is a sharp whoosh of metal cutting through air, followed by a high, animal cry and a heavy thump against the stone. You both go still. The silence feels fragile, stretched thin.Â
Beomgyu lets go of your arm, leaving you exposed in the dark. âItâs a bat,â he murmurs, disbelief and disgust tangled together. âThat is a huge bat.âÂ
Bats. Of all things. Your stomach twists. âDo you see any more?â you whisper. For a heartbeat, there is no answer. When he speaks again, it's quieter. âWe should run.âÂ
âHow many?â you press, dread coiling tighter in your chest.Â
The answer comes in the form of a screech that cuts through the cavern, followed by the unmistakable sound of wings beating the air. âGo!â Beomgyu shouts.Â
You run. You do not know where, only that forward is better than staying still. One hand stretches out blindly in front of you, ready to catch stone before your face does, while behind you Beomgyu swings his sword in wide arcs. Something hits the ground with a wet sound. Then another weight crashes into you, landing hard on your shoulder. You scream, pure instinct, and slam your bow against it. The thing peels away, but not before its talons dig into your skin, sharp and burning. It was heavy, far heavier than it should have been.Â
You are no longer running. Neither of you are. Beomgyu slashes wildly, connecting only every so often, while the bats circle and shriek above you, their wings slicing through the air. You swing your bow uselessly, not aiming so much as trying to keep them away, to survive the next second. You end up back to back without meaning to, bodies brushing as you move. The only reason you know he is still there is the solid bump of his shoulder against yours, grounding you. In the dark, with monsters screaming around you, it is the closest thing to reassurance you have.Â
You hate this. You hate every second of it, the suffocating dark, the shrieking wings, the way the Capitol turns fear into spectacle. Fuck their mutts and fuck their games and fuck the hands that built this place just to watch people break. Your chest burns with it, anger tangled with terror, and it spills out of you sharp. âGive me the fucking glasses!â you shout, voice tearing through the chaos.Â
Beomgyu laughs once, breathless and harsh, his sword biting into something solid with a sickening sound. âWhat, you gonna leave me blind in here?âÂ
You know exactly what he means. With the glasses, you could see the exits, map a path, maybe run and never look back. He could not. And yet he is still there, shoulder to shoulder with you, blade flashing, never once turning away even though he could have. The realization hits harder than the fear. You grit your teeth.
âJust give them to me,â you snap, panic bleeding into fury. The glasses are shoved into your hand a second later. No argument. No hesitation.Â
You drop low, knees hitting stone as you fumble the bow aside just long enough to shove the night vision glasses onto your face. The world snaps into shape. You grab your bow again and stand, breath catching as the cavern finally reveals itself.Â
Beomgyu had not exaggerated. The space is massive, swallowing you whole, the ground a chaotic sprawl of craters and jagged rock that makes your stomach twist when you realize how close you came to breaking something. The ceiling looms far above, easily twenty feet high, riddled with small tunnel mouths where shadows twitch and vanish. The bats come into focus and your heart sinks. They are enormous, bodies nearly the size of your head, wings stretching wide and powerful. You have seen bats back home in District 12, harmless shapes flitting through dusk. These are wrong, familiar and monstrous all at once, like the Capitol took something ordinary and twisted it just enough to ruin it. You try to count them and fail. Too many. At least a dozen, maybe more. You force yourself to breathe, fingers tightening around the bow as you do the math anyway. Twenty two arrows. That has to be enough. It has to be.Â
âGet down!â you shout, as you lift your bow, fear sharpening into focus.Â
Beomgyu drops without complaint, flattening himself against the ground with his sword still raised in front of his face, all sharp instinct and trust. You do not spare him a glance. You pull your first arrow from the quiver, muscle memory taking over as you notch it and draw. The bowstring hums and the arrow flies.Â
It takes the first bat clean through the face. The creature falls with a shrill, broken cry that echoes through the cavern before it hits the stone with a dull thump. After that, something in you settles, clicks into place. The fear burns away, replaced by focus so sharp it almost feels calm. The bats circle, screeching and darting, waiting for an opening, but you are faster than their hesitation. Arrow after arrow leaves your fingers, each shot true, each impact followed by a cry and the heavy sound of a body hitting the ground. You move without thinking, twisting, ducking, dropping to one knee as another dives too close. Fire. Cry. Thump. Down, down, down. The cavern fills with noise and then slowly, impossibly, it does not. Your chest is heaving by the time you reach for another arrow and find only one left. You draw it anyway, bowstring pulled tight, eyes sweeping the cavern in a full circle. The ceiling gapes above you, empty. The tunnels are still. No more wings. No more shrieks.Â
Shit. You actually did it. You ease your grip and slide the last arrow back into your quiver, hands trembling now that the adrenaline has nowhere left to go. If you were not still buzzing with leftover panic, you might have called it fun.Â
âHoly fuck,â Beomgyu breathes. You take the silence as permission and sink down beside him, the stone cold beneath you as you try to remember how to breathe normally. He sits up, sword still in his hands, eyes scanning shadows that no longer move. For a moment, neither of you speaks. âDid you get them all?â he asks eventually.Â
You pull the glasses from your face and tap his arm with them, done with seeing monsters where there are none. âSee for yourself.âÂ
Darkness rushes back in, but it feels different now, quieter. You hear him stand, footsteps careful as he surveys the cavern. You stay where you are, letting the rush drain from your veins, grounding yourself in the sound of your own breath.Â
After a while, he says, âHow many arrows did you have?âÂ
âTwenty two.âÂ
A pause. âYou killed twenty one bats.âÂ
You huff, fingers brushing the feathers of the single arrow left in your quiver. âWow. You can count. Yeah. One arrow to spare.âÂ
âSo you didnât miss a single shot.â
You shrug, a small, tired motion. âLike I said. Half decent with a bow and arrow.âÂ
âHalf decent, my ass,â he mutters, and you can hear the reluctant awe in it.Â
Your lips twitch despite yourself. âBe a dear and collect my arrows,â you say lightly. âSince youâre admiring my handiwork.â He scoffs, but his footsteps move away all the same, metal and feathers clinking softly as he starts gathering them from the stone.Â
There is an unpleasant, wet sound as Beomgyu pulls your arrows free, flesh tearing in a way that makes your stomach twist even after everything else. When he comes back, he drops the bundle into your lap without ceremony. You count them one by one, grounding yourself in the familiar rhythm, making sure all twenty one are there before sliding them back into your quiver. Only then do you push yourself to your feet, legs still shaky but holding. âShall we?â you ask, voice lighter than you feel.Â
Beomgyu scoffs somewhere in the dark. âWhich tunnel?âÂ
âWhatever one looks best.âÂ
He snorts. âHow the hell can a tunnel look good?âÂ
âWhich oneâs the prettiest?â you press, because humor is easier than thinking about where any of them might lead.Â
âFor fuckâs sake.âÂ
You roll your eyes even though he cannot see it. âFine. You choose, asshole. Just pick one.âÂ
He goes quiet, considering, and then you feel a tap against your shoulder. Your hand comes up on instinct, ready to swat him away, but he speaks before you can. âCan you follow?â he asks, steady and serious, âor should I grab you?âÂ
There is no teasing in it. No edge. Just practicality. Back at the bloodbath, the path had been narrow, obvious, and panic had carried you forward without thought. Here, you have seen the ground, the holes and broken stone waiting to ruin an ankle or worse. You swallow. âIâve seen what itâs like. Iâll take the guide.âÂ
He reaches for you carefully, fingers warm as they settle around your wrist, and then he draws your hand to him. Your grip finds his sleeve and tightens, knuckles brushing fabric and muscle beneath. âYou trust me?â Beomgyu asks, quiet but heavy, like the answer matters more than he is willing to admit.Â
You do not look at him. You do not let yourself think too hard about it. âI trust Yeonjun,â you say instead, because that much is true and solid and safe. âLead away.âÂ
That seems to be enough. Beomgyu starts forward, and you go with him, steps careful, fingers locked into his sleeve as the dark swallows you both and the tunnel carries you deeper, together.Â
Time slips past you and by the time you finally stumble out of the tunnels, the sun is gone. Night has settled in, quiet and blue, and the first thing you do is let go of Beomgyu like the dark itself has loosened its grip on you. Fresh air fills your lungs, cool and clean, and it feels almost dizzying after hours of stone and dust. Trees rise up around you, endless and familiar, their silhouettes layered into the distance, and somewhere close by you hear rushing water. You close your eyes for just a second and the arena falls away. You are back beyond the fence, back in the wild edges of District Twelve where the woods breathe and the world makes sense. The feeling hits harder than you expect. Your chest tightens, eyes stinging, because you did not realize how badly you missed this until it was right in front of you again. Home, or something cruelly close to it.
Beomgyu starts toward the sound of water and you fall in beside him. From the mountain above, you remember how the river curved around its base, and you figure if you keep moving away from the stone spine of it, you are bound to hit water eventually. You do. Five minutes later the river opens up in front of you, dark and glinting under the moon. Your throat aches with thirst, your body begging you to drop to your knees and drink until you cannot anymore, but Beomgyu is already pulling out his purifying kit, already holding out a hand for your bottle. You force yourself to breathe and wait. âHow long more?â you ask as he tips the iodine into the water, watching it cloud.Â
âHalf an hour,â he says, screwing the lid back on.Â
You scowl. Half an hour feels like a lifetime. âTell me youâve got a watch in that bag.âÂ
His mouth twitches. âWant the glasses?âÂ
You shake your head, glancing up at the sky. âMoonâs enough. Iâm fine.âÂ
And you are. After the tunnels, this feels generous. You know how to move in the woods at night, how to listen, how to let your eyes adjust. You grew up with this kind of dark. Neither of you suggests a fire. It would be stupid, loud, inviting. Most of the dangerous tributes are probably still trapped in the mountain, tangled in tunnels and stone, but you know better than to assume safety. Some ran instead of fighting for supplies. Some people do not need weapons to kill. You have seen the tapes. You sit there, side by side, the river murmuring, the forest watching. When the silence starts to itch, you break it. âWhy the sword?âÂ
Beomgyu glances up, blade resting across his knees as he rinses it clean. âKatana,â he corrects. âBecause it works.âÂ
You snort softly. âYou donât just swing it. You know it.âÂ
He nods, simple and unguarded. âYeah. This, or knives.âÂ
âKnives,â you echo, eyebrows lifting.Â
âMostly close combat,â he says. âBut I can throw if I need to.âÂ
You think of training, of how easily he moved, how vicious and precise he was when it counted. You think of yourself with a bow in your hands, how that felt like breathing, and how lucky you thought you were to have even one thing you were good at. Careers are built differently. They are shaped for this from the start. The river keeps flowing. The moon keeps watch. And for the first time since the horn sounded, you are not running.Â
âWhat was it like?â you murmur, the question slipping out before you can stop it. When Beomgyu finally lifts his eyes to you, you add quietly, âBeing raised as a Career tribute.âÂ
He does not answer right away. Instead, he goes back to his sword, running the cloth along a blade that has been clean for a while now, like he needs something mindless to anchor himself. Finally, he speaks. âHell,â Beomgyu says, voice flat and honest, and you do not push him for more. Some words are heavy enough to stand on their own.
Silence settles again, thicker this time. It is broken abruptly by music. The Capitol anthem swells through the air, polished and cruel, and Beomgyuâs head snaps up on instinct. You follow his gaze, watching the Capitol seal bloom across the night sky in sharp, glowing lines. Right. The dead. You count automatically, the distant echo of cannon fire replaying in your head. Eight.
The first face appears and your stomach twists. The one you shot. Your eyes flick toward Beomgyu and you see his shoulders sag just slightly, something loosening there. No one from One or Two appears, and the relief that flickers across his face only makes the questions pile up in your mind. Why is he here with you? Why not them? Why not a neat, brutal alliance like everyone expects? You think of Kazuha, of how she moved with Ryujin. Pieces that do not quite fit.Â
The girl from Five follows. Then both tributes from Six. You recognize the boy instantly, the one who almost killed you at the Cornucopia, and your jaw tightens. The boy from Eight appears next. He looks impossibly young, all wide eyes and soft features, and your chest aches. Then both tributes from Ten fill the sky, and your stomach lurches hard. They are children. You cannot stop thinking that. Children dressed up for slaughter.
The last face flashes into place and the air leaves your lungs. Kim Sunoo. Your blood goes cold and hot all at once, a sharp burn behind your eyes. You had known, somewhere deep down, that he was too good for this place, too bright. His smile comes back to you uninvited, warm and easy, like the world was kinder than it ever really was.Â
Then the anthem ends. The seal dissolves. The sky goes dark again, like nothing happened at all. Sixteen left. You turn your gaze back to the river, breathing through the ache, swallowing the sob that claws at your throat. Your eyes flicker to Beomgyu and you catch him already watching you, like he has been waiting for the moment you would look up. His mouth parts, like he is about to say something, anything, but you do not let him. âSave it,â you say quietly. âI wasnât that close to him.âÂ
The lie sits heavy in your chest. Kim Sunooâs bright smile flashes through your mind anyway, warm and vivid and painfully alive, and you have to look away before it breaks you.
There is a sudden flash that nearly blinds you, the sky splitting open in harsh white light. You squint hard, heart jumping, just in time to see a jagged bolt of lightning slam straight into the top of the mountain. Thunder cracks a breath later, loud enough to shake the ground beneath you, but there is no rain, no storm rolling in behind it. Just that single, violent strike, like the arena itself flinched. Neither you nor Beomgyu speak at first. You both listen, straining for a second sound, another warning, anything. Nothing comes. âDid that hit the Cornucopia?â you ask finally. âOr was it just⊠random?â
âNothingâs random in here,â Beomgyu mutters, his eyes still fixed on the mountain, jaw tight.Â
You let out a slow breath. If there is no cannon, then at least no one was there. Anyone left at the Cornucopia would have been dead on impact. Which means the remaining tributes are scattered now, either lost in the tunnels or hiding down here at ground level. The thought settles uneasily in your chest. There is something else gnawing at you too, a question that followed you out of the dark tunnels and refused to stay behind.Â
âThat was your first kill,â Beomgyu says after a moment, his voice quieter. âThe girl from earlier?âÂ
You nod, unable to find words that feel right. He watches you, searching your face for something. âWell,â he says eventually, not unkind, âthereâs more of that to go around.âÂ
The words land heavy. You think of home, of Kai and Hiyyih, of whether they are watching right now. You wonder what it looks like on screen, watching you loose an arrow and end a life without hesitation. A girl who did nothing wrong except exist in the wrong place at the wrong time. âI thought I was a good person,â you say softly, the confession slipping out before you can stop it. âOr some bullshit like that. But I donât think good people kill. Or at least⊠they donât kill easily.âÂ
The river keeps flowing beside you, uncaring. The mountain looms in the distance, scarred where the lightning struck. And somewhere deep inside, something shifts, quieter and more dangerous than fear. You keep your eyes on the ground, staring at dirt and stone like they might swallow the words you just said. You did not plan to say them.
âI donât think there are good people,â Beomgyu says.Your head lifts at that. He is not looking at you, his gaze fixed on the water as it slides past, dark and restless under the moon.Â
âGood people donât exist,â he adds quietly, like the thought has been living in him for a long time and only just found its way out.Â
You listen as he speaks, voice low, uneven in places. âSome people are better than others. Sure. But no one is just⊠good. Everyone has reasons. Everyone wants something.â He trails off, breath catching, then finally turns to you. âNo oneâs good,â Beomgyu says, clearer now. âEspecially not in here.âÂ
You are not sure if he means the arena or the world beyond it. Maybe there is no difference anymore. The Capitolâs shadow stretches far, into the districts, into people, into choices. You press your lips together and nod once, because you understand more than you want to. âYou should sleep,â he says after a moment. âIâll take first watch.âÂ
Your heart beats once, hard, and then you answer, âOkay. Wake me when you want to switch.âÂ
He does not make a big deal of it. Just a small nod, almost imperceptible, before he leans back against a tree, sword within reach, eyes already scanning the dark. You lie down carefully, the forest wrapping around you, the riverâs steady sound easing the tightness in your chest. There is so much you do not know about him, about why he chose you, about what he is really thinking. Tomorrow the Capitol will try again. Mutts, traps, blood, spectacle. You will need every ounce of strength you have. And if Beomgyu is truly on your side, maybe, just maybe, you will live long enough to see another sunrise.Â
You settle into the ground, curling slightly on your side, the forest cool against your skin. Your eyes stay open longer than they should, tracing the shapes of branches overhead, listening to the riverâs quiet insistence as it moves past you like it always has, like it always will. The night is dangerous, you know that, but for the first time since the Games began, it is not screaming at you. It is almost gentle. Your gaze drifts to Beomgyuâs back, the solid line of his shoulders outlined by moonlight as he keeps watch. He does not move much, but enough to remind you he is awake, alert, alive. It is strange, the way a presence that should make you wary instead brings something close to calm. Not trust, not entirely, but a fragile sense of not being alone.Â
Sleep creeps in slowly, soft and heavy, tugging at your thoughts. The fear dulls at the edges. Your breathing evens out. There is a quiet, unfamiliar peace in knowing someone is standing guard while you rest, even if tomorrow promises violence and loss all over again.
As your eyes finally close, the last thing you see is Beomgyuâs silhouette against the trees, and for a fleeting moment, the world feels almost safe.
You wake with your eyes half-slit, sunlight pressing through your lashes. You had been waiting for Beomgyu to shake you awake at some point in the night so you could trade watch, so the brightness makes your chest jolt. For a stupid second, you think he left. That he took advantage of your sleep and disappeared into the trees without you. When your vision clears, he is exactly where you left him, sitting with his back against the trunk, knees drawn up, sword resting close to his hand. His head tilts slightly, as if he has already noticed you stirring.
He did not leave. He let you sleep through the night.
âYou didn't fucking sleep?â you call out.Â
âGood morning to you too,â he mutters, voice rough.Â
He passed you an apple. âI've been thinking. You hit every single one of those bats in nearly the exact same spot. Dead center in the face.â he says.Â
âYeah.â You glance up at him. âWhatâs your point?âÂ
âYouâre good at this,â Beomgyu says. There is something almost entertained in his voice, as if this is not the conclusion he expected to reach. âIâve never seen anyone with your level of accuracy.âÂ
You snort and slide the arrow back into your quiver. âWhen you grow up on your own and you need to eat, you get good at something. Especially with my brother, I picked archery. So yeah, Iâm half decent.âÂ
âYour brother?â he repeats, arms folding over his chest, the corner of his mouth twitching.Â
âHe's dead.â you echo, Jungwon's face flashing on your mind. âHe taught me that if you hit an animal in the eye, you donât ruin the meat. You waste less.âÂ
He studies you for a moment, like he is trying to imagine a smaller version of you standing in some dusty market with dead animals in your hands. He observed how you were avoiding the topic of your brother, so he says the next thing in his mind. âYouâre insane.âÂ
Your half smile comes back.Â
âThereâs still something youâre not telling me. It doesnât make sense. I told you I had no interest in an alliance, and you still went behind my back for this.â You tug at the pin on your chest. âWhat, obsessed much?âÂ
âObsessed,â Beomgyu repeats flatly, folding his arms. âYouâre flattering yourself.âÂ
You tilt your head. âThe facts speak for themselves, Beomgyu.âÂ
He straightens when you say his name, and for a moment the air between you tightens. You hold his gaze. He knows you have him cornered. Either he gives you something better than excuses, or you decide what to do with what little truth he is offering. He looks at you for a long second more, then exhales and turns his face away. âMy mentor wanted it,â he says. âHe saw your Reaping. He suggested it. Kept pushing even after you said youâd go solo.â His gaze stays fixed somewhere past the trees, like honesty might burn if he looks straight at you. âHe told me to wear the pin. Said Iâd understand once I got in the arena.âÂ
You shrug. âItâs believable that this wasnât entirely your idea, considering youâve threatened to kill me twice and complain about me nonstop.âÂ
âYouâre easy to complain about,â he shoots back.Â
âI live to serve.âÂ
Something almost like a smile tugs at his mouth before he can stop it, and the sight of it makes your own lips curve in answer. âSo whatâs the plan, then?â he asks. âAlly.âÂ
He drags the word out like it tastes bad. âWell, ally,â you echo, just as mockingly, âI was thinking not dying would be a solid start.âÂ
âFair enough,â Beomgyu says. He tosses his apple into the air and catches it, already moving, sword in one hand and pack settling onto his shoulder. âThen letâs go.âÂ
He follows the riverâs edge until it narrows enough to leap across, landing lightly on the opposite bank. You jump after him, boots skidding on wet stone before you steady yourself. âWhere to?â you ask, glancing back at the mountain looming behind you. The tunnels still feel like open mouths waiting to swallow you again, and you have no desire to return to them, so crossing the river feels like choosing air over dark.Â
Beomgyu keeps his eyes fixed ahead, away from the mountain, away from everything familiar. âI want to see how far we can go,â he says.Â
Something sparks in you at that. âTesting boundaries is one of my favorite hobbies,â you reply. âIâm in.âÂ
You think you hear him scoff, but he does not turn around, and you cannot tell if it is annoyance or something closer to a smile. You decide it is probably the second one. As you walk, the thought creeps in that the Capitol is watching, as it always is. Cameras hidden in bark and stone, lenses drinking in every step you take. You wonder if this is what the audience sees right now, the two of you wandering and arguing instead of killing. Unless someone else is spilling blood, you are probably boring television. On impulse, you stop and raise your middle finger to the trees, turning in a slow circle so no direction is spared. If they are watching, you want them to see it.Â
 You want them to see you alive and you're mad.
 âWhy,â the President demands, stabbing a finger toward the massive central screen, âis she still alive?âÂ
The room feels smaller when he is in it. Forty gamemakers sit at their stations in tight silence, faces washed pale in the glow of dozens of monitors. Every tribute in the arena is displayed somewhere across the wall, shifting angles, live feeds, no moment unobserved. And there you are, centered on the largest screen beside the District Two boy, arm lifted high, your defiance unmistakable.Â
Jiwoo, the master gamemaker watches you for a second too long before answering. âShe is a fan favorite,â he says at last.Â
The President slams his fist against the table. The crack echoes. Several gamemakers flinch. One drops a stylus. No one dares pick it up. âShe should not be a fan favorite,â he spits. âShe should not be alive. She should be dead.âÂ
Jiwoo folds his hands behind his back to keep them still. âWe released the bats,â he replies calmly. âOnly her and the District Two tribute encountered them. No one else. They neutralized the threat faster than projected.âÂ
âThen escalate,â the President snaps. âYou have more assets. Use them.âÂ
Jiwooâs gaze shifts to the screens again, to the forest, to the two figures moving through it together. âIf we overwhelm them too obviously, the audience will notice,â he says carefully. âThe illusion of fairness is part of the spectacle.âÂ
The President turns on him, face flushed, eyes bright with something colder than anger. âThe only illusion that matters is control. Send the message clearly, put that spectacle on fire. Rebellion does not survive.âÂ
You and Beomgyu walk in a quiet that feels almost fragile until a sharp crack splits the air and a bolt of lightning tears down from a cloudless sky. The sound rolls through the forest, deep and unnatural. Both of you stop at once, eyes snapping toward the mountain in the distance. You cannot see the exact point of impact through the trees, but the peak is still visible above the canopy, and smoke curls faintly from near the summit. It is the second time you have seen it strike there, and with the sun blazing overhead, there is no pretending it is weather.Â
You tilt your head back, squinting at the sky, judging the sunâs position the way you always have. âNoon,â you murmur.Â
Beomgyu glances at you. âWhat?âÂ
âItâs noon. Sunâs right above us.â You look back at the mountain, unease tugging at your thoughts. âNoon and midnight?âÂ
He considers that, jaw tightening slightly. âIf youâre right, thereâll be another strike tonight.âÂ
âUnless the Capitolâs just doing it whenever they feel like it,â you say. âJust to mess with us.âÂ
âAlso likely.âÂ
âGreat,â you mutter. He pushes a low branch out of your path. You duck past before he lets it snap back into place behind you. The forest begins to thin as you walk, the dense cover giving way to wider gaps of grass and stretches of exposed stone. You have been moving for hours now, the rhythm of it settling into your legs, the mountain slowly shrinking behind you.Â
âHow close do you think we are?â you ask, stripping a bit of dry bark from a tree you recognize as good for starting fires.Â
Beomgyu shrugs. âNo idea. Hopefully close.âÂ
You are not even sure what close means, not exactly, but you are glad to keep going. Anything is better than turning back toward that mountain and its waiting dark. You let the conversation fade and focus on the sounds around you instead. Wind slipping through leaves. The soft crush of grass under your boots. The distant rustle of something small moving through brush. You have always been good at listening. Back home, that is how you survived, standing still for long stretches in the woods beyond District Twelve, letting the world speak first, waiting for the faint shift that meant something living had wandered into range.Â
You slow your steps and try to separate the forest from yourselves, filtering out the rhythm of your own movement. No birdsong, which sits wrong in your ears, but you have heard small creatures scurrying through leaves and scratching along bark. Squirrels, probably. Something to eat, if the Capitol has not twisted them into something else. Then you hear it. Faint, buried under the rustle of wind and branches, but steady. A thin vibration, like a wire pulled too tight.Â
âWait,â you say quietly, stopping mid-step.Â
Beomgyu halts beside you. âWhat?âÂ
You tilt your head, narrowing your eyes, trying to place it. It is not wind. Not water. Not animal. It hums, low and constant, like the air itself is holding its breath. You take a careful step forward, then another, hand lifting slowly in front of you. Your fingertips meet nothing and everything at once. There is a sharp snap of energy and your hand jerks back on instinct, a startled breath catching in your throat. It does not burn, but it vibrates through your bones. The air in front of you ripples faintly, a shimmer bending the light. Forcefield.Â
âWell,â you mutter, flexing your fingers. âWe found the edge.âÂ
Beomgyu is at your side instantly. âAre you okay?â he asks, already reaching for your hand. He turns it palm up, inspecting your fingertips like you have just brushed fire. âSeriously? You just walked into a forcefield.âÂ
âI noticed,â you say, but you let him hold your hand, too thrown off to pull away. His fingers are warm and careful as they trace over your skin. âIt didnât hurt. Just surprised me.âÂ
âHow did that not hurt?â His voice carries something close to disbelief, and something else you do not want to name. His thumb brushes lightly across your fingertips as his eyes lift to your face, brown and intent. âHow did you even know it was there?âÂ
You realize all at once how close he is, how long he has been holding your hand, and you pull back, curling your fingers into your palm. Your chest feels tight in a way that has nothing to do with the arena. âI heard it,â you say, clearing your throat. âDidnât know what it was, just a hum. A buzz. Really faint.âÂ
He listens for a second, head tilted, then shakes it slightly. âI can barely hear anything, and weâre standing right next to it. Thatâs insane.âÂ
You shrug, trying to play it off. âOccupational hazard. Hunter and all.âÂ
He steps away from the invisible barrier and starts walking along it, keeping a careful distance. You fall into step beside him. His mouth curves just slightly. âYeah. That fits you.âÂ
You walk beside him in a quiet that feels different now, heavier, like something has shifted and neither of you has named it yet. His hand on yours, the way his voice softened, it lingers under your skin in a way that makes you restless. You have spent days telling yourself not to trust him, building careful distance, reminding yourself that he is a Career, that people like him do not care about people like you. And maybe he still has his own reasons for staying close, reasons he has not said out loud. But the concern in his voice had not sounded fake. It had sounded real, and that unsettles you more than cruelty would have.Â
âUp on the roof,â you say. âWhen you said you hated them, was that just to get me to trust you, or did you mean it?âÂ
âReal,â Beomgyu answers without hesitation. He flicks a glance at you. âThough I donât know why youâre asking when youâre just going to doubt me anyway.âÂ
âIâm trying not to,â you admit, picking at the string of your bow. âTrusting you is just⊠hard. Given everything.âÂ
He lets out a short breath. âYeah. Fair.âÂ
âDo you trust me?â you ask.Â
âYeah.âÂ
You blink at him. âJust like that?âÂ
âSure.â He looks at you when you stay quiet, like he realizes he owes you more than that. âI trust you not to stab me in my sleep. I trust your word. Everyone else plays a part in here. Smiles for the cameras. Pretends theyâre softer than they are. You never did that. So yeah, I trust that you are exactly who you say you are. And I trust that youâre not my enemy.âÂ
Not my enemy. The words echo against something Yeonjun had told you before the Games began. Remember who your enemy is. It was never Beomgyu. It was never the others thrown in here to survive. It was always the Capitol.Â
âThey killed your brother,â Beomgyu says quietly, like he is stepping into deep water. You do not ask who he means. You do not have to. Your silence stretches between you, heavy and full, and that is answer enough.Â
âWhen it first happened, I felt hollow,â you say, your voice far away, like you are speaking through years instead of air. âI barely spoke. Food tasted like nothing. I just⊠existed. I would hide somewhere no one would look and cry until I couldnât breathe.â You swallow, the memory sitting sharp behind your ribs. âAnd then one day it stopped. I woke up and the tears were just⊠gone. I wasnât sad anymore.âÂ
You stare ahead at the trees, at the dappled light that does not care about any of it. âI was angry.â The word is small. Too small. It cannot hold the sleepless nights, the way your hands would shake for no reason.
âMad. I was furious and I stayed that way. Four years of carrying it around. Every step, every breath, just anger with nowhere to go. I didnât know who I was without it, but I didnât know what to do with it either.â You continue, voice smaller. âMy brother was the soft side of me. After he was gone, that was gone too.â
âAnd then there was the Reaping,â Beomgyu says, softer now.Â
âAnd then there was the Reaping,â you echo. A thin, humorless smile pulls at your mouth. âI hate admitting it, but part of me felt relieved. Like finally, all that anger had a direction. A target, better than letting it rot inside me for the rest of my life.âÂ
He studies you for a moment, something unreadable in his expression. âYou talk like youâre planning to die in here.âÂ
âArenât I, though?â You glance at him, lips curving faintly. âYou really think that even if, by some miracle, Iâm the last one left in here, the Capitolâs just going to let me live?âÂ
He watches you for a second, face carefully blank. âTheyâd catch hell if they killed you after you won.âÂ
You shake your head, a dry sound leaving your throat. âNo. Theyâd make it look like something else. An accident. A mistake. Like what they did to my brother.âÂ
Beomgyu exhales through his nose. âYou heard it here first,â he says, voice low and edged. âIf Twelve dies in some tragic, suspicious way, it wasnât her idea.âÂ
You laugh, and the sound surprises you with how real it is. It feels strange in your chest, like a memory from another life. âYou can stop calling me Twelve, by the way. I do have a name.âÂ
âWhat do you want me to call you?âÂ
âMy name would be a start.âÂ
His mouth twitches. âYeah? Youâre okay with that?âÂ
âMm.âÂ
He says your name, testing it, and it sounds unfamiliar coming from him, like it belongs to someone else. You huff under your breath, not sure what to do with the way it lands. He looks like he is about to say more when a sharp, high-pitched beep cuts through the air. Both of you freeze, heads snapping up, hands tightening around your weapons. The trees are thinner here, the sky more open, and it only takes a second to spot the silver shape drifting down. A small parachute. A sponsor gift.Â
âThatâs for you,â you say. âIâm pretty sure my mentor has written me off.âÂ
Beomgyu lets out a quiet breath that almost sounds like a laugh but does not argue. He steps forward and catches the package as it drops, and the beeping stops the moment it hits his hands. You watch as he peels back the wrapping and opens the small box inside. He pauses before touching what is in it, pulling out a folded slip of paper first. His eyes move over the words, then he hands it to you. You read it with a faint frown.Â
Donât mention the scent.Â
- SÂ
âTheyâre from my mentor,â Beomgyu says quietly, holding your gaze a moment longer than usual. There is weight in the look, a silent reminder to remember the note, to act like nothing is strange. You give a small nod and hand the paper back, understanding enough not to question it out loud.Â
âWhat did you get?â you ask.Â
He reaches into the package and pulls out a pair of gloves. Your eyebrows lift immediately. They are sleek and dark, made from material far too fine for anything you have ever owned. Beomgyu slides one on, and it molds to his hand like it belongs there. He flexes his fingers, studying the fit. âDurable and light,â he murmurs. âWe trained with these back home. Theyâre good.âÂ
Gloves seem like an odd gift in the middle of a killing field, but then he reaches back into the box and pulls out a second pair. He holds them out to you. You hesitate only a second before taking them. The material is smooth, almost like leather, but thinner, lighter. You slide one on and your mouth curves before you can stop it. It fits perfectly, warming quickly against your skin. You flex your hand, testing the grip. âWow,â you breathe, turning your wrist in the light.Â
Then you notice it. A faint scent clinging to the fabric. You keep your expression neutral as you draw in a careful breath. It smells like roses, soft and clean and completely out of place here. Not unpleasant, just⊠deliberate. You say nothing. Do not mention the scent. You are not sure why it matters, but you trust the urgency behind it. âYour mentor sent a pair for me too?â you ask, sliding on the second glove. âThat was nice of them.âÂ
âOr maybe our mentors coordinated,â Beomgyu says, flexing his fingers again like he still cannot quite believe the fit.Â
You snort. âMinho coordinating anything would be a miracle.âÂ
His mouth twitches and you grin back without thinking. The moment passes quickly, and he looks back toward the open stretch of land behind you. âWeâve hit the edge. Nothing out here but the forcefield. If we want water, we should head back toward the river. We can make it before dark.âÂ
You nod and turn, starting the long walk back toward the mountain. He falls into step beside you. âDo we have dinner plans?â you ask lightly.Â
âWe still have some apples left,â he says without missing a beat.
After a few steps, you stop and turn toward him, holding out your hand. He looks at it, then at you, clearly unsure what you are doing. âAllies,â you say.Â
His brows lift. âWe werenât already?âÂ
âNo. I didnât trust you. And you were annoying.âÂ
âWere?âÂ
âAre. Sorry. Present tense.âÂ
His lips curve before he reaches out and clasps your hand, shaking it once. âAllies, then. Even if youâre insufferable.âÂ
âRich, coming from the guy who keeps twirling his sword like heâs fighting ghosts,â you shoot back, starting to walk again.Â
âItâs a katana,â he says, matching your pace. âAnd Iâm keeping my wrist loose.âÂ
âYou donât see me shooting imaginary people.âÂ
âShut up.âÂ
âYou shut up.â It is stupid and pointless and strangely easy, this back and forth, and for a little while the forest does not feel quite so suffocating as the two of you head back toward the mountain together. For a little while, you have a small smile on your face.
You reach the river while there is still plenty of light left in the sky, and the two of you waste no time setting up a small fire. The air is cool near the water, the sound of it moving over stone a steady backdrop. Between the two of you, you have a fair amount of supplies for now. Crackers, dried meat, a few apples. You both nibbled on some of the crackers earlier, but you know better than to rely on that kind of food for long. While Beomgyu settles to rest, you sit back on your heels and peel off your gloves, setting them beside your pack. They are good, better than anything you have ever worn, but your bow matters more than comfort. You dig your knife out and start carefully working at the fingertips of one glove, slicing away small sections.Â
Gloves are safer. You know that. Your brother used to scold you about it all the time, pressing worn leather guards into your hands and telling you that protecting your fingers meant protecting your future shots. Maybe if you had time, you could get used to these, adjust to the slight difference in feel. But time is the one thing you do not have. You have been shooting for nine years. The pads of your fingers are already thick with scars and calluses, nerves dulled and skin long past saving. A little more damage will not change much. What will change things is a shot that misses by even a few centimeters because you could not feel the string right. So you keep cutting, shaping the glove into something you can live with, something that lets you survive.Â
âYouâre cutting the fingers off your gloves,â Beomgyu says, breaking the quiet. âHow stupid can you be?âÂ
âI need to shoot,â you say, sawing carefully through the tip of the gloveâs middle finger. âAnd I need to be exact. I canât afford anything between my fingers and the string.âÂ
âThatâs how you ruin your hands.âÂ
âProbably.âÂ
He shifts closer, frowning. âIâve trained with a bow. Safety gear is non negotiable. Gloves are important. You can mess up the nerves in your fingers.âÂ
âAlready did.âÂ
His head jerks slightly. âAlready did?âÂ
You look up at him, unimpressed. âIâve been shooting since I was nine. You do the math.âÂ
He does not look convinced. âAll those years and you never wore gloves.âÂ
âI tried,â you say, pausing your cutting. âMy dad had an old pair. Took days to adjust. My aim went to hell. Thatâs days without food. Days without anything to trade. We didnât have the luxury of practice mistakes.âÂ
He goes quiet at that, and you know he does not fully understand. How could he? In your district, skill meant survival. If you could not bring something back, you did not eat. Simple as that. You force your shoulders to loosen. âI did try,â you add, softer. âIt was fine, eventually. But the pain stopped after a while. Just numb. Couldnât really feel much.âÂ
âThat would be nerve damage,â he says quietly.Â
You give him a thin smile. âThen yeah. Guess I have nerve damage.âÂ
He looks at your hands, then back toward the direction of the forcefield. âThatâs probably why you didnât feel it much.âÂ
You blink. âWhat?âÂ
âThe shock. It should have burned. You barely reacted.âÂ
The realization settles slowly. You think about picking up hot pots and not noticing right away, about holding your fingers too close to flame without feeling the heat. Things you never questioned because you were always trying to survive.Â
âHuh,â you murmur, slicing off another fingertip of the glove. âGuess that explains it. One down.âÂ
âYouâre insane,â Beomgyu says, though there is less bite in it now.Â
You lean back slightly, bow resting in your hand as the light begins to thin between the trees. Night creeps in, soft and quiet. Part of you wishes for the fancy night vision goggles Careers get, but you do not really need them. You hunted in the dark plenty of times back home, when animals were bolder and the woods belonged to you. The moonlight here is more than enough. Maybe fifteen or twenty minutes pass before your eyes snag on a ripple in the grass. You are moving before you even think about it, an arrow already notched, bow lifting in one smooth motion. Your breathing slows, your world narrowing to the faint sway of green blades under moonlight. It could be food. It could be a mutt. With the Capitol, there is no harmless option.Â
The movement disappears, but you hold your aim, string drawn tight, muscles steady. You wait. Another shift, low and quiet, only a few feet from where Beomgyu sits. You track the sound, heart thudding in your ears. A small shape parts the grass and a narrow head rises into view, and you release.Â
The arrow strikes clean, and a thin, strangled sound slips into the night as the body collapses. Beomgyu is on his feet in an instant, blade out, eyes sweeping the area. He follows the line of your shot. âCareful,â you call down. âI donât know what it is.âÂ
He approaches cautiously and nudges the body with the tip of his sword. âGet down here,â he says quietly.Â
You sling your pack and quiver over your shoulder and climb down, bow still in hand, fingers gripping bark as you descend. When your boots hit the ground, you move to his side and look. Your stomach tightens. âIs that aâŠâÂ
âItâs a snake,â Beomgyu says.Â
You crouch slowly. It is long but thin, its scales a dull green that melts into the grass. No wonder you almost missed it. Your hands shake slightly as you pull your arrow from its skull and slide it back into your quiver. You hate snakes. Always have. Too quiet, too sudden. District Twelve had plenty, and none of those encounters had ended gently.Â
âYou think itâs alone?â Beomgyu asks.Â
You open your mouth to answer, but a cold prickle crawls up your spine. You freeze, head lifting, ears straining. Then you hear it. Hissing.Â
Snakes. Of all the things the Capitol could have thrown at you, it had to be snakes. You could handle claws and wings and teeth, but this, this crawls under your skin in a way nothing else does. Your hands shake as you notch an arrow, breath coming in shallow pulls. âFuck, fuck, fuck,â you mutter, barely aware you are speaking out loud.
âYou had snakes back home?â Beomgyu asks quietly, eyes never leaving the shifting grass.
âSome,â you manage, though the word sticks in your throat. He glances at you then, catching the edge of panic you cannot hide. The grass ahead ripples again. Your vision starts to narrow, the world shrinking down to that sound, that movement. You feel like you might choke on the air.
Beomgyuâs hand finds the back of your shirt and gives a firm, careful tug. You step back with him, slow and controlled, boots sinking into the damp earth near the river. His palm presses lightly between your shoulder blades, steadying you, keeping you from bolting or freezing completely. You stop at the waterâs edge, bow still raised, string taut.
The grass parts. A narrow head rises, tongue flicking.
You draw back fully, ready to release, but more movement ripples through the green. Another snake slides into view, then another, scales catching the faint light. The grass seems to come alive, writhing and spilling forward. There are too many. Green black bodies twisting over one another, pouring out like the ground itself has turned against you. You could empty your entire quiver and it would not matter. Your heart slams against your ribs, breath shaking, eyes burning. For a second, you think you might break, right here, in front of him.
It feels personal, like the arena reached into your worst memories and dragged them out into the open. You know that is not how it works, that the Capitol cannot possibly know this fear so well, but the cruelty of it still lands deep, sharp and deliberate all the same.
âHey,â Beomgyu says quietly beside you. âStay with me.â
âTrying,â you breathe, teeth clenched so tight your jaw aches.
The snakes keep coming, but they do not strike. They fan out across the grass in slow, sinuous waves, heads lifting, tongues flicking as if tasting the air. Your arrow feels useless now, a single thread against a living carpet. You ease the tension on the string and slide the arrow back into your quiver, fingers clumsy. Your other hand pulls your knife free instead, the familiar weight grounding in a way the bow suddenly is not. They are not lunging. Not coiling to strike. They are circling. Curious. Testing. Why?
A scream rips through the trees and you flinch so hard it hurts. Beomgyuâs hand closes around your arm, firm and steady, keeping you from folding in on yourself. Both of you turn toward the sound. Even the snakes seem to pause, heads angling the same way. Another scream, closer now, ragged with terror. Branches thrash and a tribute bursts from the treeline and into the river, stumbling, splashing. You recognize him too late.
âDistrict Seven,â Beomgyu murmurs.
Some of the snakes peel away from you at once, drawn to the chaos like iron to a magnet. You cannot move. The boy in the water thrashes, voice breaking as he shouts for something, anything. Then the snakes surge. They pour off the bank and into the river in a writhing wave of bodies, climbing over him, wrapping, biting. His screams turn sharp and frantic, then hoarse, then nothing. The water churns around him until his limbs stop fighting and go slack.
The cannon fires. The sound echoes through your bones. You swallow hard against the sob rising in your throat. Venom. Of course. Of course the Capitol would send something that kills slow and painful. But the question pounds in your skull. Why not you?
âNot the water,â Beomgyu says under his breath. âTrees. We climb.â
âWhy arenât they attacking us?â you whisper, air snagging in your chest. He does not answer, but he moves, hand slipping from your arm as he heads for the nearest tree. Instantly, several snakes lift higher, tracking him.
And then it clicks. Donât mention the scent. The gloves. You look at him and he looks back, and in that moment something passes between you, a silent understanding that feels bigger than fear.
âY/N,â he says, soft but urgent. âCome on.â
Hearing your name steadies you in a way nothing else can. You grab the bark and pull yourself up, muscles trembling, heart slamming. Beomgyu climbs beside you, close enough that you can hear his breath. The snakes swarm the base of the tree, bodies piling and twisting over one another like a living nightmare.
âHoly fuck,â you whisper.
âKeep going,â he says.
You climb higher, until the ground feels like another world. Slowly, the sounds below soften, the mass of scales spreading out again into the grass. Your breathing steadies. Your hands stop shaking. The night air feels thin and cold in your lungs. You look down at the shifting dark below, at the place that tried to swallow you whole, and you lift your hand toward the sky, middle finger raised to the invisible eyes watching from above. Up here, with bark under your palms and Beomgyu close enough to feel, you realize something quiet and fierce. The arena is designed to break you, to turn you into something small and desperate. But you are still here. Still choosing. Still fighting.
And you are not alone in it.
The anthem jerks Beomgyu awake, the sound echoing thin and distant through the trees. He does not need to look to know whose face will be in the sky. A second later, lightning cracks down onto the mountain peak, bright and violent against the dark. Midnight, then. The pattern holds.
He shifts carefully, trading the rope to you and helping tie you in with steady hands. You barely stir, exhaustion dragging you under the second you settle back against the trunk. Your head tips to the side, fingers still curled tight around your knife even in sleep. He looks down. The snakes have thinned, only the occasional ripple in the grass hinting that a few still linger. By morning, he hopes, they will be gone.
His gaze drifts back up to you. You have been sharp edged and unshakable since the Reaping, moving through danger like you were built for it. Seeing fear crack through you tonight had done something to him. It had made you real in a way the cameras never could. Not just the girl who flips off the sky and shoots things dead between the eyes, but a person. A person who has lost too much and is still standing anyway.
And you have no idea what is really happening.
He knows you have sensed it, that something about him does not quite add up. You are too perceptive not to. The question coils in his chest. Should he tell you? Soobin would not hesitate to say no. This is not part of the plan.
But the thought will not leave him.
He wants to tell you everything. Why he pushed for this alliance. What the pin meant. Why your survival matters more than you think. You walk around convinced you are already dead, that the Capitol will never let you leave alive. He knows that is not true. Not if he can help it. The thought lands hard.
Since when did your survival become something he feels in his chest like this?
He was supposed to play his role, keep the audience watching, buy time. Soobin had made it clear. If that meant you died later, that was acceptable. Necessary, even.
It is not acceptable anymore.
He watches the slow rise and fall of your chest, the way your grip never loosens on your knife even in sleep. You are reckless and stubborn and infuriating, and he cannot imagine this arena without you in it. You are sharp, quick witted, terrifying with a bow. Your senses are tuned to the forest like you belong to it. You do not deserve this place, but it fits you in a way that makes his chest ache.
You are exactly what Soobin needed and that realization hurts more than he expects.
Because now you are not just part of a plan. You are you. The girl who laughs too loudly at her own jokes, who flips off the sky like it can feel insult, who is still soft enough to break over snakes and still fierce enough to climb anyway. Beomgyu looks out into the dark and makes a promise he does not fully understand. Whatever the plan was supposed to be, whatever he was meant to sacrifice, he is getting you through this.
He will see you alive at the end of it, even if it means tearing the rest of the script to pieces.
You're shaken awake by Beomgyu jostling you around, yelling in your ear.
âFire, come on, come on!â Beomgyu is saying, already fumbling with the rope at your waist. You surface from sleep into chaos. Smoke claws into your lungs before your eyes even focus. You blink hard, trying to understand, and then the world snaps into place all at once. Dark gray smoke rolls through the trees, thick and choking. Below, flames tear through the underbrush, bright and hungry, racing up trunks and leaping from branch to branch.
âWhat the hell!â you cough, fingers shaking as you fight with the knot. âWhy didnât you wake me?â
âIt just started!â Beomgyu shouts over the roar. âEverything went up at once!â
You believe him. This is too fast, too sudden, too clean to be anything but the Capitolâs hand. The rope finally comes free and you stuff it into your bag, grabbing your things as Beomgyu swings himself down. There is a loud crack and the trunk jerks beneath you. The tree is going. No time to climb.
âJump!â you yell.
âWhat?â You scan once and spot another tree only a few feet away that is still standing. You do not let yourself think. You leap.
Branches slam into your arms and chest as you crash into the other tree, hands grabbing for anything solid. Your pack nearly slides off your shoulder but you wrench it back into place. The gloves scrape against bark instead of skin, saving you from tearing your palms open. You twist back toward the falling tree. âBeomgyu!â you shout, reaching out.
He swears and launches himself across. His hand catches your forearm and you clamp down on his wrist, muscles screaming as his weight drags you down. His boots scramble uselessly for a second, sword still clutched in his other hand, before he manages to hook an arm over a branch. You haul back with everything you have and he pulls himself the rest of the way in. He squeezes your arm once. No words. There is no air for them anyway.
You start down the tree fast, smoke burning your throat. When you are close enough, you drop. The heat hits like a wall. Flames swallow the forest in every direction, devouring leaves and branches in seconds.
There is only one direction that is not already gone, back toward the mountain through whatever stretch of forest is still standing. Toward the place you swore you would not return to, because it is the only place left to run.
You risk one glance back at the tree just to make sure he is there. Beomgyu is almost down, slower with one hand tied up by his sword, boots slipping on bark blackened by heat, but he makes it. Relief hits you sharp and quick, gone just as fast because there is no time to feel it. You already have your bow, quiver, and pack slung over your shoulders, so you hit the ground running as soon as he does. He lands hard, coughs like his lungs are tearing themselves apart.
âMountain!â you shout.He nods once, short and tight, and you both run.
You vault over a fallen trunk, boots pounding earth that is already too hot, and sprint for the river. You hit the narrowest point and jump. Your foot skids on the opposite bank, shoe plunging into the water, but you do not slow. You cannot. You will not. Something flares in the corner of your vision. You turn your head and your stomach drops.
A fireball is screaming toward you.
âDown!â You grab Beomgyu by the shoulder and drag him with you as you slam into the ground. The heat roars over your back as the fireball tears through the air where your heads had just been.
âGo, go,â he chokes, voice shredded.
You shove yourself upright. He is still moving. That is enough for now. You run again, batting at your sleeve when you realize it is on fire. When did that happen? You smack the flames out with your palm and keep going, lungs burning, vision blurring. Forward, you tell yourself. Just forward.
Another roar splits the air. You do not even think. You drop again, dragging Beomgyu down with you. He nearly crashes on top of you, catches himself with a hand inches from your face. The fireball whistles past, close enough that you feel the skin on your neck prickle.
âUp,â you rasp, but when he stands he stumbles.
Your heart lurches. Is he choking on smoke? Is there something in it? Of course there is. Of course the Capitol would lace the air with something just to make it worse. Do not you dare pass out, you think wildly, eyes locked on him. Not here. Not now.
The mountain looms ahead, dark stone rising through smoke like a promise and a threat all at once. You grab him with one hand, fingers digging into his arm, and with the other you clutch your knife like it might cut through fire itself. You haul him toward the tunnel entrance, boots slipping on loose rock.
They are trying to split us, you think. Flush us out. Herd us like animals. You will not let them take him. Not like this. Not burning. Not choking.
You drag Beomgyu over the threshold and into the tunnel, heat falling away in a rush that almost makes you dizzy. The air is cooler but thick with dust and stone. You both collapse a few steps in, coughing hard.
You turn to him immediately. âBreathe,â you say, even though you are barely managing it yourself. âCome on. Stay with me.â
His eyes are red, watering, but they find you. âYouâre on fire,â he croaks.
âI put it out,â you snap, then softer, âIâm fine. Are you fine?â
He nods, then shakes his head like he cannot decide. You feel his eyes scan you and you almost laugh. He is the one who could barely walk and he is checking you. Even now. Even like this. You want to yell at him and thank him at the same time.
One hand locks around Beomgyuâs arm while the other grips your knife so tight your knuckles ache. You drag him over the stone lip and into the tunnel, boots scraping rock, lungs clawing for air that does not taste like smoke. Heat chases you to the entrance, snapping at your back like a living thing, but each step into the mountain steals a little of its bite. Darkness closes in fast, thick and swallowing, the kind you used to dread, the kind you swore you would never choose again. Still, you pull him deeper, coughing, blinking tears from your eyes, trading fire and light for cold stone and shadow because at least down here the Capitol cannot burn you alive.
By the time you drag Beomgyu into one of the tunnel entrances, he sounds like he is hacking up a lung. He has not spoken since the fire started, and you tell yourself it is just the adrenaline wearing off, the smoke finally catching up to him. The two of you sink to the ground a few meters in, still coughing, gasping, bodies folding in on themselves as you fight to clear your throats.
Your head swims as you try to think. District 12. The mines. Tunnel collapses. You remember the men who made it out, faces grey with dust, lungs sounding like they were tearing themselves apart. You had been a kid then, watching from too far away, convinced they were going to cough something vital out onto the ground. What did they do after? Sit upright. Slow breaths. Deep in, deep out.
You force yourself to straighten, pressing your back against the cold stone wall. Every inhale burns, every exhale rattles, but you keep going, counting it out in your head until the panic loosens its grip just a little. You turn to Beomgyu, voice shredded as it claws its way out of your throat. âBeomgyu,â you croak. âSit up. It helps.â
He fumbles with his pack, sword slipping from his hand and clattering uselessly against the stone as he drags himself upright. You do not waste a second. You reach for his bag, fingers shaking as you dig until you find the water bottle. You are not sure if water helps with smoke inhalation. You are not sure of much right now. But you take a sip and the fire in your throat eases, just enough for you to decide it is better than nothing. You crawl closer to him, knees scraping stone, and when you are within reach you take his hand. Talking hurts too much, so you keep it simple. âWater,â you manage. âTap twice for yes. Once for no.â
He is coughing too hard to nod, chest heaving, but his fingers move against yours. Twice. Yes.
You uncap the bottle and press it into his hand. He drinks like he has been stranded in the desert, gulping down at least half of it, choking as it goes down too fast. You stay close, one hand settling on his shoulder, telling yourself it is to steady him, to help if he collapses. You do not question the way you need the contact, the solid reassurance that he is still here, still breathing. When he finally lowers the bottle, he passes it back to you. You finish what is left, the water cool and grounding as it slides down your throat. âIâll get more,â you say hoarsely, even as you picture the fire outside, the smoke, the chaos. Water is survival. You do not know how far these tunnels go or when you will see a river again.
Beomgyu taps your hand once. No.
âWeâre going to,â you start, then break off into another cough, eyes stinging. âWeâre going to need it.â
Again, he taps once. No.
You frown and shift, bracing your hands to stand, but his fingers close around your wrist. Not tight, not desperate, just enough to stop you. You look at him, and when he speaks his voice is wrecked, scraped raw by smoke and heat. âWe stick together,â he rasps.âDonât.â
Sticking together. You let out a slow breath and sink back down, turning so your back rests against the same wall as his, shoulders close enough that you can feel the warmth of him through the fabric. It steadies you more than you want to admit. âAlright,â you say quietly. âIâm not going anywhere.â
The two of you sit there, backs against stone, lungs slowly relearning how to work while the world outside crackles and roars like it is ending. Smoke drifts past the tunnel mouth in tired grey waves, and every now and then something collapses out there with a distant, splintering crash. You keep your ears open between your own ragged breaths, waiting for footsteps, voices, anything that means other tributes are running for the same shelter. No one comes. It is just you, Beomgyu, and the sound of the Capitol playing god with fire.
You do not know how much time passes before Beomgyuâs coughing eases into something less violent, but eventually his breathing evens out enough that he can speak. His voice is still rough when he asks, âHow bad is it out there?â
You lift an eyebrow at him. âAm I allowed to check now?â
âDumbass. Justââ
âYeah, yeah, I got it,â you mutter, pushing yourself to your feet. Your legs protest, but you ignore them and move toward the tunnel entrance, keeping low as you step just far enough outside to see.
The world looks like it has been chewed up and spat back out. The fire is not raging the way it was, not that wall of living heat that chased you through the trees, but it is still there in ugly patches, flames licking at whatever is left. The ground is black and blistered, more trees lying broken than standing. Smoke hangs low, turning the air into something heavy and bitter. You can still see the river through the haze, a thin silver line cutting through the ruin. Water. You swallow against your dry throat. âItâs a wasteland out here,â you call back, eyes scanning for movement. âI think we couldââ
A streak of orange tears through the air. You do not even finish the sentence. You throw yourself sideways just as a fireball slams into the rock beside the tunnel entrance, exploding in a burst of heat and sparks that makes your skin sting. Ash rains down over you as you scramble back inside, heart hammering.
âMaybe not,â you cough, brushing soot from your pants.
âTheyâre trying to force us into the mountain,â Beomgyu says, already on his feet despite the way he still looks a little unsteady. His jaw is tight, eyes sharp now. âBurning everything else out so weâve got nowhere to go. Whatever they want, they want us in here.â
âHow thoughtful of them,â you mutter. Your throat aches, but the need for water aches worse. âWe still need water.â
âDoubt thereâs a miracle spring waiting for us in these tunnels.â He bends to grab the empty bottle, turning it in his hand like it might magically refill. âYouâre right. We get some now, let it settle while we move.â
You huff a humorless breath. âWe could try staying put, but theyâd probably flood the place with lava or something just to keep it interesting.â
âDonât give them ideas,â Beomgyu warns, but there is the faintest curve to his mouth. Even half-choked on smoke, he still finds room for that. âAlright. We go together. Watch each otherâs back.â
âWhat, you going to slice a fireball out of the air?â you ask.
His expression does not shift. âMaybe.â
You roll your eyes, but it steadies you, this stupid back and forth in the middle of hell. âFine. Iâll try not to miss if one comes at us. Teamwork.â
âOnly way this works.â His gaze locks with yours, something serious settling there beneath the sarcasm. âReady?â
You tighten your grip on your bow, nod once, and force your voice not to shake. âAs ready as Iâll ever be.â
Leaving your packs tucked just inside the tunnel mouth so you can move faster, you and Beomgyu make a break for the river. Heat rolls across the ground in waves, smoke clawing at your lungs, but you keep low and run. One massive fireball tears through the air and forces both of you to dive into the dirt, hearts slamming, but after that the sky stays mercifully quiet. A burning tree crashes down a little too close for comfort, sparks bursting like angry fireflies, yet you clear it and reach the water.
You drop to your knees at the bank, hands shaking as you plunge the bottle into the river. The water looks almost peaceful compared to everything else, cool and indifferent as it rushes past. Beomgyu keeps watch, sword drawn, eyes scanning the treeline while you screw the cap back on. Then you run again, feet pounding over scorched earth, flames crackling behind you like they are laughing at the effort. This time nothing chases you but the smoke.
You stumble back into the tunnel entrance breathless but unburned. Beomgyu immediately grabs his bag and pulls out the purifier, movements quick and efficient despite the lingering rasp in his breathing. âThe sooner this is done,â he mutters, working the filter into place, âthe sooner we can drink it.â
âNot arguing,â you say, dragging your own pack back onto your shoulders. Your muscles protest, but you ignore them. âAre we moving?â
He seals the bottle and shoves it into his bag. âYou want to?â
âI do.â You nudge a loose stone with the toe of your boot, watching it skitter into the shadows. âIf we sit here, theyâll just find a more creative way to kill us. Flood it. Gas it. Something dramatic.â
Beomgyu straightens, adjusting the strap across his chest. âPlease stop predicting our deaths out loud.â
Your lips twitch despite everything. âFine. We go deeper into the creepy murder tunnels to avoid the very obvious death traps outside, and then what?â
âThen,â he says, glancing down at his sword, now streaked with ash and grime, âwe run into other tributes. And we kill them.â
âCharming,â you reply. âAfter you.â
He gives you a flat look. âIâm still the expendable one?â
You offer him a bright, infuriating smile. âI donât hear you volunteering me.â
âI hate you.â
âFeelingâs mutual. Lead the way, expendable one.â
He turns, but you catch the faint sound of a breath that might be a laugh, swallowed quickly as he steps into the dark. You follow close behind, the tunnel air cool against your smoke-burned lungs, the light of the burning world shrinking behind you until it is nothing but a dull orange glow at your backs.
The tunnel shudders without warning, a deep groan rolling through the stone like the mountain itself is clearing its throat. Dust sprinkles from the ceiling. The ground vibrates under your boots and for one tight second you are back in stories of cave ins and buried miners, lungs full of dirt and no sky left to look at. Beomgyuâs hand finds your sleeve in the dark, fingers closing tight, and you reach for him on instinct, gripping his arm. You stand like that, braced together, until the shaking fades and the silence rushes back in, heavy and close.
âUnprompted earthquake,â he asks quietly, letting go, âor lightning strike?â
You flex your fingers, forcing your breathing to slow. âLightning, probably. Feels about noon. But I wouldnât put it past them to mix things up.â
âFair.â You hear the soft rasp of a zipper. âHungry?â
âI could eat,â you admit. The word hungry feels different now. It is not the dull, familiar ache from home. It is sharper, threaded with the knowledge that there might not be more later. âHow bad are we?â
He rummages a moment. âTwo apples after this. Most of the dried meat. Some crackers.â
You do the math automatically. Stretch it, ration it, make every bite count. District 12 taught you that much. âBetter than nothing,â you murmur, taking the apple he presses into your hand. You bite, and sweet juice floods your mouth so suddenly it almost hurts. âGod. Thatâs so good.â
His footsteps start again and you hurry after the sound, one hand skimming the wall so you do not walk face first into stone. âYou donât get many apples back home?â
âSometimes,â you say between bites. âRandom tree here and there. Never like this.â
âThey probably pump them full of chemicals,â he mutters. âCapitol perfection.â
You shrug even though he cannot see it. âIâm going to die anyway.â There is a pause, the kind that feels like an eye roll you cannot see, and then the quiet crunch of him biting into his own apple. You smile in the dark, small and unseen.
You walk as you eat, the tunnel sloping upward more often than not, the air cooler but thinner somehow, like the mountain is swallowing sound and light the deeper you go. Your steps echo too loudly. It feels wrong, this much emptiness. The Capitol loves spectacle, loves blood where people can see it. Endless dark stone does not make for good entertainment.
âTheyâve got something planned,â you murmur, licking juice from your thumb.
âYeah,â Beomgyu says ahead of you, voice low and certain. âThey always do.â
The tunnel stretches on, and the mountain keeps its secrets. You have been walking long enough that time feels meaningless, just the scrape of boots on stone and the echo of your breathing chasing you down the tunnel. Side passages split off now and then, dark mouths opening into deeper black, and each time Beomgyu warns you under his breath before you both choose the main path, wider, safer, if anything in here can be called safe. The air tastes like dust and old rock, and you find yourself wondering if the sky outside is already dark, if night has fallen without you seeing it. Then you hear it. Soft. Wrong. You stop mid step and Beomgyu nearly walks into your back.
âWhat?â he asks quietly.
âI thought I heard something,â you murmur, straining your ears.
Something presses into your hand. His night vision glasses. You slide them on, the world shifting into eerie green. Two branching tunnels sit in your vision, one behind you to the left, another farther ahead on the right. You notch an arrow and move a few careful steps into the first one, scanning every shadow, every jagged edge of stone. Nothing moves. Nothing breathes.
You back out and check the other tunnel. Still nothing. The silence presses against your ears. âI swear I heard something,â you whisper.
âEven if you did,â Beomgyu says, close behind you, âdo you really want to go looking for it?â
Fair point. You lower the bow, pulling the glasses off and handing them back. âOkay, lead on.â his fingers catching your sleeve to guide you forward again.
A few minutes later, a pale glow appears ahead. Daylight. Without meaning to, you both quicken your pace, drawn toward it like moths to something that is not quite flame. The tunnel opens onto a narrow path carved into the mountainside. The sun hangs low, painting the sky in dull gold, but below you the world is ruined. What was once green forest is now a charred expanse of black and gray, smoke still curling from fallen trees. It looks like the end of the world.
You step closer to the edge, heart heavy. âThey really didnât hold back, did they?â
âNo cannons,â Beomgyu says thoughtfully, moving a little higher up the path.
You glance at him. âSo you think this was just to herd us in here, not kill us? Because dropping a burning tree on our heads felt pretty personal.â
âKill you,â he corrects. âYouâre the special one.â
You snort. âI feel so honored. Guess that makes you special by association.â
âLucky me.â
âYou asked for this. Youââ
Footsteps. You cut yourself off, already moving. The arrow is on the string before you fully turn. Beomgyu is beside you instantly, shoulder almost brushing yours as he draws his sword, both of you careful of the narrow ledge and the long fall waiting just beyond it.
A figure rounds the bend ahead, boots scraping stone. A silver spear catches the dying light, gleaming like a threat made solid.
District 1. The boy with the perfect posture and the colder eyes. Daeho, was that his name? You do not hesitate. The arrow is gone before the thought even finishes forming, slicing through the air toward Daehoâs face. He drops low, spear flashing up on instinct, and your shot whistles past, vanishing into the tunnel behind him with a sharp clatter against stone.
âNothing personal,â he says, voice tight, a strip of his sleeve burned clean off. âI just need to kill you.â
You already have another arrow notched, string pulled back to your cheek. âWhat, did they put a leash on you?â you ask. âYou their dog?â
He exhales hard through his nose. âShut up.â
âY/N,â Beomgyu warns.
You glance over your shoulder and your stomach drops. Two more tributes step out from the opposite tunnel mouth, boots scraping the ledge. The boy from District 11, the one who bumped fists with you after your interview, and a girl with uneven, singed hair. Both armed. Both looking like they have already made their choice. You turn back to Daeho, jaw tight. âAmbush,â you mutter.
âIt was easy,â Daeho says, almost smug. âHeard you coming. I ducked into a side tunnel, they went ahead. Perfect spot.â
He is not wrong. The ledge is barely wide enough to stand shoulder to shoulder. One bad step and it is a long fall into nothing. No room to dodge, no room to run. Daeho tilts his spear toward your bow. âPut it down and maybe Iâll make it quick.â
You do not even blink. You swing your aim to the pair from Eleven instead. They slow when they see the arrow trained on them. Beomgyu shifts with you, back nearly brushing yours as he turns to face Daeho again, sword raised, body angled to keep both threats in view. The girl from Eleven grips a mace. The boy holds an axe. Close range weapons. Dangerous, but only if they get close enough.
âYouâre teaming up with him?â you call out. âThatâs low.â
âBut heâs right,â the boy says, voice steady even if his hands are not. âYou two together? Scores like that? Youâre too dangerous.â
âYou have to go,â the girl adds softly, like she is apologizing.
You let out a humorless breath. âHeâs just mad he only got a seven.â
âStill talking,â Daeho snaps from behind you. âAll that crap about not caring if you win, about burning the Capitol down. If you meant any of it, youâd just stand there and die.â
You keep your bow drawn, arms trembling with the strain. âYeah, well,â you say, voice sharp as broken glass, âlying down and dying doesnât exactly send much of a message either.â
Beomgyuâs back is almost touching yours, heat and breath and the quiet rhythm of him steadying himself. You know that stance now. He is about to move. You keep your bow raised, eyes flicking once to his shoulder, waiting for any sign. Daeho is still talking, still trying to sound in control, but you are no longer listening to the words. You are listening for Beomgyu.
Two quick taps land against your side. You almost grin. Good.
âYouâre so full of shit, Daeho,â you call, voice bright with something that almost feels like laughter.
Beomgyu moves forward and you loose your arrow in the same heartbeat. It flies past him and slams into the District Eleven girlâs shoulder. She screams, stumbling backward into the tunnel wall. You already have another arrow up. You aim low this time. The District Eleven boy charges anyway, and your shot buries into his thigh. He grunts, falters, but keeps coming, axe raised.
âBeomgyu!â He is there instantly, sliding in front of you like a wall, sword flashing as he meets the boy head on. Metal rings against metal, sparks biting the dim air of the ledge. You stagger back a step to get a clearer shot and risk a glance behind you.
Daeho is retreating. No, not retreating. Fleeing.
Your stomach twists. His hand is mangled, two fingers gone, blood pouring down his wrist and dripping onto the stone. There is a deep slice across his face, from hairline to cheek, one eye squeezed shut as red runs down into it. You did not even see Beomgyu land those hits. He must have moved like lightning.
Pathetic, you think as you draw and fire again. Your arrow catches Daeho in the back of the calf. He howls and stumbles, then vanishes around the curve of the tunnel. All that talk, and he runs.
You start after him on instinct, rage buzzing hot in your veins, but the sound of steel scraping stone snaps your focus back. Beomgyu grunts, forced back half a step as the District Eleven boy swings again.
You spin. The girl from Eleven lunges clumsily with her mace, injured arm hanging useless, and Beomgyu pivots to intercept. His blade arcs in a clean, brutal line.
There is a wet sound, an arm flies, fingers still curled around the handle of the mace as it tumbles across the ledge and disappears over the side. For a split second, everything feels unreal, like the world has tilted sideways. Then the girlâs scream tears through the air, high and raw and animal.
For a moment your stomach lurches so hard you think you might actually be sick. Beomgyu had slipped past the first swing, and in one brutal, flashing arc of steel, the District Eleven boyâs axe arm was gone. The sound it made when it hit the stone will stay with you. He just stands there for a second, staring at the place where his limb used to be, face drained of all color, before he folds in on himself. Blood pours from his shoulder in violent pulses, splattering the rock at his feet.
Beomgyu does not hesitate. He turns toward the girl as she charges, grief and fury twisted together in her scream, mace lifted high. You do not give her the chance to bring it down. Your arrow flies before you even register the decision, and it strikes clean between her eyes. She drops like a puppet with its strings cut.
The cannon fires. Beomgyu looks at you, and for just a heartbeat there is nothing in his expression but relief. Not triumph. Not bloodlust. Just relief that you are still standing.
Then the ledge shifts.
The District Eleven boy, dying but not dead yet, tips backward over the edge. His remaining hand lashes out blindly and catches in Beomgyuâs pant leg. The pull is sudden and vicious. Beomgyuâs body jerks forward, balance lost, boots skidding on loose grit.
âBeomgyu!â He is already moving. His blade flashes again, severing the manâs hand at the wrist. The body drops, vanishing into open air. But the momentum has already dragged Beomgyu halfway over. His hips slam into the edge, torso scraping stone, legs dangling over nothing.
Your bow hits the ground as you run. âAre you okay? Come on, come on,â you breathe, voice breaking as you grab his wrist with both hands. He could probably haul himself up, you know that, but you cannot stand there and watch. You pull anyway, desperate, like if you let go he will slip through your fingers and disappear.
He lets you help. Kicks once against the rock, then rolls back onto the ledge with you. The severed hand finally slides from his pant leg and tumbles over the side. The two of you scramble backward together until your backs hit the cliff wall. You are still holding his hand, knuckles white, and neither of you seem to remember how to let go.
For a long moment there is nothing but the sound of your breathing, harsh and uneven, and the wind moving through the broken mountain air. Another cannon booms. You both flinch, and you know without looking that the boy from Eleven is gone.
Neither of you let go. His hand is locked around yours, fingers tight and almost trembling, like he is afraid that if he loosens his grip for even a second you might slip through it. You feel the shake in him, small but there, and it sends a strange, aching warmth through your chest because Beomgyu does not shake. Not when he fights, not when he threatens, not when he stands in front of danger like it is something he was born to face.
But he is shaking now.
You cannot stop seeing it, the way he tipped over the edge, the empty air behind him, the split second where his weight was gone from the ledge. If that man had held on a moment longer, if Beomgyu had been even slightly slower with his blade, he would have disappeared over the side and there would have been nothing you could have done but watch him fall.
The thought makes your stomach twist. Since when does the idea of losing him feel like this? Since when did that possibility terrify you?
There was a time you were sure he would be the one to kill you. A time you watched him like a threat, measured the distance between you like it was a battlefield line. But somewhere between shared watches in the dark, stupid arguments, and the quiet way he stayed when you almost fell apart, the line moved. You stopped bracing for his blade and started looking for his shadow beside yours.
Now the idea of this arena without him in it feels wrong in a way you do not have words for.
You look at him and find his eyes already on you, wide in a way you have never seen before, breathing still uneven. There is blood all over him, streaked across his clothes and jaw, but he is not looking at himself. He is scanning your face, your shoulders, your arms, like he is checking for damage he might have missed.
âYou good?â he asks, and the question comes out rough, almost unsteady.
âAm I good? Youâre the one covered in blood.â
He shakes his head slightly, still staring at you like he does not believe what he is seeing. âIâm fine,â he says quickly. âThatâs not what I meant.â
You try to swallow the tightness in your throat and nod. âPerks of a long distance weapon,â you manage, your voice thinner than you want it to be. âI donât have to get that close.â Your eyes flick to your bow on the ground, then back to him. âYou? Are you okay?â
âIâm fine,â he repeats, but his hand tightens around yours again, like he needs to feel that you are still there. His gaze drags over you one more time, searching. âNone of itâs mine,â he adds quietly, and for once he sounds less like he is reassuring you and more like he is trying to convince himself.
The two of you stare at the blood darkening the dirt, the metallic smell still thick in the air. âHow the hell did you manage to cut his arm off?â you ask, looking at him like the answer might still be written somewhere on his face. âYouâd have to swing ridiculously hard and hit the exact right spot andâŠâ
âYou just answered your own question.â
âAsshole. Donât do that,â you mutter.
âDo what?â
âScare me like that. I thought he was going to pull you over, for fuckâs sake.â Your voice tightens at the end, betraying more than you mean to. You squeeze his hand once, hard, then let go so you can push yourself to your feet. âAnd thank you for the backup,â you add over your shoulder as you move down the ledge.
âWhat happened to District 1?â Beomgyu asks while you retrieve your bow.
âHe ran like the coward he is,â you say, anger slipping into your tone. âTalks big, sets up an ambush, then bolts the second things get messy. But you definitely did some damage.â
Beomgyu gives a small nod. âGood. Arrow count?â
You twist your quiver around and count by touch. âEighteen. I might be able to get a few back.â
âAlright. Which way do you want to go?â
You do not answer right away. Instead, you walk to the other side of the path where the girl from District 11 lies still. You swallow back the nausea and pull your arrow from her forehead, then the one from her shoulder. Your hands are steady even if your stomach is not. Ammo matters more than comfort in here. When you turn back, Beomgyu is watching you quietly, waiting. His question still hangs between you, heavy and practical. You both know you are supposed to move, clear the area so the Capitol can collect their dead. You have never been good at doing what they expect.
âDo we have to go yet?â you ask, tucking the arrows back into your quiver. âCan we just sit for a bit?â
He studies you for a second, like he is measuring more than just the time. Then he nods. âYeah.â
You sink back down where you were earlier, setting your bow and quiver within reach before leaning against the mountain wall. Your body feels like it has been wrung out, muscles trembling now that the fight is over. The forest below is nothing but blackened skeletons of trees, smoke still drifting through the air, but the sky above it is streaked gold and orange as the sun sinks low. It is wrong that something so ruined can still look beautiful.
Without really thinking about it, you reach for Beomgyuâs hand again.
He takes it immediately, fingers lacing with yours, grip firm and warm. Neither of you says anything. For a moment, the Games feel far away, like the world has shrunk down to this narrow ledge, the fading light, and the quiet proof that you are both still here.
Beomgyu is not walking evenly. You hear it before you really notice it, the faint hitch in his steps, the way one foot lands just a fraction heavier than the other. You think about saying something, about asking if he is hurt, but his pace never slows and you know him well enough by now to know he would brush it off. You tuck the worry away for later, for when you finally get a chance to sit without the world trying to kill you.
âYou know,â you say lightly, trying to distract yourself, âfor a place designed to torture us, it has nice sunsets and sunrise.â
Beomgyu lets go of your sleeve as you both step out of the tunnel and onto another narrow ledge. The drop beside you is steep, a long fall into blackened forest, but at least this time there is no one waiting to ambush you. You squint at the sky, streaked with deep orange and gold, smoke thinning just enough for the colors to bleed through.
He scoffs. âYeah. Give us something pretty to look at before they kill us.â
You stop walking for a second, letting yourself breathe it in. You do not know how many sunsets you have left, and that thought presses quietly at the back of your mind. âI used to do this,â you murmur, more to yourself than to him. âFind the highest spot in the woods outside Twelve and just sit there until the sun went down.â
Home feels far away and too close all at once. You wonder who is watching, if anyone still believes you are alive.
âYou coming?â Beomgyu calls, already a few steps ahead. You laughed., mutter idiot, moving after him.
A few hours later, you and Beomgyu finally find a place to stop. The tunnel bends in a way that creates a shallow corner, wide enough for two of you to sit with a clear view of both branching paths. You settle into the inner spot with your bow across your lap and the night vision glasses perched on your nose, the green glow making the stone walls look even colder than they are.
You break the quiet with what has been bothering you since sunset. âWhatâd you do to your leg?â you ask, keeping your tone light. âOr ankle. Or foot.â
There is a brief pause. You cannot see his face clearly, but you feel his attention turn toward you. âHowâd youâŠâ he starts, then trails off, and you cannot stop the small, knowing twitch of your lips. âAnkle,â he finishes. âHit Daeho, heard you yell, turned to get back to you. Stepped wrong. Tweaked it.â
You wince, guilt settling heavy in your stomach. âHow bad?â
âWalkingâs fine,â Beomgyu says quickly, like he can hear the blame in your voice. âI can move. I can fight. It just hurts like a bitch.â
âWe could wrap it.â
âMorning,â he replies. âWhen thereâs light.â
You nod, though he probably cannot see it. You hope he is telling the truth, that this is not pride talking. Either way, you insist on taking first watch. He argues at first, but he is tired and you are stubborn, and eventually he gives in and stretches out along the wall.
Surely the Capitol cannot throw something else at you tonight. Snakes last night, fire this morning, an ambush in the afternoon. That is enough chaos for one day, even by their standards. Games are supposed to last weeks, sometimes longer. This is only your third night.
Only three days. It feels like a lifetime. The anthem drifts faintly through the mountain, warped and distant, but you do not need the screen to know who it is for. You sit there in the green glow of the glasses, bow in hand, listening to the song echo through the tunnels and wondering how many more nights you and Beomgyu will get to hear it together.
You are so deep in your own head that the first growl almost slips past you, threading low and ugly through the tunnel air. You freeze, every sense snapping tight. âAre you kidding me?â you mutter under your breath as you reach back and pull an arrow from your quiver, eyes narrowing into the dark stretch of tunnel you think it came from, the path leading back down the mountain. You rise slowly, careful not to let your gear clink against the stone, and take a few cautious steps forward. Nothing. Just black rock and stale air. Then it comes again, deeper this time, vibrating through the ground more than the air.
âY/N?â Beomgyuâs voice drifts from behind you, rough with sleep. âWhat?â
âShh,â you whisper, lifting your bow as you edge farther down the tunnel.
He is on his feet in seconds, the soft scrape of metal telling you he has his sword in hand. âWhat did you hear?â
âGrowling,â you murmur. It comes again, longer now, and your skin prickles. âYou hear that?â
The next growl rips through the tunnel, loud enough that dust shakes loose from the ceiling. You do not look back, but you can almost feel his expression change. âHeard that one, did you,â you say dryly.
âGlasses,â he says, and you pass the night vision goggles back to him, letting the darkness swallow you whole. He moves ahead of you, footsteps light. He barely makes it three steps before a roar explodes through the tunnel, so loud it feels like it claws at your ribs. Your hands tighten on your bow. You are so tired of this.
âOther way,â you say immediately.
âYeah,â Beomgyu answers, no hesitation. You both snatch up your packs and break into a jog just as another roar rolls after you. You follow the sound of his steps, trusting him to keep you from slamming into a wall, lungs burning as the tunnel twists. The air feels thinner, tighter, and then suddenly the ground levels out and the darkness thins.
You burst out into open air.
Beomgyu stops so fast you nearly crash into his back. The words die on your tongue as you take in the sight in front of you. You are at the top of the mountain, back in the clearing where the bloodbath began, the cornucopia gleaming under cold moonlight like some sick joke, and you are not alone.
Shapes stand all around the clearing, frozen in the same stunned realization. A cluster of three to your left, the two from District 4 and another you do not recognize. Daeho is across the clearing, doubled over, blood dried down one side of his face. On the right, the Careers have grouped up, the girl from Two, the tribute from Six, the girl from Seven, and with them the tall boy from Three. More figures spill out of other tunnel mouths, gasping, wild eyed.
Every remaining tribute. All of you, dragged here like pieces on a board. âFuck,â Beomgyu breathes.
You do not argue. The silence stretches, thin and brittle, everyone waiting for someone else to move first, like maybe if no one does this will all dissolve into some bad dream. The growls drove you here. This is not coincidence. This is the Capitol tightening its fist. You lift your bow and notch an arrow, the familiar motion steadying your hands. âHowâs your ankle?â you murmur, not looking at him.
âFine,â he says, voice low. âYou trust me?â He jerks his chin toward the District 4 group. âWe go for them.â
You don't question his words. Lightning strikes the cornucopia, and everyone moves at once.âŻÂ
The lightning does not send everyone charging like you expect. For one suspended, breathless second the entire mountaintop freezes, white light seared into your vision. Everyone stalls. Everyone except Beomgyu. He is already moving, already sprinting straight at the District 4 boy with his blade drawn, a shout ripping out of him like he has been waiting his whole life for this exact moment. You force your body to follow, dragging yourself out of that stunned pause before panic can root you in place. Chaos erupts all at once. Metal clashes. Someone screams. Boots scrape against stone. You turn toward the District 4 alliance just in time to see another figure slam into the fight from the far side. Ryujin. She collides with the District 4 girl, spear meeting steel in a blur of vicious, practiced strikes.
That leaves Beomgyu facing two. The District 4 boy and another tribute you think is from Five rush him together. One wears a helmet, the other some kind of chest armor that gleams dully under the moon. You do not hesitate. You fire. The arrow slams into the District 4 boyâs side and ricochets off with a hollow clang. Armor.
You adjust and aim for his face, but the District 5 boy shoves into your line of sight. Your arrow cracks against his helmet and bounces away. He stumbles but stays upright. Your stomach drops. At this rate, you are nothing but background noise.
Think. You drop to your knees, shrugging your pack off your shoulders as your fingers fumble for your rope. In front of you Beomgyu lunges, blade driving toward the armored boyâs chest, and the strike glances off uselessly. The recoil jars up his arms and he stumbles half a step back.
His ankle. Your chest tightens so hard it hurts. He cannot take two armored tributes head on, not with a bad ankle, not for long. You risk one quick look across the mountaintop. Ryujin and the District 4 girl are a storm of movement. Daeho is trying to retreat toward a tunnel, but the boy from Six is chasing him down. None of that matters. None of them matter. Beomgyu matters.
Your hands move on their own, tying the rope tight to the base of an arrow. The rest of the coil spills at your knees like a lifeline waiting to be used. You notch the arrow, breath coming fast and sharp. Behind you, steel scrapes stone. A presence. You twist just as a knife slices through the air where your neck was a second ago. The brown haired girl you noticed earlier lunges again, eyes wide and feral. Over her shoulder you glimpse her partner from Nine circling toward Beomgyu, machete raised, waiting for the perfect moment to join in.
Three on him, and more closing in. The girl in front of you slams into you before you can get another shot off. The two of you crash to the ground hard enough to rattle your teeth. Your bow skids away across the rock. You grab her wrist with both hands, straining to keep the knife from plunging into your chest. Her breath is hot and ragged against your face. Your arms shake under the pressure. Somewhere to your right you hear Beomgyu grunt, a sound of pain he tries to swallow down, and it tears through you sharper than the blade hovering over your heart. Fear flashes hot and wild. You cannot lose him here. Not like this.
You bare your teeth at the girl, breath hitching. âFive person alliance,â you choke out, muscles screaming as you hold her back. âWhat, you needed a whole army to feel brave?â
The girl throws her weight against your arms, face twisted with effort, and your muscles finally give in a different direction. Instead of pushing up, you shove her knife hand sideways. The blade buries itself in the dirt beside your ear with a dull thunk. You do not hesitate. You draw your fist back the way they taught you, tight, thumb tucked, and slam it into her jaw. Pain shoots up your knuckles but she cries out and rolls off you, scrambling, stunned. You are on your feet in a breath, heart crashing against your ribs, when a scream rips across the clearing. âNo!â someone howls. âNo!â
A cannon fires. Your eyes fly to Beomgyu on instinct, terror already clawing up your spine, but he is still there, still moving, still alive, locked in that brutal mess of bodies and weapons. The scream must have come from the other side, from the Career pack. You do not have time to look. You do not have time to care.
The girl from Nine rushes you again, empty handed now, desperation replacing strategy. You reach for an arrow but your fingers close around the one tied to rope. Not now. Swearing under your breath, you snatch the knife from the ground instead. She does not see it until it is too late. Your blade drives into her shoulder and her scream is sharp and shocked as you wrench it back out. She stumbles away, clutching the wound, blood soaking through her sleeve.
You turn, already searching for him.
Beomgyuâs back is nearly to the rock wall. The District 4 boy is down several meters away, struggling to rise, but the other armored tribute is still on Beomgyu, pressing, relentless. Two on one again. Nowhere to retreat. You cannot see blood from this distance. You cannot tell if he is already hurt. All you know is that he is running out of space.
Your knife falls from your hand as you grab your bow. The rope coils at your feet like a living thing. You lift the bow, aim past the blur of moving limbs, armor flashing under moonlight. Legs move too fast. Chests are plated. Helmets hide faces. This has to be perfect.
You draw back, breath trembling. âThread the needle,â you whisper, voice barely there. âThread the needle.â
You let the world narrow to a single line through the chaos. One opening. One heartbeat. You exhale and release. Your arrow slices through and buries itself in stone just behind Beomgyu and the District Five boy, so close it steals the air from both their lungs. The man flinches, just for a second, and that second is all Beomgyu needs. He drives his foot into the manâs chest and forces space between them, then turns and slashes at the District Nine boy. The blade catches flesh. The boy cries out and stumbles back, clutching his side as blood seeps through his fingers.
The armored one charges again. You yank the rope.
It snaps taut in an instant, a line pulled straight through the battlefield at the perfect height. The boy runs right into it. His throat catches, his body jerks, and he goes down hard, limbs tangling as he crashes to the ground. The jolt rips the rope from your hands and you stagger forward, but you do not need to hold it anymore. Beomgyu is already there. He moves like he has been waiting for an opening his whole life. His blade drives down and does not come back clean. The man thrashes once, twice, then goes still.
A cannon fires. The sound rolls through your bones. One less. You turn just in time to see the girl from Nine retreating, her injured arm cradled to her chest, the other boy shouting at her to move faster. They disappear into a tunnel, leaving her knife buried in the dirt like a forgotten thought.
Jay, another career, is locked with the District Four boy now, grappling near the edge, boots scraping rock. Somewhere beyond them Ryujin clashes with the other girl from Four, weapons ringing in sharp, frantic bursts.
You grab the abandoned knife and your pack in the same motion and run to Beomgyu, shoving the blade inside and yanking the zipper shut without looking. âYou okay?â you ask, breathless as you reach him.
He is limping. He is breathing hard. He is staring at you like you are something impossible. âYouâre fucking brilliant,â he says, voice rough, eyes wide in a way that has nothing to do with the fight.
You bark out a laugh. âDid you hit your head? You were the one out there playing hero with a busted ankle.â
âWouldâve had them easy any other day,â he mutters, glancing down at his leg like it personally offended him.
âI know,â you say softly, and you do. You look at the way he is standing, the pain he is pretending not to feel. âHow bad?â
âIâll check later.â His gaze lifts to the rest of the clearing. The battle has fractured into smaller storms. Steel flashes. Someone shouts. Someone else falls. No one is watching you.
You could run. âWe can leave,â you whisper, urgent now. âLet them finish each other.â
He turns to you, and there is something steady in his eyes, something that pulls you in and holds you there.
âIs today a day you trust me?â
Your breath catches. It is such a small question.
You think of the burning trees, of your body tipping into harmful air and his hand clamping around your wrist so hard it bruised. You think of smoke in your lungs and his voice cutting through it, checking you first. You think of snakes and the way he never let go first. You think of how, even now, he stands angled toward you instead of toward the enemy, like the greater threat is not them but the possibility of losing you.
This arena was built to rot trust from the inside out. It was designed to make you suspicious, to make you cruel, to make you survive alone. And yet, he's asking for your trust.
âYeah,â you say, and your voice is softer than the wind moving through the ruined trees. âI trust you.â
He looks at you, something in his shoulders eases, something tight and invisible unraveling. As if he had been braced for rejection and only now allows himself to breathe. âWe take out the two from District Four,â he says, but the words are secondary. The real promise is in the way his gaze never leaves yours. âThen we go.â
Trust is not safe. Trust is stepping forward when the ground has already betrayed you once. Trust is handing someone your pulse and believing they will not crush it. You lift your bow. Your hands are steady.
âOkay,â you answer, heart hammering, not from fear this time but from something far more fragile. âAfter you.â
You follow him into the fight, into the fire, into whatever waits beyond this broken mountaintop, knowing that for the first time since your name was called, you are not walking alone.
title: come touch the line
pairing: jeong yunho x fem!reader
genre: neighbors to lovers, neighbors au, smut (mdni!!)
word count: 23.3k
summary: your next-door neighbor is both incredibly insufferable and insanely hot.
author's note: really desperately needed to write brat tamer yunho, so here he is! i hope you enjoy. you can find this fic on ao3 here! also I will never not hate making graphics/making these posts cute so I hope u can tolerate that dkfgjskjfs ily guys so much thanks for reading <3
tags/warnings: brat tamer yunho, reader is a menace, reader is a brat, vaginal sex, vaginal fingering, blow jobs, teasing, general brat/brat tamer dynamic, begging, dirty talk, safe sex (I did it!), multiple orgasms, face-fucking, yunho does the tongue thing, best friends jihyo & wooyoung, hongjoong mentioned
The moment your eyes flew open, it was to the sound of video games and swearing. Unfortunately, from learned experience, there was no waiting this out. No staying in bed until the problem eventually removed itself. This problem loved to overstay its welcome, loved to take a seat on your couch until it rotted there.Â
You lay in bed for as long as you could stand the background noise. You tried to fall back asleep, but the sounds of intermittent fucks and sporadic yelling made it entirely impossible.Â
When you did finally drag yourself out of bed, still half asleep and grumbling to yourself about the inconvenience, it was in baggy sweatpants and a loose-fitting shirt, your hair tied up into a bun.Â
Creaking open the door to your bedroom, you watched him momentarily. He didnât notice the disturbance, just remained locked into the game, lighting up bright colors and explosions on your television.Â
Your fingers easily found the spot they always managed to settle on your face when he was around, pinching the bridge of your nose in stress.Â
One of your mugs sat on the coffee table in front of him, filled to the brim. You ignored the problem at hand, the man intruding on your living room before noon without your permission, for the second, or maybe third time that week, and walked toward the coffee maker instead.Â
He didnât acknowledge you as you passed, his eyes instead remaining laser-focused on the screen. You didnât speak either, hoping that maybe if you continued to ignore him, heâd go away. Though, based on past encounters, it never really worked out that way. Though a girl could dream.Â
Pulling down a mug from the cabinet, you attempted to place it carefully on the counter before you, tempering your anger. It didnât matter anyway, even if you slammed the thing down so hard it shattered into pieces, he still probably wouldnât have looked up.Â
It was when you reached out for the coffee pot, hand just barely touching the handle, that the anger bubbled over.Â
You whipped around, coffee pot in hand, face screwed up into a scowl that only Jeong Yunho could produce. âAre you serious?â you asked, raising the coffee pot above your head, directing that scowl in his directionânot that he even looked up to see it.Â
He was too locked into whatever video game he busied himself playing on your PlayStation. It drove you over the edge, how little regard he had for you. How he used your apartment like a landing ground, a place to escapeâand then dared to ignore you while inside it.Â
You walked around the counter, coffee pot still in hand, and stopped in front of the television with your arms outstretched. âEarth to fucking Yunhoâwhat are you doing here?âÂ
You knew the answer before you asked, knew why he was there based on the sheer lack of sleep youâd gotten during the night.Â
He shifted to the side in an attempt to see the screen behind you, but you moved with him, waving your arms to get in the way as much as possible. Finally, with a groan and a roll of his eyesâlike you were inconveniencing himâhe set down the controller.Â
With his attention free, he leaned back, crossing his arms over his chest. His legs were spread, and he took up way more space than he needed to.Â
His eyes dragged over you slowly, making a show out of looking at you. It made you squirm in a self-conscious kind of way. The kind of way that also made you want to chuck something at his head.
With a lazy smile, he finally leaned forward again, balancing elbows on the tops of his thighs. âGood morning to you, too,â he said.Â
You closed your eyes, sucking in a deep breath to keep yourself from screaming at him this early in the morning. âYou know, if youâre going to use my apartment as a hideout, the least you could do is save me some fucking coffee.âÂ
You had to admitâyou understood why his apartment had a constant stream of one-night stands filing in at night and out in the morning. He had this way of looking at someone like they were the only person in the entire universe, like nothing else mattered. He looked at you like that, now. All attentive eyes and half-quirked up lips.Â
âYour charm doesnât work on me,â you said with a roll of your eyes. Because it didnât. All that charm, it was nice. There were split seconds where you understood, sure. But that feeling always passed even faster when you remembered every other thing about him.Â
âNot sure about that,â he teased. It was always this push and pull. Him trying to get under your skin, and you always reacting.Â
You pushed past the teasing because you just couldnât deal with his entire personality that early in the morning. Instead, you got back to the matter at hand. âIs she still in there?â you asked, placing the empty coffee pot down on the table in front of you, simply so you could cross your arms.Â
Yunho shrugged, accentuating his uncertainty with a slight lift of his eyebrows. âWhy donât you go over and find out?âÂ
âWeâre not doing this,â you said, looking at him with that same pointed expression.Â
âDoing what?â he asked, mocking ignorance.Â
This would not be the first time, nor the second, nor the third that youâd provided Jeong Yunho with this kind of turn-down service. The first had been a mistake. Knocking on his door to ream him out for being loud throughout the night. The second time heâd tricked you, asked you to come over. And the third, well, it went something like this.Â
âWeâre not friends. This is not something I just do for you,â you said. âAnd stop letting yourself into my apartment.âÂ
âSo, are you going to do it, or?â Yunho asked, one brow raised, and you knew he wasnât planning on relenting. No, he would be insufferable about it until you gave in. He was always stronger-willed than you in that matterâmore stubborn. More annoying.Â
âMake some coffee,â you said. It was in exasperation that you turned and stormed out, choosing to face the innocent woman left behind in his apartment rather than continuing to have this conversation. Plus, if there was anything youâd learned, it was that once youâd scared her away, heâd leave, too.Â
You didnât understand why he did it. The whole one-night stand after one-night stand thing. He was charming enough, and any of the many girls youâd kicked out of his apartment probably would have made for a great long-term partner. Even just a situationship. It was his biggest red flag. The thing that turned you off. But you got it, too. Because if he didnât live next door, if you didnât get to witness the parade and the payoff, you would probably fall for his tricks and charms just as easily.Â
But youâd seen the man behind the curtain. You knew the game. And so you knew, too, that he didnât give a single fuck about any of those women. Not even enough to reject them himself.Â
Even though it wasnât the first time youâd done this, it still felt strange. Pretending. You knocked on the door. Crossed your arms over your chest. Tapped your foot. Directed the annoyance you felt toward Yunho into pretend anger.Â
Someone did, inevitably, answer the door.Â
âHey babââ the woman started. She had long black hair and warm brown eyes. She wore a long button-up shirt that stopped above her knees. Yunhoâs. You witnessed the slow furrow of her brow as she put together the situation before you started whatever badly performed rant you chose this time.Â
You scrunched your face up to match, mock irritation appearing in the creases at the corner of your eyes, the slight scowl of your lips.Â
âWho are you?â the girl asked. It was always their first question, and sometimes you even felt bad about having to crush their dreamsâyou shattered the ideal image they had of Yunho in their heads, before he could find a way to do it themselves. You framed them as a mistress, the other half of a cheater.Â
Why couldnât he just reject them himself? Wouldnât everyone leave with more dignity in that circumstance? You and whatever girl heâd involved included?
But you stood firm, trying to imagine what it would feel like to show up at your boyfriendâs apartment only for the door to be answered by another woman.Â
âIâm Yunhoâs girlfriend,â you said. Youâd said it before. It still felt strange. A label you would never want to have. Probably because it would land you in a situation too close to this one. âWho are you?â you asked.Â
âIâmâuh,â the girl said. You didnât stay to listen, instead pushing past her into the apartment, looking for your cheating boyfriend. It was enough to send her into high gear, throwing her clothes back on and ducking out the front door before you could so much as turn around.Â
Once she was gone, you took your time leaving. There was nothing interesting in his apartment, no secrets to glean by snooping. For the most part, he was an open book. All games and pick-up lines, without any actual substance.Â
You headed back to your apartment. Yunho stood in the kitchen, leaning against the counter, waiting for the pot of coffee to brew.Â
âSheâs gone,â you said.Â
He chuckled under his breath, like he couldnât believe youâd actually done it. The first time, youâd both had a laugh about the situation. The incidental scaring off of the woman heâd invited over. It wasnât as funny anymore. At least not to you.Â
You studied him, watching his face for any shred of emotion, finding none. He truly didnât care about these women or what happened to them after they left his apartment. It wasnât like heâd speak to them again, so why would it matter how things ended?Â
âCome on,â Yunho said. âDonât look at me like that.â
âIâm not looking at you like anything,â you said. But you could feel the scowl, still pressed into your features. Disgust.Â
He took a step forward, towering over you and craning his neck to meet your eyes. He loved getting into your personal space, like he was trying to figure you out just the same. But if he wouldnât give away any shred of his real personality, then neither would you.Â
He was just an annoyance. A neighbor who thought the two of you were friends. That didnât mean you actually had to be his friend.Â
âWell,â he said. âSay it.â His head tilted slightly to the side, waiting for whatever opinion you so clearly wanted to share regarding his dating habits.Â
âYou should go home,â you said, instead. âThanks to you and your little house guest, I didnât get any sleep last nightâand I have to work later.âÂ
This made him smirk, a slow crawl across his lips as he enjoyed the thought of you listening. It wasnât that you wanted to listenâbecause of course you didnât. But he made it difficult. Your bedrooms shared a wall, and it wasnât exactly thick.Â
âDonât start,â you said, stopping whatever thought process was going on behind his eyes, whatever words he was planning on using to get even further under your skin.Â
He took the hint, holding his hands up in defense. He stepped away from you, taking out the full coffee pot to fill both of your mugs. He scooped one spoonful of sugar into his own mug, stirring it a few times before grabbing the mug and walking out of the kitchen. âHave a good day at work,â he said, before the door to your apartment opened and closed.Â
âI just donât understand what his problem is,â you said, standing behind the bar, mixing a drink. Jihyo sat across from you, nursing the first drink youâd made for her. It was a quiet Thursday night, so for the most part, your bar was occupied by friends and a few other regulars who didnât require that much attention.Â
It was Wooyoung who responded. âMaybe he likes you,â he said. It wouldnât be the first time this idea was floated by the board. But it only earned an eye roll from both you and Jihyo, who refused to believe this asinine idea. âItâs guy logic,â Wooyoung said.Â
âMaybe you should move,â Jihyo suggested.Â
You pointed a finger at her, but looked at Wooyoung. âNow these are the types of solutions Iâm looking for.â You laughed. âMaybe I should move.âÂ
Wooyoung and Jihyo have been your best friends for ages, ever since college. Theyâve been there for you throughout more challenging circumstances than just Yunho. If anyone were going to help you get through this, it would be them.Â
âYou canât move,â Wooyoung pointed out. âYour place is too nice.âÂ
Youâd talked in this circle with them countless times before. There was no obvious solution, aside from putting up with him.Â
âI could threaten to call the police,â you suggested. âNext time he shows up in my apartment.â You placed the finished drink on the counter in front of Wooyoung, taking his empty glass.Â
Jihyo pressed a finger to her lips. âOr,â she said. âYou could lock your door.â
âI do lock my door,â you said. âHe just knows where I keep the spare.â
âOkay, so hide the spare somewhere else,â Wooyoung said.Â
âIâve tried that,â you said.Â
âDo you really need the spare?â Wooyoung asked.Â
âYou made me get one,â you said, pointedly. âWhen I kept locking myself out.âÂ
âRight, yeah,â he said. âYou could give your backup to Jihyo insteadâthen thereâs no Yunho problem, and I donât have to worry about you calling me at two in the morning when you lock yourself out.âÂ
Jihyo said, âNo, no,â with a wag of her finger.Â
With a sigh, you picked up a collection of shot glasses, placing them on the bar between the three of you. They both had regular people jobsâi.e., ones that required them to be up early the next day, but neither did they protest when you started filling the glasses.Â
Just as you filled the last of the three, the bell atop the front door chimed. Pushing open the door was the topic of conversation himself. He wore a black leather jacket, snow dusting the tops of his shoulders. His cheeks were a soft pink from the cold, and his eyes found yours immediately from across the room.Â
His pleased smile was met by yet another scowl on your end. He closed the distance between the door and the bar in only a few steps, coming up behind Jihyo and Wooyoung. He reached forward and took Wooyoungâs shot as you pushed it forward.Â
Wooyoung looked at you, brows drawn together in shared annoyance. You and Jihyo already had your glasses raised, and Yunho was quick to join in on the cheers he hadnât been invited to participate in.Â
He didnât say anything, and neither did you. He just raised the shot to his lips, tipping it back and swallowing the clear liquid as if it were water.Â
You watched in stunned shock.Â
âDamn,â Yunho said. âYouâre hanging out without me?âÂ
You let your eyes fall shut for a second, trying to process the situation, trying to figure out what words to say aloud without coming off like a complete and total asshole.Â
Jihyo took the lead instead. âWhy would we invite you?â she asked, a pretty smile appearing on her lips. One that might have looked harmless to an outsider, but you know meant Iâll fucking kill you.Â
Yunho placed a hand on his chest. âAnd here I thought we were friends.â
âYouâre delusional,â you said.Â
He lifted his eyes to yours and smiled warmly, like he really was that delusional. You poured Wooyoung another shot, holding it while you waited for Yunho to sit anywhere else. Of course, he didnât, instead opting to sit on the other side of Jihyo, who promptly turned her back to face Wooyoung completely.Â
You put the replacement in Wooyoungâs waiting hands.
Just as you were raising the shot glasses, Yunho cleared his throat. âCan I get something to drink, beautiful?â He had one arm on the counter, and he leaned forward over it, looking at you with those big brown eyes. You might even be attracted to him if he werenât so god damn annoying.Â
You ignored him, instead, looking back to your friends. Your shot glasses clinked in the center before you all threw them back.Â
âWhy is he here?â Jihyo asked in a low voice.Â
âHe can hear you,â Yunho quipped, and you could hear the smirk in his tone without even looking in his direction. âAnd this is a public bar. You do know that, right?âÂ
Jihyo pressed her lips into a tight line, glaring at you because she refused to turn around and glare at the source of the problem.Â
âWhat do you want to drink, Yunho?â you asked, crossing your arms over your chest and attempting to press a smile to your lips. It was your job, after all, to provide good customer service. You couldnât be the one asking him why he was there or what he wanted from you. At least not when you were on the clock. You would leave those questions to Jihyo and Wooyoung.Â
âDo you know how to make an Old Fashioned?â Yunho asked.Â
Jihyo did whip around to face him, then. âSheâs a bartender, you idiot. She knows how to make an Old Fashioned.âÂ
That same slow smile crept across his lips. âYouâre pretty when youâre mad,â he said, eliciting an immediate groan from Jihyo.Â
âOh my god,â she said. âWhat is your problem?âÂ
You looked to Wooyoung, who attempted to hide a laugh with his hand. This was pretty much how it went whenever the three of you were together. You and Wooyoung stopping Jihyo from getting into yelling matches with whoever didnât agree with her. It was charming, in its own way.Â
âItâs fine,â you said, not wanting to make a scene in front of the four other customers in the bar. âJust ignore him. I do.â
You started making the Old Fashion instead, letting Wooyoung and Jihyo get back to their own conversation. All the while, feeling Yunhoâs eyes trailing your hands, watching your movements.Â
Maybe Jihyo saw your cheeks turning red, or maybe she was just really curious about your love life, because she diverted the conversation away from Yunho, distracting you from his watchful eyes in one swoop. âHow are things going with Hongjoong?â she asked.Â
You placed the drink in front of Yunho, saying, âOh, yeah. Theyâre good,â while making direct eye contact. There was something quizzical in his gaze that you couldnât quite place. You didnât ask, and he didnât voice whatever question it was that plagued his brain. âWeâre going out tomorrow night.â
âThird date, right?â Jihyo asked.Â
âMhm,â you said.Â
âI hope he puts out,â Wooyoung said, and Yunho choked on his sip, setting the glass down to cough into the collar of his jacket, hiding the redness blooming on his cheeks.Â
Your eyes widened at Wooyoung, a pointed glare.Â
âWhat?â he said, unsure why you were looking at him like that. âYouâre the one who said it had been a whileââ
Jihyo elbowed him in the stomach, and that was the end of that conversation.Â
You printed out Yunhoâs receipt and placed it on the table in front of him without meeting his eyes.Â
âActually, can I start a tab?â he asked.Â
You grabbed the receipt, crumpling it into a ball. Through gritted teeth, you said, âOf course,â taking his card out of his outstretched hand.Â
Customers thinned out one at a time for the next several hours, with Jihyo and Wooyoung finally departing a little bit before midnight. But Yunho stayed.Â
At 1am, he was still there, watching you clean up from across the bar.Â
âSo,â he started.Â
You threw your head back in exasperation, even though the conversation had hardly begun. You just knew, because it was Yunho, that it was going to be exhausting.Â
âYouâre dating,â he said.Â
It wasnât what you expected, and it caught you off guard. The way he said it so casually, aloud to the empty bar.
âIs there something strange about that to you?â you asked. âMe dating?â You tried not to go on the defensive. But there was something so inherently cutting about the way heâd said it. Like he couldnât believe it. Did he think there was something wrong with you? Something fundamentally unlikable? Or were you just projecting?
âNo,â he said. âOf course not.â
Silence. Deafening. Your ears had a heartbeat.Â
âSo, itâs been a whileâŠ?â he asked, and that stupid fucking smirk reappeared on his lips, like he was proud of something.Â
âIâm not having this conversation with you,â you said.Â
âYou know, if you donât remember how to do it, I can give you a crash course,â Yunho suggested, leaning back in his seat.Â
âIâll kill you.âÂ
âI love it when you talk dirty to me.âÂ
You took your phone out to check the time, waiting for the numbers to flip forward just enough. When they did, you smiled. âSorry, weâre actually closed.â You turned to face the register, printing out his receipt. You placed it in a book, then in front of him.Â
âYou want a ride home?â he asked.Â
You couldnât help the look of surprise that appeared on your face.Â
âWhat?â he asked. âIâm a gentleman.âÂ
âYou are not.âÂ
âJust because you donât like me, doesnât mean Iâm not charming,â he said. âSo, do you want a ride home or not? Itâs cold.âÂ
He signed the receipt and closed the book.Â
You shook your head. âNo,â you said. It sounded too firm. âThanks,â you tacked on. Youâd face whatever winter weather you had to in order to get home without his help.Â
Yunho stood up, and for some reason, you watched him. You always forgot how tall he was, how broad his shoulders were, until he was standing in front of you. He tossed his leather jacket back on, shoved his hands into his pockets, and left without another word.Â
You followed, locking the door behind him. Then, finishing your tasks, you grabbed the book off the counter and pulled out his receipt. On the few drinks heâd ordered, he tipped nearly thirty dollars. And there was a note scrawled across the bottom, too. Sorry for being an ass. You looked at it for a while before putting the tip into the system, storing the receipt, and shutting everything down.Â
It was a short walk between the bar and your apartment. Only about ten minutes. There was never any point in getting a car. On weekend nights, you could always count on Jihyo or Wooyoung to bring you home. Other nights, the walk wasnât so bad. Besides, you kept pepper spray and a knife close at hand in case anyone dared try something with you. It wasnât masked murderers in the middle of the night that caused a problem, though.Â
It was the torrential downpour that came on like a light switch, drenching you in ice-cold rain in seconds. You held one arm above your head as you walked, but it barely shielded you from the storm.Â
There were hardly any cars on the road, so when a motorcycle pulled up next to you, you were fairly certain you were about to be kidnapped.Â
So when the rider took off his helmet and extended it to you, revealing a quickly drenched Yunho, you couldnât keep the shock from your face.Â
âCome on,â he said. âGet on.âÂ
âWhat?â you asked, because your brain wasnât exactly functioning properly. You didnât even know he had a motorcycle, and you certainly werenât going to get on the back of it.Â
âCome on,â he said again. âItâs pouring. Youâve made it ten feet. Let me take you home.â
You hated the way he said it, but your clothes were getting heavier as he spoke, so you stepped forward and took it.Â
âIsnât it dangerous?â you asked. âYou donât have another helmet?âÂ
He shook his head, freeing some of the wet hair that was stuck to his forehead. âStop talking,â he said. âJust get on.âÂ
You swung a leg over, keeping your distance from him. âWhatâhow do I?â you asked.Â
âHold on to me,â he said. You hesitated. âJust do it, itâs pouring, if you havenât noticed, and Iâd like to get going.âÂ
You scooted forward and placed your hands delicately on the sides of his body. One hand at a time, he pulled you forward even more, putting each of your palms on his chest. âYouâre such a baby,â he said. âJust hold on to me.âÂ
âFine,â you grumbled, pressing your body against his. You hated how large he felt. His back was wide and strong, and his chest felt warm underneath your hands.Â
Before you could think about how much you liked being close to him, he started driving. You hardly even had time to worry about him driving without a helmet in the rain before you were pulling into the apartment complexâs garage.Â
You were still clutching his chest when he said, âYou can let go.âÂ
âOh,â you said, not loud enough to be heard through the helmet. You did, however, jump away from him, pulling your arms back and scooting backward before clambering off the bike altogether.Â
Your heart raced, and a clamminess had settled on your skin beneath all the layers of drenched clothing. When your hands touched his bodyâeven through his clothes, it felt like being electrocuted. No reason for that could be justified by hatred. But you hated it, still. That he was so hot that just touching him made your body react. You convinced yourself it was purely animalistic. That how much you hated him couldnât negate how attractive he was. It made you hate him more.Â
He turned off the bike and swung a leg over to stand up, reaching a hand out to you. You stared at it for a second too long. âThe helmet,â he said.Â
Right, you thought. What was making your brain lag behind? Why couldnât you fucking think straight? Surely it couldnât be the dripping wet 6â1â man in front of you.Â
You took the helmet off and handed it to him. He secured it on the back of the bike, then lifted his hands to grasp his shirt, twisting it. Water fell in droplets onto the floor between you, but your eyes lingered on the patch of exposed skin, the curve of a few abs under the thin shirt. You could barely even process the fact that you were looking, let alone that he looked good. It was only when he cleared his throat that your eyes flicked up to meet his and that stupid smirk that never seemed to fade fully.Â
âThanks for the ride,â you said abruptly before taking a few quick steps away toward the elevator. Unfortunately, he followed, slipping inside before the doors could budge.Â
Right, you wanted to say. Weâre neighbors. At least you wouldnât have to listen to him engaging in his usual extracurricular activities that night. Unless he magically found some way to get a girl back to his place in the middle of the night. Maybe he could summon one from the internet with the power of dating apps. You didnât know how he did it, anyway.Â
The elevator immediately felt small, the ride up to your floor longer than it had ever been. Every time you looked up, he was trying to find your eyes, watching you intently. But neither did he say anythingâand of course, you kept quiet too. Kept actively trying not to look at him. But you were curious, and you couldnât help yourself sometimes. Because who was this man? This man who grated on your nerves and got under your skin and was so god damn annoying, but also left you big tips with nice notes and drove you home from work in the rain? This man who was absolutely gorgeous, whose body you wanted to touch again?
âYou seem like youâre panicking,â he said.
âWhat?â you asked, lifting your head to meet his eyes. He leaned casually against the railing in the elevator, watching you with his hands in his pockets. âIâm not panicking. Why would I be panicking?â you asked, but it was immediately too defensive, too much talking.Â
He raised a brow, nodding almost imperceptibly. âRight,â he said. âAll things someone who isnât panicking would say.â He kicked off the wall, striding toward you, only to stop a few inches short.Â
âWhat are you doing?â you asked.Â
âJust trying to figure you out,â he said.Â
âI donât need figuring out,â you said.Â
âReally?â he asked. He reached out, then, because he couldnât help it. Because he wanted to touch you. His hand skimmed your bicep, and you shivered. He leaned forward. âAre you sure you donât like me?âÂ
âYes,â you said, through gritted teeth, trying to sound as sure of yourself as you possibly could.Â
This only elicited a smile and a dry laugh from Yunho. âYou donât sound sure.âÂ
âI could kiss you, and I would still feel absolutely nothing,â you said with a shrug of your shoulders. Who was he to question your feelings, especially when all youâd ever given him were snarky comments and sass? Did he think a few longing looks at his abs equated true desire?
âProve it,â he said.Â
âWhat?âÂ
âKiss me,â he said.Â
Later that night, when you struggled to sleepâyouâd argue with yourself about the reasons. Youâd say it was a matter of impulse. A desire to prove him wrong. But there would be something in the back of your head, too, a nagging, whispering like the devil on your shoulderâyou did it because you wanted to.Â
When you stepped forward and stood on your toes, you werenât thinking about any of that.Â
It was a challenge, and you werenât one to back down. Simple as that.Â
The kiss started soft. Yunho took a moment to react, his lips still against yours for only a second before he stepped forward into you, forcing you backward into the wall. His hands moved, first grabbing your upper arms, then the sides of your face as he tilted your head back to deepen itâslipping a tongue between your lips.Â
You didnât hold back. Your hands gripped the zippered edges of his jacket, pulling him toward you needlessly.Â
The kiss was not kind or soft, but passionate and aggressive, like something pent up was spilling out for everyone to see.Â
Only the ding of the elevator reaching your floor was enough to separate you. You pulled away, letting your hands drop from his jacket as your thumb came up to wipe away some inevitably smeared lipstickâprobably worse than you could save with a simple action, anyway.Â
âSee,â you said, rolling your shoulders back. âNothing.âÂ
Then, you slipped out from under his grasp and walked out of the elevator, trying to keep your pace even and calm until you were inside your apartment, breathing heavily with your back against the door.Â
Yunho turned to watch you leave, but didnât follow. Instead, he stood stock still in the center of the elevator, fingers touching his lips, until the doors started to close.Â
âYou what?â Jihyo asked. She leaned against the door frame as you dusted blush across your cheekbones.Â
You hadnât exactly planned on telling herâor anyoneâwhat happened, but it just slipped out. There werenât really words to explain the situation. You couldnât figure out why youâd done it, anyway. Heâd tested you, and you werenât one to back away from a dare. You wanted him to know, for certain, that he had no chance with you.Â
But why, then, had it been so difficult to stop thinking about him?Â
âI donât know,â you said, because they were the only words bubbling to the surface in your otherwise Yunho-occupied mind. The heat of his lips on yours, the way his hands roamed all over your skin. You were starting to understand why the women he shared a bed with sang his praises all night long.Â
âWellâwhy? How?â she asked. âWhen?âÂ
When you didnât respond right away, Jihyoâs eyes widened expectantly, waiting for you to reveal all the dirty details of the situation.Â
With a sigh, you put down the brush and turned, leaning against the sink. âHe gave me a ride home last night, after my shift.â
âHe stayed that late?âÂ
âYes,â you said. âAnd I thought it was just to get on my nervesâbut I donât know. He left me a big tip and apologized for being such an ass.â
âHe what?âÂ
âHe left a note on his check. Sorry for being an ass,â you explained.Â
âAnd then he kissed you?â Jihyo asked, one brow raised.Â
You shook your head. âNo. He left. I started walking home. It was cold. It started raining. Yunho found me. I donât know how. Maybe he was waiting. I donât know. He gave me a ride home on his motorcycle, by the way.âÂ
âYou got on a motorcycle with Yunho?âÂ
Your eyes narrowed. âIs that so unbelievable?âÂ
âA little bit, yeah,â she commented.Â
âAnyway, itâs pouring. He drives me home. Weâre in the elevator on the way up, and he just accuses me of looking at him differently.âÂ
âWere you?â Jihyo asked.Â
âHm?âÂ
âWere you looking at him differently?â she clarified.Â
âOh.â You hesitated. âOf course not. But I donât know what I was thinking. The words just kind of came out. I said something along the lines of, I could kiss you and still feel nothing.â You, of course, did remember the exact words youâd spokenâbut you were trying to be aloof. Trying to pretend that it wasnât affecting you.Â
You werenât very good at it. And besides. Jihyo could always see through your bullshit.Â
âAnd then he told me to prove it,â you said, your voice a bit smaller than before, ashamed of the act so many hours past it. An entire night's sleep and you still couldnât believe youâd actually done it. You should have just laughed in his face. Should have ignored him, like you always did.Â
âSo you did,â Jihyo said.Â
âSo I did,â you echoed.Â
âBut you felt something,â she said.Â
âBut I felt something.â Your stomach flipped. You turned away from Jihyo, facing the mirror again, your hands gripping the edge. âAnd I canât stop thinking about it.âÂ
Jihyo, ever the pragmatic, said, âWell, stop thinking about it. Heâs an asshole, remember.âÂ
You werenât naive to believe that his apology truly fixed anything. Besides, maybe this was the long con. Step one: apologize. Step two: get you on the back of his bike. Step three: kiss you in the elevator? Then what?Â
Who would he send over to kick you out in the morning? Some other neighbor?Â
It wasnât feasible, these thoughts. They couldnât go anywhere. It almost made it worseâthat they just had to stay in your head. Trapped. Because acting on them, well, it was a fucking horrible idea. And he was probably just playing with you, anyway. Thatâs what he did.Â
âI remember,â you grumbled.Â
âDo you remember Hongjoong?â she asked, and you could see the way she smiled reflected in the mirror. Pointed, obvious in the point she was conveying.Â
You picked up a lip gloss and ran the wand over your lips. âI didnât cancel the date, did I?â you said. âIâm wearing a cute outfit. Iâm going.âÂ
Jihyo smiled. âOkay. Good.âÂ
âYou know, you can be really judgmental,â you said, a hint of a laugh escaping between words.Â
âThatâs why you love me.â She smiled big and wide. âNow have fun tonight. Thatâs an order. And try to get laid, for the love of god.â
You were standing in front of your door, a little bit tipsy, trying to unlock it, when the one down the hall popped open. You couldnât help the groan that fell from your lips, knowing just who was going to appear in front of you in no time at all.Â
He took his time. You had to give him that. He leaned against the door frame to his own apartment for a little while, watching you struggle. Which was annoying in its own wayâbut at least it was from a distance.Â
The distance didnât last. He got closer.Â
You held up a hand in his direction. âNo,â you said. You werenât drunk enough that your words were slurring, just tipsy enough to say exactly what was on your mind. A dangerous thing, considering what was on your mind lately regarding the man in the hallway. âYou stay over there.â
Thankfully, you got the key to work, letting the door to your apartment swing inward. Yunho was faster, though, and more determined. He caught it with one hand before it could slam closed.Â
âAre you okay?â he asked, and those werenât the words you expected to come out of his mouth. They werenât suggestive or annoying. He actually seemed genuine. Had you ever met a more confusing man? One who could flip back and forth between strange softness and playful humor faster than you could process it?Â
He wore black jeans, the same leather jacket he basically lived in. His near-black hair fell just past his eyebrows, only partially obscuring brown eyes that met your gaze. There was a slight crease between his brows, like he was just as confused as you were about the state of his personalityâabout the way he was acting toward you.Â
âYes,â you said. Yunho closed the door gently behind him. âAnd you canât just invite yourself into my apartment whenever you want.âÂ
âDate didnât go well, I take it?â he asked, that playful tone coming back at half power. The smirk that appeared put in a lot of work.Â
You pressed your lips into a tight line, gritting your teeth. You couldnât help the blush that rose to your cheeks as you grew embarrassed. Any normal person wouldnât have commented on the fact that youâd come home alone after a third dateâespecially after your friends announced so loudly your desire to get laid.Â
âCan we not do this right now?â you asked, crossing your arms over your chest as if to cover some of your obvious discomfort.Â
âYou know,â he said, taking another step closer to you. You didnât move. Of course you didnât. You wanted him closer, even if you wanted to pretend otherwise. And ultimately, your body beat out your mind the moment he intruded upon your personal space. âThe offer still stands.âÂ
Your brain wasnât working. âWhat offer?â you bit out.Â
He didnât touch you, but his hands might as well have been all over your body with how hot you felt. âYou knowâif youâve forgotten what itâs like to be with someone.âÂ
It was enough to make you take a much-needed step back, sobering you some. âOh my god, get a grip, Yunho.âÂ
He just laughed. It wasnât a big deal to him. It was just another joke, another way to get under your skin.Â
You steeled yourself for the lie you needed to speak aloud, to really get the point across. âI donât want you. Iâll never want you. I like my men with a little more⊠dignity.âÂ
For a split second, you were certain youâd hurt his feelings. His eyes softened, and his shoulders lowered. But then he was back to smiling again, acting like it hadnât affected him in the slightest.Â
When had this turned from him asking you if you were okay to him propositioning you again? And why had you wanted to say yes? If it werenât for the voice of Jihyo playing in the back of your head, reminding you that he was an assholeâover and over againâyou might have let it happen. You were feeling just dejected enough, anyway.Â
Hongjoong had basically rejected you. It was rightful, too, since youâd barely paid attention to him during your date. Your mind had been on other things. Other people. And besides, thereâd been no spark. He didnât push your buttons. He didnât make you laugh.Â
âReally, though,â Yunho said, taking a more serious tone againâenough to give you whiplash. âAre you okay?âÂ
âIâm fine,â you said.Â
âYou donât seem fine,â Yunho said.Â
âIf I needed a friend, Iâd call Jihyo. Or Wooyoung.âÂ
Again, that look of hurt. Like heâd been struck.Â
âRight,â he said. âObviously.â He took a step away from you, toward the door. âSorry.â You were too stunned to speak. âIâll see you later.â
When you woke up the next morning, there was no woman to escort out of Yunhoâs apartment. Your apartment sat empty. Quiet. It continued like that for several days. Nearly a week. You let Jihyo and Wooyoung talk you out of going over there, of making sure everything was okay with him. That he hadnât died or moved out or something.Â
No matter what excuses you made up, however, you still couldnât get him out of your head. Even when he wasnât around to bother you. You found yourself hoping to catch him around a corner, in the elevator, or by his bike in the parking garage. You didnât.Â
He was strangely absent.Â
Not only that, but his apartment was quiet, too.Â
That should have resulted in better sleep, but you found yourself awake for other reasons, staring at the ceiling. You could find any reason to doubt yourself. Maybe youâd been too quick to judge him. The way his face had fallen the last time you spoke haunted you. Eyes open or closed, you could still see the ghost of his disappointment. The soft tenor of his voice and the way he sounded so genuine.Â
Convincing yourself that it was a fluke did not help.Â
And somehow, you always ended up back in that elevator, his lips hot on yours.Â
Yunho was hot. Of course, he was. You had never questioned that fact. You had explicitly tried to ignore it. But he wasnât your type. He liked to push your buttons, get under your skin. He didnât respect basic boundaries.Â
Now, he was gone. The firm boundary youâd put in place was being respected, and you found yourself being the one who wanted to cross it.Â
Maybe that was growth. Or maybe it was all a part of Yunhoâs grand scheme to get in your pants. If you thought about it for too long, you could believe anything. It was the only the long con, a way of getting to you by disappearing when you were finally interestedâor, it was the first genuine thing heâd ever done.Â
And it made you feel bad.Â
Something shot through your nervous system, a realization that you didnât want to make eye contact. You missed him.
It was nearly a week later when you spotted his door clicking shut just as you were leaving to run a few errands.Â
Maybe it wasnât a good idea. Maybe he didnât want to talk to you. But after all the times heâd barged in uninvited, you figure it was okay to intrude on his space just once. Walking the short distance from your door to his, however, did cause a strange anxiety to settle in next to your heart, tucked away in your ribcage. A thrumming that whispered, âWhat are you doing? Why are you doing it?â over and over again.Â
It didnât stop you from raising your hand to tap your knuckles against the door.Â
When Yunho opened the door, he looked a little worse for wear. His hair was fluffier than usual, sticking up in places like heâd spent the last seven days running his hands through it. He looked you up and down. A smile appeared on his lips, but it wasnât the same as the proud one youâd grown used to. He didnât say anything, just watched you.Â
âHey,â you said. Attempting to be casual didnât exactly suit you.Â
âHey?â he repeated.Â
âYeah,â you said. âHey.â You tried to meet his gaze, but his eyes kept moving away, finding something else to look at whenever you got close.Â
He had one hand on the door, holding it open. It would be easier that way, to close it whenever he needed to. Because he wanted to look at you. He wanted to meet your gaze. But there was this ball of anger in the pit of his stomach, too. A tightly wound piece of hatred. Not for you, of course. He couldnât hate you. No. He hated himself. And he would never say it out loud, not to himself and certainly not to youâbut he hated himself for being someone you didnât want.Â
But all he could do was look past your eyes and force a smile.Â
Unfortunately, the hatred he felt toward himself manifested as anger. âDo you need something?âÂ
The sharpness in his tone sliced straight through you. âWhat?âÂ
âYou made it clear you donât want me,â he said.Â
âWellââ you stammered. âThat doesnât mean we canât be friends.â
âYou have Jihyo and Wooyoung, right? Thatâs what you said.â He paused and finally met your eyes. Something crossed his face. âBesides, I donât want to be your friend.â
âOh,â you said. The anxiety tucked away in your chest blossomed, and your heart began to race. This was a mistake, then. At least you could leave and pretend it never happened. Why then, were you so frozen solid to the spot in front of his door? Why couldnât you just turn and walk away? Why could you feel the ghost of his lips on yours, the heat of his palms on your arms? Why couldnât you look away?Â
âYouâre afraid to admit it, but Iâm not,â he said, his voice dropping to that low, gentle tone once more. The one you hadnât been able to stop thinking about. The one that floated through your dreams like a melody. âI like you.âÂ
Your lips parted. He leaned forward to look at you on eye level, studying you. He didnât touch you, just let his eyes bore into yours. It was far too intimate than your racing heart could take.Â
âYou think Iâm all bad,â he said. âIâm not. Let me take you out sometime. Iâll prove it to you.â The corners of his lips turned up in a small smile. Hopeful.Â
It was your own self-hatred, your own uncertainty, your own self-consciousness, your own fear, that made you say what you did. âI canât,â you said. âIâm sorry.â
âItâs okay,â he said. And thatâs what broke you. Not the rejection, but the acceptance. The way his smile turned firm as he stood straight up and stepped away from you, moving to close the door just as you turned to flee.Â
Several days passed, but even the passage of time didnât make you feel any better.Â
It wasnât the first time youâd had this conversation, and it probably wouldnât be the last, either, given how much youâd been thinking about it. About him. Even your thoughts felt selfish. Because you could have him, if you really wanted to. If you really wanted to have him, you could walk over to his apartment and tell him that.Â
But something held you back.Â
The fear, mostly.Â
The thought that you would just end up like all the other girls heâd engaged in one-night stands with. You werenât exactly a one-night stand kind of girl. Or, at least, you werenât certain that was what you wanted from Yunho. You didnât know what you wanted. Maybe that was the scariest part.Â
âYou didnât see the look on his face,â you said, sinking deeper and deeper into the couch.Â
It was Wooyoung who eventually said. âIf you like him, I guess I donât really see what the problem is.â
âThe problem is he has a different girl over every night,â Jihyo commented.Â
âNot every night. Besides, he hasnât in a while,â you said, which earned you a look from Jihyo. âWhat? The walls are thin. I can hear everything.â
âMaybe heâs a changed man,â Wooyoung commented.Â
âDoubt it,â Jihyo said.Â
You could only shrug. âI donât know. I hardly know him, anyway.â You let out a long, deep breath. âIâll get over it eventually. So will he. Iâm sure itâll be fine in a few weeks. Maybe weâll even laugh about it.â
Hours later, when Jihyo and Wooyoung finally left your apartmentâyou stood at the door, waiting for them to get on the elevator. An old habit. Like making sure they got home safe. The elevator doors opened, and Yunho stepped out. You only saw him at first.Â
Then, you saw her. The girl hanging off his arm. Laughing. Smiling.Â
Jihyo shot you a look, but you shook your head. It was fine. You didnât need them coming to your rescue over a man youâd rejected. They got into the elevator and disappeared. You tried to close your door fast, but Yunho spotted you first. You just barely caught him raising a few fingers in a wave, a smile on his lips, before the hastily shut door separated you both.Â
Something bloomed in your chest, hot and angry. Youâd seen him with other women before. Countless times, in fact. Youâd heard them through your walls, escorted them out afterward. And youâd never been angry at anything other than the inconvenience.Â
But now the anger flushed your system of coherent thoughts. The tips of your ears turned red as you rested your forehead against the closed door. This wasnât anger. As much as you wanted to believe it, manifest it into being soâit was so much worse.Â
Jealousy.Â
It made your skin crawl, the realization. You were jealous. And the worst part was that you had no right to be. He had offered you the same thing he gave all those girls, and youâd turned him down. So why now, did you have your head resting on the door and your eyes squeezed tight? Maybe it wasnât just jealousy, but anger too.Â
Anger at your own poor decision-making skills. Anger at Yunho forâwhat exactly? Moving on? You were the one whoâd been adamant that there was absolutely nothing between you. Heâd shot his shot and failed. Had you expected him to retire from the little game he played every weekend?Â
You tried to remind yourself what would have happened if youâd gone out with him. That he wasnât relationship material. That he didnât want you like you wanted him.Â
Fuck. You wanted him.Â
You wanted him, and it made you feel like an idiot.Â
Is that how everyone who ended up in his bed felt? Confused and annoyed, angry with his charming personality and his ability to sweep pretty much anyone off their feet without really even trying?Â
And when had this happened, anyway? Heâd moved in a few months ago. Youâd been tolerating his presence sinceâand then things just, well, shifted.Â
It didnât even matter if you ended up as just another one-night standâyou wanted to be in his bed, underneath him, no matter what the outcome was. It was that thought that pulled you away from the door and sent you into the bedroom, diving under the covers and attempting to think about anything other than what was possibly going on in the next room over.Â
Damn his stupid motorcycle and the way his shirt, damp with rain and sweat, had stuck to his skin. Damn his stupid, charming smile that shifted between snarky and kind. Damn his everything, every detail that made you look twice, that had you second-guessing every moment, every interaction.Â
It was even worse, knowing that he wanted you, too. Knowing that he wanted you, and that you could have just had him, if you werenât such an idiot.Â
And so you oscillated back and forth like that for a whileâbetween being annoyed at yourself for rejecting him and at him for being so charming and so untrustworthy at the same time.Â
It went on like that for some time before you eventually fell asleep to thoughts of walking down the hall and throwing the door open, to grabbing him and kissing himâbefore your mind eventually decided being awake no longer served you.Â
Unfortunately, when morning came, it wasnât with a new, refreshed mind.Â
Instead, more thoughts swarmed, and before you could stop and think about what you were doing, you were standing in the hallway outside Yunhoâs apartment in your pajamas.Â
It wasnât until you raised your hand to knock that you realized exactly where you were.Â
Yunho must have sensed it. The door swung open, and there he was, standing there with that somewhat charming, somewhat obnoxious smile on his face, looking at you like thisâwhatever you were doingâwas, in fact, completely normal behavior.Â
He looked just out of bed, messy hair and plaid pajama pants. A white shirt that clung to him and a loose robe overtop. One hand held a mug of coffee, and he leaned against the door frame in such a casual manner as you glanced him over, trying to figure out some excuse for why youâd shown up at his door.Â
âGood morning,â he said. There was a coldness to his voice. Something absent from his tone that you didnât want to linger on. Like he was distancing himself from you.Â
Words failed you.Â
âIââ you started. You took a step forward, nearly into his body. He didnât yield against you, instead holding firm in the door frame. You tried to look over his shoulder to see if the girl was still present. Did he not want your help escorting her out?
The smile that fell on his lips was slow, and you watched him figure you out in record time.Â
âLooking for someone?â he asked, that cold tone growing warmer, charm seeping back into his words, that familiar enjoyment. A cat playing with a mouse.Â
You took a step back. âNo.âÂ
âSeems like you are.âÂ
âIâm not,â you said, but you werenât able to keep the defensive note from your voice. It was so painstakingly clear to both of you why you were there and what you were looking for. It became a game, then, of who would concede the space first. Who would give up. You could easily admit your lie, but there was no pride in that. And Yunho, well, he could just as easily call you out on it, but that didnât seem like the path he wanted to take, either.Â
Instead, it turned into a standoff of words loaded into guns and backs turned. Paces counted before firing. Eye contact, before your gaze dropped to his lips, and the slow smile crawling across turned into a smirk of victory undeserved.Â
âI just thought you might want my help,â you said, cocking your head back and crossing your arms. A feeble attempt to gain some ground.Â
âI donât,â he said. Sharp. You hated that the simple words cut, even though you would have claimed to hate said help only a week prior.Â
âYou donât,â you repeated.Â
Your cursed brain. Heâd found someone else. Someone else to break the streak of one-night stand girls. Heâd found someone else, and it was too late, and youâd ruined everything out of pure indecisiveness and misguided advice.Â
Maybe he wasnât even such a bad guy.Â
Maybe your vision had been clouded by jealousy from the very beginning.Â
Yunho stepped away from the door, walking deeper into the apartment. You hesitated. He brought down another mug and filled it, pushing it in your direction and eying you to take it.Â
âYou know,â he said. âYouâre cute when youâre jealous.âÂ
Your brows drew together as you watched him, sipping his coffee and looking over the cup at you, still standing in the hallway.Â
âIâm notââ you started, but he just laughed. âIâm really not.âÂ
âThen why are you here?â he asked, the genuine nature of his voice catching you off guard. âYou already rejected me, remember?âÂ
Your feet carried you into his apartment. You closed the door behind you.Â
âI remember,â you said. You stopped across from him and reached over to pick up the mug of coffee, the kitchen island separating you. You looked over your shoulder, eyes wandering toward the open door of his bedroom.Â
âYouâre funny,â he said.Â
âWhat?â you asked, eyes snapping back to him.Â
âThereâs no one here,â Yunho said. He set his coffee mug down on the counter and walked closer to you. âAnd whatever youâre trying to doâyouâre not very good at it.â
He reached up and took the coffee mug out of your hands, placing it on the counter next to his.Â
âThereâs no one here,â you said, repeating his words back to him for the second time. It was easier than finding new ones to say.Â
He rolled his eyes, but the annoyance didnât reach his lips. No, those still held that same pleased smile, like he knew something you didnât.Â
Yunho reached out, closing the distance between you, to tuck a lock of hair behind your ear. He looked down at you with a gaze you couldnât place. Something between admiration and lust. His fingers trailed down your jaw and hooked under your chin.Â
His touch froze you. You could only blink and watch, your gaze darting between his mouth and his eyes.Â
âAre you jealous?â he asked, holding your chin and looking at you carefully.Â
âI donât know,â you said, because that was the truth. All the thoughts in your mind were jumbled, and nothing made sense when it came to him.Â
He raised one brow, skeptical. âDid you need to borrow something?â he asked. âOr yell at me because the TV was too loud?âÂ
âNo,â you said.Â
âThen why did you come over?â he asked. He led you toward the answer, walked you there while holding your chin and making sure you kept your eyes trained on his. His voice was gentle, but sternâand you knew he wouldnât relent until you gave him the truth.Â
You sighed, and this small act of giving up only made the corners of his lips turn up. âI couldnât stop thinking about you,â you said. His lips parted in shock. Because heâd been expecting an admission regarding your jealousy, not the way that he raced through your mind all night. But you kept going, anyway. âAnd I didnât mean to come over, I meanâI guess I did. But I left my apartment, and then here I wasâand I wasnât even going to knock, but you opened the door, and then all I could think about was whether or not you had a girl over.âÂ
His hand slipped from your chin to lay flat against the side of your head, his palm on your cheek and his fingers dipping into your hair.Â
Your heart raced faster as his eyes dropped to your lips, and your first kiss played on a loop over and over again until you were stepping closer to him, lifting a hand to touch the one on your cheek.Â
He inched closer too, until your bodies were almost touching.Â
Yunhoâs eyes met yours, then flicked downward. Up and back. Your eyes followed the same pattern, and you moved closer, closer, a centimeter at a time, until his lips were on yours again and everything agonizingly slow kicked into full speed.Â
His other hand came up to cup your other cheek as he kissed you slowly. It wasnât the abrupt, intense heat of the kiss you shared in the elevator, but a soft, molten kiss that sent your nerves firing.Â
When he pulled away, it was only a half an inch, barely enough to keep you from recapturing his lips and stopping whatever sentence whirred to life behind hazy eyes. âThatâs what I wanted our first kiss to be like,â he said.Â
âI liked our first kiss,â you said, without really thinking.Â
He dropped his forehead against yours. âMe too.âÂ
âI liked the second too.â But you didnât let yourself reach out again, not with the last thought that nagged at the back of your mind. âWhat about the girlâyour date last night?âÂ
âShe didnât stay long. I couldnât stop thinking about my neighbor.â He put a half-stepâs worth of space between you.Â
âHow annoying,â you said, laughing under your breath.Â
âYeah, she really is,â he teased. âKinda hot, though.âÂ
âKinda?â you asked, raising a brow at him.Â
âOkay, insanely,â Yunho said, crossing his arms over his chest. âSo hot sheâs driven me mad since the day I moved in. Is that what you want to hear?âÂ
You couldnât help the smile that spread across your lips. âYes.âÂ
âNow will you let me take you out?â he asked.Â
You hadnât thought about what would happen after you stormed over to his apartment without invitation, nor what would happen after his lips were on yours. You thought he would try something more, but he kept his distanceâasked about dates instead.Â
âYou look shocked,â he said.Â
âIâm not,â you said, and he chuckled under his breath. Apparently, you were easier to read than you thought, or maybe he was just good at knowing what you were thinking. Somehow, that wasnât as annoying as it used to be.Â
âNot jealous, not shockedâŠâ he trailed off. âNot very good at lying, either.âÂ
âI just didnât think dating was really your thing,â you said.Â
He placed a hand to his heart in mock hurt. âYou wound me,â he said. âIâm a romantic at heart, youâll see.â
âOh, will I?â you asked, âFrom what Iâve heard, it doesnât sound like romance.â You tilted your head to the side, looking up at him, watching for the reaction.Â
His brows lifted a hair. âYouâve been listening.âÂ
âThe walls are thin, Yunho.âÂ
âAnd thatâs why youâre jealous?â he asked, reaching out to poke your cheek. âBecause of what youâve been hearing?âÂ
âNo,â you stammered, a crinkle developing between your brows in irritation.Â
âI canât figure you out,â he said. âYou think Iâm this big player, right? But youâre also up at night with your ear to the wall trying to listen in soâI think you might be the real freak, here.âÂ
You slapped his arm playfully. âI am not.âÂ
âWeâll see,â he said, continuing before you could get a word in, âLet me take you out tonight.â
âIâm working,â you said.Â
âTomorrow night.â
You pretended to ponder the availability of your schedule. Since your minor situationship with Hongjoong fizzled out, you hadnât had plans with anyone but Jihyo and Wooyoung. And they wouldnât mind a night off from having to listen to your problems. Maybe youâd get an earful from Jihyo about how you were choosing to spend the night, instead, but Wooyoung would come around.Â
âTomorrow night,â you confirmed.Â
It was strange how quickly everything turned over in your mind. Maybe you were naive, but one kiss and youâd started to see him differently. That voice that nagged in the back of your mind, reminding you that maybe he was like this with all the girls he brought back, had disappeared completely. Instead, you found ways to justify it all. There was nothing wrong with sleeping around, anyway.Â
Youâd had more active times in your life, too. And no one had judged you for that, well, experimentation.Â
He watched the cogs turn behind your eyes. âWhat are you thinking?â he asked.Â
âJust trying to figure you out, is all.â
He opened his mouth, then closed it, rethinking whatever it was he wanted to say. It seemed like you were both playing the same gameâtrying to understand the other without giving too much away, without making a big deal out of something that hadnât gone anywhere, yet.Â
âSo,â you said. A blanket of silence suddenly fell between you, the awkward air of the kiss settling on your shoulders, and the future plans made.Â
âSo,â Yunho said, much cooler, calmer, than you had. âIâll see you tomorrow night, then?âÂ
âYeah,â you said. âDefinitely.âÂ
You took a step back, but he reached out to grab your hand before you could get too far. He held it, not too tight, but not exactly with a gentle grasp, either. âIâm looking forward to it,â he said. âReally.âÂ
Heat rose to your cheeks.Â
âYeah,â you said. âMe too,â before disappearing from his apartment. By the time you were back home, your palms were sweating.Â
Was this a horrible idea? And if it was, why did you want it so badly?
The next 36 hours went by at an unimaginably slow pace. In that time, you managed to spend a good several more hours overthinking, at least thirty minutes on the phone with Jihyo, convincing her that this was, maybe, a good idea, actually, and the rest of the time panicking about your ability to make decisions regarding your love life.Â
âIt doesnât have to be anything,â Jihyo said at the end of the call, after retiring her role as devilâs advocate. âIt was just a kiss, right? And itâs just a date.âÂ
âMaybe I want it to be something,â you said. âThatâs what scares me. What if he doesnât?âÂ
You could hear her shrug over the line. âGuess youâll have to ask him.â
Wooyoung chimed in from over Jihyoâs shoulder. âBesides, whatâs the worst thing that can happen, anyway? You find out if the sex is good, and then he stops showing up at your apartment without permission?âÂ
You pinched your nose between your thumb and forefinger. âNeither of you are helpful,â you said.Â
Hours after the call, however, you couldnât help but admit that Wooyoungâs words were true. This was a sexual attraction. Yunho was sexy. He had a confusing charm to him that you never understood, and a contagious smile. He was goofy, good at video games, and fun to bicker withâbut you didnât really know him, did you?Â
So you decided thatâs what the date would be for.Â
Youâd get to know him. Decide exactly what you wanted. And if that was just sex, well. There wasnât anything wrong with that, right? Maybe fucking him would get him out of your head, too. Though, you had a feeling that probably wouldnât be the case.Â
By the time eight oâclock rolled around, you were standing in your bedroom, looking in the floor-length mirror, still attempting to determine exactly which outfit was right for the date.Â
Youâd never been this nervous for a date before.Â
It was just a date. Yunho was just a man.Â
The knock at the door, however, sent your heart into your stomachâso maybe you were just lying to yourself. Either way, it wasnât working.Â
You smoothed your hands down the front of your shirt, over the sides of your skirt. Was there time to change? He was on the other side of the door, and still, you didnât feel exactly right. Almost like you were wearing a costume, something to impress him, but not something that was really you.Â
The nerves were getting to you, and all you had to do was just open the door.Â
Open the door, and he would be there, staring back at you. You knew exactly what he would look like, too. Leather jacket, permanent smirk curling up the corners of his lips, knowing brown eyes scanning you. It was a comfort, almost, this knowing.Â
But still, you were frozen.Â
Like opening the door was some kind of test of your own nature. He was the same, steady. Predictable. But you? Was he on the other side of the door, telling himself the same thing, that you were thereâfamiliar?
What if he didnât like this version of you? The one who had spent hours trying to figure out how to look just right, for him. The one wearing a skirt, the one who was excited about the date, who had gotten her hopes up.Â
What if he had only ever liked you because you didnât like him?
You rubbed your temples, trying to quiet the ever-existing anxiety that stirred behind your eyes, a reminder that this was something you fucking cared about, which only made the whole thing worse. You cared, which meant you could screw it up. You could screw it up, and it would hurt.Â
âYou gonna open the door?â Yunho asked from the hall. He had this weird ability to read your mind, to sense when you were nearby. Like he knew some part of you that even you couldnât see.Â
You opened the door halfway through an eye roll.Â
And there he was.Â
He looked nothing like youâd imagined in your head. His leather jacket was missing, replaced by a black suit jacket with a white button-up underneath, a skinny black tie cut down the middle. Though you could barely see his torso behind the bouquet of flowers he held in one arm.Â
Yunhoâs eyes stayed glued to yours. They didnât wander, as yours did. But that slow smile did crawl across his lips as you took him in, this different version of him.Â
âAre those for me?â you asked, looking at the arrangement of tulips and babyâs breath.Â
He took a step closer to you, dropping his free hand around your shoulders to place a kiss atop your head, into your hair. It was immediately overwhelming, being in his presence again, especially after so many hours of trying to pretend that he had no effect on you.Â
Well, there that effect was. The way your heart immediately beat faster, your nervous system racing into high alert, goosebumps rising on your forearms. You would think that something was truly wrong, the way your body reacted. Like this was something to run away from. But coupled with the feeling of ignitionâthe warmth of him being close started a fire somewhere deep within youâthere was no chance you would run away.Â
âDo you have a vase I can put these in?â he said, answering your arguably dumb question as he took a step away from you.Â
You moved out of the way, letting him step into your apartment. A place familiar to him. Some place heâd basically broken into over and over again. He moved through it like it belonged to him, walking into the kitchen to grab a vase from under the sink. He filled it with water and placed the bouquet inside, leaving it on the counter.Â
âYou seem nervous,â he commented as he trimmed away the plastic wrapping with a pair of scissors heâd also known the location of.Â
Your arms were crossed over your chest, not in disappointment or contempt, but because you had to hold onto something to steady yourself. Your fingers dug into your biceps only slightly, but he must have caught that, too.Â
Or maybe he was just so used to the inner workings of your mind, your body, that he could sense these differences too.Â
You had no idea he paid so much attention.Â
âIâm not,â you said. But even a stranger would have known you were lying.Â
He peeled away the rest of the crinkling plastic and put it in the trash, snipping the rubber band on the bouquet and letting the flowers fall outward.Â
âTheyâre pretty,â you said, as if that could distract from your nerves and his commentary on them. âThank you.âÂ
You kept your distance from him, standing just outside the kitchen while he worked. But once finished, he strode toward you again. He stopped just short, not opting to reach for you, just looking.Â
âYouâre welcome,â he said. âYou sure youâre okay?âÂ
You cleared your throat as you nodded. âMhm.âÂ
He could only chuckle under his breath. You were standing so straight, holding yourself so tightly. He did reach out, then, peeling one of your hands away from your arm to hold it. He laced his fingers between yours.Â
Yunhoâs hands were large and warm, and they didnât serve to ground you any.Â
Oh god. What was happening to you?Â
You tried to remind yourself of everything youâd said earlier. This was just a date. Yunho was just a man. A really, really fucking hot man. And a man who drove you absolutely insane. A man who knew how to kiss.Â
âYou ready to go?â he asked, eyes flicked downward, watching your joined hands. He couldntât believe it eitherâwas just better at keeping his coolâthat this was actually happening. That youâd agreed to it.Â
âYes,â you said, and the pair of you walked out of your apartment together. He made eyes at you in the elevator.Â
Were you both thinking about the same thing? The upward quirk of his smile was enough to make you think yes.Â
âYou are nervous,â Yunho commented as the doors to the lobby slid open.Â
âShut up,â you said. âIâm not.â
He held his free hand up in defense. âNot a very nice way to talk to your date.â
You shot a glare in his direction, but it wasnât very threatening when paired with the smile gracing your lips.Â
He squeezed your hand. âWhy?âÂ
âWhy, what?â you asked.Â
âWhy are you nervous?â
âIâm not nervous,â you said again, but this time the pointed look was from him. And frankly, it was deserved. âShut up,â you said again, as the two of you stepped outside. âIâm not nervous, youâre nervous.â
âIâm a little nervous,â he said.Â
He kept your hand in his as you walked. He didnât tell you where you were going, and you didnât ask.Â
âWhat?â you asked. âThe Jeong Yunho, nervous? Havenât you done this like a million times?â
âYeah, but never with you,â he said, which only made heat rise to your cheeks.Â
You were still not used to this version of Yunho. The charming one. The complement to the snarky asshole whoâs been appearing in your apartment for the past several months.Â
âWhere are you taking me, anyway?â you asked, diverting the conversation from compliments that made your skin turn pink.Â
âWeâre almost there,â he said.Â
There were so many other questions flying through your head, but it was so much harder to form words around him, now. It was easier before, when all those words were full of frustration and anger, when you were making fun of him or reacting to his torment. When he was being kind to you, it only left you speechless and on uneven footing.Â
Thankfully, he was right. In only a few minutes of walking, you arrived at a small Italian bistro. A place youâd seen a hundred times on walks home from work, but never stopped into. It wasnât exactly a bartenderâs salary kind of place, unless you wanted to blow an entire monthâs food budget on delicious gnocchi. Which, honestly, youâd thought about plenty of times before.Â
Booths lined the walls with tables in the center, spread out and quiet, each with its own warm candlelight in the middle, its own dangling chandelier in the center. The tables were preset with wine glasses and cutlery.Â
He gave his name at the host stand, and the two of you followed her to a table. Yunhoâs hand settled on your lower back as you walked.Â
Only the thin layer of your shirt stopped the electricity from knocking you out, dulling it to a mild spark instead. You slid into a booth opposite him.Â
The host rattled off some wine specials.Â
âWhatever you suggest,â Yunho said, smiling warmly at the woman.Â
She disappeared momentarily, then returned with a bottle of red wine with a name you didnât know how to pronounce. She filled up your glasses, then left the bottle behind.Â
âSo,â Yunho said, picking up his glass to look at you over it. âI should have said this already, but you look really nice tonight.â
âDonât,â you said, a knee-jerk reaction to his complimenting. âI meanââ
âYou know this is a date, right?â he teased. âYou agreed to go on a date with me.â
You laughed under your breath, covering your mouth with your hand. âSorry,â you said, trying not to laugh. âStill trying to get used to you being like this.â
âLike what?â he asked, one brow raised.Â
âOh, come on. You know like what,â you fired back. You lifted your glass of wine too and took a small sip. It was delicious. Deep and dry.Â
He set his wine glass down and leaned slightly forward with both elbows on the table, trying to get closer to you. He tilted his head to the side, watching you curiously. âI donât,â he said.Â
âAll charming and nice,â you said.Â
âI think Iâve always been charming and nice,â Yunho said.Â
You shake your head, taking another sip of your wine to hide the fact that the smile wonât fade from your lipsâthat being around him made you smile, now. âThatâs not true, and you know it, Yunho.â
âI donât know what you mean.â
âPlease,â you said. âYou canât pretend that for the last several months you havenât been trying to get on my last nerve.â
He pursed his lips like he was really, actually taking the time to think about it. âMaybe I just like getting you all hot and bothered,â he said, finally.Â
âWasnât hot,â you said. âJust bothered.â
âAnd now?â Yunho asked, leaning even further over the table, as if making direct eye contact would allow him to glean every secret you ever had.Â
âStill just bothered, I think,â you teased, lifting your glass to your lips.Â
Yunho leaned back in his seat, picking up his own glass and smiling smugly to himself. âI do like a challenge.â
When the waitress came over to ask about starting courses, you were still looking at one another, like you were both trying to place exactly what was going on, exactly what all of it meant. Yunho looked at you like he was trying to read your mind, trying to figure out what you thought about him, and you looked at him like you were trying to piece together a complex puzzle, trying to figure out what he wanted from you.Â
It was Yunho who broke eye contact first, who glanced over at the waitress, who ordered a few starters for the table.Â
When she walked away, you were still looking at him, watching. Studying, almost. Like you could glean something in the way he talked to others, in whether he chose bruschetta or burrata.Â
âSo,â he said, lowering his empty glass back to the table.Â
âSo,â you mirrored.Â
It occurred to you then that you knew almost nothing about him, aside from the fact that he liked video games and coffee. Aside from what his mouth felt like against yours.Â
You engaged in tense, short, small talk for a little while, until the food came out. How work had been for you, what heâd been up to with his time. Trying to get to know each other even a little bit more. It all came back to pointed glances and tensionâboth of you guarded against something. Not each other, really, but refusing to let the other in.Â
Yunho didnât give much away about himself, only continued asking about you. And you could only tease him in response. Keeping him at a distance by pushing back, instead.Â
As the wine levels lowered, so did your defenses.Â
âIs this how it usually goes for you?â you asked, finishing off your second glass of wine while you waited for his answer. He didnât speak immediately, so you clarified. âLike, on all your dates, is this usually how things go?â
âI donât know where you got this idea that I go on tons of dates,â he said.Â
It only served to stun you. Becauseâwhere else would you have gotten that information, aside from the obvious? By living next door. By kicking out said dates the next morning.Â
âI meanââ you started.Â
âYour impression of me,â he said. âItâs wrong. You think Iâm this ladies man, right?â He laughed like he couldnât even say the words with a straight face. âIâm really not.â
âOh, please,â you said, because you knew that to be false. Youâd met the women. Spoken with them.Â
He chuckled under his breath. âJust because they were at my house didnât mean I went out on dates with them. You know that, right? That you donât have to go on a date with someone to get into bed with them?â He raised a brow in such a suggestive way that you choked on your saliva.Â
âI know that,â you said. Even though it didnât really occur to you that he wasnât actually dating anyone.Â
âThis is the first date Iâve been on in over a year,â he said, offering up something about himself completely unprompted. âSo I donât know how itâs going, really. My date seems a little tense. A little nervous, even though she doesnât want to admit it.â
âYou havenât been on a date in over a year?â you asked, lingering on the details. âBut youâre soââ you started, then realized you had no idea how to finish the sentence. What? Active?Â
âLetâs just get this conversation over with,â Yunho said, a bit of tension appearing in the crease between his brows. He didnât want to talk about this, didnât want to draw attention to it. But you were so obviously curious, and it was so easy to do anything when it was what you wanted.Â
âNo,â you said, holding a hand up. âItâs okay, really. I shouldnât have assumed anything.â
âItâs okay,â he said. âIt makes sense why you did. The women Iâve been with, they knew what I was looking for. I didnât trick them or make them think I was looking for a relationship when I wasnât. We met at bars or clubs or on dating apps. I didnât date any of them.âÂ
âOkay,â you said.Â
âSo, I guess Iâm kind of rusty,â he said. âWhen it comes to stuff like this.â
You laughed. âYouâre not rusty at all,â you said. âYouâre charming. Youâve always been charming.âÂ
âOh, yeah?â
âYeah,â you said. âLike, annoyingly so.âÂ
He looked down at the table, but not before you caught the slight blush appearing on his cheeks. Had you actually made Yunho blush?
âI think that makes you the experienced dater in the situation, then,â Yunho said.Â
This, too, made you laugh. Because if there was anything you didnât have experience with, it was dating. All of your dates had endedâwith a fizzle and certainly without a bang. Your track record over the past year or two was mostly boring. Boring men who didnât make you laugh. Boring men who you couldnât bicker playfully with. Men who wanted more from you than you had to give. Or not enough.Â
âI donât know about that,â you said. Then, âMaybe weâre both losers.â
A bright smile crossed his lips. âYeah,â he said. âMaybe.â
The rest of the dinner went by without as much tension. You learned a few little bits of information about one another. Where he grew up. What you studied in school. What your favorite drink to make at work was.Â
âDo you like it?â he asked, refilling your wine when a new bottle appeared at the table seemingly out of nowhere. âYour job?âÂ
You shrugged. âMost of the time, yes.â You took a small sip. âI like the people. The regulars are mostly cool. And I get this glimpse into peopleâs lives that I donât think I could get anywhere else. I only get to see what they want to show me. What they tell me about their day, or whatever baggage they bring to the counter. I like that.â
âIs what they say about bartenders really true?â he asked. âDo people tell you their life stories, their secrets?â
âSometimes,â you said. âDepends on the person, and how many drinks theyâve had. Most people keep to themselves, but I have a few regulars who like to talk.â
âYouâre kind of fascinating, you know that?â he asked.Â
âWhat?â you said, exhaling a short laugh.Â
âWhen I moved in down the hall, you were headed out somewhere with Wooyoung and Jihyoââ
You interrupted him. âNo, thatâs okay, you donât have toââ
âWhy?â he asked. âI like this story.â
You put your hands over your face like you could hide from it, from your own actions several months ago.Â
âYou walked right over to me and introduced yourself. I thought that was pretty cool.âÂ
Really? Because you had recounted that interaction several times in the hours afterward, convinced that you had made a complete ass out of yourself, convinced that you were the lamest person in the entire world.Â
âDo you remember what you said to me?â he asked.Â
âNo,â you said. Even though you obviously did. Even though you knew exactly the words youâd said.Â
Yunho smiled. âThat I could come over any time if I needed something. That you were excited to have a cool, new neighbor.â
You hid your face behind your hands again. âGod, thatâs so lame.âÂ
âI thought it was cute.â
âYou did not,â you said.Â
He took a sip of his wine, eyes not leaving yours as he did. Heat rose to your cheeks, and you were certain that this embarrassment was going to kill you.Â
âAnd then you came over whenever you wanted for the rest of forever,â you said. âJust to bother me.â
He laughed again. âI came over because I thought you were cute.â
âI thought you were just trying to get away from the girls in your apartment.â
âYeah,â he said. âBecause they werenât you.â
You rolled your eyes at him because it was such a line. So something he would say to get what he wanted, to make a girl blush, or make them want him. It was probably something he said to those girls in the bar, to get them to come home with him. Not that he probably had to say much of anything at all. His appearance could do most of the talking.Â
âDonât roll your eyes at me,â he said. âIâm being honest here.â
âYou are not,â you said.Â
His eyebrows raised at your blatant dismissal. âJust because you donât want to believe me doesnât make it untrue.â
âYunho, be serious.â
âI am being serious,â he said. âNone of those girls meant anything to me. They knew it. I knew it.â
âHow charming,â you said.Â
âAre you going to keep judging me for this, or can we move on?â he asked, straight-faced, just as blatant as your words. It must have been the alcohol, making you both so free to talk about what you were really thinking.Â
âIâm not judging you for sleeping around. I donât care about your sex life, Yunho. I really donât,â you said. âYou just canât expect me to believe that you were thinking about me the whole time. I mean, we didnât even know each other.â
âI know you wake up at ten on weekdays and eleven on weekends. I know you record more reality TV than any sane person probably should. I know that you like coffee and you hate tea. I know you make a really good old-fashioned. I know you like people. I know youâre kind, but you donât take peopleâs shit.â
It was all true.Â
âAnd I know I think about you when you arenât around. I know that Iâm not good enough for you even on my best days.âÂ
âThatâs not true,â you said. âYouâre good.â
âIs that why you rejected me?â he asked.Â
âNo,â you said. âI rejected you because I wanted more than I thought you wanted to give me.â
Something lit up behind his eyes when he smiled.Â
The rest of the date went on without incident. You returned to small talk. To easier conversation. To more teasing and taunting.Â
When you finally left, both wine drunk and happy, it was with intertwined hands.Â
âSo nice of you to walk me home,â you joked.Â
âWell, I am quite the gentleman,â Yunho said.Â
You laughed under your breath.Â
âYour place or mine?â you asked as you stepped into the lobby and pressed the button to call the elevator down.Â
He looked shocked by this. Like he hadnât been thinking about it all night, what taking you back to his place would be like. Okay, so maybe he had, but that didnât mean he was going to act on those feelings. No, he wanted to do this right.Â
He didnât respond fast enough, and it felt like a rejection.Â
You played it off. âI just want to make you a drink, Yunho. Donât be weird,â you said. Even though that wasnât exactly what you meant. Maybe it meant what he thought it meant. That you were looking for more.Â
âYour place, then,â he said, trying to keep the smile off his lips with little success.Â
The elevator doors slipped open, and you both stepped inside.Â
That same tension returned again. The we-kissed-here tension.Â
You were both looking at each other. Wine drunk and smiling. You used your intertwined hands to pull him toward you. He took one confident stride closer. When the doors slid open at your floor, his hands were reaching up to touch your arms, that same darkened look in his eyes. The part of his lips, the way his eyes roamed your face, up and down, unable to stop in any one location. He wanted to kiss you.Â
But he remained that step away, instead letting his knuckles glide along your skin.Â
You reached out for him, like that first night. Your hands found his lapels as the elevator doors slid closed. You didnât tug him closer, but just held them.Â
He leaned down slowly, eyes shifting between your lips and your mouth. Your lips parted, too, and he captured them like it was an invitation.Â
Kissing him felt just as insane every single time youâd done it. There was the urgency and the fear of the first night, the pretending. And days ago, there had only been tenderness in his investigation. This kiss fell somewhere in the middle.Â
You could taste the wine on his lips as they moved slowly against yours. He tried to savor every bit of you. But as soon as it was really getting started, he was pulling away, cutting it off.Â
Then, his hand intertwined with yours again. He hit a button to make the elevator doors open again, and he led you down the hall, toward your place.Â
You wanted to reach for him again, wanted to drag him down for another kiss. But his expression looked like steel. He didnât look at you, but instead forward at the door while you dug around for your keys. Even when you tried to steal a glance, he didnât meet it.Â
But he let you lead him into your apartment, and once you were inside, he removed his jacket, placing it on the back of one of your chairs. You went to the kitchen, and he followed you, wrapping his arms low around your waist so he could rest his chin on your shoulder.Â
It was so domestic that it made your teeth hurt like you were sucking on a sweet candy.Â
âWhat do you like to drink?â you asked. âDo you actually like an old-fashioned, or were you just trying to piss me off?âÂ
He chuckled in your ear, low and melodic, his breath curling against the shell of your ear. âI like them.â
âBut are they your favorite?â you asked.Â
âI donât know if I have a favorite,â he said.Â
âEveryone has a favorite,â you said.
âWhatâs yours?â he asked. âThatâs what I want.â
You werenât going to be able to make anyone anything if he kept holding onto you like that, kept whispering in your ear.Â
âI like, um,â you started. âMai tais. Rum-based drinks in general.âÂ
âRum sounds good,â he said.Â
You took a step forward, and his arms fell away from you. You collected a few things from the counter, moving them over to the place next to the sink. Yunho stayed close, watching you work as you sliced and juiced a lime. He watched as you filled a shaker with ice and added the ingredients. He watched you shake it, then strain the contents over ice in a lowball glass. He watched as you carefully placed a few cherries atop the drink next to a lime wheel.Â
âWait,â you said. âFinishing touch.â You dug around in a drawer and found a tiny umbrella, which you dropped into the drink for him, before picking it up and handing it to him.Â
He took a tentative sip, then smiled. âDamn, thatâs good.âÂ
âKind of my specialty,â you said, already starting the process over for yours.Â
Eventually, the two of you migrated to the couch. You took a seat on the ground, your back to the legs of the couch, your drink on the table adjacent to you. Yunho sat behind you, on the couch itself.Â
You already had a controller in your hands, and it didnât take long before Yunho wandered to the other side of the room to pick up another one.Â
While you scrolled through your available games, he said, âTrying to figure out which game you want to lose at?âÂ
You shook your head, not looking back at him. âCocky,â you commented. âI think youâll find Iâm better than you think.â
âI play on your account,â he said, which really meant Iâve seen your statistics.Â
âOkay, so Iâm bad at the games you like to play,â you said.Â
He slipped onto the ground next to you.Â
âI was thinking something collaborative.âÂ
You pulled up Overcooked and watched as he rolled his sleeves up.Â
âItâs that serious?â you asked, teasingly.Â
He laughed. âItâs incredibly serious.âÂ
You both finished your drinks and played into the middle of the night, yelling at each other about vegetables and recipes.Â
It was nearly three in the morning when your eyes started to get heavy, when your head started to hurt, the hangover starting. You leaned your head against his shoulder, letting your eyes fall closed. Neither of you moved for a long time. At some point, his hand came up to stroke long lines into your hair. And when you did, finally, fall asleep like that, he scooped you up and carried you to bed.Â
He peeled back the covers and deposited you there, pulling them back up around your body afterward. He pressed a kiss into your hair and disappeared.
When you woke up the next morning, it was to an empty apartment. When you wandered into the living room, there were no empty mai tai glasses to be found, no dishes from your late-night cocktail crafting. Everything was clean and put away.Â
You had no choice but to call Jihyo.Â
When she answered, it was not with a hello but with the immediate, important questions. âOh my god, how was it?â
You kicked your feet up on the coffee table, leaned back with arms crossed over your chest, thinking.Â
âYouâre up later than usualâdoes that mean it went really well?â Jihyo asked.Â
What was this feeling developing in the center of your chest? It couldnât possibly be disappointment, right? There was nothing wrong with the date. Heâd been a perfect gentleman. Heâd paid for the meal, walked you home, let you yell at him into the wee hours of the night. Heâd even tucked you in and washed your dishes.Â
But heâd hardly kissed you.Â
âIt was⊠good,â you said.Â
âThat doesnât sound good.â
âIt wasnât bad,â you said hastily. âIt was really good. It justâI just, I guess I canât even tell if he really even likes me or not.â
âWhat do you mean?â she asked.Â
You shrugged, even though Jihyo couldnât see it. âWe kissed again, but that was itâand he didnât even seem like, eager to continue.â
âThatâs⊠weird,â was Jihyoâs analysis of the evening. You filled her in on the rest of the fine details. The restaurant, the banter, the moments of tension. âMaybe heâs just being careful?â she suggested. âLike he doesnât want you to think he just wants you for one thing.â
âYeah,â you said. âMaybe.â
Jihyo laughed. âSo what youâre saying is that it was a really good date, but youâre annoyed he didnât put out?â
âThatâs not what Iâm saying,â you said.Â
âKind of sounds like what youâre saying.â
âIâm hanging up now,â you said.Â
And you did.Â
It wasnât long before you heard from Yunho again. Before another date was scheduled. Before you were calling Jihyo afterward again to recount the same news. The lack of news. And then it happened again. You were beginning to think the worst, that he didnât want you. When he pulled away from another kiss on the night of your fourth date, two weeks into whatever it was the two of you were doing together, you threw your hands out in exasperation.Â
âIs there something wrong with me?â you asked.Â
He folded his arms over his chest. âHm?â he asked. Then, what you said must have registered with him. âWhat do you mean?â He might have teased you if you hadnât sounded so serious.Â
You chewed on your bottom lip for a long time, trying to work up the nerve to say the words you really wanted to say.Â
âI mean,â you started, but the words died on your tongue.Â
He had to know.Â
There was no way he didnât.Â
He lifted his hand to your face, curled two fingers under your chin, and lifted, making you hold his gaze. His eyes were sharp, brown, drowning in blown-out pupils.Â
âDo you even still like me?â you asked, getting the words out. They werenât exactly the right words, but the right words made your stomach turn. Even these ones made your heart beat faster, made your fingers twitch. Because it felt so stupid to be asking. Obviously, he liked you.Â
And he laughed.Â
Because, of course, he laughed.Â
It was a stupid fucking question.Â
âOf course, I like you,â he said, still holding your chin, still looking at you. Something knowing crossed his features, then, and you wished he would just confirm your worries without you having to actually speak them aloud.Â
âThen why donât you want me?â you asked, voice small and timid.Â
His hand moved to the side of your face, his fingers dipping into your hair, holding you. âYou think that I donât want you?â he asked.Â
âI mean, itâs the only reasonable explanation,â you stammered, heat rushing to your cheeks.Â
âItâs not reasonable,â Yunho said.Â
Then, he dropped his hand from your face, slipping his palm into yours instead. He tugged you toward his door, away from your apartmentâwhere he was previously dropping you off for the evening. You donât even remember what his excuse had been. Something about having to work in the morning.Â
You let him lead you down the hall, toward his apartment. You would have followed him anywhere. He didnât speak, just walked with you trailing behind. The short distance felt so much longer when you had to cross it without knowing what was on his mind.Â
As soon as you were inside, the door closed behind you, and he had you pressed against it, the cold metal interior, the doorknob just to the side of your hip. He didnât kiss you. Just held you caged between his arms, elbows next to your shoulder, forearms resting against the door next to your head.Â
You cleared your throat. Breathing felt like an impossibility, like all of the air had been sucked fully and totally out of the room, with his face so close to yours, his eyes studying every movement you made.Â
âWhat were you saying?â you asked, voice just above a whisper. âAbout it being unreasonable?â
He ran the tip of his tongue along the inside of his cheek, and it was so much hotter than it had any reason to be.Â
How high did he keep the heat in his apartment? Why did it feel like you were absolutely drenched in sweat? Your hands were clammy, your fingers tense at your side. You didnât touch him, even though you wanted to. You werenât afraid of being rejected. You knew that wasnât what this was, exactly. But you were too curious to move.Â
Curious about what he would doâwhat he wanted.Â
Yunho shifted his weight, pressing against the door with one arm, in order to lean slightly back, to run the pads of his pointer and middle finger along your jawline. Your eyes stayed locked on his, watching him as he followed the movement of his hand. They flicked back to you, dark and deep. He cleared his throat, parted his soft, almost heart-shaped lips, to speak.Â
âI was trying,â he started, voice still gravely despite his attempt at clearing it. âTo be a gentleman.âÂ
Your lips formed into an oh, and you swallowed thick, trying to gather the confidence to say the next thing. To make the words known. âYou donât have to be.â
His fingers stilled on your jaw, and his dark brown eyesâoverflowing with wantâcaught yours. You tried to keep your gaze neutral, but you could tell by the way he was looking at you that it wasnât a success.Â
One corner of his lips quirked up first, just before the smirk drew across his face. Brows slightly raised, eyes inquisitive.Â
He was still so close to you, leaning in just an inch away from your lips. You could have closed the distance if you wanted to, but there was something appealing about this game the two of you had started playing the moment the door to his apartment closed. Like it was something tangible between the two of you that could be grabbed at any moment, but you both tiptoed around it, careful and curious.Â
Yunhoâs hand fell to your neck, his knuckles dragged downward, skittering over your pulse and making your heart beat faster.Â
âSo jumpy,â he said. âHow long have you been thinking about this?â he asked. âAbout saying something?âÂ
Your lips parted, but the confidence in your brain didnât meet the confidence of the real-life situation, couldnât face the way he was looking at you. Words died on your tongue, and he looked at you like he could see the entire process. Your struggling only made his smirk more proud.Â
âReally interesting,â he said, voice still low and gravely, but softâtoo. A tool he used for inspection. âI was trying to be a gentleman for you, and you were thinking aboutâwhat?â he asked.Â
Your breath caught in your throat as he lowered his lips to the edge of your ear. You tried to collect your thoughts, tried to figure out how to navigate this new situation. This was the Yunho you were more familiar with. The one who poked and prodded at you. Who teased you in the living room, who was downright difficult.Â
It was the gentlemanly version of him that youâd been unfamiliar with, that you didnât know quite how to handle.Â
âOh, now sheâs quiet,â he commented. âYou had so much to say not even five minutes ago.â
âFive minutes ago, you didnât have me pressed up against a wall,â you said, trying to steady your voice into something that sounded any semblance of calm, even if you didnât feel it.Â
He slipped his hand into your hair at the base of your neck. âHow long have you been thinking about it?â he asked.Â
âI donât know what youâre talking about,â you said, tilting your head up as you ran your tongue over your lower lip.Â
Yunho laughed dryly under his breath. âIs that right?âÂ
âThatâs right,â you repeated.Â
âI was going to be so nice to you, baby,â Yunho whispered, breath curling against your ear. âWas going to treat you so good, too. Now, Iâm not sure you deserve it.âÂ
Your mouth fell open.Â
âWhat?â he asked, pulling back to look at you, to read the shock running its way across your face. âYou want to play pretend nowâpretend you havenât been thinking about it, pretend you didnât just ask. I can play, too.âÂ
âI justââ you start. âYou werenâtââÂ
âWhat wasnât I doing?â he asked, one brow quirked upward. He wanted actual, tangible answers.Â
The way he spoke made everything in your brain stop working. All the lights turned off, and it was just fizzling, crackling energy left behind. Nothing that converted the thoughts into words. You were left just staring at him, mouth opening for a moment before your lips pressed together again.Â
Yunho was patient. He didnât speak. Just kept his hand laced through your hair, kept that same look leveled on you. It didnât help, but it certainly didnât hurt, either.Â
âLetâs recap,â he said after a moment. âYou asked me why I donât want you. Which, Iâm not sure where you got that idea, but thatâs not important. And I asked you how long youâve been thinking about this. And what was it that you said?â he asked. âI donât know what youâre talking about.âÂ
A small smile crept across your lips in delight at the way he spoke, the way his words got faster the more irritated he got with trying to figure you out. It was nice to be the one to get under his skin for once.Â
He shook his head in disbelief, but you could see the hint of a smile on his lips, too. He was enjoying this just as much as you were, this back and forth.Â
âI donât,â you said, a proud smile on your lips now. âKnow what youâre talking about.â
He exhaled through his nose, almost a laugh.Â
âYou know if you keep playing innocent, youâre not going to get what you want. What we both know you want,â he said.Â
You pressed your lips into a pout. He couldnât resist. He removed his hand from your hair and touched the center of your lower lip with the pad of his thumb, dragging gently downward. âYou donât have to pout,â he said. âJust tell me how long youâve been thinking about itâand donât lie.â
Speaking didnât appeal to you. Instead, you parted your lips around his thumb and leaned just slightly forward so the pad landed flat atop your tongue.Â
He did it again, ran the tip of his tongue along the inside of his cheek in an attempt to mask his frustration. He hummed, a disapproving sound laced with something else. Like he enjoyed it, but didnât want to indulge.Â
âThatâs not going to work on me, beautiful,â he said, pulling his thumb slowly out of your mouth. He dropped his hand to the space right below your neck, holding it ever-so-gently. He leaned in slowly, so his lips were only a fraction from yours.Â
Your body reacted before you could stop it, leaning slightly forward to try to capture his lips. He pulled back, holding you firm against the door with one hand. âAh, ah,â he said.Â
âYou donât want to kiss me, Yunho?â you asked, pouting. âI mean, I kind of got that impression on our dates, but I thought maybe I was wrong.âÂ
He ran his tongue over his gums, just under his lower lip, and you could tell you were driving him insane, too.Â
But you kept going. âIf you donât really want me, I could just go home,â you said.Â
âNever said that,â he said. He took one of your hands, hanging useless at your side, and placed it atop the taut material and the hard length underneath it, lowering his lips to your ear again to whisper, âI want you, but not before you tell me what I want to hear.âÂ
He didnât hold your hand to him, but yours lingered, regardless. You moved your palm against him, and he worked hard to keep his expression neutral, to not break immediately underneath your touch. After a few moments, he pulled your hand away, holding it tight in his.Â
âCome on, baby,â he said. âHow long?â The tip of his nose ran along the shell of your ear, and you shuddered under the sensation. Goosebumps rose on your forearms, and the heat of the apartment had only increased. âHow long were you thinking about this while I was focused on treating you right, being a gentleman?âÂ
He kissed the hinge of your jaw. âI just want to know how long it took,â he said, pressing another kiss lower, along your jawline. âWas it the first date?â he asked. âOr the second?â Another kiss, this time at the top of your neck. You angled your head away from him, giving him better access. He didnât comment, but you could feel the pride tug at the corner of his lips. âYou must have been really frustrated to ask.â He dragged his teeth downward, then bit gently. âWere you frustrated?âÂ
All the bravado disappeared, and you were left, mouth open, victim to his ministrations, trying to figure out exactly how you could argue against this idea that you had been thinking about him like this nonstop for the past two weeks.Â
You could no longer find a good reason to continue frustrating him.Â
âThe night you drove me home,â you said, your voice just above a whisper, like it was embarrassing to admit. His smile grew against your skin in an instant.Â
âMmm,â he hummed against your skin. âThe kiss in the elevator really did it for you?âÂ
âNo,â you said, like it was an instinct to shut him down.Â
He only chuckled into the crook of your neck.Â
âIs this what I have to look forward to?â he asked. âYou being a brat?âÂ
âNo,â you said, cocky smile across your face.Â
âIâm gonna kiss you now,â he said, exasperation seeping into his words, seconds before his lips were on yours. You were all talk. The moment his lips touched yours, you came alive against him. It was a taste of what you wanted, and you immediately didnât want it to end. You pushed away from the door, letting your arms fall over his shoulders as you pressed your body into his. His hands fell to your waist, then slid around to your back, holding you against him.Â
Yeah, sure. Maybe you were impatient. Maybe youâd been thinking about this for weeks. Maybe you didnât want him to know just how much youâd been thinking about it, how much your body absolutely craved his. But when your hands dropped to the buttons of his shirt, he didnât complain. He didnât make you stop to recite the answers to any questions.Â
He just smiled against your lips, proud, like heâd won something.Â
Your fingers grazed his bare skin as you worked further down. He deepened the kiss, angling forward as he tilted your head back, slipping his tongue between your lips. Yunhoâs fingers dug into the cloth covering your hips, and your fingers stalled on his shirt. You reached for his skin instead, wanting to touch anything you could. You put one hand flat on his chest, but he was quick to loop a hand around your wrist and pull it away.Â
âHey,â you mumbled into his lips.Â
He gave no response, only laced his fingers through the hand heâd stolen and pinned it back against the door as he continued to kiss you, running his tongue along yours.Â
âTell me to stop, and I will,â he said, breaking apart from your mouth, breaths ragged, forehead touching yours. âAt anytime,â he said.Â
You nodded, but remained silent. Hoping for the continuation of whatever he was doing, his lips on your again, his hands exploring your body. Any of it. You didnât care. Youâd take what he was willing to give. You might even say thank you.
He kissed you again, dragging your lower lip into his mouth as his fingers inched toward the hem of your shirt. One hand snuck underneath it. His knuckles grazed your bare stomach, and you jumped. He smiled into the kiss, and you rolled your eyes, even though he couldnât see it.Â
âYou sure youâre going to be okay?â he asked, muttering the words against you between kisses. âIâm barely touching you.â
âIâm fine,â you hissed. His lips found the column of your neck again, however, and you began to question the declaration.Â
He chuckled again, letting the sound reverberate through you as his fingers climbed further up your abdomen.Â
Your head lolled backward, resting against the door behind you, the rest of your body arched forward into him.Â
âYou give up on the shirt?â he asked, eyes glancing between the two of you, to the few buttons holding his shirt together.Â
âNo,â you said.Â
His hand still held one of yours pinned to the door. You reached between your bodies with your free one and worked on the button. It kept slipping free from your fingers at the same time as your soft moans. He bit your pulse point, sucking your skin into his mouth gently at first and then harder. Your lids fluttered closed, and the fabric fell out of your hand again.Â
âCome on,â he said.Â
His other hand slipped under your bra, cupping your breast. You almost had the last button done when his thumb ran over your nipple. âYunho,â you hissed in annoyance.Â
âWant me to stop?â he asked, lifting his lips from your neck just enough to catch your gaze, his thumb still moving back and forth across your nipple inconsistently, making it impossible to get used to.Â
âIt would be easier,â you said. âIf I could use my other hand.âÂ
âHuh,â he said. âThatâs too bad.â Then, he dropped his lips to your neck again, kissing lower, grazing them along the length of your collarbone.Â
You finally did get the last button, then used your one free hand to attempt to push the fabric back off his shoulders. You tugged against his hand, trying to free yourself from the grip. He held firm, didnât even so much as budge. But he felt your attempt, and that had him grinning.Â
âNeed help?â he asked.Â
âNope,â you said. You had most of his chest revealed, and that was good enough for you. You reached out for it, running just the tips of your fingers down the center. He didnât stop you this time, letting you explore him.Â
He released your hand then, only for his own benefit, to grab the hem of your shirt with both hands and lift it up and over your head.Â
You stood apart for a second, looking at one another. His eyes fell to your chest, your cleavage. His tongue flicked out to wet his lower lip. You were too busy getting the rest of his shirt off to notice the way he looked at you.Â
The break only lasted a moment, but it might as well have been an eternity of not touching one another. Of studying what was before you and wanting it. You both seized forward at the same time, your lips colliding as hands roamed over bodies. Yours found his shoulders, slid down his arms over his biceps, then back up. His went to your waist, around to your back. One fiddled with the strap of your bra before unhooking it in a swift motion.Â
He didnât break the kiss, just took a half-step back as he pulled the straps off your shoulders and down. Once your bra was on the floor in the growing pile of clothes next to you, he pulled away again to look at you. His lips were on your skin again in no time, working downward as his hand moved upward. He rolled one nipple between thumb and forefinger as he kissed a circle around the other.Â
Your body tensed under his ministrations, and you were certain this man was going to be the absolute death of you with his knowing looks and his slow touches. Heat started in your stomach and dripped dangerously low at every caress. But you tried to keep your cool, tried to handle it. You didnât want to give him the satisfaction of being putty in his hands.Â
Yunho hummed a sound of happiness as he sucked, flicking your nipple with his tongue. Your hands threaded into his hair.Â
His hands fell to your pants, unbuttoning the top button. âTake these off,â he said, and you finished the job, stepping out of them as he kissed back upward, taking his time. His fingers teased at the waistband of your underwear.Â
You sucked in a breath, hot and sharp between your teeth. The door pressed cold lines into your back, and Yunhoâs fingertips continued to flutter atop the band, teasing. The heat of the moment and the cold of the metal did not grant you equilibrium but only contributed to the building feeling of overstimulation that you know he would absolutely revel in if he could read your mind.Â
Maybe he could read your mind, because he smirked against your skin for at least the tenth time in so many minutes, and you were starting to think he knew every nasty thought youâd ever had.Â
It was a stalemate, because you knew that he wanted you restless. He wanted you begging. But you didnât want to voice another word, another request, didnât want to do what he told you to do. Unfortunately, you also really wanted him to slip his fingers lower.Â
He watched you, too, like he knew you were making this calculation.Â
He placed his hand across your stomach as he leaned forward to whisper in your ear. âJust say it,â he whispered. âI know you want to.â
He lifted your chin with his fingers as he pulled back, meeting your eyes. His eyes were dark and heavy, full of clear desire. The word no died on your tongue.Â
But neither did he wait for you to ask. He held your eye contact as he moved his hand between your thighs, humming as he ran the pads of his fingers along your clothed slit. âNice and wet for me, hm?âÂ
He pushed your underwear to the side, dragged his middle finger through your folds, and then slipped it inside of you to the knuckle.Â
âSee, I can be nice,â he said.
You choked on a gasp and tried to let your head fall back against the door, but he held your chin firm, keeping his eyes on you. He moved his finger slowly as you adjusted. His eyes traced your expression, the subtle part of your lips, the way your eyes rolled slightly backward. And you studied his, too. The hooded gaze as he watched you, the way his smirk got cockier every time you reacted to the movement.Â
There was no escaping his careful eye. He caught every soundless gasp, every subtle movement. Â
He liked you like this, falling apart and trying to keep yourself together at the same time. Not wanting to give in to him, but wanting everything he had to give. He liked teasing it out of you, that desire.Â
Your lids fluttered closed as he stroked just the right spot, curling his finger to meet it.Â
âEyes open,â he said. His voice was firm, but not sharp. Commanding in a gentle kind of way.Â
It didnât make you want to listen.Â
âOr what?â you challenged, eyes still closed.Â
âOr Iâll stop,â he said. And he did.Â
Your eyes flew open, and he couldnât help the breathy laugh that fell off his lips.Â
âYouâre trying so hard, baby, but your body keeps giving you away,â Yunho said, a hair away from your lips, before he kissed you.Â
He slipped another finger inside of you at the same time, and your body arched forward, your hands reaching for something to hold onto and finding his shoulders with ease. You groaned into his mouth, both at the feeling and his words.Â
âGod,â you moaned, breaking away from his lips to catch your breath. He didnât go far, instead dropping his lips to your neck, biting and sucking at your skin until you felt like you were melting. You rolled your hips against his hand, wanting more, and he gave it without a word. His thumb ran over your clit, sending a shudder through your body. âYunho, oh my god,â you muttered, hands digging into his shoulders.Â
It was all too much. His teeth on your neck, his fingers moving fast inside you, curling, and his thumb running circles over your clit at a pace that made everything ache.Â
âThat feel good, baby?â he asked, voice gravely, breath hot on your neck.Â
He didnât slow his pace, so you could barely voice the words you wanted to say. All that came out was a breathy, âDonât stop.â
And he was smirking again, running his tongue over your pulse before whispering, âWouldnât dream of it.â
Your hips kept rolling into his fingers, but he managed to keep the dizzing pressure on your clit as you squirmed. He took a step into you, pressing you up against the door again. One of his legs snuck between yours, and he used his upper thigh to hold you in place.Â
He had you on the edge, about to teeter over, every muscle in your body so tense you were almost shaking.Â
Then, he did exactly what he said he wouldnât. He stopped. He dragged his fingers out of you slow, removed his thumb from your clit, and met your eyes. He struggled to keep your gaze, his eyes falling to your heaving chest as you tried to catch your breath.Â
You groaned and tried to let your head fall back against the door, but he caught it, holding you forward by the neck.Â
âAw, you donât like being teased, baby?â he asked, looking down his nose at you.Â
You whimpered, moving your hips against his thigh in search of something. He only pinned you harder, keeping you from moving at all.Â
He lifted his hand, slick with you, and tapped your lower lip. âOpen,â he said.Â
Your lips fell open, and he placed both of his fingers on the flat of your tongue. You closed your lips around them. He pressed down on your tongue, and you licked from the base of his finger to the tip without breaking the very direct eye contact he made with you.Â
âLook at that,â he said. âYou can follow directions.âÂ
You rolled your eyes and bit down gently on his fingers. He hooked his fingertips just behind your teeth and pulled you forward.Â
âMm,â he hummed. âI think I like you like thisâunable to talk back.â
You ran your tongue over his fingers again, tried to move your hips again, chasing anything that would give you any kind of satisfaction now that fire danced over every inch of your skin, where he touched you and where he didnât.Â
He pulled his fingers from your mouth slowly as you licked them clean. He replaced his fingers with his tongue, lips crashing into yoursâhungrier than before. The entire length of his body pressed up against you, anchoring you in place. You could hardly move between him and the wall, except to reach for him, to grip his arms tight in a grounding kind of way.Â
He took a step away from you, dragging his lips from yours like it was the hardest decision heâd ever made. Then, he was grabbing your hand, pulling you deeper into his apartment, past the kitchen, through the living room, toward his bedroom.Â
Youâd been here before, seen these places before. Youâd stalked through his apartment, looking for your fake boyfriend in order to drive off the women heâd slept with, youâd sat on his couch post-date, talking into the late hours of the night.Â
The place seemed different now. His bedroom a completely new world. Youâd only seen it in the aftermath, or with another woman sprawled out across it, waiting for his return. It was pristine now, the bed made with crisp sheets and a comfortable atop it. Pillows stacked in front of the headboard.
He guided you toward the edge of the bed, and you sat while he towered over you, hands lowering to his belt. You watched with rapt attention, tongue running between your lips. He undid his belt buckle, then the top button of his pants. He worked slowlyâslower because he could tell you were watching, waiting.Â
Yunho let his pants fall to his ankles. He stepped out of them, and your hands shot out, touching his abdomen but trailing downward for more. You were so interested, so needy. Youâd never wanted anyone as much as you wanted him, right then.Â
He slipped his hands over yours, and you rolled your eyes before he could open his mouth.Â
âAsk for it,â he said, looking down at you. That same smirk playing on his lips. You should have known that being with him would be like this, with all the teasing he did outside the bedroom. All the playful glances he always shot in your direction, all the comments he made. It just never occurred to you that he would be so, well, annoying.Â
Why was it so hot, then? If you were so annoyed, why did his words always make that same heat pool between your legs, always make you want him even more? And why did it drive you absolutely insane anytime he asked you anything?Â
You pressed your lips into a tight line, determined to be stubborn about this.Â
âYou donât have to touch me,â he said. âBut if you want toâIâm going to need to hear you ask.âÂ
He held your hands tight in his to prevent them from going anywhere.Â
âYouâreââ
âWhat, baby?â he asked, still looking down at you, not touching you anywhere other than your hands. He cocked his head to the side. âWhat am I?âÂ
âBossy,â you said. âAnd kind of a pain in the ass.âÂ
He laughed, a full, deep one that shook his chest. âYou want me to stop?â he asked, lifting one hand to tilt your chin upward. âI could be nice to you, instead. Really nice.âÂ
You hesitated.Â
âYeah, thatâs what I thought,â he said.Â
âShut up,â you said, pushing against his abdomen with your intertwined hands. You grumbled under your breath. You batted your eyelashes at him. âIâd really like to touch you, Yunho. Could I, please?âÂ
He smirked. âNow, I donât think you really mean that.â
âOh, should I get on my knees?â you said, that same expression on your faceâfluttering eyelashes, like youâd do anything he wanted if he really wanted it.Â
âOnly if you want to, beautiful,â he said. He freed your other hand, too.Â
You hooked your fingers into the band of his boxers and pulled them down, tongue flicking out to wet your lips as you slid off the edge of the bed and onto your knees in front of him. He watched, silently, one hand coming up to gather your hair away from your face.Â
One of your hands lifted to wrap around him. He was big, you had to admit. And you couldnât keep the look off your face. Like you were drunk on want. Like he was all you could possibly think about.Â
You leaned forward, flattened your tongue against the underside of the tip, eyes flicking up to meet his as you did, watching for a reaction. He didnât hold back as you did, but let you watch as his lips parted. His hand tightened in your hair, and you gasped as you took him into your mouthâshallow at first, as you got used to the size.Â
Slowly, you took him deeper.Â
âFuck,â he hissed. âYouâre so good.âÂ
He rolled his hips once, slow, as he held the back of your head.Â
âThat okay?â he asked, his voice dropping to one much more gentle than how heâd been speaking to you.Â
You nodded as best you could with your mouth wrapped around his cock.Â
Another slow roll of his hips, and he was reaching your throat. You dropped your hands from him and looked up. You stopped moving, letting him take control instead. He held the back of your head firm and rolled his hips again and again, a little harder each time.Â
Each time he hit the back of your throat, your eyes stung. His grip in your hair tightened, and you moaned around him, which only made him thrust into your mouth fasterâharder.Â
Tears stung in the corners of your eyes, but neither of you stopped.Â
âGod,â Yunho hissed again, hips bucking, snapping forward into you one more time before he pulled out fast.Â
âGet up,â he said, and you stoodâno attitude needed.Â
He wiped the tears from under your eyes, the drool from your mouth, then spun you around and pressed you down, into the mattress. He reached into the drawer next to his bed, ripped open a condom with his teeth, and rolled it on, keeping one hand on your lower back.Â
He guided the tip of his cock to your entrance and dragged it through your folds. âStill so wet, and I wasnât even touching you,â he said.Â
You couldnât get a single word out. Your face was buried in the bedspread. He pushed just the tip inside of you, and every muscle in your legs went taut, seizing up.Â
âRelax, baby,â Yunho said, moving forward another inch, reveling in the stretch, the feeling of tightness as you clamped down hard around him. Your hands were already balled into the fabric next to you, your teeth already biting down hard on your bottom lip to keep from whimpering. You pushed back against him, trying to get more.Â
His hands came up to hold your hips, preventing you from moving. He slid forward another inch, slowly, enough to make you ache.Â
âPlease,â you begged, needing all of him way faster than he was willing to give it.Â
You could practically hear the smirk appear behind you as he rolled his hips forward into you, filling you up.Â
A jagged gasp escaped your lips. You could feel him pulsing inside of you, twitching, betraying his resolve. But he didnât move. He kept one hand on your hip, then ran the other down your spine, making you shiver.Â
âYunho,â you whimpered.Â
âSomething you want, hm?â he asked, voice low and dark, like he was holding back from what he wanted, too, just to break you down even further.Â
You gritted your teeth. âYes,â you said, forcing the word out.Â
He traced lazy circles on your back. âTell me.âÂ
âYunho,â you moaned again, trying to move your hips against them again.Â
He stilled them once more. âI want to hear you say it.âÂ
âSay what?â you teasedâonly punishing yourself.Â
He shifted only slightly, enough to remind you what you wanted. He grabbed your shoulder, pulled you back against him, pushing his cock even deeper into you, making you gasp into the blankets. âTell me what you want from me.âÂ
âGod, Yunho,â you muttered, thighs starting to shake. âI want you,â you said. âI donât knowâI want you, I just want you.âÂ
He laughed dryly under his breath and rewarded you with a slow roll of his hips. âNot specific enough,â he said.Â
You groaned again, exasperated and desperate.Â
âI donâtââ you started, another slow, agonizing thrust. âI donâtââÂ
âYou know,â he said. âYou just donât want to say it.â
He pulled out of you slow, then snapped his hips forward, taking you to new levels of desperation.Â
âYouâreââ you stumbled over your words. âYouâre being so mean.â
He stilled again, giving you time to process, to think. He massaged circles into your hip with his palm. âYeah?â he asked.Â
âYes,â you said, through gritted teeth. He started slow again, and you couldnât help the whimpers that fell off your lips immediately, giving you away. âI want you so bad, please. Yunho, please,â you begged.Â
He didnât move.Â
âWhat do you want me to say?â you hissed, irritated. âThat I want you to fuck me until I see stars?âÂ
His fingers dug into your hip, and you knew youâd hit the mark.Â
âLook at you, so good with your words,â he commented.Â
His hips snapped forward again, deeper this time, faster. He established a rhythm. âFuckââ you started, only to be interrupted by your own gasps. âYou.âÂ
He slammed into you until you were stuttering, barely even able to say his name or mutter any other profanities. Your thighs were still shaking, legs tense and tight, especially as you arched into him, standing on your toes to lift your ass even higher. He put his hands on your shoulders, holding you in place before him, not letting you shift forward with every thrustâinstead taking all of him with each deep stroke.Â
It didnât take long for you to start crumbling against him. Heâd had you on the line for a long time, and your body could hardly take it anymore. Your thighs clenched, walls slamming down around him.Â
âYou wanna come, baby?â he asked, voice soft and deep, just above a whisper. You could hear the desire dripping from it, and it only made it more difficult to hold back.Â
You nodded, whimpering as he kept up the pace, holding you and slamming forward again and again. He reached forward and grabbed your hair at the root, pulling you back. Your fingers tightened in the bedspread as the orgasm crashed into you, over you, through you, and you pressed yourself back against him as hard as you could, taking everything he could give as everything tightened so hard it was nearly unbearable.Â
âThatâs it, baby,â he coaxed as you came undone, falling limp beneath him. His pace slowed into long, languid strokes before he pulled out.Â
With his hands on your hips, he turned you over, and you let him. Your face was flushed, your chest hot and red, your lips swollen from earlier kisses, and your hair a mess from his hands.Â
âYouâre so fucking sexy,â he said.Â
You let out a shaky breath, eyes dropping to his cock, still hard. You must have read his mind, because as he crawled onto the bed toward you, you moved away, sliding up so you could rest your head atop the pillows.Â
Your knees were folded up, thighs pressed together.Â
He slipped a hand on the inside of your knee and pushed them open so he could crawl between, moving up your body. Your hands went to his shoulders immediately, looking for something to grab before he touched you anywhere.Â
Yunho pressed a kiss to your jaw, your cheek, the side of your nose.Â
âCan you take more, baby?â he asked.Â
You nodded, lip between your teeth.Â
âGod, youâre fucking perfect, you know that?â he asked.Â
You shook your head, and he laughed, dropping his lips to yours in a slow, tender kiss, such a stark difference from the previous few and their feverish nature.Â
He slipped a hand between your bodies, slipping a finger inside of you quickly, in and then out, before lining himself up with your entrance again. You sucked in a breath before he even moved. In one fluid motion, he sheathed himself fully inside of you. You shared the same gasp, mangled between kisses.Â
Everything felt immediately intense. Each stroke lighting a new fire. He seemed intent on wrecking you completely, because his fingers moved quickly to find your clit. He put pressure on it with two fingers, letting the movement of his thrusts provide the friction.Â
He sat up and pulled your hips down on him as he slid into you over and over again.Â
âYunho, oh my god,â you said through heavy breaths, the combination of sensations making you dizzy, making it difficult to keep your eyes open.Â
Your sounds only encouraged him further, and soon his own grunts joined with your moans. He rubbed your clit with his thumb, not stopping to give you a second to calm down, only taking the sensation higher and higher. You squirmed, trying to get away from him, trying to stop the overstimulation, the feeling of everything being encompassed in wet, hot fire, but he didnât let you move an inch.Â
You threw your head back against the pillow in defeat, letting your hips roll against his. He lifted one of your legs, leaning it against his shoulder as he fucked deeper and deeper into you. You had to close your eyesâand he didnât stop you, didnât demand your attention, just kept touching and thrusting, and holding you until it was all too much.Â
âI canâtââ you started, hips stuttering as your core tightened impossibly, strangling him inside of you. He groaned as you came, and you felt him twitch inside of you at the same time as he fucked you through your second orgasm of the night, until you were lying nearly boneless beneath him. And then he was still, too, collapsing on top of you, gathering you into his arms.Â
You breathed heavily together for some time. Yunho pressed soft kisses to whatever skin he could reach and smoothed your hair away from your face.Â
It was a long timeâintertwined just like thatâbefore he got out of bed to clean up. As soon as he returned, it was to gather you into his arms all over again, to hold you flush against his skin, to kiss your lips soft and slow.Â
âThat wasââ you started, even though there were no words in the known world to finish the sentence properly.Â
âYeah,â he said. âReally was.â
You nestled your face deeper into his neck, and he held you even tighter, like he was worried you were going to go somewhere.Â
When he spoke again, it was quiet, just above a whisper. âI really like you, you know.âÂ
You peeled away from him enough to catch his eyes. There was a bit of worry in them. Your hand shot out to touch his cheek.Â
âI really like you, too,â you said.Â
He cleared his throat. âHavenât reallyâyou know, dated anyone,â he said. âIn a while.â
The words hung between you for some time.Â
âI want to, though. I mean, I want to keep dating you,â he said.Â
You laughed under your breath. He was cute when he was flustered. âGood,â you said, touching the tip of his nose with yours before pressing a soft kiss to his lips. âI want that, too.âÂ
âSex was that good, huh?â he teased, and you pushed his shoulder. âKidding.â
âIt was good, though,â you said, pointedly. âBut thatâs not the only reason. A silver lining, definitely.âÂ
You tucked your head back into the crook of his neck and fell asleep with his arms wrapped around you, thinking this is a good thing, and wondering how you were ever anything other than completely enamored by him.Â
one date with someone else is all it took to realize you're in love with your roommates, wooyoung and san. but do they want you as much as they want each other? â.Ë
âI think that dress is saying, âTake me back to your place,â but the other one leaves more room for mystery, like maybe, âI could come home with you, but I might just be here for free dinner.ââ
With your hands on your hips, you stared at your roommate, San, unimpressed. Curled up on your bed, he laid on his side, one palm holding up his head, the other on your puppyâs belly, rubbing it while your black lab laid there with his paws up, tongue lolling out of his mouth.
âWhich one are you going for?â He asks after receiving nothing but silence in return, one knee bent up, the other extended straight along the length of your mattress, his foot near your pillows.Â
A date with a shared friend of your two roommates, one you originally didnât want to go on, but were now somewhat excited for. You havenât been on a date in a while, which you didnât think much of, but it seemed everyone and their mother was more than concerned for your love life than you were. You were content with San and Wooyoung, your two roommates, and your one year old black lab named Sweetie who was almost as big as you.
After fighting both San and Wooyoungâs attempts at convincing you to go out with Yunho for a week, you finally agreed, days into the follicular phase of your cycle, mere moments out of the month when you craved the touch of a man. Now, mid-ovulation, you werenât completely sure where you wanted to end up tonight.Â
You knew Yunho well. Being a friend of both San and Wooyoung, he was over your apartment all the time, with his shaggy brown hair, cozy clothes that made him look like a librarian, legs that stretched on forever. Sometimes you caught yourself staring at his veiny hands for a second longer than what was considered appropriate, but you never thought of Yunho as an actual option.Â
When you came home after a long day of teaching, blabbing to San and Wooyoung how the other teachers at the studio teased you for being single yet again, telling you that you should at least go on dates, the pair took it upon themselves to find you a suitor. Silently, without your knowledge, they hooked you up with Yunho, one of the only other single people in their friend group. Your friend group.
âI guess the second one?â You tilted your head to the side in thought, turning to stare at yourself in the mirror again, a black dress that hugged your curves dangerously. âMaybe this is more club than it is dinner and drinks.â
âTry on the other one again,â San tilted his chin toward the brown dress you tossed on the chair in the corner of your room, the one usually tucked under your desk that held your two-monitor PC setup. Used mainly for The Sims 4. No one had to know that part, though, your set-up was sick.Â
You whined, head falling backward, effectively giving up. Sweetieâs head picked up, and Sanâs amused smile grew as you trudged across your bedroom, crawling on your bed, sprawling yourself across your best friend who rolled on his back, opening his arms to welcome you in.Â
San chuckled, your head tucked below his chin, vibrations bleeding through your skin. His body was so hard beneath you, so warm and inviting, you could happily stay here, buried into him forever. He turned his head, making room to press a kiss to the top of your head, âYouâll have fun, Yunhoâs a great guy. Heâll treat you well.â
âWhat if I just want to cuddle and watch movies all night? Is it so bad to cancel now?â You mumbled, voice muffled by the cotton white tee he wore, one from the pack you bought him a month ago. His home uniform, a white tee that clung to his body like latex, and gray sweats that hung so low on his hips you wondered how they didnât fall off sometimes.Â
âCome on,â San ushered you upward, his chest pushing on your cheek until you pulled your arms under your body to lift yourself off of him. You pouted, he smiled, dimples joining the party on your bedspread. âIf you donât like him, you leave, no harm, no foul.â
âHeâs your friend,â you whined again, bottom lip jutting out in the most exaggerated way. âWhy did I agree to a set up with one of your friends?â
Just as San was about to protest that Yunho is one of your friends too, you heard the front door snap open, sneakers hitting the wall as he kicked them off his feet, you always heard him before you saw him. Yours and Sanâs heads turned to your opened bedroom door as Wooyoung yelled from the living room, âItâs date night!â
You sighed, sitting backward, legs tucked under you. Sweetie got up from where he snuggled against San and joined your pity party by laying across your lap, head nuzzling into your tummy. Like a reflex, you scratched your fingers along his back, on the top of his head, he pushed air through his nose in delight.Â
Wooyoung ran into your bedroom, halting dramatically in your doorway, both hands propped up on the frame on either side of his head. His eyes danced between you, San and your dog, but they landed on San. âWhy isnât she ready?â Eyes sliding to you, âWhy arenât you ready?âÂ
âI donât wanna go,â your head tipped back again, whining, âSweetie doesnât want me to go either, look at him, heâs so cozy. He wants me to stay home and cuddle with him.âÂ
Wooyoungâs lips flattened in a line, âYou canât cancel on him, Shy. Heâll be here in thirty minutes to pick you up, itâs rude if you cancel now. Get up, girl.â
Your top lip curled in distaste, you hated when he said your name like that, even if it was the nickname they both had for you. Really, it was Sanâs nickname, which was originally your motherâs, he picked it up when he was three, when your entire family called you their shy girl. The nickname had always stuck with him, even after moving away from your hometown and into the city that your family thankfully wouldnât step foot in, even after almost a decade. When you met Wooyoung your junior year of college, he thought the nickname was so damn cute he started calling you Shy, too.Â
Wooyoung moved to the center of your room, movements fluid, eyes dancing about the space like he was your fairy godmother. Picking up the brown dress thrown over your chair, he cheered, âAha! I love this one on you.â
Sighing, you tapped on Sweetieâs head, a warning to him before you stood up. He crawled off your lap and back into Sanâs chest, settling in his side just like he had before you interrupted. You stood up off the bed, pulling your dress down your thighs, and Wooyoung grinned, eyes flaring, âThat dress is an option? What, are you planning on fucking him?â
Eyes narrowing, you scowled at him, crossing the room to snatch the brown dress from his hands. In all black, jeans, tee and jacket, he wore his hat backwards on his head, hiding his short, cropped black hair. Rings adorned his fingers, silver necklaces on his neck, he and San so opposite it still made you laugh at how close the three of you are.Â
You supposed you were the glue. To Wooyoungâs hotheaded, outspoken, free-bird self, San was more emotional, logical, he actually thought before he spoke, when his feelings didnât cloud his mind. You were the perfect combination, spontaneous yet level-headed, in tune with your emotions, in tune with theirs, you were the ground they stood on, the final word in their decisions. Why did you need to go on this date when all you needed was in this room with you?
âNo,â you bite, throwing the dress on the bed while you pull the one you already wore up and off your body.Â
Woo laughed, sitting down on the chair he stole the dress from, âNo? Your panties match your bra.â
âI just wanted to be prepared,â you throw the dress at him as soon as it's off your body and he catches it with one hand, eyes obviously drinking in your figure. Too close for comfort, thatâs what the three of you were, roommates and best friends and an enigma no one around you can understand.Â
When you turn to San, his eyes are on Sweetie before him, his fingers lightly scratching his head. Always polite, always considerate, you grabbed the brown dress you threw on the bed, forcing yourself to not recall the days where he wasnât so respectful.Â
âDid you shave? Be honest,â Wooyoungâs eyebrows raise as you step into the low cut, bodycon brown dress. You snort, walking towards him so he can zip it up your back.Â
âI trimmed,â you answer simply, amusement dancing in your tone, pulling your hair to one side to give him access to the zipper. He straightens in the chair, one hand on your hip as the other tugs the chilly zipper up your back, he stands back up to reach the top. You turn to him, hair still grasped in your fist, brows raised as the thought crosses your mind, âShould I have shaved?âÂ
âHell no,â San responds from the bed, eyes trained on you and Wooyoung standing feet away from him. âYunhoâs a man, like, a man. He doesnât give a fuck if you have a bush or whatever.â
âYou should have left the bush,â Wooyoungâs smile is swimming in his eyes too, half-joking, half-serious, âitâs like unwrapping a present on Christmas morning.âÂ
You peel away from him with a laugh as you stand before your full-length mirror, hands gliding down your body as you twist from side to side, head tilted to look at yourself from every angle. You look good, the color compliments your features, accentuates your curves just enough, you didnât know if the heavy feeling in your gut was anxiety or if you didnât feel confident or what. Itâs been a long while since youâve been on a date. You sigh, âI just feel like itâs too much.â
Wooyoung comes up behind you, one of his veiny hands on your waist, his cologne in your nose. Woody, notes of creamy sandalwood, spicy, you ease into his touch as he swings a pair of pumps around your front for you to look at through the mirror. You missed when he grabbed them from your closet. âYouâll feel better with these on,â his voice is low in your ear, velvety even if it wasn't intentional, âYour legs will look longer. Heâll wanna eat you from across the table instead of his food.â
You nod, swallowing, ridding your thoughts of all things incriminating about your roommate and best friend. He moves to crouch down on one knee in front of you, your heels on the floor beside him. San, on his stomach now, is beaming while he watches Wooyoung give you princess treatment as if your heart wasnât reaching tachycardic level, âItâs like youâre Cinderella. Shinderella.â
Your brows scrunch as a punched laugh rushes from your chest, one palm holding the hat on Wooyoungâs head for leverage as you slip your foot into the deep maroon heel heâs holding out for you. âThat was an awful joke, Sannie.â
âI liked it,â Wooyoung smiles up at you, sincerity in his eyes, all warmth and love as he grabs the other shoe, âYou deserve to be treated like a princess, so if he doesnât hold the door open for you, pull the chair out for you, if he doesnât pay the bill, you come home straight to us.â
He stands up on two feet to lean forward, pressing a kiss to your freshly done hair, hands squeezing your shoulders, âWhy does this lowkey feel like a big deal?â He turns around to look at San while your face flushes aggressively, âI feel like weâre giving her away.â
San snorts a laugh, tucking a muscled arm under his head to lay his cheek on, âShe knows sheâs ours at the end of the day.â
You roll your eyes, hands on your hips again as you turn to San, disagreement in your body language but in your heart you know itâs fucking true. Ever since you were little, youâve looked up to San in a way, always taller than you, stronger than you, older than you. Even if itâs only by a year, youâve always seen him as someone wiser, someone you could count on no matter what, if you needed him, heâd be there. Because of that youâve always stuck by his side, never treading farther than armâs reach, because as much as you were Sanâs, he was also yours.Â
And he knew it in his bones, too.Â
âItâs one date,â your voice is full of reassurance as you walk to your closet, pulling out your collection of bags, totes, purses, already having one in mind. Finally finding the tiny black Coach purse as you realize what youâd just said, you whip around to look at his dimpled-cheeks deep in the pocket of his elbow, purse tucked under your arm, âWhy was I just about to convince you why I should go? This is getting very backwards.â
âBecause you love us so much, you donât want us to sit here all night, all sad because some six foot sexy man is taking you away from us,â Wooyoungâs voice is full of humor as he sits back on your bed, one leg tucked under him, one hand rubbing Sanâs exposed ankle. He sits up a little straighter, âYou should still go, though. We wonât be that sad.â
With your features blown into offense, you scoff, âIâd expect you two to be crying, nervous wrecks while Iâm gone. Youâre telling me youâll be fine and dandy while Iâm off getting pounded by that same six foot sexy man?â
âPounded?â Wooyoung and San answer at the same time, their eyes wide, eyebrows in their hairlines. San even picked his head up from the pocket of his elbow.Â
You laugh loudly as you put your everyday purse on Wooyoungâs lap, transferring all your necessities into the tiny handbag. San sits up, crawling behind Wooyoung with his legs straddling the younger manâs back, âYouâre really gonna fuck him?!â
âDo we need to have the talk?â Wooyoung blinks at you, face completely shocked, leaning back into Sanâs arms that wrapped around his front, âWhen was the last time you even had sex?â
âIâm twenty-eight years old, first of all.â You hold up two hands in front of you, palms flat, facing both men. âSecond of all, I donât know! Who knows? If the date goes super awesome-ly then I might end up in his bed, yeah.â You point a finger at Wooyoung, eyes narrowing, âThird of all, screw you. Two years, shut up.â
Wooyoung raises his arms in defense, lips tucked between his teeth to stop himself from giggling. San still looks surprised, cheeks pink, jaw slack and eyes wide, âIâ I donât know why Iâm so shocked that you admitted that so easily.â
âYouâre acting like Iâve never had a boyfriend before,â you close the clasp on your purse, âI may have not fucked in two years but Iâve fucked plenty.â Looking at Wooyoung again, you ask, âCan I wear your Chrome Hearts jacket? The leather one?â
Wooyoung nods with his face scrunched like it was no biggie before asking, âSo are we expecting you home tonight or what?â
âWhy are you being so adamant about this?â Your eyes bounce between them, lingering on Sanâs cheeks that deepen by the minute, âI donât know yet, jeez. What time is it?â
San scrambles for his phone, âHeâll be here in ten.â
As if Yunho himself was in your bedroom with the three of you, the doorbell rang. Your eyes widen, âShit, heâs early.â
âWeâll distract him,â Wooyoung grabs your waist to move you to the side as he stands, rushing out of your room to greet Yunho at the door. Sweetie jumps off the bed next, following him, probably thinking something exciting was happening, and San mimics the two as the third musketeer.
Your finishing touches, extra deodorant, more perfume for good luck, a little lip gloss, a few fluffs to your hair. You caught yourself in the mirror again before leaving, doing another three-sixty, viewing yourself from every angle possible without twisting into a pretzel. Scrunching your lips, you stare at your own face, something still didnât feel right. You hated when your gut was telling you something, but didnât say what it was.
The three are in the kitchen, four if you count Sweetie, mid-conversation as your heels announce your presence before you breathe a word. Meeting Sanâs eye and then Wooyoungâs, both stared at you in awe, affection sparkling in their dark eyes, like theyâd never seen you so dressed up before. Sweetie is at Yunhoâs feet, the six foot man crouched into a hunched-over ball, hands scratching the dogâs ears until he sees you.Â
âWow,â he stands, black slacks on his long legs, a cream-colored button up on his upper half, brown jacket thrown over his arm. Black hair styled and off his forehead, he looked clean, crisp, handsome. âYou look beautiful.âÂ
Your face heats up, beaming as you say, âThanks, you look handsome, too.â
Wooyoung giggles like a child, you snap your head to sneer at him, catching San whoâs still staring at you fondly. Theyâre like your parents, chaperoning your first date like youâre a teenager.Â
Wooyoung skirts around the kitchen island, âYour jacket, milady.â
Rolling your eyes, you smile apologetically at Yunho who looks amused as Wooyoung drapes the leather jacket over your shoulders. Yunhoâs eye drops to the emblems on the sleeves as you slip your arms inside, the obvious Chrome Hearts crosses, the jacket Wooyoung paid an arm and a leg for. His eyes flicker before rising back to your gaze, face unreadable for a moment before he slaps the bright smile back on his cheeks.Â
âReady?â He asks after you pull your hair out from beneath the collar.Â
Nodding, you murmur, âYeah, âm ready.â
San and Wooyoung stay tucked into each other, watching like proud mothers as you wave your goodbye, wiggling your eyebrows. You blow a final kiss to Sweetie before youâre out the door, in the open air of an unforgiving February night, Yunhoâs car parked directly next to yours. He opens the door for you, closes it behind you, and heâs in the driverâs seat in a flash.Â
âHow are you?â He asks as he clasps his seatbelt and immediately youâre filled with the ick of inevitable awkwardness. You hated small talk, you hated this feeling, of a new relationship budding, of not automatically being at the oversharing-because-I-can stage.Â
But you respond politely, with a smile on your face that he couldnât see through, all the way to the fucking restaurant. A nice place, moody lighting, an obvious date night spot. Your table is off to the side, against the beige-colored wall, more private than the center of the restaurant, thankfully. The air between you is a little more congenial by the time youâve had a quarter of your fruity cocktail and thereâs food placed at the center of the white tablecloth.
âI love my kids,â you shake your head, swallowing down a bite of the appetizer he ordered, âtheyâre all great kids, itâs the parents that make me want to rip my hair out.â
Yunho laughs, an easygoing thing, and you smile when it reaches your ears. âTheyâre all bad?â
âNot all of them,â you respond, words practiced, almost scripted, at the point in date talk where you were discussing what you do for a living. Next comes future talk, if this went anything like the dates youâve been on in the past did. âJust the ones that nitpick everything I do, like they have any idea what theyâre talking about.â
Yunho nods, âItâs like that at my job, too. But not with parents, with clients, the ones who talk about artwork like it means something to them. I know they just think it looks cool and they want it on their wall, but thatâs enough, I mean, leave it at that. I understand not everyone is a connoisseur.â
Your grin widens, a giggle falling past your lips as you bring your glass up to catch it. You have to give it to him, heâs funny, but not as funny as Wooyoung. He doesnât look at you the way San looks at you, either.Â
By the time youâre halfway through your entree you know you arenât going home with him. You could possibly see him again, depending on how the second half of your entree goes, but the need to see him naked on top of you isnât quite there. A sweet guy, heart of gold, you know heâs a genuine friend, youâve had plenty of conversations with him before at your apartment during gatherings to know enough about his nature. But romantically, sexually, there isnât a spark in your veins, a sizzling to your blood, a dampening in your panties that makes you want more.Â
Heâs a great guyâ but heâs not for you.Â
âCan I ask you something?â Now a singular piece of chocolate cake between you accompanied by two silver forks, you nod as you dig the prongs into the triangular edge.Â
âYour jacket,â he raises his perfectly trimmed brows to the leather that hangs off the back of your chair, âitâs Wooyoungâs?âÂ
âDefinitely,â you nod furiously, without missing a beat, âyou know him and Chrome Hearts are in a very serious, very committed relationship.â The smile Yunho gives you in response doesnât completely reach his eyes. You pop a brow, âWhy?âÂ
His fork dances around the plate, âI donât know.â Setting it down softly, he leans back in the upholstered chair, âwearing his jacket on a first date, when heâs the one who set us up. I donât know.âÂ
Your head tilts, heat flooding you, the nervous kind. Confusion bites at the corners of your eyes as you blink at him, âWhat do you mean?âÂ
âCan I be frank?âÂ
âIâm pretty sure youâre Yunho, but sure.âÂ
Amusement huffs from his nose, but he doesnât exactly smile. âIs there anything going on between you?âÂ
You pause, mid-bite, cake millimeters from touching your tongue. Body going hot, your arm lowers slowly, âBetween who?â
âBetween you and Wooyoung. You and San. Both of them, I donât know.âÂ
Your brows shoot upward, jaw dropping, âWhat the fuck?â Looking around, noticing the eyes on you, you cover your mouth with your hand. You didnât realize the volume you cursed atâ you mumble an Iâm sorry sheepishly to the room around you.Â
âIâm serious,â Yunho leans forward again, and his eyes are so genuine it throws you for a loop. You knew your friendship with the pair was closer than the typical, a little strange at times, with the flirting and the touching and the looks. You knew how you felt about your roommates, your best friends, how thereâs a certain depth in the way they treat you, love and respect too raw to be faked, how it always makes your stomach pang with gratitude too deep to express.Â
âNo, Yunho.â You shake your head, fork landing on the small, ceramic plate. The words are short, not necessarily offended, but itâs clear the question didnât sit well. Your relationship with the two men, both a third of your being, is completely platonic.Â
Did it really seem like it wasnât?
âIâm sorry,â he shakes his head, eyes squeezed tight, regret oozing off of him. âI donât know why I asked you that, Iâm so sorry.âÂ
âItâs okay,â you try to laugh to ease the tension, but it comes off demeaning. Yunho stiffens, hands coming up to dig the pads of his fingers into his eyes. âIâm serious, itâs fine. I know weâre a little closer than your average roommates, but we donât fuck.âÂ
You could feel eyes in the room on you again, this time you ignore them. Yunhoâs hands leave his face, eyes cracking open, words escaping from his lips too quickly to have been thought about first, âYou never have? Not even with Sannie?âÂ
âNot even with Sannie, no. I havenât seen him naked since we were seven, weâve never once kissed, nothing.âÂ
Lies. Lies, lies, lies. You donât know why they spill from your lips like a waterfall, like you had to defend yourself. Maybe you were trying to convince yourself more than Yunho.Â
His brow pops like he asked the question just to receive your deception, âThatâs not true.âÂ
Taking you by complete surprise, your heart plummets, sputtering, âO-okay, wellââ
How did he know? He shouldnât know about your times in college, Sannie throwing you around the mattress with a boy from your English class. Or the handful of times with the girl from your contemporary dance class. Or the times youâve been each otherâs New Year's Kiss, or the times youâve messily made out in the corner of a frat house after he finished a keg-stand. It was all platonic, anyhow, so whittled down to ancient history it wasnât even worth bringing up.Â
âWhy lie if you arenât doing it still?âÂ
Your eyes widen. You donât know why you lied. You werenât expecting him to catch you in it. Your ears are on fire.Â
âIâm not lying!â It comes out louder than intended, too defensive, too full of quickly found, nervous anger. If you were honest with yourself, you thought about ancient history often, you thought about what it would have been like with Wooyoung involved too, yours and Sanâs missing link. A line you havenât crossed. You and San havenât touched each other since you were twenty-one.Â
But you still think about it. More than you should.Â
You empty a much needed breath, one heavy and long. You ignore the stares of the people around you. You try not to let Yunhoâs gaze be patronizing. You try not to feel the embarrassment radiating off of him.Â
âIâm sorry,â you mutter, head dropping down until your chin is tucked. âI donât know where that came from.âÂ
âI do,â Yunho says quietly, almost shakily, like heâs scared of saying the words that follow. âYou and them⊠you want it, donât you?âÂ
âWeâre just friends,â you nearly whisper, an unexplainable tightness in your chest. âRoommates,â you add, and it sounds like an insult.Â
He lays an open palm on the table, and you pick your head up to meet his soft smile, eyes full of sadness, pity. You take his hand anyway.Â
âYou should really tell them how you feel so this doesnât happen again.âÂ
How you feel?
How you feel?Â
You donât even know how you feel. You have memories that linger, a soft spot for the two men you spend all your time with that was the size of a crater. You have touches, eyes, words you werenât sure should mean more than they do. You have emotions, you have a fantasy you keep buried, you have a secret that would shatter you if it ever saw the light of day.
That line hung over your head the entire drive home. Yunho paid the bill, much to your dismay, you definitely didnât give him the best date of his life, but your argument was cut short by the reminder that you had bigger fish to fry. You needed the brain power for the thoughts thatâd keep you awake tonight, while your roommates were fast asleep in their rooms, unaware that you were pondering about the possibility of them ever being more.Â
Yunho parked beside your car again. Turning towards you, keeping the car running, he said, âI wonât say anything about tonight.â
âThanks,â you mutter in a breath, âIâm sorry again.âÂ
âDonât be,â Yunho shakes his head, laying a hand on your thigh to squeeze it encouragingly, âI hope it works out for you.âÂ
Giving him a weak smile, you unbuckle your seatbelt and let yourself out of the car, the stupid fucking heels on your feet clacking against the pavement. âDrive safe,â you say before closing the door behind you, and Yunho nods with a warm smile.Â
You face your apartment building with a pout. That could not have gone any fucking worse, and those two upstairs are going to do nothing but pester you for every single detail. Forcing a breath through your lips, you walk up the stone steps to your front door, bracing yourself for questions you canât answer as you push it open.Â
The apartment was quiet, lights dim, you slipped your heels off upon entering, dangling them from your fingers. Sweetie didnât greet you, very unlike him, but maybe he was asleep at this hourâ with the frenzy in your mind you didn't realize it wasnât late at all. You took the corner around your foyer to reach the living room, and the sight before you had a shriek ripping from your chest, eyes blowing wide, heart positively dropping into your ass.Â
On your living room couch, brown leather, wrinkled and weathered from years of use, was Wooyoung, shirtless, lip locked with a shirtless San beneath him. Bronzy, sculpted chests pressed together, veiny hands in dark hair, spit-stained lips messily tangled, Wooyoungâs toned hips were rutting against Sanâs before your shriek bursted their bubble.Â
They broke apart like teenagers getting caught, Wooyoung so surprised he launched off of Sanâs lap and onto the fucking floor. âShy!â San yelped, as shocked as you are, gaze panic-stricken as it bounced between you and Wooyoung, he stood up instinctively.Â
Your insides felt like weeds. Tangled up, knotted together beyond belief, the air in your lungs was gone, there wasnât enough oxygen in the closing room to fill them. You stared as Wooyoung blew his hair off his face, leaning back on his elbows on the floor, legs bent up and spread, denim unzipped, sporting a tent in the pocket of his undone fly.Â
San was no better. Undeniably hard, droplets of wetness on his low hanging gray sweats, skin red and splotchy, glowing with a sheer sheen of sweat. His hair was fucked up, as was Wooyoungâs, sticking out in every direction, curled where fingers had been rooted.Â
Wooyoungâs lips curled in a lazy grin, âYouâre home early.âÂ
Your hands are shaking. You think if you take one step, your knees will buckle. This feels like betrayal. Your skin is fire-hot, body buzzing with confusion, shock, rage, hurtâ you were out on a date they set up for you, while they were at home fucking?! Did they just want you out of the apartment for the night? How long have they been hooking up?
You can hear your heart pounding in your ears, you can feel every ounce of blood thrashing beneath your skin like your heart was the eye of a hurricane.Â
Your vision blurs, words coming out short, âI-I donâtââ shaking your head, you move in the direction of your bedroom. Sweetieâs at your side, you donât know where he even came from, you donât have the heart to greet him. Under your breath you mutter, âIâm going to bed.âÂ
âShy,â San calls after you, his voice strained. A little louder, a little harsher, he tries again, âShy!â
You close your bedroom door and flatten your back against it, breath leaving you in tremors, palms shaky against the wood behind you. Sweetie is at your feet, dancing on his paws, whimpering for some form of attention from you, sensing all the emotion in your chest.Â
You sink down until your ass meets the floor, eyes focused on nothing, hands mindlessly reaching for Sweetie as your brain replays everything you just saw. Wooyoungâs back arching his chest into Sanâs, Sanâs tongue slipping between Wooyoungâs lips, one hand on Wooyoungâs thigh while the other tugged at his hair. Wooyoungâs hips rolling against him, his eyebrows furrowed in pleasure, a shakiness to his lean body that could only be perceived as need. This was not the first time theyâve done that.Â
Your chin tilts upward as Sweetie licks your cheeks, you didnât realize silent tears poured down them, dripping from your jaw. You couldnât deny it nowâ everything Yunho insinuated, everything he said, how witnessing those two together made you feel. You wanted them. You wanted to be in the middle. You wanted their lips and hands on you just as much as you wanted to watch them touch each other.Â
Fuck.Â
You canât pretend like your feelings donât exist anymore. Half the reason you didnât want to go tonight was because you wished they were taking you out, instead. You wished they begged you to stay home, with them, watching movies curled up on the couch, just to end up how they did without you. Without you. There wasnât any room for you, they had a relationship on their own. They left you out of it. They set you up with someone else so they could have each other.Â
It hurts like a knife to your gut.Â
You can hear them whispering through the walls. You canât make out a word, but they sound like theyâre arguing, or debating. Then itâs quiet.Â
Sweetie whimpers again. You pouted at him, his precious face seemed like it was pouting back at you. âItâs okay,â you reassure the puppy, hands cupping his face, scratching behind his ears, âIâm okay, I promise.âÂ
Wiping your tears, heaving a breath, you push yourself up, leaving your heels thrown beside the door where you dropped them. You tug the leather off your shoulders, hanging it in your closetâ you didnât have the heart to give it back to him right now, but it was too expensive to throw haphazardly on your gaming chair.Â
After pulling out pajamas, you reached for your zipper, but you couldnât reach it to get it down. You tried again, folding your arms behind you, fingers touching, zipper out of reach. You curse under your breath, shoulders strained, it hurt, your breathing picks up again in frustration.Â
Sweetie jumps on your bed, watching you. It seemed he felt pity for you, too, sitting on his back legs, head tilted as watches how pathetic you lookedâ the tears bubbled up again.Â
San knocks on your door twice. You know itâs him because the knocks are soft, gentle, Wooyoung would have just barged inside after a slew of obnoxious knocks of his knuckles. You didnât want to see either of them right now.Â
âLet me get your zipper.âÂ
Your arms unfold from your back, hands planting against the mattress beside Sweetie, head dropping as a defeated sob silently rips from your throat. The black labâs nose nuzzles in your hair as you force the tears back in, back down, away.Â
San opens the door without waiting for your response. You canât see him eye the pair of heels on your floor, picking them up, placing them in front of your wide closet, you keep your eyes on the white comforter, laser focused on keeping your emotion locked up. On silent feet he comes up behind you, moving your hair out of the way, deft fingers slowly pulling your zipper down your back.Â
âDo you want to talk about it?â His voice is as soft as his movements, tender, like if he spoke the wrong word youâd crumble in his hands. You shake your head, sniffing. His sigh is light, apologetic, âWe didnât think youâd be home so early.âÂ
âItâs okay, Iâm fine. The date just didnât go as planned,â your voice is nasally from how much snot had formed in your sinuses. You wipe your nose with the back of your hand, standing up, turning to look at him. Still shirtless, skin still red and splotchy, the only difference now was that his face was filled with concern instead of shock. âIâm sorry I broke up your date night.âÂ
He shakes his head fervently, âYou didnât break up anything, Shygirl, what happened on your date? You didnât like Yunho? Are you okay? Did he do anythingââ
A sharp chuckle tumbles past your lips, you look off to the side, shaking your head. âI donât wanna talk about it, I just wanna go to sleep.âÂ
You can feel the cool air of your bedroom on your bare back. You feel exposed, despite being naked in front of him so many times in your life, despite standing before him in a bra and underwear just hours earlier. You cross your arms over your chest. âGo back to Wooyoung.âÂ
His lips tighten, but he nods, eyes searching your face for something he canât find. Itâs clear he doesnât know what to do.Â
âWeâll talk about it tomorrow, okay?âÂ
You nod, looking up at him just as another hot tear slips down your cheek. He raises a hand to cup your cheek, to wipe your tear away with his thumb, but you pull away. His eyes widen ever so slightly, youâve never once pulled away from his touch. He doesnât press it, instead he turns on his heel, leaving your room, closing the door behind him gently, knowing space was what you needed, even if he wished you needed him.Â
You felt better in comfy clothes, curled up in your bed, Sweetie snoring softly beside you, his head basically on your pillow. You tried to focus on that, how his shiny black coat rose and fell with each breath, how he stayed by your side because he knew you needed comfort. Your brain was too muddled to pick apart each and every emotion you were feeling, there were too many, too blended together.Â
But you definitely tried, for each hour you were supposed to be asleep.Â
The studio is quiet.
Rehearsal finished for the night, all of your kids home by now, probably doing last-minute homework or showering before school tomorrow, you donât know what youâre still doing here. The floors are mopped, the mirrors wiped down, the speaker is off and plugged in, your laptop and charger tucked away in your tote. Sitting on the floor of your studio, criss-cross-applesauce, you leaned back on your palms, chin tipped up to the ceiling.Â
Itâs been a week since you found out your two best friends, your roommates, the two people you now know youâre in love with, are in a relationship. You truly have no idea how you got away from their barrage of questions unscathed, the two men want to know every detail of your life on a regular Tuesday, let alone when you come home crying after a date. You put your deceptive shoes on, straightened your back, and blamed every single one of your tears on how sad you were about it not working out with Yunho.Â
Truth was, you havenât spared the date with Yunho a single thought since you came home to see them making out on the couch. Since then, itâs been a constant fight convincing yourself everything was fine. In reality, everything was fine, youâre healthy, youâre stable, you have a puppy at home that still pees a little out of excitement when you walk through the front door.Â
You just couldnât have what you wanted most, and youâre not a child anymore. Wooyoung and San seem so happy together, attached at the hip, pressing soft kisses to each otherâs lips randomly, giggling at something the other said, so lovesick and ignorant to how shitty it all made you feel, you couldnât be mad. You tried your hardest not to be upset.Â
As if youâve been onstage for a week now, itâs felt like seven days of constant performance. Wearing the mask, playing the part of a perfectly-okay-girl, not letting them peer inside to see your heart shredded beneath your ribs. There was still a part of you that was disappointed they couldnât see through the charade, they knew you better than anyone else, too occupied with one another to make an effort in seeing the truth.Â
âWhat are you still doing here?â
You picked your head up, wide-eyed as you glanced at Wooyoung in the doorway, holding a silver ring of multi-colored keys around his pointer finger. Gray sweats, hoodie on top, a black puffer layered over it, sneakers on his feet half-tied. His hair laid messy over his cheekbones, forced down flat beneath the deep red hood, the color compliments him. You think every color in his closet compliments him.Â
âHello? Shygirl?â Heâs smiling now, taking a few steps inside the studio, eyes raking over your frozen form. He pushes the ring of keys inside the pocket of his puffer as he gets closer, bending down at the knees, the backs of his thighs tucked to his calves.Â
âJust thinkinâ,â you smile weakly, head rolling to the side, cheek landing on your shoulder. Heâs so pretty, barefaced, skin clear and soft and beautiful. Shadowed beneath his hood he looks even more breathtaking, the hollows of his cheeks prominent, the freckle under his eye appearing darker.Â
With a heavy breath he leans backward, landing on his ass, arms stretched out behind him, mimicking the same way you sat. His legs longer than yours, they straighten out in front of him, feet tangled between where yours sat strategically. Always close, never close enough.Â
âAbout what?â He tilts his head. âCompetition?â
Yeah, that sounds good enough. You nod and he begins his encouraging monologue all over again, softness in his tone, a determined edge of confidence, youâve heard it all before. You didnât care to listen to the details.Â
âOkay, be serious, whatâs up?â He reigns in his knees, wrapping his arms around them, leaning forward, brows furrowed. âYouâve been off all week, Shy. I know itâs not dance-related.â
You give him a weak, disappointed smile, shaking your head. The worst, shittiest excuse comes to mind, but youâd rather use any excuse than tell him why shrapnel floated through your blood, pieces of your heart that shattered beyond repair a week ago. âIâm just getting my period, Iâm in my head, thatâs all.â
He pouts, âYou swear?â
You nod, eyes heavy, âI swear.â
It doesnât even feel bad to lie. Maybe youâre tired of wearing the mask. Tired of feeling.
âWanna dance with me?â
Your eyes flicker up to him, a question in your lifted brow. âDance?â
His grin has turned mischievous, lopsided eyes thinning with the giddiness on his cheeks, he plants his palms on the floor to push himself up, throwing his puffer to the side as he walks to the speaker in the corner of the room. Turning it on, static catching as he plugged in his phone, he looked over his shoulder to ask, âWhat song?â
âWoo,â you shake your head, âI donât want toââ
âCome on,â he looks back at his phone screen, you can only assume heâs scrolling through his liked songs on Spotify, âyour endorphins are in jail right now, they need to be released.â
Your lips tighten, he leaves no room to argue. He never does.Â
Ain't another woman that can take your spot, myâŠ
He turns with the same feline grin as bass pounds through the room. He turned the volume up on the speaker, the building empty, no one lingering around to hear it.Â
Your brows raise, a smile begging to curve your lips, âJustin Timberlake? Really?â
âGet up!â He yells, chest pumping to each beat, limbs fluid as his feet glide in your direction, âItâs just you and me, Shy-Shy. Come on.â
You push yourself up off the marley flooring reluctantly, and then you hear his voice.Â
âIf I wrote you a symphony, just to say how much you mean to me,â he grabs your hands as soon as you get your footing, a scowl on your face as he pulls you towards him, âIf I told you you were beautiful, would you date me on the regular?â
You canât fight the smile that creeps over your cheeks this time, letting him guide you to the center of the room, still fighting your instinct that begs your body to move to the beat of the song. Bodies facing the mirror that stretches from one wall to the other, he glides behind you, his right hand still over yours, freeing your left.
âI can see us holdin' hands, walkin' on the beach, our toes in the sand. I can see us on the country side, sittin' on the grass, layin' side by side,â still holding your hand, you sing with him as he guides you, his left hand on your hip. âYou can be my baby, let me make you my lady, girl, you amaze me. Ain't gotta do nothin' crazy, see, all I want you to do is be my love.â
Youâre giggling at first, moving with him, singing loudly in the studio, until he spins you around, two hands on your hips, holding you close.Â
Ain't another woman that could take your spot, my loveâŠ
Your smile falters, lips parting as you stare up at him, breath stolen from your chest. His hoodie had fallen, leaving his hair visibly messy over his face, a smile so true, chocolate eyes holding half of your heart, you remember who he is. Jung Wooyoung, roommate, best friend, coworker, heâs so many things to you, but not yours.Â
Is this some kind of sick joke?
Like he can read your thoughts, like heâs trying to make you forget, he twists you back around. Two hands on your hips, knees bent and legs spread, you follow suit, watching each other in the mirror. Your outfits look planned, your sweats baggy and low, hoodie tucked up, hair that was once in a bun now halfway spilling down your cheeks, you let your body flow. Allowing your mind to go blank, you let yourself feel the music, your hips sway with his, your movements clean, you dance together like you choreographed it.Â
âThere you go,â heâs grinning again, nodding, encouraging, âmy love, my love, my love.â
Four minutes and thirty-six seconds feels like a lifetime, yet no time at all. You and Wooyoung, your bluetoothed brains, and Justin Timberlake in the studio nearing eleven at night, you ended the song out of breath, staring at each other from feet away, as if youâre twenty-five all over again when San had just opened the studio. Brain cleared, endorphins released, you did feel lighterâ not better, but lighter, like Wooyoung reached into your mind and took the edge off himself.Â
âFeel better?â Heâs smiling, chest heaving, hands on his hips, one knee bent with the other holding his weight.Â
You nod, tugging on your ponytail to free your hair, just to pull it up all over again. Walking toward him, youâre still out of breath, âWe should have recorded that.â
âWe can do it again,â he offers, âalthough I donât think weâll ever reach that level of synchronicity without choreography again.â
You laugh, a lighthearted thing, âNo, I think that was the extent of our bluetooth abilities.â
He takes a step forward, throwing his arms out to wrap around you, pulling you into his chest, pressing a kiss into your forehead. âI missed dancing with you.â
He smells like home, woodsy, spicy, sweatyâ you canât help the way you drink him in, letting the smell of him calm something primal, something integral in your soul.Â
Wooyoung is convinced youâre the only person in the world that can steal the breath from his lungs just by looking at him. Your arms wrapped around his torso, chin tucked into his chest, looking up at him with those big eyes he could get lost in, his breath catching in his throat is a verbal sound. He can feel the heat in the base of his spine, he settles into your touch as it spreads through him like wildfire, his heart picking up speed, pounding harder against his chest.
Holding you like this, wanting you like this, like he has since the day he first saw youâ around a fire, in the backyard of a house party at Seonghwaâs place, sat next to San with a cute, shy little smile on your cheeks. He thought you were Sanâs girlfriend, he assumed it from the way you looked at each other, spoke to each other. Stars in your eyes, a soft, comforting tenderness in your voice that turned your words into song, Wooyoung thought heâd lost before he even entered the game.
But then he watched San leave your side for the pretty brunette from his dance class, the guy Wooyoung kept his eye on, taller than San, muscular, beautiful. Mere minutes went by before San kissed him, and even if San was shorter, smaller, Wooyoung watched as he dominated the kiss, hands in his hair, making the taller man cower for him. Obey him, even just in a kiss.Â
Then you stood, sauntering over in your ripped denim that hugged your ass perfectly, one hand on Sanâs shoulder had him pulling away fully, dimples out in a smile, face flushed with a hazy, lustful stare. You talked, talked, and talked before San was grabbing you by the hand, the man following behind you both as you left. The three of you, together, you left together.
Wooyoung was left confusedâ aroused, curious, hopeful, but still so fucking confused. He asked around, Yeosang told him the nature of your relationship, that Sanâs known you forever, that you do that sometimes. Casually. You werenât datingâ but you fucked. Other people. Together.Â
Wooyoung wanted to be next.Â
He wanted you. He wanted San. He wanted both of you. Carnally.Â
But that day never came. He formed a friendship with you easily, with San easily, the three of you becoming a trio that did everything together, but your hobby, your past-time after a party, never included him. In fact, it stopped altogether when Wooyoung became involved.
Itâs not like he didnât try, heâs flirty by nature, it comes as easily to him as breathing, but eventually he accepted that your relationship, your friendship, had taken root in something platonic. It bloomed into the best thing thatâs ever happened to him, two people that love him fully, unconditionally, but by the time he moved into your shared apartment, he had to pluck the petals off the basis of his interestâ his arousal, his want, his need, tucked away in his back pocket like it was never there to begin with.Â
It became easy, over time, until San kissed him for the first time, restarting all the work heâs done, placing him back at square one. Three in the morning in the kitchen of the apartment, the only light over the sink, dimmed and low, San took Wooyoung by his cheeks and made him feel like San wanted him the whole time, too.Â
And he did, Wooyoung learned. And he still wanted you. So did Wooyoung.Â
âI missed it, too,â you whisper, your face too close, he has to swallow down his instinct, every fiber of his being that tells him to fucking kiss you. Dancing with you, itâs something the two of you used to do often when San first opened the studio, when you werenât as busy, as successful as you are now.Â
Sometimes San was included, in the corner of the room, correcting your form with a smile on his dimpled cheeks, amusement on his tongue, sometimes he was dancing with you, too. Late into the night, sometimes a few seltzers added into the mix, those nights Wooyoung could have sworn there was an understanding between the three of you, that there was a layer of arousal, of want, those nights Wooyoung prayed to a god he didnât believe in that youâd repeat history with him. For him. The way you looked at him, the glint in your eye, even now, more often than not you looked at Wooyoung like you wanted him to pin you to the floor beneath you.Â
For years that look has given him hope, that eventually something will happen, something will bloom between the three of you. It wonât just be him and San pining over you while they try to fill the gap with each other.
He hasnât seen that look once since you caught him with San. You said you were fine, okay, that their relationship doesnât bother you, that youâre happy for themâ and thereâs truth to it somewhere, Wooyoung assumes the truth is mixed into the lies, that you werenât completely bullshitting him, the only reason they tried to set you up with Yunho is because they were convinced itâd never happen with you. They gave up. At least Yunho was a nice guy.Â
His arms lift from your shoulders to push your hair away from your face, stray pieces that had fallen even if youâd just put it up, barefaced, maybe some mascara on your lashes, heâs stunned the way he always is. So beautiful it makes his stomach hurt, your skin soft in his palms, warm in such an inviting way, he doesnât want to let go. His voice tumbles out small, âYouâre so pretty, Shy.â
Your heart skips a beat in your chest. His eyes look so soft, a fond smile on his lips while his eyes glance at yours like he was going to kiss you, while he looks at you like he loves you, he does love youâ itâs different. It looks different. Chest turning tight, stomach doing a flip, your arms uncurl from around his waist, you break away from him quickly like he burned you, the loss of warmth hits hard even if you were the one who enforced it. âYou shouldnât do that,â your tone comes out harsher than you wanted it to, voice slightly broken, stressed. Panicked.Â
Wooyoungâs brows furrow, âWhat? I- Shy.â
âItâs disrespectful,â you donât know why youâre speaking, where this is coming from. Your throat is tight, heart pounding against your breastplate, you bring your hand up to lay where itâs bursting from your chest. âYou canât do things like that anymore, Woo,â youâre avoiding his eye, head shaking rapidly, voice panicked and wary beyond control, ânot anymore.â
âI made her hate me because I couldnât control myself.â
Wooyoung is pacing around Sanâs room, shirtless, his hair sticking out in every which way atop his head, oily after work, even more so from how many times heâs ran his hands through it. San, on his bed, also shirtless, briefs loose on his hips, wears furrowed brows and a solemn downcurve of his lips after hearing the story Wooyoung frantically woke him up to tell him.Â
The younger man ripped his hoodie and his tee off his upper half upon entering the room, crawling onto Sanâs bed, shaking him awake. Eyes barely closed, heâd just fallen asleep, blinked awake upon the first shake of his shoulders, âWoo? Whatâs wrong? Are you okay?â
âI think Shy hates me,â his face was red even in Sanâs dark room, brows furrowed and voice panicked in a way he hadn't heard in a long time.Â
San sits up halfway, turning over to face Wooyoung, âWhat? No she doesnât, what happened?â
âWe were at the studio, we danced, I called her pretty and she freaked out,â Wooyoung sits back, his breaths quick and uneven between his words, he toys with his fingers in his lap, eyes wide, blinking rapidly. âShe called me disrespectful, Sannie, she said I canât do that anymore, I donât know what happened San, Iââ
âBaby,â San reaches to put a hand on his cheek, taking note of how hot he felt, âcalm down, breathe. Donât say anything, breathe with me for a few and then we can talk, okay?â
Wooyoungâs first breath is shaky, panicked, like he couldnât suck down air fast enough, couldnât get it deep enough. San sits up fully, pressing a hand onto his diaphragm, keeping the other soft on his cheek, âBreathe, baby.â
A few counted breaths until he sounded even, one singular hot tear rolling down his cheek onto Sanâs palm, the older man leaned forward to press a kiss to his lips. âNo matter what, she doesnât hate you, okay? Tell me what happened.â
Wooyoung takes another two breaths before speaking, telling him the story from the start. How you looked at him like you were offended, like heâd just done the worst thing in the world, how you didnât speak to him the entire subway ride home. How when you walked inside the apartment you barely greeted Sweetie, instead you silently gave him a treat from the counter before bringing him to your room, closing the door behind you. You didnât even look at him, like he wasnât beside you the whole time.Â
Mid-story heâd jumped off the bed, began pacing back and forth on Sanâs carpeted bedroom floor, speaking a mile a minute, each word edged with panic like heâd done something despicable.Â
âShe hates me,â he finally stood in the middle of the room, voice cracking, âI made her hate me because I couldnât control myself.â
âNo, Woo,â San shakes his head, voice soft and comforting, âknowing her, she thinks our dynamic changed. To her, weâre off-limits now, we canât act the way we always have, canât flirt and touch and do all the things that make us, us.â
He starts pacing again, hands running through his hair, tugging at his roots. San can barely see more than his shadow in his dark room, but he doesnât need to see to know what look is on Wooyoungâs face, how his brows tie together, how he tucks his lips together, face splotched red.Â
âI donât want that!â Wooyoung keeps his voice a low cry, âI donât want us to change. This isnât what I wanted to happen, I want her to want us, I want her.â
âCome here,â San keeps his voice calm, steady. Wooyoung walks over, standing between Sanâs legs, one of his hands still in his hair. San leans forward, plants his palms on Wooyoungâs hips, âShe has no idea how we feel about her, Woo. Sheâs trying to be fair, to keep her distance so she doesnât hurt either of us. You know how her head works, baby.â
âWhat if she doesnât forgive me?â The way his voice breaks is like a shot through Sanâs heart. But San knows you better, he knows your mind, knows your soul, heâs known you since you gained consciousness, heâs watched them form, learned you as you grew.
âThereâs nothing to forgive you for, baby,â San whispers, tugging the younger man towards him, forcing his knees onto the bed, to bracket around his hips. He brings a hand up, petting his hair, sliding down to cup Wooyoungâs cheek, bringing him closer, âEverything is okay.â
Wooyoung presses his lips into Sanâs, hands landing on his broad shoulders, his body melting into Sanâs touch, finding comfort in his hard, broad body, his own sinking into him. Wooyoungâs hands travel to find his neck, his cheeks, deepening the kiss, his tongue poking out to slide into Sanâs mouth, still light, steady.Â
Until Sanâs length twitches under Wooyoung, making the younger man smile into his mouth, âYeah? Hard already?â
âDonât tease me,â San is breathless, their lips still touching, âIâm supposed to be making you feel better.â
âAh,â Wooyoungâs tone is still teasing, his grin spreading into a smirk, âI know how you can make me feel better.â
San snorts, head tipping back until he falls back onto the bed, letting Wooyoung crawl on top of him, his head tilting as Wooyoung leans his head down, pressing a kiss to one of Sanâs pecs, soft hands roaming his torso. Body shivering, San keeps his voice light, âDid you freak out just to fuck me? A ploy, huh?â
San can make the outline of Wooyoungâs scowl as he stares up at him, making San chuckle, Wooyoung bites down on his skin and he hisses. âI was stressed,â Wooyoungâs voice is sharp, âI still am stressed, but now Iâm kinda horny and itâs your fault.â
San laughs again, hands coming up to tangle in Wooyoungâs hair, pulling him upward, âIâm sorry baby, I'll fix it for you, yeah?â
Thirty minutes rolling around in the sheets, keeping their voices quiet, their movements slow but not any less tantalizing, Wooyoung is filled, sated, skin sticky against Sanâs as he lays on the older manâs chest, dozing off to the sound of his heartbeat.Â
Despite being woken up by Wooyoung, itâs harder for San to find sleep now, mind muddled with thoughts about you. Analyzing Wooyoungâs story, the details, how you looked at himâ he wondered if there was a small chance you felt the same way towards them.Â
While you were still in college, you and San had moments where lines blurred, he can still remember the nights where you brought someone home just to barely touch them. So wrapped up in each other, lost in pleasure, you almost forgot there was a third person there to play with. It didnât just happen once, not even twice, it happened enough times to where you had to stop after the third person left angry and unsatisfied, an unsettling feeling floating around the room that neither of you had the balls to address.Â
Always light, always casual, you explored pleasure together, different positions, different kinks, different dynamics for so longâ he blamed those days on you two being young, horny, rabid animals, looking for a good fuck, a new skill to add to your arsenal. It was around the time you two met Wooyoung, San thinks, when that night happened, the last time you touched each other sexually. Still to this day, unspoken, swept beneath the rug.Â
San sometimes wonders if the lines blurred sooner, heâs loved you since you were young, in high school even, itâs petrified him since he was a teenager to tell you how he feels. What if you donât feel the same way? What if he told you, and your friendship ended? He couldnât bear a life without you, he doesnât know a life without you.Â
Maybe he figured one day his feelings would dissipate into thin air, that he didnât need you to love him back, that as long as he never told you, youâd still be friends. But then you fucked. And then you fucked again. And you kept fucking until San realized heâd never be satisfied with anyone else, that he needed you, he needed you to love him back, he needed to treat you how you deserved.Â
 When you stared at him with wide eyes, crawled off the bed with shaky legs, retreating back to your room without a word, San almost laughed at himself. At his feelings. Because why would you ever love him back? He's watched you grow up, each phase, your best and your worst, thatâs friend zone material, at least in his younger, twenty-something year old mind.Â
But you never grew apart. And after the fucking stopped, the makeouts, the lazy hookups, the people you both thought were sexy and sought out together, it seemed to have added yet another layer of strength to your relationship. Vulnerability. A closeness you should never, ever have with a friend as close as you two are, it never ends well.Â
Years later, still in the same boat. He still loves you the same. He still wants you the same. Somehow he got comfortable without the intimacyâ or without the sexual aspect, he should say, because your relationship was full of intimacy. It never really bothered him, he never really yearned for more, until it was three in the morning and he had his fist wrapped around his cock with only you in his mind.Â
Then he had Wooyoung, the sole person heâs entrusted with his feelings, sputtering words between Wooyoungâs tongue pushing between his lips, so obviously confessing feelings that heâs kept trapped inside for over a decade, just to find out Wooyoung feels the same way. That heâs also wanted you since he laid eyes on you.Â
It was confusing, the lack of possession, of jealousy in his gut. He already knew he wanted Wooyoung, living with the younger man only made him love him more, their friendship was already blurring lines the day they met. For awhile San thought maybe you felt it too, that maybe you saw how Wooyoung looked at you, maybe you realized San had never started treating you differently. That he loved you, that Wooyoung loved you, and it wasnât all platonic.Â
He wonders if you love them back. If thereâs even a small, microscopic part of you that wants them, more than friendship, more than sex, even. Not that heâd decline you if you proposed sleeping together. For a week now, your sparkâs been gone, the twinkle in your big, doe eyes you wear like an accessory was replaced with something dull, something sad. You blamed it on the date with Yunhoâ but was that really the truth? You barely told them any details, you kept it vague, you even blamed that on not wanting to think about it, talk about it.Â
As he settles into the mattress beneath Wooyoung, one arm curled up to hold his head close to his chest, he wonders if youâre asleep in the other room, dreaming of more, too.Â
âItâs fine,â you smile weakly at Wooyoung whose head is burrowing into your chest like heâd crawl inside and make a home there if you let him. âIâm sorry I gave you the silent treatment, I just freaked out a little.â
His voice is muffled by your hoodie, your chest that his head was buried in, âDonât apologize, please donât apologize to me, Iâm the one whoâs sorry.â
âWoo,â you forced out a chuckle, flexing your body on the old, brown leather couch that he was forcing you deeper into, âlook at me.â
He picks his head up, his pretty, bronzy, bare face is littered by splotches of cherry. You ruffle his hair, smelling your shampoo, a blend of grapefruit and vanilla, âIâm not mad, itâs fine. Letâs just be done with it, put it past us, okay?â
Wooyoung pouts, but he nods, then lays back on your chest all over again. You groan, shifting your body to get comfortable under his weight, wondering how the fuck they were hooking up on this thing when you have to fight for your life to get comfortable on it.
âSannie,â you shout into the open, living room air, âcome get your boyfriend off of me!âÂ
Wooyoung gasps, picking his head up to shout towards the hallway, âDonât! Iâm exactly where I want to be.âÂ
Your head tips back in a laugh, knees bent up on either side of his body thatâs dead weight on top of you, arms caging you in against the couch. âYouâre ridiculous, you know that?âÂ
âYouâre warm, let me stay,â he nuzzles his head into your hoodie further, his voice a sated mumble.Â
You smack your teeth, eyeing the pink princess blanket between your bodies, âYouâre laying on top of the blanket and you donât have clothes on.âÂ
Shirtless, briefs on his legs, he snickers, guilty as charged. âYouâre the only heat I need, baby.âÂ
âWoo.âÂ
âToo soon?â He picks his head up, brows lifted and eyes apologetic, âIâm sorry.âÂ
San comes out of the hallway, fresh out of the shower, droplets of water sinking down his temples, onto his bare shoulders, his chest from his still-soaked hair. It makes your breath stutter in your chest the way it always does, heâs so effortlessly perfect it makes you miss touching him, feeling his soft skin beneath your fingers, sinking your nails into his strong, hard muscles. He smiles when he sees you, dimples prominent, he says nothing as he crosses the room with bare feet, nothing on his body but gray sweats on his legs.Â
âDonât you dare,â you warn, seeing the twinkle of mischief in his eye, how his grin turns from soft to playful.Â
He ignores you by crawling onto the couch, shoving you into the back of it so he can take up the side, the couch just big enough to squeeze the three of you, only if Sanâs strength is on the outside to keep you boxed in.
You yelp as your body sinks into the couch, âSan! I was comfortable.âÂ
âYouâre only comfortable on the L part,â San quips, body nuzzling into yours, Wooyoung giggling from below you. Â
âThe chaise?â You snort, eyes flickering up to his that stare right back, âweâve had two sectionals since we got this apartment, and you donât know itâs called a chaise?âÂ
He giggles, âI donât care what itâs called, I just know that you like it.âÂ
âAnd you only sit in the corner,â Wooyoung adds, his head sinking down to lay on your stomach. Your ankles cross over his back as his arms curl under yours, more comfortable now that youâre tangled, his arms taking pressure off your lower back.Â
âLetâs stay like this forever,â San doesnât give you time to answer, squeezing in closer, pushing you and Wooyoung further to the back of the couch. He smells like his bodywash, sweet and soft, you would stay forever if you could.Â
Your voice comes out strangled under the pressure of his body, âWeâre gonna have to, because soon Iâll be dead. Youâre gonna kill me if you keep pushing me into the couch, Sannie.âÂ
âI just want to keep you here,â he pouts, squishing his face closer until his nose presses against your cheek, âif I let you go, youâll run away.âÂ
His wet hair bleeds into the pillow, quickly spreading to where your head lays, it brushes against the side of your head the closer he gets, itâs cold. You squirm, âYour hair is freezing, Sannie, holy shit, thereâs too much happening right now.âÂ
San whines, but he rolls off the couch, landing on one steady foot, standing up. You suck in a breath, but your pillowâs already soiled, you frown. He grins.Â
âIâm going to the studio,â he says swiftly, âcome with me, I have a few things to do before the day starts.â
You groan, lip lifting in protest, âI donât have a rehearsal âtil six.â
âLucky,â Wooyoung mumbles, âMineâs at four.â
âI know when yours is,â you mumble back, âI was gonna enjoy my alone time.â
âFreak,â San teases, a smile playing on his lips, amused at what he insinuated.
Wooyoungâs laugh is loud, piercing through the room, âThat was a good one.â
Your brows raise, deadpanning, âAnd what if youâre right, hm? What then?â
They both turn to look at you, faces serious, both silently asking really?
Itâs your turn to laugh, head tipping back into the pillow, and they both groan, San walking away, Wooyoung pushing off of you. It makes you laugh harder, talking through it, âCome on, that was a good one, you should have seen your faces.â
âAre you seriously not gonna come?â San, brows raised, asks from the entry to the hallway. âWe can stop for food on the way, the three of us can hangout before everyone else shows up.â
You make a show of shaking your head back and forth, âI have shit to do here before work.â
Wooyoung smacks his teeth, âLike what? Laundry?â
You flatten your lips, âHave you seen the mountain of clothes in my room?â
San snorts, disappearing into the hallway, and Wooyoung finally climbs off the couch, âFine, do your laundry, but I know youâll miss us.â
âIâll miss you so bad,â youâre wearing a smile now, watching him with lazy eyes as he follows behind San into the hallway, disappearing into the shadow of the walls.Â
Your smile falters, settling, before a frown takes its place. Soon enough, probably sooner than you think, youâre sure you wonât be able to do this anymoreâ spend so much time with them, cuddle with them, live with them, eventually theyâll grow sick of you, theyâll only want each other.Â
Thereâs already no room for you in their relationship, and with time, youâre sure the space theyâve carved out for you will dwindle to nothing. Looking across the room, you find Sweetie sunbathing beneath the window, his head politely tucked over his paws, the sun casting a shiny glow over his black coat, the sight makes you smile. You call him over and immediately heâs jumping onto the couch, laying on you where Wooyoung had just been, replacing the warmth heâd ripped away.Â
âAt least I have you,â you whisper, smiling, fingers scratching under his ears.Â
âYunho!â Wooyoung all but whispers, his loud voice carrying down the aisle, perking his tall friendsâ ears. The older man whips his head around in confusion, smiling when he sees Wooyoung and San, giving them a small wave before walking down the aisle to greet them properly.
Stopping in a mid-sized corner store, the halfway point between the studio and home, San made good on his promise to pick up food on the way into work; Wooyoung was already giddy before seeing Yunho, this corner store was his favorite, it sold his favorite energy drink.Â
âWhatsup?â Yunhoâs grin is wide as he clasps the hand of both men, pulling them both into a hug, landing a smack on their backs. âYou guys going to Steer on Friday? I heard itâs got a weird industrial, mechanical vibe to it, I donât know. Joong seems pretty hype about it.â
San and Wooyoung both nod, but itâs San who answers, âYeah, yeah, we wouldnât miss it.â
âSounds weird, though,â Wooyoung adds, âdo you know if the drinks are cheap?â
âThree bucks a beer,â Yunhoâs tongue pokes out from between his teeth, nodding, and the three men erupt into what can only be described as men-turned-pelicans finding an endless pit of fish to feed on.Â
Theyâre all smiles and laughter until Yunho asks if youâre going, which sparks the two menâs memory, Wooyoung and Sanâs backs standing a little straighter, entering Shy-defense-mode.
âIâŠâ San begins, then turns to Wooyoung.
Wooyoung, already staring at him, blinks, then turns to Yunho, âMaybe?â He gives it a second, then blurts, âCan I just ask what happened between you two?âÂ
Sanâs lips tighten, head falling until his chin tucks into his chest. They shouldnât have asked, Wooyoung shouldnât have asked, but he canât help his curiosityâ he wants to know, too. They havenât gotten anything besides vague answers from you.Â
Yunhoâs eyes widened, mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. It makes San curious, too curious for his own good, he adds, âWe wonât say anything, she just wonât tell us anything, and weâre worried about her, yâknow?â
Yunhoâs chin tilts in defense, brows flattening, âI didnâtâ it was justââ
âWeâre not accusing you of anything bad,â Wooyoung waves his hands out in front of him, eyes wide, chucking nervously. âShy said you were really great to her, it just didnât work out, or something. She cried for like an entire day after and wouldnât tell us any more details.â
San frowns with remembrance, how you shut yourself away and wouldnât let them in, figuratively and literally. When Wooyoungâs hand falls to his side, San grabs it, giving him an encouraging squeeze, the two meeting eyes with small, fond smiles painted on their cheeks. Yunhoâs eyes lock on the action, on their smiles, confusion morphing his features, everything scrunching together at once.
âWhat?â San asks, âWas everything okay? Youâre both being so ominous about it.â
âUs?â San asks, surprised, eyes wide and brows high.Â
San and Wooyoung share a look, then reluctantly, they nod. Wooyoung smiles, âYeah, weâre together.â
âLike, just the two of you?â Yunho has a finger pointed, dancing between the two of them.Â
Sanâs head turns in question, âYes?â
Yunhoâs jaw drops, nodding slowly, then with a pitched, disbelieving tone, he mumbles, âNo shit.â
âI know,â San nods with a knowing smile, thinking heâs got all of Yunhoâs thoughts figured out. âLong time coming, though.â
âItâs been like, a little over a week of us being together officially,â Wooyoung adds, his grin proud and wide, âbut itâs been good so far. Weâre happy.â
âDoes she know?â Yunho asks, his face quickly settling back into confusion.Â
Wooyoungâs lips purse, âYeah, she knows. Why?â
Yunho nods slowly again like heâs thinking, then shakes his head quickly when Wooyoungâs question settles. âNo reason, just wondering. Anyways, Iâve really gotta run, Iâve got this thing that Iâm already late to and⊠art, and you know, yeah. Bye.â
âWait, you didnâtââ
âSorry guys, see you Friday though, yeah?â Yunho gives them a brief smile, then scurries down the aisle like Wooyoung and San were about to put the plague in his palms.Â
Wooyoung and San stand there for a second, brows furrowed, heads tilted, before they look at each other utterly dumbfounded. Wooyoung points down the aisle, âWas that homophobic?âÂ
San, still confused, responds, âPerhaps.â
âHm,â Wooyoungâs eyes thin, âcouldâve sworn him and Mingi fucked before.â
âI thought so too,â San squeezes his hand again, âwho cares? We can snitch on him Friday.â
Wooyoungâs grin returns, laughing loud enough for the whole bodega to hear, âImagine Hongjoongâs face.â
âHongjoong would beat the shit out of him with one hand, Naoya style.â
The more San thinks about it, the more he thinks Yunho might not actually be homophobic at all.Â
âDonât call me schizophrenic.â
Wooyoung snorts, âAre you about to say something that will make me think youâre schizophrenic?â
âMaybe,â San responds, lips scrunched. Sitting at the receptionist desk at the front of the studio, the final piece of Sanâs thought process clicked into place when you brushed past them into your studio for rehearsal. âI think Shy might love us back.â
Wooyoung, sitting fully on the desk beside San, wears a white tank on his upper half, exposing the tattoo on his forearm, black sweats on his lower, hiding each inch of bronzy, toned muscle. Heâs housing a granola bar, his knees spread, back hunched, brows raised as he watches San think.Â
âThat interaction with Yunho was kinda weird,â San begins, leaning back into the rolling computer chair, hands lazily thrown at the center of his spread thighs. In all black, his clothes look painted on, tee clinging to his chest, his arms, his torso, sweats exposing the breadth of his thighs.Â
âWe knew this already,â Wooyoung nods, sticking out his free hand in a rolling motion, âletâs skip to the Shy part.â
âWhat if she was crying the whole day after her date with Yunho because of us?â His eyes flicker up to look at Wooyoung, who only raises a brow. âWhat if she didnât work out with Yunho because she wants us, and she told Yunho all about it?â
âWhy would she even go on the date then?â
San deadpans, âDid she want to even go on that date?â
Wooyoung slaps a hand over his mouth, eyes widening, âOh my god, she definitely did not want to go on that date. What if she didnât work out with Yunho because she wants us, and she told Yunho all about it?â
San rolls his eyes, and then literally rolls the chair away from Wooyoung who tips his head back in laughter. âIâm sorry, come back,â he says through his laughter, âplease? Iâll stop, Iâm sorry. It just sounds like weâre grasping for straws here.â
âWhy else would Yunho be so weird about us being together?â San continues, rolling the chair until heâs between Wooyoungâs spread legs, he lays both palms on his knees. âAnd when he asked âjust the two of youâ? Come on, he basically told us the whole damn story.â
Wooyoung holds onto his granola bar with two hands, eyes closing as he terribly sings, âJust the two of us⊠We can make it if we try, just the two of usâŠâ
âListen to me, Wooyoung. Iâm being serious.â
It seems to lock him back in, Wooyoung meeting Sanâs eye, his back straightening a little. Sanâs lips perk upward, his groin opening an eye at the easy display of submissionâ not the time.Â
âOkay, fine. But I do think youâre a little insane and grasping for straws.â
San smacks his teeth, âIâll prove it to you, then.â
âYeah?â Wooyoung cracks a smile, âHow are you gonna do that? That night in the studio set us back, like, five years.â
âYou donât know her like I know her,â San sits back in the computer chair again, smirk crawling its way onto his cheeks, his arms crossing over his chest.Â
Wooyoung scowls, âAre you flexing on me right now?â
âNo!â San shakes his head, âIâm just saying, I think I could get her to crack if she does want us back.â
âAnd why would you do it any better than I could?â Wooyoungâs voice is sharper, âI wanted her to begin with, you know.â
âAnd I was fucking her before you ever laid eyes on her,â San responds in the same tone, âdonât get cocky with me, not when it comes to this.â
Wooyoungâs brows raise, back arching ever so slightly at the tone of Sanâs voice. Thereâs amusement playing in his words as he says, âWow, never thought Iâd see the day you get possessive.â
âWith you, thereâs no reason to, itâs not a competition,â San shrugs, âbesides right now. You struck a nerve.â
Wooyoung smiles, hopping down from the desk to place a fat kiss on Sanâs lips, âYou love me.â
Sanâs dimples are on display in a smile as he lifts his arms to grab Wooyoung by his cheeks, leaning up off the chair to kiss the younger man again, âThat I do.â
âYouâre really gonna try?â Wooyoung asks again, leaning against the counter, his legs crossed between Sanâs as he takes another bite of his granola bar. âEven after my studio debacle with her?â
San nods, âIâm optimistic about it, I know, but I really do think Iâm right.â
San learned to enjoy cooking before he learned to enjoy being in the gym. Him and his mother in the kitchen, teaching him recipes sheâs carried through her years learned from her own mother, to recipes heâs learned from cookbooks and the internet that fall within the strict guidelines of his diet.Â
It turned from sustainability to passionâ cooking became a love language before he knew it, and the main reason is because heâs always loved cooking for you most. More so since the two of you moved in together, even more so when Wooyoung moved in, too. Cooking for the three of you, to eat at the kitchen table, on the couch, even if he was dropping off plates to you in your bedrooms⊠San loved it. Adored it.Â
For you to enjoy something he made for you warmed his blood until it sizzled with affection, to know he was making a good, hearty, healthy meal to nourish you, he never thought cooking, of all things, would make him realize how deeply heâs in love.Â
Itâs a constant reminder every time his bare feet touch the tiled floor of the kitchen that he loves you, that he loves Wooyoung. Tonight it feels stronger, but maybe thatâs the two glasses of wine and his pink cheeks talking. The way youâre dancing about the kitchen, twirling in nothing but a big tee, singing along to the song playing from the speaker you keep in the kitchenâ the confession is laying right below his skin, on the tip of his tongue, begging to be set free. After his realization, a bubble of hope so big you could pop it with a fingernail, he doesnât know how much longer he can keep it in.Â
Youâre laughing at something he said, his tipsy mind doesnât even know what it was, but your laugh is so loud and so involuntary it squeezes the life out of his lungs. He wants to pick you up and put you on the counter, his hands on your perfect thighs as your ankles hook around his back, he wants to kiss you. He wants to feel you laugh into his mouth. He misses you.Â
âI donât want to talk about me at eighteen,â you shake your head, still giggling. Your hair is in a bun atop your head, messy, pieces hanging out like you tied it without looking in the mirror. Barefaced, no pants, no bra, this is his favorite version of you, the one that doesnât care, the one thatâs perfectly comfortable being in your own skin.
âWhy not? I loved you at eighteen, too,â San turns back around before his cock begins stirring in his pantsâ he stirs the pot on the stove, instead.Â
You come up behind him, on your tippy toes to place your chin on his shoulder. Still smiling, teeth stained with a faint, deep red, âYeah? You loved me, huh?â
San knows itâs the wine talking, youâd never be so bold otherwise. He doesnât even think youâre being serious. But, being himself, his brows dance above his eyes as he says, âOf course I did, I still love you.âÂ
You roll your eyes, smile faltering for just a second before it returns with vengeance, âI thought you meant you loved me, you goof.âÂ
Should he just say it? Should he? His back straightens a little. Uneasy, voice a little shaky, he tries, âI did, I had aâ a huge crush on you when we were eighteen.âÂ
Your eyes blow wide, spinning around next to him to press your back up against the counter, palms folding around the edge. Surprised, but a little disbelieving, your jaw drops, âNo way.âÂ
âIâm serious!â I still have it to this day. âWhen you dated that one guyâ fuck, what was his name?âÂ
âMark.âÂ
âMark, thatâs it. When you dated him senior year, I was so mad, I can remember being at graduation and being so fucking jealous that you were kissing him for pictures.âÂ
You gasped out a laugh, mortified, shocked, stomach dropping with what you could have had, âWhat? Why didnât you tell me?â
âWhat was I supposed to say?â San steps to the side, half of his body taking up all of yours. He pretends like he doesnât notice how small you are beneath his body. ââHey Shy, I know weâve known each other all our lives, but in the past few years Iâve actually formed a gigantic huge crush on you. Sorry if it ruins the friendship.ââ
âExactly that, yes,â youâre laughing again, nodding, head tilting to the side as you look up at him with those fucking eyes. He loves them, so big and full of knowledge, experience, maturity and grace that is only expressed in the most you way. In a quieter voice, like youâre afraid to say it, you mumble, âI guess that explains college then, huh?â
Thereâs a pit in his stomach, one full of gasoline, and you just dropped a lit match down his throat without even realizing it.Â
âThereâs a lot that could explain college,â San smirks, one dimple arriving at the scene, moving so heâs fully standing in front of you, caging you in between himself and the counter. He presses his hands into the ledge, voice teasing, light and airy, âLike how we wanted each other, and were using a third person as an excuse?âÂ
Your smile falters, eyes widening. You swallow, San watches as your throat bobs, breath turning shallow, chest rising and falling beneath your tee. He canât help the way his smirk grows, liquid confidence and too much optimism making his arm raise to brush a thumb over your cheek, reveling in how you twitch under his touch, eyelids fluttering. He remembers this body like it was his own, how you react to him, what gets your panties wet, what makes your toes fucking curl. He wants to show you how much he remembers you.Â
âAre you guys talking about college again?âÂ
You gasp loudly, jumping, body slithering out of Sanâs clutch and into the open floorplan of the kitchen, all in a few quick, panic-driven movements. With a hand clutched over your heart, youâre out of breath, âFuck, Woo, you scared me.âÂ
âI could feel the jealousy simmering in my bones, I knew you had to be talking about college,â heâs leaning against the archway, playful smirk on his lips, golden skin gleaming beneath the warm light of the kitchen. Shirtless, body on display, an ankle crossed over the other with a pair of baggy basketball shorts on⊠fuck Wooyoung for interrupting him, but fuck, San might actually get hard with the both of you half-dressed.Â
You roll your eyes, taking two steps before you press your back against the other side of the counter, using your palms to lift you up over the edge. Exactly how San wants you, how he imagined you, his breath catches in his throat. He turns back around instead of dwelling on it.Â
âShut up, Woo,â he hears you mumble, âthose days have long ended. Shouldâve met us earlier.âÂ
Wooyoung whines, uncurling his arms from his chest to walk further into the kitchen, stopping in front of you with his palms pressed to your knees, âWhat, you donât miss it, Shybaby? Not even a little?âÂ
San turns the knob on the stove until the flame lowers to a small flicker, stirring the roux in the pot. He turns his head halfway, side-eyeing Wooyoung whose back is slightly arched as he stares up into you, hands now planted against the edge of the counter on either side of your thighs, so confident, not a shred of insecurity in him. San wonders how heâs managed a complete one-eighty from the night he woke him up to freak out. Maybe heâs really making this a competition.Â
You stiffen, eyes widening. Tipsy, but not drunk enough to admit something like that. A nervous laugh stutters from your lips, âIâ What? Like I said, that ship has sailed. Those days are over. The baton has been passed to you, Woo.âÂ
You use one hand on Wooyoungâs bare shoulder and the other pressed to the countertop to haul yourself off of it, landing swiftly on bare feet. Scrambling out of the kitchen towards the living room, you call over your shoulder, âLet me know when dinnerâs ready, Iâm gonna lay down, the wine went straight to my head, I think.âÂ
Wooyoung waits a moment before he turns to stare at San, eyebrows flat. San tightens his lips, an insult in his eyes, whispering, âWhy did you interrupt?â
Wooyoung crosses the kitchen, his voice a sharp whisper, âI thought you already did it. Do you know how it looked from over there?â
Leaving the roux, he leans up against the counter, arms crossing, âWe would have been making out by now if you didnât interrupt.â
âIâm sorry,â Wooyoung whines, âitâs fine, just try again.â
San covers his face with his hands, âYou know what?â His hands lay on his boyfriendâs shoulders, âWhat I just did will hit its mark, maybe if you try next, we can get the point across without having to actually say it. Then she will come to us.â
âIf I try then she wonât have to come to us,â a cocky grin spreads across the younger manâs face, âitâll be game-point. Youâll come home to find us fucking.â
Sanâs lips thin, but he doesnât respond. At this point he doesnât care how it happens, as long as it happens.Â
You thought the wine had left your system hours ago, after the meal Sannie made you, especially after a movie on the couch. The wine is the only explanation for your insides feeling warm and gooeyâ not the fact that across the hall, you could hear the squeaking of the mattress, the bedframe hitting the wall repeatedly, strangled moans leaving two menâs lips that you could tell they were trying to keep inside.Â
Sweetie slept on his bed on your floor, head buried in the gray plush, waking up every few minutes or so from an especially loud moan or a shrill bang of wood against wall. Even your fucking dog was losing sleep.Â
Youâve never heard them before, not once. Not once. Why tonight, after having both of their hands on you, their eyes staring into you, after the question Wooyoung asked? Do you miss it? The fear that zapped up on your spine was so intense you needed to lay down and close your fucking eyes.Â
Confusing as much as it was scary, Wooyoung speaks of jealousy, but asks you if you miss fucking his boyfriend? Was it a kink to them? Is that why theyâre fucking now?
They get off on other people wanting them⊠Wanting each other⊠That had to be it. The jealousy aspect, of reclaiming one another, and they used you to do it of all people?! Itâs worse than mean, itâs worse than rude, itâs cruel. Cruel to dangle their relationship in front of your face after flirting with youâ even if flirting with you is all theyâve ever done.Â
You can remember meeting Wooyoung for the first time, sitting with him in a smoke circle, laughing your heart out when only three or four words had left his mouth. You ended up in tears, cheeks aching, lungs empty and dry, by the time everyone up and left and it was only the two of you left, heâd come onto you. Your first time meeting, even if he said he took notice of you far earlier, around that same smoke circle.
You canât remember why youâd said no, how you rejected him. You had a feeling, maybe, that your relationship with him would grow far deeper than one night spent together in a cloud of hazy lust. Still to this day you remember that ache, laughing so hard you nearly gagged, eyes locked in on him, waiting for the next hilarious thing to leave his lips. It became routine, the next time you saw him out, the time Sannie introduced you to him when you already knew each other, when your name fell from his lips for the first time, Wooyoung has always, always looked at you with a certain look in his eyeâ like he was waiting for the smile to kiss your cheeks, for the laugh to fall from your lips.Â
You donât remember exactly when your duo with San had turned to three. Wooyoung only moved in two years ago, but youâve been close for years now, since that night around the smoke circle, passing three joints amongst nine people.Â
Maybe you were meant to become friends with him so he could end up with San, so the two of them could knock their headboard against your fucking wall and remind you that youâd never be on the inside.Â
It felt sour.Â
Yet for some reason, the hurt laying low in your tummy swam with the heat, the desire, curling into a pit of fire-hot pressure you couldnât ignore. Youâd already pushed the sheets off your body, already tugged your shirt up, desperate for air. You tried a pillow over your head, squeezing cotton against your ears. You went on your phone, scrolled Twitter, watched a few TikToks, tried your favorite ASMRtist.Â
Laying low in the background was them. Endless. Sanâs low grunts, Wooyoungâs pitched whines, they poured through the thin wall separating your rooms, surrounding you like wildfire. They were everywhere, in the air, on your skin, in your sheets, but the ache curled low, settling into nothingness because you could hear the pleasure but were feeling none of it.Â
You gasped as you heard itâ one singular line gritted through Sanâs teeth, âYeah? Gonna be good for me?â
You bent your knees up, head tipping back into the sheets, eyes squeezing shut. Your fingertips tapped against the bed, pushing a heavy sigh through pursed lips. That voice, his tone, the actions that accompany it, your memories are your personal hell. You could see them, Sannie bending Wooyoung in half, a foot planted on the bed as he drilled into him.Â
Then Wooyoung whimpered, âYes, please. So good for youâ Iâll be good, please, fuck me Sannieââ
Your lips parted, a shaky breath slipping through. Your body was steaming, ears straining to listen to every last fucking detail even if you didnât want to hear any of it. Even if it hurt, you needed it like water, like air, so badly you wanted to get up out of bed and walk in there.Â
âThatâs it,â San grunted, you could see the sweat beading between his pecs, âstay down, donât fucking move.â
You bit your lip as your hands traveled to your thighs. Nails scraping against your skin, your nipples pebbled against the open air of your room, shame and embarrassment twisting with the rest of everything curling in your gut. Arousal, jealousy, rage, nostalgia, shame, hurtâ you needed your panties off. It felt unethical, you should put on headphones, you should leave, you should do anything but dip two fingers into your panties.Â
You moaned as your fingers made contact with your clit. Immediately you clamped a hand over your mouth, back arching into your own touch, ignoring the flame of shame completely as your eyes fluttered closed. You eased yourself into the pleasure, breath picking up as Wooyoungâs moans grew louder, the smack of Sanâs hips landing harder.Â
Your other hand sank down to toy with a nipple while your fingers circled your clit in tight, rhythmic movements, eyelids twitching as their pleasure became your own. Timing your movements with theirs, lips parting when a moan sank through drywall, you let your mind drift, placing yourself in the fantasy.Â
Laying up against Sannieâs chest, Wooyoung between your thighs. On top of Wooyoung, hips circling his as Sannie pushed up against your back, hands on your chest, one sinking down to rub circles on your clit. Sitting on Sannieâs lap just like Wooyoung had the night you caught him, chests pressed together, hands in hair, hips mindlessly rutting together, Wooyoung on your back as if you really were between them that night.Â
The movie played in color in your mind, so vivid, like it was happeningâ with noise melting walls, it felt real. Lost in the pleasure, in the fantasy, you didnât realize their volume had lowered, that their movements slowed.Â
âSannie, stop, stop,â Wooyoung splayed a hand behind him, head perked up, face still twisted in pleasure, but his lips stayed parted like he couldnât believe his ears.Â
âWhat?â Concerned, San had two palms on Wooyoungâs hips, pausing immediately, âAre you okay? What's wrong?âÂ
âListen,â Wooyoung whispered, like if he spoke too loud, youâd hear him. That youâd stop.Â
Sanâs brows furrowed, lips parting to question, but then he heard it. Small, faint whimpers, and then a moanâ a genuine, raw, unbridled fucking moan, yours. He recognized it, he knows it, heâs forced it out of your lips, his hips grind into Wooyoungâs warmth out of instinct.
Wooyoungâs head dropped, arm bending until his elbow hit the mattress, a low moan spilling from his lips as his arm slipped between his thighs, tugging on his length. His voice comes out low, ragged, âI canât believe this.â
âFuck,â San cursed low, long, hips picking up again, slow but steady, quiet enough to hear your sounds float through the wall. âSheâ Iâ, Woo.âÂ
âYes,â Wooyoung whispered, moaned, hips fucking back onto Sanâs length in a nasty, slow grind, âwish she was in here, sh- it, want her hands on me.âÂ
Sanâs fingertips squeezed into the plush of Wooyoungâs ass, face scrunching together in pleasure, a silent moan leaving his slacked jaw. The shock, the debrief would have to come later.
âYouâ you wanna fuck her while I fuck you? Hm?âÂ
Wooyoung arched deeper, fisting his length faster, picking up speed all over again, drowning out your noise. San wasnât faring much better, hips stuttering into Wooyoung, one hand sliding up to claw fingers into his boyfriendâs back.Â
Sanâs eyes stayed locked onto where the two met, watching how Wooyoungâs ass rippled with each harsh thrust of his cock, the end approaching too fucking fast.Â
A few more thrusts until he was hunched over, drooling onto Wooyoungâs back as he filled him up, Wooyoungâs release spilling all over the comforter beneath them. They didnât even get as far as undoing the sheets.Â
Dinner, a few glasses of wine, a movie with too much touching, Wooyoung was already dirty talking San before they opened up the bedroom door. Cocky smirk on his pretty lips, head tilted, eyes sparkling, teasing him about youâ oh, he was begging to get fucked. Sanâs been overly careful of your presence for awhile now, never too loud, keeping Wooyoungâs mouth on a tight leash when youâre home.Â
But Wooyoung pushed each and every button tonight, all concerning you. How heâd fuck you better, how youâd crack when he tried, how heâd treat you better than San, San put one hand around his throat and the rest unfolded in a mess of teeth, tongue and lube. To hear you through the wall, getting off to them, was the cherry on top. They needed to do something, now.Â
San ripped the comforter off the bed and crawled beneath the sheet, not caring if Wooyoung spilled into them as he settled over Sanâs chest, their breath still heavy, hearts still pounding.
âYou seriously think she was getting off to us?â San asked Wooyoung, brows raised in innocence, in fear of what he thought to be true, being false. He kept his voice low, a small whisper.
Wooyoung, fully out of breath, chest still heaving and soaked in sweat, laughed. A hearty chuckle, he ran a hand through his hair, smile lingering, âYes, baby. Bet sheâs in there nervous as hell that we heard her.âÂ
You sat up in your bed, chest heaving, eyes wide, right hand still shaky. Fuck. Thereâs no way they heard you, right? Too wrapped up in each other, they were loud, thereâs no way they heard you over the sound of themselves. You looked over to Sweetie in panic, only easing when you saw his head still tucked into his half-torn bed, eyes closed, breathing even.Â
If Sweetie wasnât bothered, then they definitely didnât hear you.Â
You lay flat against your bed, mind whirling, so fucking confused because that was so hot but it wasnât right. Masturbating to the sound of your two roommates, two best friends who were in a relationship fucking, it wasnât morally correct, that you knew before your fingers slipped into your panties. Post-nut clarity seeping in, youâre met with regret, guilt, and the urge to give up.Â
Reminding yourself was painfulâ they donât want you, they want each other. Thereâs no room for you in their relationship.Â
Maybe youâll go with them to that fuckass bar tomorrow. Maybe Yunho will be there. Nothing could be worse than living with this.Â
San and Wooyoung had enough.Â
The morning after the multi-room sex debacle, you pretended like nothing happened. They supposed that to you, nothing did happen, you had no idea they heard you, and they werenât going to say anything, either. Youâd die of embarrassment if they brought it up, and theyâve come to the conclusion that it wouldn't be the best start of a blooming relationship. They at least thought you would question it, question them. But you didnât.Â
Their patience was running thin.Â
The bar was loud, pop music floating through the space, a newer bar with an industrial look to it that left everything open. The ceilings showed the pipes, the walls looked to be something like steel, the decor had a very factory-mechanical vibe to it that they couldnât quite explainâ but the drinks were cheap and the music was good. With all of your friends here, they didnât care much, anyhow, their main focus was that you wanted to be here, you wanted to blow off steam, let loose and let go after a hectic week.Â
They wondered how much of that excuse had to do with them.Â
You stood at the bar, one foot propped up on the exposed pipe lying at the base, tapping Wooyoungâs credit card against the bar. San leaned into him, their shoulders touching, both of their eyes locked in on you, watching like they always did. God forbid they took their eyes off of you.Â
âYou guys are gonna go cross-eyed if you keep staring,â Seonghwa muttered from across the circular table, settled in the booth beside his boyfriend, Hongjoong.Â
âHow could we not stare?â Wooyoung was quick to answer. âHave you seen her?âÂ
âI thought you guys were together now,â Hongjoongâs brows furrowed, eyes bouncing between Wooyoung and San, fingers tapping against his glass, his draft beer halfway gone by now.Â
âWe are,â San shrugged, âjust trying to get her with us, too.â
Wooyoung snorted, âThatâs one way to put it.â
âWait, wait, wait,â Jongho interrupted, leaning forward between Mingi and Yeosang, separating the couple. âYouâre trying to be in⊠what, a throuple?â
âYeah,â San and Wooyoung answered at the same time, like it was the most normal thing in the world.Â
âActually, Iâm not even going to question it,â Yeosang shook his head, bringing the straw in his fruity cocktail up to his lips. âSanâs always had a thing for her.â
Mingi leans forward, a smile on his pink lips, agreeing with his boyfriend immediately, âRight? I thought you guys would end up together, or really, I kinda thought you were secretly together this whole time.â
Sanâs cheeks, already pink, must have turned four shades darker. He didnât have time to answer though, Hongjoong cutting in immediately, âSounds messy. Does she know you want her?â
Wooyoungâs lips tighten as he shakes his head, âDonât know, maybe.â
âDidnât she just go on a date with Yunho?â Jongho asks, one of his brows popped.Â
San sighs, âThat was before we knew she was interested in us, if she is.â
âShe is interested in you?â Mingi looks completely confused.
âSee?â Hongjoong shakes his head. âMessy.â
Wooyoung nudges San with his elbow, speak of the fucking devil, grabbing his boyfriendâs attention to watch Yunho approaching you at the bar, a pitstop on his way back from the bathroom. Immediately thereâs a fire in his gut, jealousy spreading like wildfire to each nerve ending in his body, it doesnât help that Yunho looks hot tonight. Baggy cargos on his legs, tight tee on his torso, oversized button down hanging loose off his shoulders, fuck him. Why is he approaching you like the two of you are friendly or something?
Last they heard, you didnât want him, you wanted them. So why is Yunho talking to you like heâs hitting on you? Why is your hand on his forearm? What could he possibly be saying that makes your head tip back in laughter? Yunho isnât even that funny.Â
Thereâs discomfort lining Sanâs eyebrows as he watches you lean into Yunho, seeming almost instinctive. He knows that look in your eye, the exact grin on your cheeks, what youâre insinuating even if he canât hear a word falling from your glossy lips. He takes a slow breath, calming his heart rate before his mind warps what he sees into something completely different.Â
Yunhoâs his friend. If his hypothesis is correct, he knows how you feel about them, how they feel about you, waitâ did they even tell Yunho how they feel about you? Sanâs eyes widen in panic as he turns to Wooyoung who already looks like heâs settled in his decision, jealousy in the hinge of his clenched jaw, his fingers mindlessly swirling the straw in his drink.Â
San thinks theyâre speaking around him, he canât hear, he chooses not to listen. He watches as you lean forward, whispering something in Yunhoâs ear. His chest feels heavy as Yunho looks down at the floor like heâs hiding flushed cheeks, an easy smile on his lips, body leaning closer to you as if San and Wooyoung werenât sitting ten feet away.Â
Theyâve had enough.Â
You were already smiling as Yunho approached you, having watched him make the few last steps to where you stood. âHey stranger.â
âHey,â he leans against the bar, âgetting another drink?â
You flashed Wooyoungâs black card, a smirk on your cheeks, âGetting as many as I can stomach tonight.â
Yunho smacks his teeth, âRough week?â
âYou have no idea,â you say through an exhausted breath, âand you? Drinking tonight? Iâm sure Woo wonât notice if I add another beer to his tab.â
Yunhoâs eyes dance from the table back to you, âOh, heâll notice.â
âTrust me,â your lips scrunch together, disappointment on your face, âhe wonât. Heâs too focused on San.â
âTheyâre together?â Yunho lifts a brow, âlike, together together?â
âMhm,â you nod, tongue poking your cheek. âNew development in the saga, I guess. Not a good one.â
âIâm sorry,â Yunho frowns, âI did not expect that.â
Youâre still nodding until a sigh is pulled from your lungs, âIt does leave me single, though, like super singleâŠâ Your eyes flicker up to him, blinking through heavy lashes.
Yunho snorts, âYeah? Were you not super single before?â
You laugh, a breathy little thing, leaning closer to him, a hand mindlessly landing on his forearm. âI was, but there was hope before. Now thereâs nothing, like super confirmed, nothing.â
âSuper,â Yunho nods, laughter still playing on his lips like he was fighting it back. It leaves you both giggling like kids, a hand covering your mouth as your head tips back.Â
He looks pretty tonight, you realize. Undone, casual, like he didnât put in too much effort. Baggy clothes on his body, hair a little disheveled, he looked comfortable. You werenât sure if it was the alcohol in your system or the last bit of sanity you were clinging on to, but he looked⊠Different. Good, really good.Â
âAre you still super single?â The question slips from your lips before you can think about it.Â
Yunhoâs brows raise, surprised, they quirk immediately after, confused. His eyes fly to the table, landing there for a moment before sliding back to you, âOh,â he blinks, âoh. Yes, yeah, Iâm still single.â
âGood,â you nod, tucking your bottom lip between your teeth, feeling the heat you were so desperately missing the night you went out on your date. You needed something, a good fuck, a drunk hookup, something to distract you from how fucking miserable you felt. Hopeless was the better word, after coming to the sound of them fucking youâd never felt more pathetic in your life, you needed change, something, anything.Â
âDo⊠you have plans after this?â Yunhoâs face looked innocent, of all things. Like he wasnât sure if he should be asking the question, the implication behind it, even though he seemed to see straight through you, what you needed.
The smirk that crawled onto your cheeks was anything but innocent. âNope, completely free.â
âGood,â Yunho nodded, his smile a little more confident now. âFuck the black card, let me buy you a drink.â
Your brows raised, a laugh falling past your lips as both your hands shoot up in defense, âBe my guest. You deserve a do-over.â
âNo I do not,â he says through a laugh, âbut you deserve to have some fun.â
You roll your eyes, snorting a laugh, âPlease, we both know that date was not good.â
Yunhoâs head turns back to the table again before taking your place leaning over the bar, ignoring your comment but definitely not denying it, âIâll get us a round of shots.â
And he didâ vodka, bitter and hot, it burnt your chest the entire way down. But it went down easy with the liquor already pooling in your gut, body warm enough to begin with.Â
He bought you something fruity afterward, rum and juice, it tasted like candyâ easy to sip on, easy to chug if need be. You stuck around the bar instead of heading back to the table, eyeing the dance floor on the other side of the bar, in easy conversation with Yunho who seemed like he had no intentions of heading back to the table, either.Â
âDo you want to dance?â His eyes flicker to you, brows raised like he couldnât quite gauge whether or not youâd say yes.Â
âYou know I teach dance for a living, right?â Your lips quirk on one side, âOf course I want to dance.â
âI canât say Iâm a great dancer,â Yunho admits, lips tightened in a line. âI sell art, thereâs nothing fluid about walking around a gallery all day.â
You laugh, grabbing him by the wrist, tugging him towards the music that gets louder with each step. âFollow my lead,â you say simply, mind finally feeling fucking free, âIâll give you a free lesson.â
He trails behind you with a silly smile until you enter the crowd of people, it was busy over here, you realized. The bar wasnât too crowded, the other side of the building consisted of booths and tables for those who⊠didnât want to have a good time, you guessed. Talking, catching up, the first awkward half of a date, maybe.Â
You loved bars that had dance floors. Clubs, weddings, anywhere that there was a space dedicated to people letting loose, allowing their bodies to move as they pleased, to feel music in their blood. It was your favorite, even if you danced for a living, this was differentâ no choreography, no rules, there was nothing in your mind to keep you structured. You could let yourself feel, move the way your body allowed, you didnât have to worry what anyone else thought.Â
With liquor in your system, that freedom is amplified by a thousand. Dancing before Yunho, you quickly realize he lied about having two left feet, his smile is just as careless as yours as his body moves to the beat of the song, matching your rhythm perfectly. Hips swaying in tandem, arms flowing in the space around you, youâre giggling before you know it, a smile branded onto your cheeks.Â
Until you turn your head and see that Wooyoung and San have joined you.Â
Sanâs arms over Wooyoungâs shoulders, they danced close, hips touching, swaying together as one. They were smiling at youâ or pretending to be, the first thing you noticed was how their grins didnât reach their ears. An alarm bell sounds in your head, confused, concerned, you want to ask whatâs wrong, your body stops moving as the thoughts pile in.Â
Wooyoung, unaffected by your lack of movement, wiggles free from Sanâs grip. âLetâs switch!â Heâs smiling, yelling over the music, âCâmon, itâll be fun.â
Your brows furrow as Wooyoung shimmies between you and Yunho, his arms gliding swiftly over Yunhoâs shoulders shamelessly, dark hair glowing under the pink, neon light, shaking with each sway of his body.Â
You turn your head to San who seems like heâs taking a moment to process, then he pulls you into him by your wrist, other hand landing on your hip, your back to his chest. You start moving out of instinct, hips swaying, but your brows stay furrowed.Â
Turning your head halfway, you ask, âWhatâs going on?â
San presses his lips into your cheek, dimples out to play with the smile he gives you. This one seems more real, it eases the panic in your chest ever so slightly. âWhat do you mean?â
âIââ Your head turns back to Wooyoung, who has his cheek pressed to Yunhoâs, saying something into his ear. âAre you guys okay?â
âOf course,â Sanâs palms hug your hips, pulling you flush to him, the feeling of him behind you sends heat up your spine. Immediately youâre brought back to the other night, the sounds leaving his lips, the mental picture you came up with, your hand between your legs. With his voice dripped in honey, he asks, âAre you okay, Shygirl?â
Youâre nodding, body sinking into him, heat pulsing through your core, up your spine. His body feels so strong behind you, muscular arms on your hips, rocking you so sensually it throws your head for a spin. This movement brings back memories, ones that haunt you, ones you miss so fucking much.Â
You nod weakly, your voice a small squeak, âYup, âm fine.â
He chuckles, cheeks pink, burying his head into your neck. Youâre so close you could be considered one, itâs too close, itâs disrespectful, but you canât bring yourself to let go. Yunho is right in front of you, expecting a night with you, he knows how you feel about San, about Wooyoung, and here you are falling into a haze, repeating old mistakes.Â
A third hand to one side of your waist, a fourth to the other. When you look up, Yunho is gone. Wooyoung stands before you with a cocky, lopsided smile on his lips, hips pressing into your front, falling into rhythm with you and San easily. He looks so pretty with pink cast onto his face, so bronzy even under neon light, his dark clothes sinking into the shadows.
âWhereâs Yunho?â You ask, hands finding Wooyoungâs shoulders like it was instinct.Â
He takes the opportunity to come closer, the three of you molding together, the smell of both of them in your nose, the strength of them boxing you in. It feels so fucking good, it feels wrong, you donât want them to let go, you want to stay here, dancing with them all night.Â
âBathroom,â Wooyoung shrugs, thumbs caressing your sides. âWho cares?â
âWoo,â you whine, making a show of pouting, but it isnât real. You donât care.Â
âWhat?â His grin spreads wider, voice light and playful like he was proving his innocence, âThe only thing that matters is you and us, right here. Nothing else.â
You couldnât argue with him, not that you ever do. Thereâs nothing left inside you to make a rebuttal, anyway, thereâs so you curl your fingers into the nape of his neck, spread your legs to allow one of theirs to slot through, and sway your hips like you were born to do it. Head falling back onto Sanâs shoulder, a lazy grin makes its way to your cheeks as you move with them, staring at Wooyoung over your nose, he looks at you like heâd do anything to drink you in.Â
Heâs always looked at you this way, but there was something different about the longing glint in his eye, how his tongue slowly swipes over his lips like heâs hungry. Maybe it was knowing your own feelings playing a part, if it was anyone else youâd think they wanted to fuck you, but itâs Wooyoung. You can feel San at your back, the dirty grind of his hips against your ass, itâs been so long since youâve been with them like thisâ dancing, liquor involved, too close for comfort, questioning if your relationship was as platonic as you thought it was.Â
Years. You havenât touched San in years. You think back to Wooyoung asking if you missed itâ you know you do, you miss it so fucking much, but was there a chance that Wooyoung wanted you to miss it? That he wanted to repeat history, this time with him involved, like all the times youâve dreamt about? You almost groan, head tipping forward, heat spreading through your body at the thought of them wanting you like you want them.Â
âWhat are you thinking about, baby?â Wooyoung asks, his voice low, loud enough for you to hear. His face is so close you could feel his breath on your face; minty, like he was drinking a mojito, or took a shot of Rumplemintz. His smile is feline, eyes knowing as if your skull was transparent, like he just wanted to hear the words from your lips.Â
âI,â you take a breath, the admission sits on your tongue. âIâm not thinking.â
You canât do it. To make yourself so vulnerable, so susceptible to rejection, you couldnât do it.Â
Wooyoung leans in, soft, warm cheek pressed to yours, lips ghosting your ear, âYouâre lying.â
San is on your other side, keeping himself close, his nose dancing along the shell of your ear, making you shiver. He keeps his voice just as low, sounding like an aphrodisiac, âTell us, baby, whatâs going on in that pretty head of yours, hm?â
Your heartbeat quickens, pressure below your skin, theyâre too close, boxing you in, thereâs a pit in your core like an itch you canât fucking scratch and theyâre dangling relief in front of your eyes, out of reach. Your jaw clenches, words fighting to push through, your fingers tangle into Wooyoungâs hair at the nape of his neck, nails grazing against skinâ he hisses into your ear, fingers tightening around your waist like itâs all he could do to stop himself from pressing into you.Â
âFuck, Woo,â you mutter under your breath, marvelling at the sound, how it makes your stomach do a flip. The floor feels charged, tension spreading from your ankles to your spine, your words spill out before you can think twice about them, âdid you like that?âÂ
You can feel electricity prickling your scalp at your own question, but he answers it with a quick-spreading smirk brushing over your ear, âIs it okay if I did?â Your eyes widen as he pulls away from you, keeping your faces so close your noses are almost touching. His eyes stay locked on yours and you can see the desperation changing the shape of his face. He asks again, âWhat if I asked you to do it again?âÂ
Itâs so wrong. Theyâre together, theyâre a couple, thereâs no fucking room for you. But what if thereâs a chance that there is?
Yet your fingers tighten in his hair, gripping at his roots harder than before and his head falls back, strong jaw on display, the curvature of his nose, jugular beckoning your lips forward. The music disappears as a tight sound leaves his lips, the rest of the bar fades away as his hips buck into yours, youâre left in awe, dumbfounded, the heat in your core unbearable.Â
âHe likes it a little rough,â San whispers into your ear, voice rough, edged with dominance. His teeth dragging over your earlobe, tongue following, âYouâre gonna make him hard, baby.â
âS-shit,â you manage to get out, body twitching, sinking into San behind you whose hands slide under the hem of your top at your hips, palms hot and callused against your skin. Involuntarily your hips push forward, into Wooyoung, your mind so fuzzy and confused but youâre so fucking horny all you can ask is, âWhat are you doing?âÂ
âIsnât it obvious?â Wooyoung asks, voice playful again, his hand slides up to cup your cheek, thumb sliding over your skin, searing the trail he leaves behind. âYouâre smart, use that big brain.â
âKiss him,â San whispers in your ear, then plants a kiss right below it, using his tongue to seal the spot. You shiver, a whimper leaving your lips, brows tying together. Youâre confused, you donât have time to be, you donât want to question it anymore.
You want to kiss him, youâve never kissed Wooyoung once in your life. Youâve longed to know what he tastes like, how he uses his pretty lips, if his tongue can do all the things youâve imagined it to. Your eyes drop down as he wets his lips again, so glossy and inviting, you bite your lip as his curve into another smile.Â
âYou want to,â Sanâs lips drop to your neck, talking against your skin, âI know you want to, donât deprive yourself, baby.â
You do want to, itâs a dream, your biggest fantasy coming to life. Your hands slide from the nape of Wooyoungâs cheek to cradle his jaw, Wooyoungâs flared eyes give you the green light, you blink once, twice, ignoring everything in your mind that tells you no as you lean in and press your lips to his. His hands cup your cheeks immediately, lips moving with yours, exploratory and relieving all at once, his tongue slips into your mouth like heâs been waiting his whole life to do it, no time to waste. San keeps his hands on your waist, groaning into your skin as he watches you, attaching his lips to your neck, kissing, sucking, licking over the marks he leaves behind.Â
Thereâs a leg between yours, you think itâs Wooyoungâs, maybe Sanâs, but your hips grind against it with each lick of his tongue into your mouth. It feels like heaven, or worse, mind so dazed and confused and horny but so at peace with this being everything youâve ever imagined and more, you canât get enough. You kiss him faster, rougher, arms wrapping around his neck, tongue searching his mouth like you need to embed the taste of him into your bones, he tastes sweet. Minty like this breath, a bitter note of alcohol on his tongue, your hands fall from his cheeks to his chest, sliding down to the hem of his shirt to tuck your hands beneath it.Â
Oh, heâs warm, his body feels like it looks, harsh and unforgiving, delicious. Like he could throw you around if he wanted to, you hope he wants to, unless itâs San who does the throwingâ San.Â
San.Â
You break away from Wooyoung with low lidded eyes and heâs staring at you like you hung the stars in the fucking sky. Eyes glossy, lips swollen, you pull away and immediately heâs following, searching for more.Â
You turn your head and Sanâs already waiting for it, palm splaying over your cheek to pull you into him hastily, lips molding against yours like nostalgia was a sentiment created by the two of you. Like coming home, his tongue slots between your lips, teeth clamping over your bottom lip, tugging on it, you whine into his mouth, back arching into his chest. You needed more.Â
âDo you want us?â He asks into your mouth, breathless. You nod, and he clicks his tongue, âWords, Shy. Tell me you want it.â
âI want it, Iâve wanted it for so long,â youâre quick to admit, breathless yourself, voice raw, honest. âSo, so fucking long, Sannie.â
Wooyoung grabs your face by your cheeks, stealing your attention, forcing you to face him so he can explore your mouth again, San breaking away from your back. You barely notice the loss of heat, melting into Wooyoung, chest pressed into his, hands in his hair, meeting his intentions with your own. He breaks away to peck you once, out of breath, pupils dilated, âWeâve wanted you for even longer.â
Your breath stutters, weak in the knees, you canât process his words, youâd put it on a checklist for later. Voice cracking, wrecked before youâd even begun, you muttered, âLetâs go home.â
You felt bad for the driver with the way you sat on Sanâs lap the whole drive home, switching between him and Wooyoung like you were trying to figure out who was the better kisser. Truth was, you just couldnât get enough of them, Sanâs kiss was a part of your being, his touch was instilled in you, familiar to the point of not wanting to ever let go. Wooyoung was new, fresh, but an itch to a scratch, a relief youâve ached for far too long, he was addicting, like you couldnât stop if you tried.Â
Sweetie is jumping at you when you walk through the threshold and the three of you bend down to pet him like youâve never seen a dog before, like they werenât just ready to strip you in the backseat of a minivan. Liquor still coursing through you, youâre all talking in high pitched voices, making his tail wag, he couldnât choose which of you to give his attention to. After treats youâre in your room, tying your hair up, and naturally, the two men follow you.Â
San makes himself at home on your bed, still in his jeans, jacket still thrown over his shoulders, he leans back on his elbows, eyeing you over the tip of his nose as you meander about your bedroom, maybe stalling, maybe thinking. Maybe you just made all of that up. Maybe you didn't even kiss in the club and you should be diagnosed with schizophrenia.Â
âShy.â
Wooyoung stands in the doorway, arms crossed, smirking.Â
You look between them, jacket halfway off, heart picking up speed all over again, âWhat?â
âOh my god, I love you,â Wooyoungâs smiling as he unfolds his arms, crossing the room, meeting you at your back. He pulls the jacket from your shoulders carefully, pressing his lips to your temple, âWe want you, baby.â
Your eyes find Sanâs on your bed, he sits in a cloud of arousal, still sporting the tent in his jeans. Wooyoung presses his lips to your neck, hands landing on your hips, sliding up your waist, over your chest, your breath catches in your throat, head tilting to let him explore, back leaning into his hold to let him do as he pleases.
âI know itâs been two years,â San stands from the bed, walking towards you in three long steps, slipping his fingers through the belt loops on your jeans. He tugs your hips into him, arching you off of Wooyoung, making your breath catch. The grin that spreads across his cheeks is all arrogance, âBut did you really think you werenât getting fucked the moment we walked through the door?â
Your body ignites in a way you havenât felt in years. You whisper, âI did, Iâ I donât know.â
âDo you want me to fuck you?â He presses his forehead against yours, voice soft like velvet, invading your space again with his fingers uncurling from your belt loops to play with the hem of your jeans, two fingers pinching the button of your fly.Â
Wooyoung moves to your ear, biting the shell of it, not soft enough to hurt, but enough to make you suck in a harsh breath. He plays with your top, sliding it upward, knuckles cold against your skin, âDo you want me to fuck you?â
You whine, sinking into Wooyoung, reaching for Sanâs shirt. You want them to fuck you, god, you want them both, youâll take anything they give you. You can barely get out a small, broken, âYes.â
Accomplishment is bright on Sanâs face as he unbuttons your jeans with ease, Wooyoung pulls away to flip your shirt over your head, the two moving in such quick motions you begin thinking theyâve been waiting for this, too. San helps you step out of your jeans before attaching your lips and itâs more than hungry, heâs starving with the way he tries to devour you, swallow you whole as he turns you both around, unclasping your bra as he walks you to your bed.Â
You fall flat against your mattress with a squeak, feeling bare before them like this, standing above you like vultures. Youâve been here before with San, it feels like seeing an old friend again; but with Wooyoung, thereâs a spark of unfamiliarity, itâs been years since youâve opened up to someone new.
âHoly shit,â Wooyoung groans, dark hair messy around his face, deepening the shadows of his structured face. âYouâre so fucking beautiful, Shy.â
You burn, heat spreading through you, knees closing, âYouâve seen me before, Woo.â
He catches your knees, spreading them as San kneels onto the bed beside you, watching Wooyoung as his eyes sink between your legs. âNot like this, do you even know how fucking wet you are?â
Your hips twitch with the way he holds you open, already searching for more. Wooyoung continues, eyes glossed over, stuck at your center like it was treasure, âFuck, baby, youâre soakinâ through your panties.â
âFor you,â you breathe out, âtaste it.â
His eyes snap up to yours, smile tugging at the corner of his lips, amused. âYeah? That what you want?âÂ
You nod, âYes, Woo, wanna feel your mouth, wanted it for so long.â
His eyes slide to Sanâs with a smirk and the older man meets his stare with a short, cocky, âTold you.â
Wooyoungâs hands curl under your knees, pulling your ass to the edge of the bed before he pulls your panties down your legs, throwing them somewhere on the floor, âDidnât tell me she was impatient.â
âI am,â youâre quick to admit, shameless and desperate, âIâve been.â
He smiles again, lifting one leg and pressing his lips to your ankle, keeping his eyes on yours as he sinks down to his knees. Slow kisses up your calf, your inner thigh, his tongue leaves a trail, your breath hitches in your throat as he breaks away just to tug his shirt over his head by the collar.Â
âNostalgic, hm?â San mumbles, close to your ear, laying down with one elbow propped up to watch, âWeâve been in this position before.â
You gasp as Wooyoungâs teeth graze your other thigh, at the sensitive part on the inside, eyes flickering up to yours to see your reaction. Through gritted teeth, one arm reaching out for San, you whisper, âMm, missed it.â
âHeâs good with his mouth, yâknow,â San leans in closer, pressing his lips to your cheek then your jaw as Wooyoung finally leans forward, his nose meeting your folds before his lips make contact. A strangled moan escapes you, hips immediately bucking into him, other hand flying between your legs to take root in his hair.Â
As his tongue swipes through your folds your back arches, your moan exposing every feeling of relief, of how much you wanted this, needed this. His name drips off your tongue and he groans at the sound, âYou sound so pretty, Shybaby.â
âPrettier when sheâs louder,â you can feel San smirk into your skin, âyou have no idea how shameless she can get. Suck on her clit, Woo.â
As his lips wrap around your clit your moan heightens in pitch, louder than before, fingers tugging harshly at his scalp as your hips buck into his mouth, âHoly shit, Wooyoung.â
He groans into you, fingers curling into your thighs, soothing over your clit with his tongue, âTaste so good, pussy so pretty, canât believe I havenât done this sooner.â
Your face grows hot as his tongue flattens over your folds, flicking at your clit with precision, no haste to his actions, heâs exploring you. Seeing what you like, what makes you gasp, what makes you moan, what makes your stomach clench in pleasure.Â
His nose glides over your clit and you buck into him again, his tongue circling your entrance, drinking up every ounce of your arousal. Sanâs fingers find your hair, âMm, she liked that, Woo.â
âYou like my nose?â His eyes flicker up to you and you nod shamelessly, humming your agreement. He repeats the movement and your back arches as he moves into a rhythm, tongue fucking into you while his nose glides over your clit, his movements timed perfectly with each jerk of your hips. Â
âWanna see you ride it,â San whispers into your ear and you gasp out, one hand curling into the sheets beneath you. âNext time.â
âYes, fuck,â you mumble through gritted teeth, âwant it, need it.âÂ
âWanna watch you cum,â Sanâs fingers find your chest, the pads of them running over your hardened nipples, pinching at your sensitive skin. Louder now, your moans slurring together, your stomach curls in pleasure, pressure building in your hips.Â
âDonât stop, Woo,â you whisper, a broken sound, using your fingers in his hair to rock your hips against his face, âso good, just like that.â
He grunts in response, letting you use him, adding more pressure and youâre locking up around him, whimpering as Sanâs fingers pinch harder at your chest, itâs enough to pull you right to the edge.
âThere you go,â San encourages, lips buried in your hair, âuse him, let me see you cum against his face, make yourself cum for me, câmon.âÂ
âGonnaââ thereâs panic in your voice like you couldnât believe you were reaching your peak so easily, but as his fingers tighten into your thighs harder, tongue lolled out for you to ride, the slight sting in your skin combined with the stimulation to your clit throws you over with a loud cry, pleasure washing over you in waves, body trembling beneath their touch, your skin on fire.Â
âYes, so good for us,â San whispers, voice coated in praise, âsuch a good girl, Shy. Missed watching you cum, wanna feel you do it around my cock.â
You whimper, eyes cresting open to see him above you, dimples showing as he speaks. Dark hair messily sprawled across his forehead, cheeks pink, eyes soft and warm, gaze filled with so much love it makes you dizzy. Your hand lifts from Wooyoungâs hair to cradle Sanâs cheek, pulling him down into a messy kiss, tongue slotting into his mouth softly as Wooyoung presses soft kisses to the tip of your mound, between your hipbones, up your stomach.Â
Your back arches as his lips wrap around one of your nipples, tongue swiping over them, soothing where San had pinched, it makes you whimper, one hand falling from Sanâs cheek to dig into Wooyoungâs hair again, softer this time. Nails grazing his scalp, ankles crossing over his back, everything felt slow, filled with purpose, like each one of their movements were solely for your pleasure.Â
You needed more. You needed them to treat you like theyâd treated each other a few nights ago, you needed the bed to hit the wall, to hear Wooyoung whimpering, Sanâs domineering voice. Your other hand finds Sanâs hair, gripping at the spiral of his crown, making him grunt into your mouth, âShit.â
âNeed more,â youâre panting into his mouth, âneed you to fuck me, I need it.â
Wooyoungâs arms scoop under your back to pull you up as San leans back to groan, you meet his lips hastily, already seated on his thighs, your legs bracket his hips, your bare chest pressed to his. Denim below you, you curse at the feeling of texture, sturdy, rough fabric, âGet these off.â
âImpatient,â he smirks into your lips, âyou needy? Desperate to fuck us?â
Skin alight with wildfire, your fingers find the hair at the back of his neck, tugging as you sit upward, following his face as you pull it backward by his hair, âGonna make me say it again?â
A smile breaks out across his face, one full of excitement, âHoly shit, Shyââ
âWho are you talking to like that, huh?â Sanâs at your back, chest pressed to your shoulderblades, feeling so big itâs menacing, âYou should be thanking him for letting you cum on his face.â
Staring down at Wooyoung, his grin had gone cocky again, one brow raising with your hands still rooted in his hair. Your fingers tighten again and his brows furrow in pleasure, a small moan croaking from his lips, itâs satisfactory enough. You mumble, âThank you.â
San hums in contentment behind you, âGood girl.â
Wooyou watches in awe as San lifts you off his lap, turning you to face him with ease, standing on his knees he wraps a hand around your jaw, kissing you with more force than he had all night. Tongue pushing past your lips, teeth clashing, you melt beneath him, hands finding his bare pecs to hold onto as he devours your lips, your taste, your pleasure.
âYou want me to treat you like a doll?â He asks into your mouth, voice harsh, edged like a blade.Â
âWant you to treat me how you treat Woo,â you whimper, the admission falling from your lips without a second thought, until you feel him smirk. Hazy from a minute of his mouth on yours, the heat of shame couldnât find you.Â
âKnew you were listening,â Wooyoung is at your shoulders, hands on your waist, traveling to your front to grab two handfuls of your chest. âFuckinâ pervert, listening to us fuck.â
Your back arches, fingertips digging into Sanâs skin, voice coming out tight, âHard not to hear when the bed frame is hitting the wall.â
San stares at you like heâs debating fucking the cockiness out of you, âAlmost forgot how much of a brat you can be.â Your grin is shameless, daring almost, and he doesnât like it one bit. âGonna look at me like that when Iâm fucking you within an inch of your life?â
Your brows knit together, lips parting at his words, core clenching around nothing. âPlease,â you whimper, hands sliding to his shoulders to pull him forward, âplease.â
He doesnât move, a stone wall before you. Instead he asks, âDid you touch yourself?â Left in the briefs glued to his lower half, your eyes sink to the outline of his length obvious in the polyester clinging to every inch of his skin. His face is lined by confidence, âMade that pretty pussy cum thinking about me fucking you, too?âÂ
Softly, you moan, âYes.â
âShould have come in the room,â Wooyoungâs lips find your neck, pulling you back into him as his palms knead into your chest. âWoulda made you cum so hard.â
You whine, sinking into his hot skin, chiseled abdomen searing your back. With your knees spread, your eyes are glossy as you stare up at San who grips his length over his briefs, mouth watering with his sculpted body on display, heâs changed so much over the years. This body is bigger, bulkier, stronger, heâs a completely different San than the one you knew back then. The things he could do to you now cross your mind, sinking straight down to the pit in your belly, your core clenching around nothing.Â
âWanna touch?â He asks, still sporting his cocky grin. You nod against Wooyoungâs chest, writhing beneath his palms, his touches only edging you further. He dips his chin down to his length, âCâmere, baby.â
You crawl forward on your palms until youâre standing on your knees before him, pressing your palms up to his shoulders, feeling the curves of his muscles before sliding down to his toned chest, palms laying flat, feeling his heartbeat beneath his skin. They slide down to his abdomen, so sculpted like heâs made of stone, your head tips forward, tongue lolling out of your mouth to glide across the dips and peaks, moaning at the taste of his skin, sweaty, salty, San. He pushes out a heavy breath as your head dips lower, fingers sinking into his waistband, tugging his briefs down.Â
âWanna taste,â you mutter mindlessly, mind whirling, craving his cock, missing it. It springs out of his briefs, slapping up between his hipbones, thick and red and leaking, your mouth waters. You blow cool air from your lips and he hisses, cock twitching, making you smile. Your eyes flicker upward, âWant my mouth?âÂ
His heavy brows are furrowed, hips tilted forward, his hands come forward to cup your cheeks. âWanna fuck you, Shy.â
Your stomach fucking churns at the sound of his voice, whiny and desperate, you clench around nothing at the thought. You missed him so badly you ached for it, the feeling of him inside you, his cock so thick leaving you full enough itâs almost overwhelming to have him seated inside.
Before you have the chance to move you feel two heavy palms land on your hips, your head turns, back arching on command. Wooyoung knelt behind you, cock standing tall between his hipbones, the pretty pink tip leaking against his lower abdomen, so bronzy and veiny and strong. His eyes follow the trail of the base of your spine up to your eyes, âLet me have a turn first.âÂ
You whimper, arching lower, knees spreading to allow him entrance, whining out a breathy, âYes.â
San holds your cheeks steady, âCan you take it?â
Youâre on fire, hips pushing back against Wooyoung with impatience, mouth filling with saliva. âYes, yes, I can take it, use meâ Please?â
A guttural moan spills from the two of them, San rips his briefs off his ankles as he sits back on his calves, one arm behind him holding up his weight. You feel Wooyoung slide two fingers up your spine, rippling over each vertebrae and then back down again, the other hand hooked on your hip squeezing as he grinds his cock against your folds, slippery and wet, he lets out a tangled whine at the feeling.Â
âYou sure, Shy?â He asks, âPussyâs begging to be fucked.â
âNeed this,â you mumble, âneed you, donât hold back.â
âI wonât,â Wooyoung huffs, âdonât think I can, anyway.â
You turn to find San staring at you, his eyes so warm and inviting, lined with impatience he doesnât dare verbalize. His jaw clenches as you lean down, tongue poking out to meet the leaking tip of his cock as Wooyoung lines himself up, letting his cock catch on your entrance with each slide up your folds. Sanâs other hand finds your hair as you lick up the underside of him, his head tipping backward as a moan tumbles out from his chest, abdomen already clenching at the pleasure.Â
âFuck, that mouth,â San hisses as you let a mouthful of saliva drip onto his cock, using one hand to spread it along his length before you take the tip in your mouth fully, his grip tightens in your roots. âMissed those pretty lips, baby.âÂ
You canât answer, a strangled noise forcing itself out of you as the tip of Wooyoungâs cock prods your entrance. His hands find your hips, squeezing, âBreathe for me, baby.â His tone is absent, like he needed the reminder more than you did, laser-focused on how your entrance is already sucking him in.
You breathe through your nose, eyes screwing shut as he pushes in, filling you with his length inch by inch, slowly but steadily. A high whimper punches through your lips, mouth unwrapping from Sanâs cock to dip your head down, hips involuntarily pushing back onto Wooyoung, wanting to be full, fast.Â
âPatience,â Wooyoung squeezes your hips harder, more confidence in his voice, âthis tight lilâ thing needs to be stretched out, take it easy, baby. Weâll give you everything, I promise.â
You havenât felt this full in years. Even sopping wet you could feel him carving into you, making space for himself where you havenât been properly filled in so longâ the pleasure was tantalizing, slight sting of the stretch mixing into a cocktail of euphoria, your eyes fluttered back into your head, hand tightening around the base of Sanâs cock.
âBreathe, Shygirl,â San encourages, âlet him in.â
Your eyes open, flickering up to San who watches Wooyoung over your head, your body the bridge connecting the two men. The sight of him, flushed, chest patched with a rosy hue, your tongue slides out of your mouth to lick up the underside of him again, taking the tip of him into your mouth.Â
His hips buck upward, surprised at your warmth wrapped around him, he pushes his cock deeper into your throat and you gag involuntarily, other hand tightening into the sheets below you. You breathe through it, your nose pushing out air as you take him deeper, head bobbing along his length as Wooyoung fully sheathes himself inside you.Â
He waits there a moment, fingers gripping the plush of your ass, his voice utterly gone as he says, âSheâs so fuckinâ tight, Sannie.â
Sanâs eyes flicker up to him, âMake her cum on your cock, wanna see.â
He pulls out all the way just to slam back inside and your throat constricts around Sanâs length, making you gag again, eyes watering, blurring your vision. Wooyoung whines, âFuck, baby, holy shit, Sannie.â
Hearing him moan out Sanâs name while he fucks you etches stars into your vision. Your hips start pushing back, your hand leaving Sanâs length to take purchase in the sheets as your hips buck against Wooyoungâs length in the same rhythm that you bob your head along Sanâs cock. Both men moan, a pitiful sound, lewd and desperate, it makes you clench around Wooyoung, nose diving down to press into the tuft of hair at the base of Sanâs cock.Â
âThere you go,â San huffs, voice strangled, you look up to see him sink his teeth into his bottom lip. âFuck, so pretty, taking my cock so fucking well. Missed seeing you like this.â
You moan around him, core clenching and you can hear the whine caught in the back of Wooyoungâs throat, his fingers curling into the plush of your ass, squeezing so fucking hard it rips a tight noise from your chest, dying on Sanâs cock.Â
âDonât know how long Iâll last, fuck,â Wooyoung chokes out, hands sliding up to your hipbones.
San does his best to make his smile appear cocky, âWhenâs the last time you fucked, huh?â He gasps the moment the words leave his lips, as you swallow around his length, he curses under his breath, tightening a hand in your roots.
Wooyoung speaks through gritted teeth, âToo fucking long, shit, sheâs suckinâ me inââ
âCanât wait to feel,â San grunts, hips twitching into your mouth, forcing you to take him deeper, âmouth just as dangerous, youâre a demon, Shy.â
You try to smile, heâs too wide in your mouth, in your throat, you settle for shooting him one with your eyes. Youâre in rhythm now, head bobbing at the same pace as Wooyoung fucking into you, being so full, so manhandled by the two of them even if you were the one who put yourself here feels so good. Wooyoungâs cock is thinner than Sanâs, longer, you can feel how it curves along the front side of your walls, hitting every single spot you need it to.Â
It makes your knees wobble, your fingers twisting in the sheets, it feels too fucking good. Itâs been a long while since youâve breached an orgasm around someoneâs cock, itâs muscle memory the way your arch comes back to you, the rhythm in which you fuck against him to get yourself off, the pressure building so different from when you do it yourself.Â
Wooyoung notices, landing a sharp smack to your ass, âUsinâ me? I can feel you fucking back.â
You pop off of Sanâs length to turn your head halfway, âYâfeel so good, Woo, canât help it.â
His brows tie together, jaw falling slack, âFuck, donât stop, baby, donât stopââ
âInside, kay?â Between a moan and a whimper, âDonât pull out.â
His palms push into the plush of your ass again as you take Sanâs cock into your mouth, stretching your lips wide to take him, using the slick youâd left behind to glide your tongue all the way down, choking yourself on him, bobbing your head in rhythm again.Â
Wooyoungâs hips stutter, he curses under his breath, one of his hands slides around to your front, between your legs, âCanâtâ need you to cum first, baby, please.â
Two fingers to the bundle of nerves between your legs, your hips jerk, back arching impossibly deeper, a gargled moan vibrates Sanâs cock and he curses low, hands in your hair pulling, itâs overstimulating, how much is happening all at once.Â
Wooyoungâs fingers take all but three tight circles at your clit to send you freefalling over the edge, pressure blowing, pleasure spreading through your body like fireworks reaching each limb, every nerve ending. San tugs you off his cock by your hair, one hand fisting the base of him to stop his orgasm from hitting, and Wooyoung cries out as he barrels into you, hips finally stilling when heâs fully sheathed, filling you with warmth.Â
Youâre gaping, staring at San wide-eyed, âWhy?â
It takes a moment for you to process the warmth. Like sitting before a fire, itâs comforting, head dropping to let it sink inâ nostalgic, you missed this.Â
âWanna cum inside you,â he answers simply, âcâmere.â
Manhandling you all over again, he pulls you onto his lap, you canât help but reach for Wooyoung behind you. San wastes no time, ignoring your heaving chest, the exhaustion in your eyes youâre hiding with adrenaline, with one hand on your hips he lines you up over his cock, easing you down onto his length, you hiss at the stretch, at the width of him.Â
âBig stretch,â his grin is taunting, âyou can do it, baby, easy.â
âFuck,â you whimper, arms stretching behind you, âWoo.â Searching for the man who just came inside you, heâs at your back, broad and steady, arms wrapping around you.Â
âIâm here,â he whispers into the curve of your neck, moving your hair away from your sticky neck to press his lips into you, and itâs the comfort you needed to start grinding your hips into Sanâs cock, moans spilling from your lips, small gasps and whines as he fills you up perfectly, walls molding to the shape of him like heâd never left.
âFuck, Sannie,â you murmur, ââs too much, missed your cock, but itâs too much.â
âYou can do it,â he leans into you, groaning at the feeling of you around him, he searches for your lips. You pick your head up to meet him, pressing your lips to his, tongue sliding into his mouth, tasting every inch you can find. He grins into your lips, âLook at you, taking it like you did all those years ago. Still my fuckinâ slut, arenât you?â
You gasp, hips twitching against him, clenching hard, and he curses under his breath like he wasnât just taunting you. Lips still ghosting yours, he whispers, âStill like my mouth? All that nasty shit?âÂ
You nod, nipples brushing against his chest with every bounce of your hips, nails digging into the muscle of his shoulders. All you can manage is, âMore.â
âI know, baby,â his hips jerk up and you cry out, arching into Wooyoung behind you who reaches around your front, fingers pinching at your nipples, teeth at your ear. San, voice wrecked, grunts as he says, âStill need a little pain with the pleasure to get you off, huh?â
You canât answer, eyelids fluttering, hazy at the feeling of Wooyoungâs release spilling out of you onto Sanâs thighs, the squelching sound of it coating his cock, making it easy for you to bounce yourself against him like a bitch in heat.Â
Wooyoung chuckles into your ear, low and velvety, it sends a shiver up your spine. âNever woulda guessed that from you, baby.â
It makes a lazy grin break out across your cheeks, head turning to kiss him, all teeth and tongue, messy and delicious. âReally?âÂ
âMy Shygirl,â his voice is filled with affection, lips pressed to the side of your head, parted and spilling spit onto your temple, your cheeks, it feels dirtyâ so fucking sexy you canât control the way you hump Sanâs cock, slurring mindless babbles and strained noises you can barely comprehend.Â
âOur Shygirl,â San corrects him, eyeing Wooyoung over your shoulder, a severity to his tone that makes your eyes flick upward in question.Â
His brows tied with pleasure, sweat dripping down his brow, dark hair messy and tangled on his head, he looks like a fucking dream. He is a dream, this is a dream, harmonious with the two as if youâve done this a thousand times, like it was always supposed to be this way, he can read the question on your tongue. He cups your cheek with a hand, sliding it to the back of your head to take root in your hair, tugging you towards him close enough for your lips to touch, âItâs different this time.â
You try to kiss him with your slacked jaw but itâs a trading of spit more than it is a kiss, âDifferent.â
âMine,â he growls, a hand wrapping around your back, fingers digging into your skin, his words too coherent to be born of the heat of the moment. âWanted this for too long, both of you, youâre both mine.â
âYours,â you repeat, confirm with an airy head, echoed by Wooyoung as your hips stutter against Sanâs cock, head tipped against the younger manâs shoulder, âf-fuck me.â
âSit,â itâs an order from San to Wooyoung thatâs answered on command, he sits on his calves before uncurling his legs from below him, cock half-hard laying stiff between his hips.Â
San maneuvers you with two hands on your waist, you gasp as he tugs you off his cock effortlessly, laying you back on Wooyoungâs chest like it took no fucking strength at all. Strong arms wrap around you as your skin meets his, tilting your head to the side to see him, to kiss him, he smiles as he sees you, teeth on display.Â
âSo fucking pretty,â Wooyoung looks at you the same way he always does, stars in his eyes, like he couldnât smile without his whole face if he tried, like the look was solely for you. âYouâre mine too, yâknow.â
You reach up with one arm to pull his head down to yours, the kiss softer than those youâve shared tonight, more controlled like you needed a moment to let his words sink in, your mind too fuzzy to process the weight of what that meant.Â
Sanâs fingers hook under your knees, pushing them backward until they leave you spread, lining himself up all over again, pushing inside in one quick motion.Â
A different feeling of full, Wooyoung holds your face against his as you whisper a cry into his mouth, your lips still touching as he grins, âBeen waiting for this too, havenât you? You wanna be ours?âÂ
Body going limp in his hold, hand falling from his cheek mindlessly, your body feels like fucking jelly. You nod, breath quickening, short and tight at the feeling of San fucking into you, âNeed to be, waited so long.âÂ
Sanâs grip tightens under your knees, picking up speed, your head turns to see him and god you want to take a picture, want to frame it and hang it on the wall; brows furrowed, lips parted, eyes focused on your meeting below, his abdomen flexing as he rolls his hips into you, it makes your toes curl where they hang in the air.Â
Face scrunching up, you reach for him, pulling him down to you, âNeed tâkiss you.â
Messy, sloppy, wet, you can feel him in your stomach as your arms wrap around his shoulders, pulling him close. With the last peck to your lips he presses his forehead against yours, âI missed you, I love youâ taking me sâfucking perfectly, like you always doââ
A strangled noise fights to leave your chest, heavy where it sits trapped, the words forcing the warmth in the pit of your belly to bloom, explode, shattering every wall youâd built up in the past few weeks.Â
âI love you,â itâs a broken whisper, an admission you canât keep inside any longer. A little louder, a little firmer, âI love you.âÂ
He smiles into the kiss he plants on your lips, âYeah?âÂ
âHey,â Wooyoung interjects, hands cupping your cheeks to tilt you backward, âI love you, too.âÂ
Youâd smile if San didnât pick up speed all over again, instead youâre babbling a mess of I love you, I love you too into Wooyoungâs mouth, lips barely touching enough to call it a kiss, so mindless and breathless and overwhelmed all you can do is feel.Â
Wooyoungâs hand leaves your cheek to sink between yours and Sanâs bodies, two fingers pressed to your clit, swirling tight circles on the bundles of nerves. Your body fights to jerk between them, trapped between sweat and muscle, head lolling backward on Wooyoungâs shoulder, eyes squeezed shut.Â
San switches his angle, strong arms tilting your hips upward to fuck into you harder, to angle his cock to hit the sweet spot inside you, building the pit of pressure of your stomach with purpose.Â
Your eyes blow wide, breath quickening, âSanâ Sannieââ
âCâmon,â he encourages, sitting backward to fuck into you faster, âLemme feel it, want it.âÂ
Incoherent babbles and the clenching of your cunt has your hands reaching for his forearms, fingernails pressing into his skin, all while Wooyoung keeps his pace on your clit, rhythm perfect, pressure nothing short of unbearable.Â
âWooâ Sannieââ you donât know who to cry for, hips fighting to meet Sanâs thrusts, grinding into Wooyoungâs fingers, âIâm gonna cum.âÂ
âLet go, baby,â Wooyoungâs voice is light and encouraging but heâs babbling as if San was fucking him, âlet him feel it, he wants it so bad, he loves it, loves you.âÂ
Breath caught in your chest, your jaw drops as your pleasure hits its peak, meeting Sanâs gaze as your orgasm washes over you like a fucking hurricane, utterly speechless as your legs shake in the open air, inescapable euphoria reaching every inch of skin.Â
âFuck, Shy,â San groans, âyouâre so fucking sexy, oh my god, oh my godââ
You donât have time to respond before Wooyoung is kissing you again, tilting your head backward with one hand as San extends your orgasm with every thrust of his cock, Wooyoungâs fingers slowing on your clit, letting you ride it out until youâre a whining, twitching mess.Â
âFuck,â you mutter harshly, letting Wooyoung guide the sloppy kiss as Sanâs hips stutter, rhythm quickening to something ruthless, chasing his own high, a selfish pace.Â
âGonna fill this pussy up,â Sanâs babbling, âall mine, mine to fill,â his voice is somewhere far, deep in the moment, âI love it, love you, my Shygirl, shitââ
Erratic thrusts come to a hilt, stalling fully seated, you moan softly into Wooyoungâs mouth as heavy warmth fills you steadily, making you shiver.Â
You break away from Wooyoung to look at San, eyelids low but you couldnât miss the way his skin glows, as if you poured water over a sculpture made of gold, you stare in awe at his heaving chest, how his abdomen still clenches, flexing each muscle.Â
âPretty,â the word is mindless, said through a breath.Â
He leans down, pressing his palms to the bed on either side of you, attaching your lips in a slow, steady kiss. âThatâs you,â he whispers, âmy pretty girl.âÂ
He picks his head up to Wooyoung behind you, pressing a kiss to his lips, too. âMy pretty boy.âÂ
Wooyoung holds him close, you feel him melt under Sanâs touch, his words. âI love you,â Wooyoung mumbles, half-heard to you because he says it into Sanâs mouth, âso much.âÂ
âI love you too, baby,â San presses one more kiss to his lips before he plants one on your forehead, âand I love you, too.âÂ
âDo you really?â The question is pure instinct, âLike, actually?âÂ
âBaby,â he says it like itâs obvious, like itâs silly for you to even question it. âIâve spent my whole life loving you.âÂ
There's a heaviness to your chest, the same tightness you felt when he said it earlier, it travels to your throat, the heat under your eyes pushing water into your lash line.Â
âNo,â he says softly, âdonât cry.â
You canât help your smile, sniffling, giggling as two tears spill down your cheeks, âWhy didnât you tell me?âÂ
âHold on,â his voice is still delicate, like glass, he sits back on his knees to carefully slip out of you, âcome up here.âÂ
You move with Wooyoung, the younger man half carrying you to the top of the bed, your heads falling into your pillows, their bodies on either side of you in your queen-sized bed like it was big enough to fit all three of you.Â
Your back is halfway pressed up against San, eyes hazy and low with Wooyoung in view, you ask him, âAnd you?âÂ
His smile is soft but his face reads relief like heâs been sitting on this information for ages. âIâve loved you probably since I moved in, but Iâve wanted you since the day I met you.â
âThat I knew,â you sniff, giggling again, turning your head up to see San whoâs staring at you like youâre his entire world, âwhy didnât you guys tell me?âÂ
âItâs not an easy thing to say,â thereâs a small, apologetic smile on his lips.Â
Wooyoung adds, âWhen we started living together I just assumed we were friend-zoned forever. When San and I got together, like, half of our relationship was based on the fact that we both still loved you while loving each other.âÂ
Sanâs arm wraps around your front, tucking you further into him, âWhen youâre best friends and roommates and a little too close for comfort, itâs hard to not fall in love.âÂ
âEspecially when all of those things are you,â Wooyoung adds, shuffling towards you like he couldnât get close enough, âwhy didnât you tell us how you felt?â
âBecause you started fucking dating each other,â you answer like youâve been waiting for the question, amusement overshadowing the truth to your words, âI didnât think I was invited to the party.âÂ
Wooyoung leans in to press a kiss to your forehead, he looks at you when he pulls away, so much love and honesty swirling in chocolate it makes you shiver, but because heâs Wooyoung, he starts singing, âI only threw this party for you, only threw this party for you, for you for youâŠâ
You snort, giggling into Sanâs chest, and the older man continues, loud and proud, âYou could watch me pull up on your body like itâs summer take my clothes off in the waterââ
You join him, just as loud and maybe even prouder, ââsplash around and get you blessed like holy water, I donât know what youâve been waitinâ for, you know that Iâve been waitinâ for you.âÂ
Wooyoung laughs, turning on his back, you watch how his chest expands and falls with each loud, obnoxious cackle. He turns his head to face you, âIf you think about it, that song is kinda us.âÂ
âI think that song is Jay Gatsby,â you correct him, âIâm kinda Jay Gatsby and you guys are kinda Daisy Buchanan.âÂ
âNo, weâre Jay Gatsby and youâre Daisy Buchanan,â San says a little more confidently than you did, âwe threw the party and you didn't come.âÂ
âOh we are not arguing about this,â you turn your head to furrow your brows at him, reiterating, âbut let the records show that I was not invited to said party.âÂ
Wooyoung is quick with his answer, âWe only threw the damn party for you.âÂ
Itâs like nothing has changed.Â
Curled up on the chaise of the couch, you in the corner, Wooyoungâs head on your lap with his leg stretched one way, Sanâs head is between your legs with both of your bodies laid out the other way.Â
Dirty Dancing is playing on the flatscreen across the room, Sweetie cozy right beneath you, on the hardwood floor with his body pressed up against the deck of the couch, everything, everyone you love is in one room.Â
A month of being together, the only thing thatâs changed in your relationship is where you sleep, and that you kissâ and fuck, entirely too much for a typical honeymoon phase, but as San says, youâre making up for lost time.
Waking up together, going to work together, sleeping together, you wonder after years of being attached at the hip how you donât feel tired of them. You suppose you never could, the two men being fibers of your being, embedded into you like the essence of your own being, itâs more that you canât live without them.Â
And the more you think about it, the more you wonder how you didnât notice it sooner. So hyper focused on what you want, you couldnât realize what you already had, there was a reason your relationship has always been too close for comfort.Â
But now you have them, and you love them, and they fucking love youâ they are not afraid to show it, theyâd scream it to the rooftops if you let them. Sometimes you almost do let them, just to let the feeling sink in a little further, to let their love overflow the gap in your chest thatâs been full for a month now.Â
One hand in Sanâs hair, the other drawing shapes into Wooyoungâs chest, a thought dawns on you. You ask, âHey, remember that night at Steer?â Their heads tilt toward, eyeing you over their eyebrows, nodding. âWhatever happened to Yunho?âÂ
Wooyoung snorts, San shakes his head, it makes you giggle. Wooyoung answers, âI told him his work was done and that we could take it from there.âÂ
âHis work was done?â You question, âWhat work?â
âYou told him you love us the night you went on the date with him, right?â San suddenly asks, looking over his forehead at you once more. You nod like this was common information and he laughs so loud it makes Sweetie sit up on his hind legs.Â
âI told you, you called me schizophrenic!â San shouts over the couch at Wooyoung, sitting up on an elbow, âI knew it, my Shy senses were tingling.âÂ
âShy senses?â You ask, a question ignored.Â
Wooyoung sits up too, eyes wide, âWhaâ? Maybe you should be a detective, Sannie, Iâm serious.âÂ
âWhat are you talking about?â You ask a little louder, âInform me right this second, please.âÂ
âI know you so well itâs scary,â San lays back down, one hand lazily thrown over the side of the couch to scratch Sweetieâs head, calming him. âLike the back of my hand, baby.âÂ
His words make you smile, settling back into the couch again. Wooyoung turns on his elbow to see you, âSan knew that Yunho knew,â he shakes his head, âwith literally no proof, just vibes. Scary.âÂ
You run your hands through his hair, your smile completely teasing, âYouâll get there, baby. One more decade.âÂ
Wooyoungâs top lip curls, âNot you, too. I know you just as well, if not better than Sanââ
Sanâs head picks up with a gasp, âYou do notâ!â
Your giggles cut through their bickering, âYouâre both stupid, I love you.âÂ
âWe love you too,â they mumble, settling back into their positions on the couch, where your hands fell to their hair, scratching their scalps into silence. Your smile stays as your head lifts back to the movie across the room, not actually watching, too consumed with contentment and that lovesick feeling in your stomach.Â
êšïž pairing. au ceo! satoru gojo x single mom secretary fem! reader
êš summary. satoru gojo, the arrogant and irresistible heir to a billion-dollar corporation and the son of your boss, the ceo... but when satoruâs father dies unexpectedly, his inheritance hinges on a stipulation: he must marry and have a child, but the child doesn't necessarily have to be his, right? together, you strike a deal: a fake marriage that promises financial stability for you and corporate control for him. as the lines between business and emotion blur, you must decide if your partnership is purely contractual or if it could evolve into something real.
êšïž warnings/tags. 18+ MDNI, nsfw, enemies (annoyances) to lovers, opposites attract, fake marriage, marriage of convenience, slow burn, smut, fluff, some angst, reader is single mom who recently broke off her engagement, satoru being a cute step dad, naoya is your crappy ex, triggers of prior domestic abuse » ănote, this chapter contains possessiveness, naoya is yandere and not in a hot way, lol. suggestive content and fluff.
êš words: 14.3k
êš a/n. hello darlings, i know it's only been a week but happy early valentines day, here is my gift to you, hehe. it's time to say hi to naoya. this chapter gives you a few different perspectives, but most of it is satoru's! see you at the bottom ⥠(art by @/dmsco1803 on X )
êš taglist: open (ao3)
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ch 9 // blood and betrayal
"We have a couple of hours before they come back," Remi murmurs, her manicured nails pressing into the polished wood as she eases the door open, just enough for a figure to slip inside.
And Naoya steps over the threshold without hesitation, the faintest smirk playing on his lips.
Gojoâs estate.
Itâs even more extravagant than he imaginedâpristine marble stretching out beneath his feet, ceilings so high they seem to loom over him, the decor screaming wealth in a way that makes his teeth clench. Everything here is polished, excessive, a testament to the kind of power Satoru Gojo wields without even trying.
Naoyaâs fingers flex at his sides, hidden beneath the sleeves of his jacket.
Tch. Flashy bastard.
Adjusting the brim of his cap, sunglasses shield the sharp glint of his gaze as he sweeps the space. He moves with caution, but not fear.
"Whereâs the brat?" he mutters.
âPlaying,â Remi replies, flicking a dismissive hand before slinking closer, nails skimming along his arm like sheâs entitled to touch him.
Those brown eyes of hers glow with a desperate hungerâwide, hopeful, pathetic. Pressing in, her lips are just shy of Naoyaâs ear.
âShe wonât bother usâŠâ she murmurs.
Exhaling sharply through his nose, he resists the urge to shove her off.
Lapdog.
Sheâs eager, too eagerâalways hanging off him like sheâs something more than just a convenient distraction. He indulges her, when it suits him. And when it doesnât? Sheâs still useful.
With a slight turn of his head, he allows his lips to almost graze the shell of her ear as he murmurs flatly, âThe office.â
Remi shivers, mistaking his cold disinterest for something else.
âRight this way,â she hums, syrupy sweet, pleased with herself. âIâll keep the kid busy, donât want her recognizing you.â
Naoya doesnât respond, doesnât even look at her as he steps past. Why would he waste breath on something insignificant? No. His mind is elsewhere, locked on a singular purpose.
Leverage.
Dirt.
Anything he can sink his teeth into.
When he enters the office, itâs eerily stillâclean, untouched. Itâs clear that Gojoâs staff keep it impeccably tidy. His gaze sweeps over the space and he catalogues every detailârich mahogany bookshelves, a sleek black leather chair, floor-to-ceiling windows. The space feels open, exposed. Naoyaâs lips curl slightly.
Tch. Everything about this room screams control. No paranoia. No signs of disarray. Just an effortless sense of power. Cocky bastard.
As he moves further inside, his eyes zero in on a single framed photograph, placed at the center of Satoruâs desk. With slow, measured steps, he rounds the desk, fingers trailing lightly over its surface before he lifts the frame into his hands. Immediately, his smirk vanishes.
You. Holding that little brat in your arms, smiling like you belong here. Like this life fits you. Like youâreâ
Happy.
You should be his.
His jaw tightens as his fingers curl around the frame, the glass creaking under pressure. For a split second, an ugly thought slithers into his mindâhe should shatter it. He should put his fist straight through the grinning faces staring back at him.
But instead, he exhales sharply through his nose and flips the frame face down, watching as it lands with a muted thud against the desk.
Out of sight, out of mind.
Moving on, his fingers trail along the deskâs edges before he crouches slightly, pulling open the first drawer without resistance.
Folders. Contracts. Documents marked with Gojo Corpâs insignia.
Naoyaâs smirk twitches.
Idiot.
His phone is out in an instant, the soft click of the camera breaking the thick silence of the office.
Click.
Click.
Click.
He doesnât bother reading them. No need. He just snaps photos of anything that might be usefulâfinancial records, legal paperwork, contract renewals. Everything is neatly labeled, categorized, almost too easy to find.
Fucking cocky bastard.
And Naoya moves with purpose, each movement fluid, efficient. This isnât his first time going through someoneâs private affairsâbut it is the first time heâs had to do it himself. Normally, this would be a job for someone else. A grunt. Someone disposable.
But things have changed.
With Toji rotting in prison, the damn Yakuza have begun distancing themselves ever since he got released, treating the Zenin like liabilities rather than assets. Their once-limitless resources are dwindling, and with every door that closes in his face, Naoya only feels his hatred grow.
His fingers tighten around the handle of another drawer, yanking it open. He canât wait to bring Satoru Gojo down. But when he reaches for the last drawer, the one at the bottomâhis grip stills. It doesnât budge.
Locked.
His smirk sharpens.
What are you hiding, Satoru Gojo?
Kneeling slightly, his fingers brush along the handle as he pulls a small, thin tool from his pocket. The lock isnât complicatedânothing particularly advanced, and it takes seconds. The soft click of the latch releasing is almost satisfying, and as he pulls it open, his smirk widens. But the moment its contents are revealed, he immediately looks down to findâ
Nothing.
His eyes narrow as his amusement flickers.
Hm... a distraction? Which means whatever matters isnât here.
Rolling his shoulders, Naoya exhales sharply before straightening to his full height. Heâs wasting time. If Gojo was smart enough not to keep anything incriminating here, then whatever he is keeping must be somewhere more personal.
Upstairs.
His gaze drops to his Rolex watch, then to the door. He still has time. Heâll just have to go deeper.
The house remains unnervingly silent as he ascends the staircase, the kind of quiet that isnât natural. Most of Gojoâs staff have been paid off for their silence, their loyalty nothing more than a transaction.
Money makes everything easier, doesnât it?
His fingers trail the smooth banister, and once he reaches the top, he pausesâscanning the hallway. Up here, something feels different⊠strangely satisfying. Because downstairs had been designed to impressâGojoâs domain, pristine and curatedâa place meant to be seen.
But up here? Up here, the walls breathe. This is where you live.
As his gaze sweeps over the doors lining the hall, he canât help but notice how everything is perfectly symmetricalâexpensive, identical. No labels, no indications, no clues. Just a row of polished wood, concealing whatever lies behind them.
Which one is Gojoâs?
Naoya moves methodically, ghosting through the hallway, and each door he opens only fuels his irritation. A guestroom. A bathroom. A library. He exhales sharply through his nose.
This place is a fucking maze.
His hand falls on the next doorknob, twisting it without hesitation, but the moment it swings open, something inside him stills. Because this isnât Gojoâs room.
Itâs yours.
His fingers flex at his sides.
FuckâŠ
He shouldnât waste time. Remi said he only has a few hours. He should keep moving, should focusâbut something ugly and possessive coils tight in his chest, sinking its claws into something raw and unsatisfied. And suddenly, his feet are moving on their own.
The door clicks shut behind him, and he immediately can tell that this space is different from the others. Warm. Soft. Laced with something distinctly youâa scent he remembers too well, woven into the very air, clinging to the fabrics, the furniture, the walls.
It doesnât belong in a house like this.
The rest of the estate drowns in wealth, in cold opulence, in a luxury that doesnât need to announce itself. And this room is expensive too, of course. Everything about your life is different now. But thisâ
This is yours.
A sweater draped lazily over a chair. A vanity lined with delicate bottles of perfume, small trinkets carefully arranged as if placed by habit rather than thought. Jewelry. Makeup. Some of it familiar. Things that once belonged in his world. Things that were once his to admire. His jaw clenches as he is reminded yet again.
Youâre settled here. Comfortableâ
Happy.
Pushing a breath through his nose, his eyes drift toward the far end of the room. An open walk-in closet. Of fucking-course Gojo would give you a closet this big. And so, he moves towards it without thinking, but the moment he steps inside, his fingers flex at his sides.
Fucking hell.
Expensive gowns hang neatly along the racks, luxurious fabrics brushing against his fingertips as he trails them over silk, satin, designer labelsâclothes that he knows you wouldnât have worn before. Not when you were with him. But now, itâs not his money dressing you in these delicate, expensive things. Itâs Gojoâs.
Gojo has spoiled you.
Lavishing you in luxuries you never had beforeânever needed. With Naoya, nothing was ever simply given. No matter how much money he had, you were never entitled to it, and you knew better than to ask.
Noâwith Naoya, you had to earn things. Had to prove you were worthy of them. Had to be grateful for whatever he decided you deserved. And he let you believe in the illusion of security while ensuring you always needed him.
And you did. You always did.
Or at least⊠you were supposed to.
The realization curdles something deep in his stomach, a slow, simmering heat that coils tight and bitter in his chest. As his fingers linger over a dress, smooth satin, he can envision you in it and his grip tightens.
Money-hungry bitch.
The thought snaps through his mind like a whip, sharp and instinctive, and he exhales slowly through his nose, forcing his fingers to relax before he rips the damn thing. And so, with measured restraint, he releases the fabric and turns away.
But heâs not done.
His gaze flickers toward your dresser nowâa slow smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.
What else has Gojo given you?
As he trails his fingers across the glossy surface, tracing idle patterns into the polished wood, he realizes just how untouched it isâpristine, perfectly maintainedâlike everything in this house. Like you now, perfectly packaged, living in a world of expensive indulgence. A world you should have never been given.
When he reaches for the first drawer, it glides open with ease, and his breath slows. Lace. Satin. Sheer mesh. You always had good taste. His fingers slip between the layers, sinking into the delicate garmentsâthe fragile trim of lace panties, the silken slide of fabric that was made to be touched.
Made to be stripped off you.
He lingers, debating something darker, but he exhales sharply, and with little ceremony, he tosses the garment back, sliding the drawer shut. Still, the fixation doesnât fade. If anything, it sharpens.
His gaze drifts to your vanityâa curated shrine of excess. Delicate trinkets, expensive perfumes, meticulously placed cosmetics. A testament to the life youâve built here. A life you have no right to.
God⊠he barely recognizes you anymore.
Seeing you at that first charity gala, poised and polished as if you had always belonged in this world, had made his stomach churn. Everything about you had been refined, reshaped, rebrandedâuntil you fit. Until you looked the part of someone who belonged here.
And the worst part?
It suited you. Too well. You looked fucking gorgeous.
Something catches his eye on the vanityâa single tube of lipstick. It stands upright among the rest, and without hesitation, he reaches for it, rolling the cool metal between his fingers, feeling its weight settle in his palm. His breath slows as he uncaps it, twisting the base with careful precision.
The stick risesâsmooth, untouched.
Deep red.
The kind of red heâs seen on you before, painted over your lips, smudged at the corners, slick and ruined. The kind of red that stains. You had always left your mark.
He wonders if you still doâŠ
Something bitter simmers in his chest, boiling hot, because the thought of youâfucking Satoru Gojo? Oh, he sees redâthe same deep red of that pretty little lipstick.
Jaw tightening, he inhales sharply through his nose, forcing himself to shake it off, to think. His gaze shifts, flickering toward your bed, and the tension in his chest loosens just slightly, amusement creeping in.
Separate beds.
His teeth graze his bottom lip as he exhales, slow and controlled. Maybe Toji was fucking with him. Because there was no way you were actually sleeping with Gojo. No. You wouldnât.
With a quiet click, he shuts the lipstick, placing it back with calculated precision, exactly where he found it. But just as he moves to step away, a subtle glint of silver against the vanityâs surface catches his line of sight.
A heart-shaped locket.
His brow twitches as he reaches for it, fingers brushing over the delicate chain before lifting it into his palm. Itâs light. Fragile. But he knows better. Sentimental things like this always carry more weight than they should.
His thumb presses against the tiny clasp, prying it open with careful precision. But the moment it clicks apart, everything inside him stills.
Your smiling face stares back at himâbright, radiantâpressed against Gojoâs side. His lips graze your cheek, your fingers curled around his sleeve, clinging to him.
Something snaps.
A fire ignites in his chest, hot and consuming, scorching every last thread of restraint he has left. His breath pushes through his nose in slow, seething exhales as something bitter coils tight in his throat.
How dare you.
How fucking dare you.
That should be his.
His life.
His claim.
His fingers clench into a fist at his side, nails biting deep into his palm, but the pain barely registers. His grip only tightensâtighter, tighterâuntil something warm, something wet, slips between his fingers.
He blinks, a dull ache spreading through his palm. Then, the color registers.
Blood.
His own nails have carved into his skin, deep and unrelenting, the slow trickle slipping down his wrist, speckling the plush carpet, staining the floor beneath him.
Tch. Sloppy.
âFuckâŠâ The curse is low, sharpâa quiet snarl as he forces himself to inhale, prying his fingers open. The sting of torn flesh burns now, but he barely feels it. He wants to shatter the locket. Wants to crush it beneath his boot, grind it into the floor, leave it in ruins.
But no. That would look suspicious.
With measured care, he sets it back onto the vanity, his fingers steady despite the tension locking his jaw. Exhaling through his nose, he shakes his head and steps back, scanning the roomâcalculating his next move.
Bathroom.
Without another thought, he turns on his heel, striding toward the en-suite. As soon as he enters, he pulls open the nearest cabinet, snatching a neatly folded hand towel. The white cloth darkens instantly, soaking through with red as he wraps it tightly around his injured handâtwisting the fabric to apply pressure. Itâll hold for now.
His gaze shifts toward the opposite end of the bathroomâto the second doorâthe one leading to Gojoâs room.
Finally.
With quiet, measured steps, he crosses the room, fingers curling around the handle. The door gives with ease, swinging open into a space that grates against his nerves the moment he steps inside.
Everything about this room pisses him off.
Itâs too open, too spaciousâlike Gojo needs the entire goddamn house to accommodate his oversized ego. High ceilings, sprawling windows, furniture arranged with an effortless elegance that speaks of obscene wealth, yet complete indifference toward it.
Naoya moves with purpose, tearing through Gojoâs things with sharp, practiced efficiency. Drawers snap open, their contents rifled through and discarded without care. Watches, expensive cufflinksâall useless.
âŠDigimon cards? The fuck is this?
He exhales sharply, irritation mounting. None of it matters. Heâs looking for something else. Something he can use. Somethingâ
The next drawer slides openâhis breath slows.
Fabric. Soft, delicate. Not Gojoâs.
Your panties.
Here.
In his drawer.
As his fingers brush against the lace, his breath sharpensâfully registering what heâs holding. The material is familiarâthe color, unmistakable. His favorite pair.
Realization seeps in, cold and ugly. He grips them tighter, lifting them slightly, rubbing the fabric between his fingers again, slower this time. The answer is instant, undeniable.
Theyâre used.
Recently.
His stomach twists, a sharp, curdling heat spreading through his ribs as he raises them to his face without thinkingâclosing his eyes to inhale.
The scent is instant.
The reaction is immediate. His head buzzes with static, a roaring white noise as something vile slithers through him, coiling, sinking deep. It spreads through his chest like rot, like poison, acidic and suffocating.
Youâre fucking him.
This isnât speculation. This isnât a lie he can tell himself, a suspicion he can twist to suit his own reality. This is proof. Right here. In another manâs drawer. Taunting him. Mocking him. Stained with the remnants of whatever the fuck you did this morning.
âWhore,â he spits the word out through clenched teeth as he shoves the lace deep into his pocket.
His fingers twitch, his whole body vibrating with the urge to destroy, to ruin, to rip every trace of Gojo out of your life until you have no choice but to remember who you belong to. He should burn this entire fucking house to the ground. Should leave nothing behind but ash.
But not here.
Not now.
Not yet.
Grinding his molars, he rips his phone from his pocket, pulling up your contact with a punishing force. His vision blurs at the edges, rage surging through him like a live wire as his thumb flies across the screen.
At first, he doesnât think. Doesnât hesitate. The words spill out, venomous, ugly, a raw, unfiltered snarl of possession and rage.
You little fucking whore. Did you spread your legs for him? Youâre nothing without me. I swear to god Iâm going to teach you a fucking lesson.
His chest rises and falls with sharp, seething breaths as he stares at the message. His anger, his unraveling, right there in damning black and white. The message hovers, unsent, his thumb poisedâ
No.
A sharp exhale flares through his nose, and he begins to tap delete. One by one, the words vanish, swallowed by the empty space they leave behind.
He may be seeing red, but heâs not stupid. No. Heâs better than this. Smarter than this. Leaving proof would be careless, would be something Gojo could use against him.
Instead, he reels himself in, inhales through his nose, forces himself to recalibrate. He types again, but this time, itâs different. This time, itâs careful. A reminderâa whisper of something softer.
Something that he knows will send you spiraling.
We need to talk. When can I see you? Just... be good for me.
The second itâs sent, he exhales, forcing his shoulders to roll back, his body still vibrating with barely restrained fury. His eyes track the screen, watching the small confirmation appear.
Delivered.
Sliding the phone back into his pocket, he rolls his neck, stretching out the tension coiled tight in his muscles. He knows you wonât respond right awayâyou never do. Youâll hesitate, youâll overthink. But in the end, you always come back. You always give in.
For now, he still has work to do.
His gaze flicks back to the room, scanning once more, searching. Then he sees it.
A safe.
Tucked neatly into the corner of the closet, hidden but not invisible. The kind of thing most people wouldnât think twice about, but Naoyaâs trained eye spots it instantly. A smirk tugs at his lips as he steps forward, crouching slightly. His fingers skim over the dial, testing the resistance. Locked.
Of course it is.
No matter. Heâs cracked safes before. It just takes time. He presses his ear close, ready to test the first turnâ
But then, a sharp buzz vibrates in his pocket.
His head snaps down, irritation flickering in his expression as he pulls his phone out. And the second he sees the screen, his breath stills for half a second.
Your name. Your response. Faster than he expected.
Okay. You want to talk, so letâs talk. Tomorrow. Noon. Shirogane Park.
His lips press into a thin line. For a split second, he lingers on it, surprised at the speed. At the fact that you agreed so easily. But before he can sit on the thought for too long, his gaze flicks to the time displayed on his phoneâ
âShit...â
The safe will have to wait. He doesnât have time to crack it now.
Shoving his phone back into his pocket, Naoya pushes off his knees and moves, retracing his steps down the hall. Heâs wasted timeâtoo much fucking time. He should be gone by now, should have what he came forâwhateverâs inside that safeâbut instead, heâs leaving empty-handed, bleeding, and pissed the fuck off.
By the time he reaches the foyer, Remi is already waiting near the entrance, shifting from foot to foot. The moment she sees him, her eyes widen, flickering down to his wrapped hand.
"Naoya, whatâ?" Her hands reach out instinctively, fingers barely grazing his arm before he shrugs her off, stepping past her without a glance.
She hurries after him, undeterred. "You're hurt," she presses, her voice laced with something too close to genuine concern. "What happened?"
"Not your fucking business." His tone is clipped, dismissive. When she flinches, he barely suppresses an irritated sigh.
Her hands hover near his injured one again, hesitant but persistent. âYouâre bleeding all overâlet meââ
"Who's that?"
Naoya freezes.
A chill spreads through Naoyaâs limbs, stiffening his spine as he turns his head, slow and deliberate, toward the source of the voice.
A little girl. His little girl.
Haru stands just beyond the doorway, small fingers curled into the hem of her dress, wide, curious eyes flicking between them.
His stomach knots, breath hitching before he catches himself. His disguise holdsâcap pulled low, sunglasses shielding his faceâbut for a split second, something ugly and panicked churns in his gut.
Does she recognize him? Can she?
His fingers twitch.
Remi recovers first, voice high-pitched, too eager to smooth over the tension. "Oh, sweetheart, he's just my friend," she coos, stepping forward quickly, placing a gentle hand on Haruâs shoulder. "But heâs leaving now.â
Haru tilts her head slightly, staring at him a moment longer. Naoya doesnât breathe. Then, to his surprise, she nods.
"Okay."
His shoulders relaxâjust slightly, relief fleetingâuntilâ
âWhy are you wearing sunglasses inside?â
He barely has time to process the question before she follows it up with something far worse.
"I like 'toruâs sunglasses more."
A slow, seething heat spreads through his chest, curling around his ribs, tightening like a vice.
Remi laughs, nervous and rushed. "Oh, honey, youâre so silly!" She reaches out, smoothing a hand over Haruâs hair, a little too eager to redirect. "Why donât you go play, baby? Iâll be right there, okay?"
Haru looks at Naoya once moreâjust a glance, just long enough to make something curdle inside himâbefore nodding and skipping back down the hall.
The second sheâs out of sight, Naoya rounds on Remi.
"You let the fucking kid see me?" His voice is sharp, cutting, barely above a whisper but full of venom.
Remi flinches. "IâI didnât know she was still upâ"
"Sloppy," he spits, stepping closer, heat radiating off him in waves. "Youâre fucking sloppy, Remi. I told you to keep an eye on her. Thatâs your only fucking job."
"I know, Iâ"
"Youâre fucking useless."
Her lips part, breath hitching as her face crumples, her eyes glistening with unshed tears.
Pathetic. Annoying.
He exhales sharply through his nose, rolling his shoulders, forcing himself to cool down. "Just⊠be good for me, yeah?" His voice dips lower, smoother, but the bite is still there, lethal beneath the softness. "Go upstairs and clean up the blood before they come back."
Remi swallows, nodding quickly before turning on her heel and hurrying up the stairs, her movements rushed, frantic.
Naoya watches her go, jaw tight, fingers flexing at his sides.
Tomorrow.
Tomorrow, heâll remind you exactly who you belong to.
êš
The limo glides to a stop, the soft hum of the engine fading as Ichiji shifts into park. You exhale, rolling your shoulders, trying to shake off the weight of the day. The golden hues of the setting sun spill across the Gojo estate, stretching long shadows over the driveway. But even the familiar sight of home does little to ease the tightness in your chest.
Beside you, Satoru lets out a slow sigh, shifting the thick folder of paperwork in his lap. His long legs stretch out in front of him, casual, unbotheredâlike the weight of today hasnât been pressing into him, too. His sunglasses still rest on the bridge of his nose, but you can feel his gaze settle on you.
âYou okay?â
You nod, reaching for the door handle just as Ichiji steps out to open it for you. âYeah. Just⊠tired.â
Itâs not a lieâthe day has been long, mentally draining in ways you havenât fully processed yet. Between the looming custody battle, the exhausting legal back-and-forth with Suguru, and the ever-present weight of Naoyaâs shadow curling around your mind, your body feels like itâs made of lead.
Satoru hums, shifting the folder under his arm. âSuguru said to bring your documents next time,â he reminds you. âBoth for the child support and the ones Naoya served you.â
You nod, stepping out onto the driveway. âYeah⊠they should still be in my nightstand.â
Satoru follows after you, stretching his arms above his head before tilting his head with an exaggerated hum. âYour nightstand, huh?â a slow smirk curls on his lips. âHope I donât find anything scandalous.â
Rolling your eyes, you nudge him lightly with your elbow as you pass. âShut up.â
His laughter follows you as you step through the entrance, but before you can say anything else, the sound of little feet pattering against the hardwood echoes from down the hall.
âMama!â
Haruâs voice rings bright, lifting the heaviness from your chest in an instant. Before you can react, sheâs already barreling toward you, small arms wrapping tight around your legs.
Your heart softens, exhaustion momentarily forgotten as you crouch to her level, brushing a hand through her hair. âHey, baby,â you murmur, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. âDid you have fun today?â
She nods enthusiastically, rocking on her heels. âWe watched a movie! I drew a pictureâoh! Come look Mama!â
You smile, smoothing back a stray strand of hair. âIâd love to see it.â
Satoru steps past you, shifting the folder under his arm. âIâll grab your papers,â he says, already making his way toward the stairs.
You nod absentmindedly, barely registering his words as Haru tugs at your hand, leading you eagerly toward the living room.
Taking the stairs at an easy pace, Satoru moves with unhurried strides, letting the faint hum of conversation from downstairs settle in the background. The house is quiet, undisturbedâyet as he nears your room, something feels⊠off.
A figure kneels in front of your vanity, back turned to him, her posture hunched, the rhythmic sound of fabric scrubbing against the carpet breaking the silence. Satoru slowsâsteps light, gaze sharpening.
Remi?
She doesnât notice him at first, too focused on whatever the hell sheâs doing, her shoulders rigid as she drags a damp rag over the floor in slow, deliberate strokes. The sharp scent of cleaner lingers in the air, but it does little to mask what sheâs trying to erase.
Red.
Satoru leans against the doorframe, arms folding over his chest. âWhatâs that?â
Remi jolts, her body going stiff before she turns halfway, eyes widening like a cornered animal. But she recovers quickly, straightening as she tucks the rag into a small plastic bucket beside her.
âOhâjust cleaning up,â she says too lightly, too quickly. âIâI spilled something earlier. Cut myself while wiping it up. Nothing serious.â
Satoru quirks a brow, his gaze dropping to her hands.
No cuts. No bandages. No blood on her fingers.
His eyes shift back to the stain, lingering just a second too long. The silence stretches between them.
Then, he exhales through his nose, pushing off the doorframe. âBe more careful next time,â he mutters, brushing past her as he steps inside your room.
She nods quickly, relief flickering across her face as she turns back to her scrubbing.
He should press further. Should ask why the hell thereâs blood on your carpet. Should question why she looks like sheâs barely holding herself together under his gaze. But he doesnât
Because heâs exhausted.
Because today has drained him in ways he doesnât have the energy to unpack.
Because heâs tryingâreally fucking tryingâto make sure youâre at ease.
Safe.
You need to feel safe. That much is non-negotiable.
The way you reacted to Naoyaâs text? Heâs never seen you like that before. That single message sent you spiraling, and he saw it allâthe way the color drained from your face, how your breathing turned uneven, how you couldnât even look at the screen without your hands shaking.
That wasnât just fear. That was something deeper. Something lived in. And that pisses him off more than he knows how to put into words.
His jaw clenches as he moves toward your nightstand, pulling the drawer open with ease. Just as expected, the crisp stack of legal documents sits exactly where you left them. His fingers curl around the papers, grip tightening just a little too much.
Naoya⊠fucking prick.
Satoru already had enough reasons to hate the bastard, but now? Now itâs different. Because this isnât about old grudges or petty feudsâthis is about you.
Shaking off the slow burn simmering under his skin, he takes the papers, shuts the drawer with a quiet thud, and heads back downstairs.
His steps remain unhurried, just as they were before, but his mind isnât. Irritation lingers at the edges of his composure, gnawing at him, but he shoves it down, forcing it into that familiar compartment where he locks away everything that threatens to throw him off balance.
By the time he reaches the first floor, the hum of conversation between you and Haru filters in from the living room, grounding him just enough. Without a word, he moves past the foyer, pivoting toward his office with the folder tucked securely under his arm.
The door clicks shut behind him, sealing him into the quiet. Everything is just as he left itâpristine, precise. Unlike his office at Gojo Corp, which is more of a curated disaster, this space is controlled. Every document stacked neatly, every file aligned with sharp precision, not a single thing out of order.
And yet⊠something doesnât sit right.
His fingers drum against the polished wood of his desk as his gaze sweeps over the room. Nothing is visibly out of place, but thereâs a nagging itch at the back of his mind, something subtle but persistent, like an off note in an otherwise perfect melody.
Maybe itâs the exhaustion. Maybe itâs nothing.
Satoru has never needed much sleep. Four hours is a luxury, three is the standard, and anything less? Just another part of his reality. Heâs learned to function on exhaustion, to push through it with the same effortless charm that convinces everyone heâs untouchable, unbotheredâunaffected by the weight pressing down on him.
Itâs just another mask. One he wears so well, even he forgets itâs there sometimes.
And now, ever since he took over Gojo Corp, the days have stretched longer, the nights shorter. The weight of responsibility never really eases. But with Naoya clawing his way back into your life, with the custody battle looming like a goddamn storm cloud, sleep is even more of an afterthought. Especially since heâs been working on something for you.
His jaw tightens slightly as he exhales, rolling his shoulders.
He hasnât told you yetânot because heâs hiding it, but because he wants it to be a surprise. A fully staffed, fully equipped on-site daycare at Gojo Corp. Something designed with you in mind. Because he never wants any of his employees to go through the same bullshit you did before you married him. He remembers it too wellâhow you had to balance everything alone, how the world made it so damn difficult for a single mother to simply exist without constantly fighting for scraps.
He never wants you to worry about that again. And if he can make sure no one else has to deal with it either? Then itâs worth every sleepless night.
Still.
His gaze flickers to the folders on his desk. They look untouchedâstacked neatly where he left them. But something nags at him. As he slides one open, flipping through the pages, everything is in order. No missing documents. No sign that anythingâs been moved.
So why does it feel like they have?
Heâs about to dismiss the feeling entirely, chalk it up to exhaustion, but then his eyes land on something else. His photoâone of you and Haruâlying face down on his desk.
His breath stills for half a second. Did he leave it like that?
Frowning, he reaches out, flipping it over with careful precision. His thumb drags along the edge of the frame, his jaw tightening as something uncoils low in his gutâbut he pushes it away.
Nah⊠Itâs fine.
It has to be fine.
Heâs too fucking tired to dwell on it. Too drained to pick apart another thread when everything else is already unraveling at once. He needs to reset. A shower, maybe? Wash off the weight of the day, let the hot water unknot the tension clinging to his body.
Or maybe⊠something else. A different kind of relief.
Your panties.
Still tucked away in his dresser, untouched since his last indulgence in you. The thought alone sends a slow, simmering heat curling low in his stomach, exhaustion momentarily pushed aside by something darker, something hungrier.
Yeah. A âshowerâ sounds good.
Rolling his shoulders, he stands, dragging a hand over his jaw as he steps out of his office. The sound of your voice drifts through the house, light and warm, blending with Haruâs bright giggles. It stops him for a fraction of a second, just long enough to take it in.
That soundâitâs starting to feel like something he craves.
When he steps into the living room, you donât notice him right away, too focused on Haru as she excitedly waves her latest drawing in front of you. He lingers in the doorway, watching the two of youâso soft, so at ease, so different from how youâd looked earlier when Naoyaâs text ripped through you like a slow, suffocating vice.
Good. You should be at ease.
Closing the distance, he leans down, pressing a slow, deliberate kiss to your cheek. You glance up, blinking in mild surprise, but he only smirks.
âGonna get cleaned up,â he murmurs.
You nod, already distracted again as Haru tugs on your sleeve, eager to keep your focus.
Satoru watches you for a beat longer before turning on his heel, heading upstairsâalready anticipating what waits for him in his nightstandâeager to rub one out.
At this point, itâs almost routineâindulging in thoughts of you when the weight of everything gets too fucking heavy. Ever since that first time outside the bathroom, youâve been stuck in his head, impossible to shake.
His hand is already on the drawer handle the moment he steps into his room, fingers curling around the wood as he pulls it openâ
Gone.
Satoru stills.
For a second, he just stares at the empty space where they should be. Blinking once, then twice, before rifling through the contents. Pushing things aside. Checking beneath them.
Nothing.
What the fuck?
He knows he put them here. Heâs messy, sure, but heâs not careless. Thereâs a method to his madness, an order to the chaos. And his memory? Razor-sharp. Too sharp for something like this to slip past him.
So where the fuck are they? Did someone move them?
Then, from the next room, he hears itâthe slow, rhythmic drag of fabric against carpet.
Scrubbing.
His gaze flicks toward the en-suite, the door leading to your room cracked open just enough for the scent of cleaner to seep through.
Remi.
Exhaling slowly, he schools his expression, steps forward, and slips through the bathroom. When he leans against the doorway, sheâs still kneeling, still scrubbing the same goddamn spot she was working on earlier. Her movements are slow, methodical.
Satoru tilts his head. âYou wouldnât have, by chance, gone through my nightstand, would you?â
Remi freezes. Itâs subtle, a small pause, barely a second, but he catches it. Then, she forces a laugh, shaking her head as she resumes scrubbing.
âWhat? No, of course not.â
Satoru hums, tapping his fingers against the doorframe. But he doesnât press, doesnât pushâjust watches.
Something about Remi is⊠off. The way she keeps her head ducked, the way her shoulders stay unnaturally stiff as she scrubs. Like if she just focuses hard enough, she can will him away.
Suspicious.
But why the hell would she take your panties? Of all thingsâthatâs a weird fucking thing to steal.
His mind shifts, gears turning, peeling the situation apart and assessing it from a different angle. Maybe it wasnât her. Maybe⊠it was you.
His lips twitch.
Now that seems more likely.
Pushing off the doorframe, he exhales slowly through his nose, rolling his shoulders as he turns on his heel. Fine. If it was you, heâll just confirm it himself.
Descending the stairs, the low hum of conversation meets him before he even steps into the living room. Haru sits on the floor, brow furrowed in focus as she drags a colored pencil across a page. Meanwhile, youâre curled up on the couch, one knee tucked under the other, a throw blanket over you, watching her with a soft, easy smile.
Satoru moves behind you, slow and deliberate, dipping down just enough to thread his fingers through your hair, letting them linger.
âHey.â
You glance up at him, brow arching at that look on his face. âHmm?â
He studies you for a moment, letting the silence stretch just enough to make you suspicious. Then, voice smooth, he asks, âDid you take them?â
Your expression scrunches in confusion. âTake what?â
âMy souvenir,â a slow smirk tugs at his lips.
Your brows knit. âSouvenir?â
âFrom this morning.â
You stare at him, unimpressed. âSatoru... what the fuck are you talking about?â
He sighs, dramatic and put-upon, as if this should be obvious. âYour panties.â
And there it is.
He watches, thoroughly entertained, as the realization creeps over your features. Your lips part, then press together, heat crawling up your neck, blooming across your cheeks.
âWhatâmy panties?â
He nods, dead serious. âGone. Missing. Vanished into thin air. They were in my nightstand.â
You scoff, pulling the throw blanket higher over you, half as a shield, half as an excuse to do something with your hands. âI⊠didnât even know you had them.â
Satoru tuts, shaking his head like heâs deeply disappointed. Then, without missing a beat, he dips lower, his lips brushing against the soft curve of your neck before murmuring, âGuess Iâll just have to take a new pair⊠maybe right off you.â
Your breath hitchesâjust a fraction, barely noticeable, but he catches it. The way your shoulders stiffen, the flicker of heat that rises to your cheeks before you shove at his chest.
âGo away.â
He chuckles, stepping back with his hands raised in surrender, soaking in the way you glare at him, the way you tryâand failâto play it off. He enjoys this too much, watching you squirm, seeing how easily he can fluster you.
But even as he smirks, his mind is already miles away. Because if it wasnât you⊠then who the hell took them?
The panties.
The photo of you and Haruâface down.
The off feeling in his office, the one he ignored.
The bloodstain Remi was scrubbing.
One coincidence is nothing. Two is annoying. But this? This is too many fucking things at once. It makes a slow, icy sensation creep along his spine.
Someoneâs been in his house.
He lingers longer than he means to, his body still, the gears turning behind his eyes. And thenâ
âI thought you were gonna get cleaned up?â
He blinks, drawn back to the present. Youâre watching him nowâfuck, youâre too damn observant. Why is it that out of everyone, he can never hide this façade from you? Not completelyâbut he tries.
Because if someone has been in the houseâif someoneâs been bold enough to fuck around where they shouldnâtâyou donât need to know.
Heâll handle it.
This is your home. You should feel safe here.
Thatâs his job.
Rolling his shoulders, he schools his expression, slipping back into something effortless, easy. âActually,â he says, rubbing the back of his neck, âjust remembered I gotta call Suguruâsomething about the case.â
Your eyes narrow slightly, studying him. But you donât press.
âOh, okay.â
He grins, tapping his fingers against the couch as he steps back with a wink. âDonât miss me too much.â
You scoff, shaking your head at his antics, a small grin playing on your lips.
And then, just like that, heâs gone. The door clicks shut behind him as he steps into his office, and his expression shifts the second heâs aloneâthe playfulness evaporating.
He pulls his phone from his pocket, swiping the screen before bringing it to his ear. The line rings onceâtwiceâbefore Suguru picks up.
âDidnât think Iâd hear from you again so soon,â Suguru sighs. âWhatâs up?â
Satoru gets right to the point.
âSomeoneâs been in my house.â
A pause. Thenâ
âWhat do you mean?â
Satoru moves toward his desk, dropping into the leather chair with a bit more force than necessary, his fingers drumming against the armrest. His feet prop up onto the desk, but the usual laziness in his posture isnât there.
âI mean someone unwelcome,â he mutters, his jaw tightening. âShitâs been moved in my office.â
Suguru exhales, unimpressed. âSatoru, your office is always a fucking mess. If somethingâs out of place, thatâs probably on you.â
Satoruâs eyes narrow. âNot that officeâthis one. My study at home. Itâs neat. Always.â
Suguru hums, not convinced but not dismissing it. âAlright. Go on.â
Satoru leans forward, elbows braced against the desk, rubbing his knuckles over his temple.
"The files on my desk? They were misaligned, Suguru. Barely, but I know it. My shit was touched."
âHm.â
âAnd the picture.â
âWhat picture?â
Satoru clenches his jaw. âThe one of her and Haru. It was face down on my desk.â
Silence. Then, Suguru clicks his tongue. Â âCouldâve been one of the cleaners. Maybe they knocked it over when dusting.â
Satoru barely acknowledges the suggestion; his thoughts are moving faster than his mouthâhis fingers tap against the desk.
âAnd then, the panties.â
Suguru coughs. âThe what?â
âThe panties I had of her,â Satoru repeats, irritation bleeding into his tone. âThey were in my nightstand. But now, gone. Like they were never fucking there.â
Suguru goes completely silent for half a beat. Thenâhe bursts into laugher.
âOh yeah, definitely sounds like a home invasion,â he chokes out between chuckles. âPanty theft is a serious crime, you should probably call the authorities.â
Satoru clicks his tongue, rolling his eyes toward the ceiling."You done?"
"No, no, go on," Suguru snickers. "This is getting good."
Satoru forces a slow breath through his nose, rubbing his temples. "Oh, go fuck yourself. Youâre missing the point."
Suguru snorts, the laughter still dying in his throat. "Which is�"
Satoru grips the phone tighter. His voice dips. âSomeone was in my room. AndâŠâ his voice lowers, âthereâs the last thing.â
Suguru hesitates, exhaling slowly. "What is it?"
Satoru leans back in his chair, tipping his head against the cushion as he stares at the ceiling. His fingers drum once against his thigh before stilling.
"I walked into her room earlier." A slow inhale."The nanny was scrubbing blood out of the carpet."
Suguru doesnât say a fucking word. No snark. No sharp, witty comment. Nothing.
Just silence.
ââŠdid she say where it came from?â
âShe said she cut herself,â Satoru mutters. âBut there wasnât a scratch on her. I donât trust her.â
The line stays quiet for another long, heavy beat.
Then, Suguru exhales. "Alright, letâs say someone was in your house,â His voice is different nowâmeasured, calculating. âWhatâs your gut telling you?â
Satoru stares at the ceiling, jaw flexing.
âNothing good.â
"Check your security feed," Suguru says. "Letâs see if your gut is right."
Satoruâs fingers tighten around his phone. Yeah⊠good point.
He doesnât waste time, flicking his laptop open with a sharp movement, the cool glow of the screen casting shadows across his face. The security system interface pops up, and his fingers move with precision, clicking through menus.
âPulling it up now,â he mutters, voice clipped.
Suguru hums on the other end, waiting as Satoru scrolls through the timestamps, looking for todayâs footage. His eyes skim down the listâ
Then stop. His cursor hovers over empty space.
Where the fuck are the files?
Suguru notices his pause. âWell?â
Satoruâs expression darkens.
âItâs gone.â
Suguruâs tone sharpens immediately. âWhat do you mean, gone?â
Satoru clicks through different dates, different timesânothing. The footage from earlier today has been wiped. His jaw locks as a slow, creeping burn curls at the back of his mind.
"Deleted," he grits out.
A slow exhale filters through the speaker. Suguru is quiet for a long moment before finally speaking. âYouâre sure?â
Satoru huffs out a humorless laugh, raking a hand through his hair. âYou think Iâm making this shit up?â
Satoru is pissed. Because this isnât a glitchâitâs not a fucking accident. The files arenât corruptedâtheyâre gone. Which means someone wiped them. Someone inside. Someone with access.
A traitor.
His chair scrapes against the floor as he leans back, drumming his fingers against the armrest, his face eerily calm despite the fire simmering beneath his skin.
âIâm firing them all.â
Suguru doesnât react immediately.
ââŠall?â
Satoruâs voice is cold. âYup. Every last one of them. Only Ichiji stays.â
Suguru hums. âHis loyaltyâs not in question?â
âNot even a little,â Satoru mutters. âHeâd rather fucking die than betray me.â
Another pause. Suguru knows better than to argue when Satoru makes up his mind. But then, his tone shiftsâlighter, edged with sarcasm.
âAlright, genius⊠so whoâs gonna watch Haru if you fire everyone?â
Satoru stills. Fuck.
His fingers tighten against the leather armrest. The daycare at Gojo Corpâhis solution, his answerâwasnât ready yet.
Which meansâŠ
Remi.
His jaw flexes, the weight of it pressing into his ribs. She canât stay.
âI donât fucking trust her, Suguru.â
Suguru doesnât argue. âYeah. I donât either.â
That should be satisfyingâshould be a confirmation of what Satoru already knew. But it isnât. Because it doesnât change a damn thing.
Satoru drags a hand down his face. âThen whatâs the move here? Because Iâm not keeping her around just to get proof.â
âThat proof could help us in court.â Suguruâs says, voice even. âIf sheâs working with the yakuza, thatâs a direct link to Naoya. You get something on her, you might have what you need toââ
âIâm not putting them in danger for that.â
The words are sharp, leaving no room for debate.
Suguru exhales through his nose. âI figured youâd say that.â
âThen why the fuck did youââ
âBecause I ran into Nanami the other day.â
Satoru blinks. âNanami?â
âYeah,â Suguru says easily. âAt that bakery he lovesâthe fancy-ass one with the overpriced croissants. Heâs back in town from Malaysia.â
Satoru leans back in his chair, rubbing his jaw.
Nanami Kento.
They went to high school together. Heâs former Japan Special Defense Force. Retired. Precise, calculated, deadly when he needs to be.
Andâmost importantlyânot a fucking traitor.
âIf youâre going to wipe your entire staff, you need someone reliable to step in. Someone who can make sure your wife and kid donât get caught in whatever the fuck this is.â
Satoru exhales slowly, running his tongue over his teeth. Nanami was always the first choice when shit needed to get done.
âYou think heâd take the job?â Satoru mutters, âNanamiâs retiredâŠâ
âI think you should give him a call.â
êš
By the time the sun dips below the horizon, they are all gone.
Every single one of themâexcept Ichiji and Remi (for now).
Satoru wasted no time. He never does. The second he ended his call with Suguru, he moved. Immediate terminations. No second chances. No hesitation. A single decision, executed with the same precision he applies to everything in his life.
And stillâhe isnât cruel.
They all left with generous severance packages,enough to land on their feet. Because after watching you lose everythingâyour job, your security, your sense of stabilityâhe decided a long time ago that he wouldnât do the same to others. Even the ones he no longer trusts.
But thatâs where his kindness stops. Because right after that, he made another call.
Nanami.
Now, after the exhaustion of handling this mayhem, Satoru finds himself drawn to the kitchen. The house is eerily quietâemptier than itâs ever been, the usual hum of staff activity reduced to nothing. But here, in this small corner of warmth, he follows something softer.
Vanilla. Buttercream.
And you.
Standing at the counter, barefoot and at ease, piping delicate swirls of frosting onto freshly baked cupcakes. Thereâs a faint dusting of sugar on your wrist, the glow of the overhead light catching in your hair, casting a soft halo around you.
God youâre perfect.
Itâs a picture of normalcy. And Satoru is starving for it.
Itâs too easy to slip behind youâto pull you flush against him. His hands find their place at your waist while his fingers curve against the soft fabric of your shirt. Your warmth is immediate, grounding, and with a soft hum, you let yourself sink into his chest. Taking that as an invitation, Satoruâs chin drops low, brushing his nose against your neck as he inhales the faint traces of vanilla on your skin.
It settles something in him, a quiet part of his mind thatâs been restless all day. For a moment, itâs almost enough to let him forget everything.
âWhereâs Haru?â he murmurs lazily, lips grazing your pulse.
âIn bed,â you sigh, adjusting your grip on the piping bag. âFinally. She fought it, though.â
Satoru smirks, nuzzling into you, savoring the warmth of you against him.
This is good.
Sheâs asleep. Youâre here. And for just a moment, he allows himself to sink into thisâthis fragile, fleeting sense of normalcy. Untilâ
âHey⊠um. Where is everyone?â
He stills. Just slightly. His face doesnât change, his hands remain steady against your hips, but his mind clicks, recalibrates.
âHm? What do you mean?â he asksâlight, easyâas if he doesnât already know exactly where this conversation is going.
You tilt your head slightly but donât turn to face him, still focused on the cupcakes.
âI dunno.â You swipe a bit of frosting off your knuckle, licking it absently. âJust noticed when I was putting Haru to bedâthe house feels kinda⊠empty.â
A pause.
âNo oneâs around,â you continue, almost offhandedly. âDidnât hear anyone in the halls. No one cleaning. Itâs weird.â
Satoru exhales through his nose. Then, as if itâs the most casual thing in the worldâ
âOh, yeah. I fired them.â
You blinkâhands freeze mid-frosting.
ââŠIâm sorry, you what?â
âI fired them,â he repeats, just as nonchalant as before.
Thereâs no hesitation. No buildup, no explanation. He just says it like itâs the most obvious thing in the world. Like he didnât just fire the entire household staff in one fucking day.
You stare at him, deadpan, before a breathless laugh slips out.
âYouâre joking.â
âNope.â
Finally, you turn in his arms, brows raising as you set the piping bag down.
âWait, waitââ You huff out a disbelieving laugh. âAll of them? Just like that?â
Satoru shrugs, completely unbothered. âWell. Not all of them.â
Crossing your arms, your eyes narrow. âOkay⊠so whoâs left?â
Satoru knows where this is going, so he doesnât answer right away. Instead, his grip on your waist tightens, pulling you inâand then, he starts to sway. Itâs gentle, lazyâthe kind of motion that isnât about dancing at all. Itâs about grounding you, keeping you close, keeping you from overthinking.
âJust Ichiji,â he murmurs, lips brushing against your temple. âAnd Remi.â
The shift in you is subtle, but he feels itâthe hesitation in your breath, the slight stiffening in your shoulders. And that? Thatâs not what he wants.
So, before you can dwell on it, before the worry settles too deep, he smooths a hand up your back, voice dipping softer.
âRelax, sweetheart,â he coaxes, pressing another kiss to your skin. âI already took care of it.â
You donât answer as his swaying continuesâhis fingers tracing slow, soothing circles along your hips, lulling the information into you.
âI hired someone new.â
You blink, momentarily distracted. âOh⊠huh?â
A low hum rumbles from his chest, and he feels your tension ease just a fraction.
âI hired someone,â he repeats, soft, unhurried. âHeâll be stopping by tomorrow while Iâm out.â
That catches your attention.
âOut?â Your brows knit together slightly.
âMhm,â he says, still swaying. âMe and Suguru are meeting Naoya, remember?â
The tension creeps back inâhe feels it, but he expected that. So, he countersâpressing his lips to your temple, hands firm against your waist, keeping you right where he wants you.
âDonât worry,â he murmurs. âYouâll stay right here. And you get to meet our newest hire. Heâs a friend of mine.â
Curiosity flickers through the concern, but your hesitation lingers.
âOkay⊠who?â
âNanami.â
âNanami?â
The swaying slows, shifting closer to stillness.
âMmhm,â he nods. âKento Nanami. Met him back in high school. Good guy. Very serious.â
Something unreadable flickers across your face as you drag in a breath, turning back to the counter, reaching absently for the piping bag.
ââŠokay,â you exhale. âSo⊠what exactly does he do?â
âOh, you know,â he hums smoothly, slipping behind you again, looping his arm around your waist as he presses a lingering kiss to your shoulder. âHeâs just⊠gonna keep an eye on you when Iâm not around.â
Your hands move as you resume piping the cupcakes, but your brow lifts just slightlyâcontemplating. Itâs subtle, but Satoru catches it. Your grip tightening, your shoulders tensing, your lashes loweringâflickering with something unspoken.
Youâre worried. And that? Yeah, that wonât do.
With a dramatic sigh, he slumps against you, burying his face into your neck, nuzzling into you like a lazy cat demanding attention. His breath fans the gentle curve of your throat as he whines, âMm, donât do that.â
Exhaling a quiet laugh, you remain focused on frosting.
âDo what?â
âThat thing where you overthink.â His voice is muffled against your skin. âAnd make that cute little frowny face.â
You hum, amused but unfazed, continuing your work. Satoru, undeterred, nips lightly at your shoulder.
âHey. Hey.â His voice dips, a touch more petulant. âIâm talking to you, missy.â
He catches the slow grin creep up your lips as you elbow him lightly.
âIâm frosting, Satoru.â
âWell, Iâm suffering,â he huffs, tightening his hold and swaying you side to side, slow and lazy, like a child demanding attention. âNeglected. Unloved.â
A soft laugh slips through your lips as you roll your eyes fondly.
âYouâre so dramaticâŠâ
Finally setting the piping bag down again, you indulge him for a moment as he keeps swaying youârocking you back and forth against his chest. When he speaks, his voice dips, softerâlaced with a playful fondness.
âCâmonâŠâ he whines quietly, âI need attention.â
Your sigh is utterly exasperated.
âAnd I need to finish these cupcakes.â
âHhmp⊠frosting is not more important than me,â he grumbles, his nose nudging against your jaw, lips brushing just beneath your ear. âIâm your husband. You have obligations.â
That earns a quiet huff of laughter, finally tilting your head to glance at him.
âOh, my deepest apologies, Mr. Gojo. Please forgive me for my negligence.â
His smirk stretches wider, smug and pleased, before spinning you to face him, hands still firm on your hips, pulling you close.
âI suppose I can forgive youâŠâ he sighs, but thereâs something playful in his expression, something scheming. âIfâŠâ
Your brows lift, suspicious. âOkay⊠whatâs that look for?â
His grin widens. âCome with me.â
Your eyes narrow. âWhere?â
âThe living room,â he says, already tugging at your hand like an impatient kid. âCâmon, I set something up for us.â
And there it isâthat signature Gojo glint in his eyes, the one that always means heâs up to something. You donât budge. Instead, you fold your arms, eyeing him knowingly.
âWhat did you do this time?â
âNo questions,â he murmurs, tilting his head. âYouâll have to save those for later.â
You pause, before exhaling, shaking your head with a quiet laugh. Then, turning back to the counter, you grab a plate and stack a few cupcakes onto it.
âFine, fine.â You nudge his side as you pass him. âLead the way, Romeo.â
And now, heâs practically dragging you along as you enter the living room, grinning.
As you round the corner, the fireplace crackles low, a gentle heat spreading into the room. Thereâs a small cluster of candles burning low on the coffee table, a cozy mess of blankets on the couch, a few pillows strewn at the edges. And in the background, the quiet hum of a playlist through the speakersânothing over the top, nothing extravagant, but thoughtful.
Your steps slow, and he watches the way your gaze flickers over the setupâsomething unreadable in your expression before you glance at him.
âSo⊠this is for me?â you murmur softly. âYou did this?â
Satoru plops on the couch, stretching his legs out as he feigns nonchalance. âMm.â
You arch a brow.
âI meeean,â he drawls, smirking, âI thought about going all out. Rose petals, violinists, maybe a red carpet⊠confetti cannons. But then I figured noooo, my wife will say thatâs too much.â
Your lips twitchâjust a fractionâbut he catches it.
âYeah⊠that wouldâve been ridiculous,â you mutter, shaking your head.
âExactly.â He pats the space beside him on the couch. âSo câmon, sit. Enjoy the ambience. Indulge me.â
Rolling your eyes, you place the plate on the coffee table before sinking onto the couch beside him, your body settling into the mess of blankets heâd thrown. And thenâjust for a secondâhe catches it. The tiny, barely perceptible sigh when you lean back. Like you hadnât realized how much tension you were holding until now.
His gaze lingers. But he doesnât say anything.
Instead, he lets his arm drape over the back of the couch, fingers brushing lightly against your sleeve. Then, his eyes flicker toward the plate on the table.
âSooo,â he hums, tilting his head, âare those for me?â
You glance at the cupcakes, then back at him, brow lifting. âWhat?â
âThe cupcakes,â he clarifies, grinning. âYou made them for me, right?â
A slow smirk pulls up your lips as you pluck a cupcake from the plate.
You donât answer. Instead, he watches as your delicate fingers move slowly, peeling back the wrapper of the cupcake. His eyes flick from your hands to your face, following every movement with an intensity he doesnât bother to hide.
Little brat. You donât offer him one.
Instead, you tilt your head slightly, lifting the cupcake toward your lips with excruciating patience. And thenâ
You take the smallest, slowest bite, just barely grazing the frosting with your lips before pulling back, letting out a soft, satisfied hum.
His stomach clenches.
âMmmâŠâ your lashes flutter as you let the flavor settle on your tongueâexaggerated, taunting.
Satoru stares, pouting as you go in for another biteâthis one just as tortuously slow. As your lips wrap around the edge of the cupcake, he doesnât miss the way your tongue flicks out, catching a stray bit of frosting as you pull away.
His jaw flexes.
Fuck that tongue⊠he wants it all over his cock.
But you donât seem to notice the way his fingers twitch against the couch, or maybe you do, and youâre just ignoring it. Either way, itâs infuriating.
âDamn,â you murmur, voice light, completely unbothered. âThese are really good, if I do say so myself.â
Satoru exhales through his nose, dragging his tongue over his bottom lip as he watches you, his smirk sharpening. âOh, yeah?â
âMhm.â Another biteâsmaller this time, more deliberate. Your gaze flickers toward him, half-lidded and knowing.
Little fucking tease.
He shifts beside you, stretching his legs out like heâs just getting comfortable, but thereâs nothing relaxed about the way his fingers flex at the back of the couch, or how his free hand curls against his thigh.
âYou know I donât like being teased,â he murmurs, voice dipping lower, quieter, like a warning.
You hum, licking another bit of frosting from your thumb, completely unfazed.
âI donât know what youâre talking about.â
His smirk twitches, almost a scoff, but his eyes darken.
âSweetheartâŠâ shifting closer, his knee brushes against yours, âyouâre a terrible liar.â
As you blink at him, playing innocent, he doesnât buy it for a fucking second.
âYou did make them for me, didnât you?â he whispers, his hand moves to your thigh, sliding up slowly. âBe honest.â
When your lips part slightly, Satoru thinks you might actually answer himâbut then, just as quickly, you press them together again.
He smirks. You started this, and oh he loves a challenge.
Exhaling slowly, he hums, low and amused, his fingers spreading wider over your thigh, brushing higher, just enough to make you shift under his touch.
âWell,â he sighs, dragging it out like heâs deep in thought, âif theyâre just for you, I guess Iâll have to go about my night hungry and unlovedâŠâ
Rolling your eyes, you mutter, âGod you are so dramaticâŠâ
âAnd yetâŠâ his fingers wrap gently around your wrist, guiding the cupcake up, just shy of his lips. âYouâre still holding out on me.â
As him thumb strokes against your pulse point, slow and lazy, those blue eyes flicker up through his snowy lashesâgleaming with something dangerous, something hungry. He leans in just a fraction more, letting the heat of his breath ghost over you hand.
âCâmon, sweetheartâŠâ his gaze lingers on your lips before trailing back to the cupcake. âFeed me.â
A sharp exhale drags through your nose, and he can practically hear the gears turning in your head. Now you know exactly what heâs doing.
Your lips part, then press together again, before reluctantly, you give in, bringing the cupcake to his lips. And now, Satoru takes his timeâbrushing his lips against your fingertips, soft, teasing.
His pink tongue flicks out, dragging against the frosting before his teeth sink into the cake, deliberate and unhurried. His snowy lashes lower as he chews, savoring the taste, but more than thatâsavoring the way youâre watching him now.
Because two can play this game.
Your breath hitches, and for just a fraction of a second, your fingers trembleâbarely noticeable, but he catches it. And oh, it does something to him, something dark and satisfied curling deep in his stomach.
Pulling back, he lets his lips brush against your fingertips againâlingering, teasing, savoring. Then, with a slow, deliberate drag of his tongue, he licks away a stray bit of frosting from the corner of his mouthâpurposeful, knowing.
âMmmâŠâ he swallows, sighing in satisfaction. âThat frosting is just too goodâŠâ
Youâre pouting now, and that bottom lip is just too cute. He smirks, running a pad of his thumb through a dollop of frosting. As his eyes drag back to yours, his grin widens.
âI do love buttercream.â
And then, before you can react, his hand moves, his thumb dragging against that pretty bottom lip, smearing the frosting over your soft skin.
You blink, inhaling sharply as a slow smile stretches upward.
âOops,â he exhales, tilting his head slightly. There is a heat pooling behind those endless blue eyes as he murmurs, âLook at that⊠you made a mess.â
And he fully intends to clean it up.
Leaning in, his breath warms your skin as his lips barely graze yoursâa featherlight touch. His eyes are heavy lidded as his longue flicks out, licking the frosting from your lipsâslow deliberate.
He feels your breath shudder, and a quiet hum vibrates in his throat as he savors the taste.
And suddenly heâs kissing you.
It starts soft, coaxing, lips pulling against yours in a way that makes your body react before your mind can catch up. His fingers slide to your jaw, tilting your face up, deepening the kiss, drinking in every pretty sound you make.
You melt into him.
Each drawn-out kiss quickens, moving with purpose now, making him crave more. He groans, sliding his hands to your waist as he shifts, guiding you onto his lap with effortless ease. A quiet gasp escapes you, but he drinks it in, keeping you flush against him.
Your arms loop around his neck, fingers tangling in his hair.
And thenâyou tug.
A sharp sensation ripples down his spine, a growl catching in his throat. His teeth graze your bottom lipâbiting, sucking, soothing. Slow, indulgent, taking his time as he licks away the last traces of sweetness.
Fuck.
You taste like buttercream and heatâdangerously addictingâlike something he could get drunk on if he let himself.
When he finally pulls back, his forehead lingers close to yours, breaths mingling. Both of you are unsteady from the weight of it. Your lips are swollen and your gaze is hazy as it meets his.
But as he drags his thumb over that plump lower lip again, his lips curlâsavoring the way they are slick, and clean from his kiss.
âHmmâŠâ his voice is smug, husky. âI dunno⊠tastes like these cupcakes were for me after all.â
A breathless laugh slips past your lips, your fingers still lightly threading through his hair.
âYou are so full of yourself,â you murmur, shaking your head. âWhen have I ever made something sweet that wasnât for you?â
His smirk widens, victorious. âAhh⊠see? You admit it.â
You roll your eyes, but the moment lingersâcomfortable, unhurried. Your fingers weave through his snowy hair, slow and absentminded, while his thumbs trace lazy circles against your hips, grounding and warm.
Itâs a comfortable silence, but as your gaze flickers away from his, you take in the soft glow of the candles, the careful arrangement of blankets, the way everything feels so intentional. The way he feels so intentional.
Exhaling, you tilt your head slightly. âSo⊠can I ask what all this is about now?â
Satoru hums, his fingers stilling at your waist for just a beat before his smirk returnsâthough thereâs something else behind it nowâsomething quieter.
âI wanna play a game.â
You arch a brow, clearly skeptical. âA game?â
âMhmâŠâ His hands skim down your sides slowly, caressing your hips. âItâs simple. We take turns asking each other questions, and we have to answer honestly.â
Your eyes narrow. âIs this just an excuse for you to be dirty?â
Clicking his tongue, Satoru shakes his head with mock disappointment. âWow. Youâre the one with the filthy mind,â he muses, voice dipping lower, teasing. âNaughty girl. Itâs just an innocent game of questions.â
You hum, unconvinced. âInnocent, huh?â
âYup. Cross my heart.â He grins, tracing an âXâ over his chest with one finger. âIâd never use underhanded tactics to get you flustered.â
Pulling back slightly, you level him a knowing look.
âYou literally just did.â
His smirk grows. âSemantics.â
Shaking your head, you exhale, your fingers still idly playing with his hair. After a beat, you tilt your head and whisper, ââŠso what kind of questions?â
For just a second, his grin softens, that cocky edge fadingâjust a little.
âAnything, really.â
His fingers trail absentmindedly along your hip, his gaze flickering over your face, like heâs memorizing something only he can see.
âI just⊠wanna know more about you.â
âYou say that like Iâm some kind of mysteryâŠâ
His lips curl faintly, a quiet hum slipping from him. âYou are.â
You scoff lightly, shaking your head. âNot really⊠and we had to learn so much about each other for this fake marriage, Satoru. Favorite foods, pet peeves, how we take our coffeeâhell, I know your blood type.â
He huffs a laugh. âYeah⊠but thatâs just surface-level shit. Facts, triviaâstuff youâd put on a dating profile.â His voice drops slightly, something softer curling around the edges. âI donât just wanna know what you like⊠I wanna know why. I wanna know you.â
Your breath catches for a moment, something shifting in the air between you. And Satoruâhe watches the way your expression flickers, the way you hesitate for half a second like you donât know what to do with the weight of his words.
So, instead of letting it settle too long, he smirks. Tilts his head against the cushions, easy and lazy.
"Alright. Since I came up with the game, I get the first question."
You shift slightly in his lap, arching a brow.
"Mmm⊠is that how it works?"
"Obviously," he smirks. "Genius privilege."
You roll your eyes, but he catches the way the corner of your mouth twitches. Cute.
"Fine, go."
He hums in thought, fingers drumming idly against your side, watching the way your lips purse, waiting. Then, a slow grin spreads across his face.
You scoff, lips pressing together, and Satoru already knows whatever answer you give is going to amuse him.
"Oho⊠I wanna know what your answer to this question is gonna be."
âMm-mm.â He clicks his tongue, shaking his head. âYou first, princess.â
With an exaggerated sigh, you lean back slightly against his hold, pressing yourself a little closer to him.
"Okay, fine," you tap your fingers against his chest like youâre thinking hard. "Mmm⊠probably one of those water bottles that track hydration. The kind with reminders that light up."
Satoru stares at you blankly. âUh⊠really? Thatâs it? How is that dumb?â
âWellâŠâ You hesitate, then shrug. âIt was pointless to buy, because I ignored it. Like I do with most things I donât wanna deal with.â
His smirk stretches wider at that, a wicked gleam sparking in his eyes.
âWow. Even a bottle has to fight for your attention. I almost feel bad for it.â
A laugh bubbles out of you, shaking your head. "Yeah, well... it shouldâve tried harder."
Satoru presses a hand to his chest, expression mockingly solemn. "Tragic. A hero, forgotten in the darkness of a cabinet. Iâll tell its story."
Rolling your eyes, you swat lightly at his arm. "Oh, shut up."
"Next time, just give me the money, and Iâll nag you to drink water personally."
You scoff. âLike you need the money, Mr. Money Bags.â
Satoru grins at that, because he walked right into it.
âTrue, true. But think about itâIâd be way more effective. I could send you little reminders,â he pauses, voice dipping lower, "maybe even offer incentives."
Your brows furrow slightly, catching the shift in his tone. "Incentives?"
His smirk turns downright sinful, fingers tightening at your waist just slightly.
âMhm.â He drags his thumb in a slow arc along your side, feigning thought. âPositive reinforcement. Every time you drink water, I could⊠reward you.â
You narrow your eyes, suspicious. âOkay⊠you definitely just made that dirty.â
He laughs, tilting his head, feigning innocence. "Did I?"
"Yes."
He hums, leaning in close to you. "Or⊠maybe you just have a filthy mind."
You groan, pressing your palm against his face in a weak attempt to push him away, but he only laughs, fingers tightening at your waist, keeping you right where he wants you.
"Alright, enough about me," you huff, leveling him with a look that only makes him more entertained. "I need to hear your answer to this question."
Satoru hums like heâs really considering it, but thenâhis lips curl, amusement flashing across his face.
âA castle.â
You blink. Once. Twice. Then, slowly, your hand drops from his face.
ââŠI'm sorry. You own a castle?â
His grin is all confidence, completely unrepentant. âMhm.â
Your mouth opens. Closes. You stare at him, baffled, before shaking your head. âUm⊠okay. Where?â
He shrugs, nonchalant. âUh, somewhere in the Alps? Or maybe Scotlandâ" He pauses, squinting. âWait. No. Itâs in France. I think.â
"You think?" you repeat, incredulous.
"Well, I haven't actually been there," he admits, waving a dismissive hand. âNot my fault castles are kinda inconvenient to visit.â
You pinch the bridge of your nose, exhaling. "Then⊠why did you buy it?"
Satoru tilts his head. âYou ever just scroll through luxury listings at 2 AM and think, âYeah, I need that?ââ
"Oh my god."
"But," he continues, ignoring you, "apparently castles require a ton of upkeep. Something about centuries-old plumbing and heating? Also, thereâs a moat problem."
Your brows knit together. "Moat problem?"
"Yeah. Turns out, maintaining a functional moat is a logistical nightmare. Plus, I dunno, castles just⊠arenât that practical."
âYouâre ridiculousâŠâ you groan, shoving lightly at his chest, but he only laughs, catching your wrist and pulling your hand back into his.
His fingers play idly with yours, absentminded, like heâs holding onto the moment without even realizing it. When his eyes flick back to yours, thereâs a lazy kind of amusement settling there.
âAnd yet, here you are,â he murmurs, lips curling just slightly.
You shake your head with a wry smile, shifting, settling deeper into his lapâletting yourself relax against him, letting him hold you just a little closer.
âAlright, castle boy,â you mutter, tilting your head at him. âNext question.â
A lazy smirk tugs at his lips. âHit me.â
Humming thoughtfully, your eyes flicker over him, considering.
âWell, since weâre on the topic of money⊠whatâs one thing you refuse to spend money on?â
Leaning back, Satoru stretches an arm over the couch as if this answer doesnât require a single brain cell of effort.
âEasy. Economy flights.â
You blink. âSeriously?â
He levels you with a flat stare, completely deadpan. âHave you seen how long my legs are?â
You snort, shaking your head. âMmkay⊠thatâs fair.â
âAnd you?â
You consider for a second before shrugging. âLottery tickets.â
He scoffs, lips curling in amusement. âWhat, you donât believe in testing fate?â
âI know better than to test fate,â you say dryly. âIâve always had terrible luck. And I hate spending money on something where the odds are literally against me.â
Satoru hums, twisting a strand of your hair lazily between his fingers, watching it slip through his grasp.
âHuh,â he muses, thoughtful now. âI dunno. Iâd say you hit the jackpot once or twice.â
You roll your eyes. âOh, please.â
âNo, really.â His grin lingers, but thereâs something softer beneath it now, something less teasingâmore contemplative.
Thereâs a beat of quiet, the soft crackle of the fire in the background, the rhythmic sound of your breathing against his. His thumbs continue to ghost your sides, tracing slow absentminded circles.
Thenâ
âDo you think we wouldâve still ended up like this if circumstances were different?â
He says it casually, smoothly, like itâs not sitting heavier in his chest than it should. Your breath catches just slightly, the weight of the question settling between you.
Tilting your head, you search his face.
âWell⊠would you have even given me a second glance if things werenât the way they are?â
Satoruâs brow lifts, but instead of answering, his smirk tugs at the corner of his lips.
âUh-uh now. Itâs my turn. I asked first.â
Exhaling, you shake your head.
âI⊠dunnoâŠâ your voice dips quieter now. âBut the idea of never ending up here at all⊠thatâs kind of a scary thought. So⊠I try not to think about it.â
His expression softensâjust for a secondâbefore he hums, gripping your waist tighter.
âI thinkâŠâ He tilts his head, pausing, dragging the moment out just enough to make your brows pinch slightly. âEven if everything was different, I still wouldâve wanted to know you.â
You blink, like you werenât expecting that answer.
ââŠreally?â
Satoru scoffs, his grin snapping back into place like it never left.
âOh, absolutely,â he nudges his nose against yours affectionately. âBut can you imagine if I hadnât? You wouldâve lived such a dull, Gojo-free life.â
You scoff, rolling your eyes. âWow, yes, what a tragedy.â
âIt would be,â he insists, feigning offense. âWho else wouldâve made it their mission to drive you up the wall every single day?â
You huff through your nose, exasperated but fond.
âYou loved annoying me.â
âStill do,â he admits, shameless. âBut⊠you were so serious. Always so focused. I had to try to get a reaction out of you.â
You hum, gaze flickering downward, fingers tracing an idle pattern against his shoulder.
âI⊠had to be.â
Tilting his head, Satoru watches you, waiting. His fingers still trace lazy, idle shapes at your waist. Thereâs a beat before you continue, your voice softer now.
âBack then⊠my life was kind of a mess. So⊠I didnât have the luxury of being carefree. I was just⊠trying to hold everything together.â
Something about the way you say it pulls at Satoruâs chest, sharp and unfamiliar.
He doesnât like it.
Doesnât like that he wasnât there, that he didnât know you like thisâburied under stress, struggling, holding on by the skin of your teeth.
He hates it, actually.
But he doesnât say that. Doesnât know how. So instead, he moves.
Exhaling, he leans back, stretching his arms with a lazy groan before tugging you down with him. You let out a small sound of protest, but itâs weak, breathlessâbecause you donât really fight it. And he grins because, yeah, he knew you wouldnât.
The couch shifts beneath his weight as he sprawls out, adjusting until youâre right where he wants youâresting against his chest, tucked into him.
His heartbeat is steady beneath your ear, warm, grounding. His fingers skate lazily up and down your spineâslow, unhurried, absentminded.
ââŠcomfy?â he murmurs, lips brushing your temple.
âum⊠yeah,â you admit softly.
Satoru smirks, eyes slipping closed, his grip settling more firmly around you.
âAlright,â he hums, vibrating against you. âWhatâs one memory you hold onto when things get tough?â
You still slightly, like you werenât expecting the question. For a moment, you just lie there, listening to the crackle of the fireplace, the slow, rhythmic rise and fall of his breathing beneath you as his fingers trace lazy circles along your spine.
Then, you exhale, closing your eyes.
âHmm⊠thatâs a good question.â
As you hesitate, your fingers trace an idle, mindless pattern against his chest, until finally, you find your words.
"There was this one night⊠after everything with Naoya, when I finally got my own place,â you begin. âIt was tiny, barely more than a shoebox⊠but it was mine. I remember sitting on the floor with a bottle of cheap wine, eating takeout straight from the container, just thinking⊠I did this. I got myself here. No one handed it to me, no one saved meâI made it happen. That night, I felt like I could breathe again⊠for the first time in years."
The words linger between you, quiet and honest, and Satoru doesnât speak right away, but you feel the way his fingers continue to trail up in down your back.
He hates it.
Not the part where you made it on your ownâno, that part is impressive as hell, that part makes his chest tighten with admiration. Heâs always loved your strength, your resilience.
Itâs the other part.
The fact that you were alone when it happened. That no one was there to see it, to celebrate it, to tell you that you fucking did it. That he couldnât be there.
âYou⊠really went through a lot all on your own, huh?â
You nod subtly against his chest. ââŠyeah.â
Thereâs something in his throatâsomething thick, something he doesnât know what to do with. So he swallows it down, exhales softlyâthen presses his lips into your hair.
âIâm proud of you,â he murmurs.
He feels it when you still slightly. When the words settle, sinking deep. You donât say anything at first, but your fingers tighten against his shirt, just for a second, just enough to let him know you heard him.
ââŠwhat about you?â your whisper, head still resting against him. âWhatâs a memory you hold onto?â
Satoru hums, sorting through the years.
âHmm⊠thereâs one,â he finally says, voice distant, like heâs pulling it from somewhere deep.  âItâs nothing big, but⊠when I was a kid, my dad would always throw these extravagant birthday parties for me. Like, ridiculously over the topâhuge cakes, fireworks, even once had a live tiger.â
You lift your head slightly, blinking. âA tiger?â
He grins. âYeah, it was coolâuntil it got loose and almost took out half the catering staff.â
âOh my god.â
âYeah.â He snickers at the memory, but then, his expression shifts. The amusement is still there, lingering, but something else creeps in at the edges.
âAnywayâŠâ he continues, âthe parties were never really for me. They were more for appearancesâbig shows for the business partners, other rich families. But there was this one year where Suguruââ He pauses for a beat, then continues, voice softer. âHe convinced me to skip my own party. We ran off to this little ramen shop instead, just the two of us.â
Your breath stills slightly, sensing the shift in his tone.
âI⊠remember sitting there in this tiny hole-in-the-wall place, still in my stupid fancy suit, just eating ramen and laughing about dumb shit. No cameras, no expectations, no pressure. It was just⊠nice.â He exhales, a small smile tugging at his lips. âSometimes, when things get overwhelming, I think about that night. Just the simplicity of it.â
Thereâs another lingering quiet, stretching between the steady crackle of the fire. Your fingers twitch slightly against his chest, and as you speak again, your voice is softer, tinged with a sleepiness.
âSuguru⊠really sounds like a great friend.â
Satoru hums, his fingers trailing lazy circles against your back. âYeah⊠he is.â
Tilting his head slightly, Satoru looks down at you. Your eyes are still open, but only just. Heavy-lidded, hazy, like sleep is already tugging at the edges of your consciousness.
âYou tired?â he murmurs.
You hum sleepfully. âMm-mm. Just⊠comfortable.â
âMmkay⊠well itâs your turn.â
As your lips pull into a drowsy smile, you allow your eyes to slip shut as you think. His chest rises and falls beneath your cheek, warmth lulling you further into the haze of slumber.
âWhatâs⊠one thing youâd never change about your life?â
Satoru exhales, tilting his head back against the couch, eyes slipping shut. He could say a million things. His freedom, his wealth, his powerâthings people assume matter most to him. But none of it feels right. None of it feels true.
Instead, his arms tighten slightly around you, his hand pressing a little firmer at your waist, like heâs anchoring himself to this moment.
âThis⊠right here. You, in my arms.â
âMmm⊠yeah?â you hum, voice slipping somewhere between wakefulness and sleep. Shifting slightly, you burrow deeper against him before you whisper, ââŠwhyâs that?â
His breath hitches.
You say it so simply, so easily, like you donât know what youâre asking of him. Like you donât realize youâve just cracked open something inside him that heâs never let anyone see.
Because the words are there, sitting right at the edge of his tongue, but heâs never said them before. Not like this. Not to anyone.
He swallows.
And then, for once, he doesnât overthink it.
âBecause⊠I love you.â
The weight of the words settle, heavy, irreversible, and Satoru holds still, waiting forâsomething. For you to react, for the moment to shift, for the world to feel different now that heâs let those words exist outside of himself.
But thereâs nothing. No reaction.
Your breathing has already evened out, slow and soft against his skin.
He looks downâyouâre asleep.
A breath of laughter slips past his lipsâquiet, a little incredulous. Of course. Of course the first time he ever says it, the first time he ever means itâyou donât even hear him.
His chest tightens, but thereâs no frustration there. Just warmth.
Shaking his head slightly, he tugs you closer, pressing one more lingering kiss to your hair before reaching for the throw blanket resting over the back of the couch. He pulls it over both of you, tucking you in against him, letting himself just exist in this moment.
And as his grip settles at your waist, his body melting into the cushions as the fire crackles low in the background, Satoru exhales slowly, eyes slipping shut.
"Yeah," he murmurs, just for himself. "I really do love you."
And this time, heâs okay with you not hearing it. Because heâll say it again.
And next time, you will.
a/n. awww... i hope ya'll enjoyed this chapter. i know the first half is mostly setting up plot, but we have a lot to come... hehe. writing this chapter was a big change up from my usual, and i definitely had a lot of fun with it. naoya is a creep, and not in a sexy way đ and the panties are an actual plot point?! whaaaa, betcha didn't see that coming đ
excited to bring nanami in this storyyyy. and i'm excited for suguru and satoru's meet up with naoya. oh man, i can't wait for all the pieces to fall into place đ
satoru finally said those three words đ€§ my heart.
as always, would love to hear your thoughts. thanks for reading đ„čđ«¶đ»
-aly
â next chapter êš
àżpairing. arranged clanhead! satoru x fem! reader
àżsummary. the gojo clan is untouchable, and their new ruler, gojo satoru, is the most powerful sorcerer of his generationâunrivaled, unrestricted, and utterly uncontrollable. for years, he has defied the expectations of his clan, rejecting tradition, resisting the cage they built for him. but even the strongest must bow to duty. a deal struck, a marriage arranged. you, the daughter of a fallen clan, are chosen to stand at his side. not out of love, but because gojo satoru always gets what he wants. and if he's obligated to marry, fuck it, he wants you. though, you quickly learn that your place is not beside himâbut beneath him. why? because gojo satoru doesnât do love.
àżtags/warnings. nsfw 18+, smut, angst (with eventual fluff), slight canon divergence, arranged marriage, satoru is emotionally detached, he's kinda a dick at times, breeding, breeding kink, praise kink, some degradation, loss of virginity, mentions of infidelity, mentions of a prior scandal (i'll update tags as i write more) » ăthis part â suguru is up to something... hm. reader does some reflecting. satoru has terrible coping skills and is allergic to feelings. he's still an asshole guys, BUT he's getting better. a bit of hate sex. lots of dirty talk. grinding/dry humping. cunnilingus. BOUNDARIES đă
àżwc. 12.3k
àża/n. hello lovelies! ahhh here we are~ this part focuses a lot on change. i really want the growth in reader and satoru to feel natural and earned. so the angst this chapter is more intimately suffocating. i'll share more thoughts at the bottom! i hope you enjoy đ«¶đ» art by @/_3aem
â series masterlist â« playlist â ao3 â primary masterlist
Sometimes... you still hear it. That damn applause. It creeps back in the rattle of cicadas, sticky in the heat outside your window. Slips beneath your skin when the night gets too quiet, too still. A ghost that never left.
Other times, it hums through smaller thingsâlike this morning, when you dragged the kanzashi comb through your hair. The rhythm clicked against your scalp as you pinned Satoruâs gift into place, waitingâhopingâit might say something new. Something gentler than the echo still clinging to your spine. But⊠it never does.
So here you are, tucked into the crook of your clanâs garden as dusk softens the stone pathsâtwisting the engagement ring on your finger like it might do what the comb couldnât. Like it might hum some truth into your skin.
âTch... youâre gonna wear that again?â
The words snap you from your daze. You blink up, and Makiâs already halfway across the flowerbedâhands shoved into her jacket pockets, brow arched in flat disbelief.
âOhâŠâ you murmur. âHey.â
She slows when she reaches youâgreen ponytail swinging behind her, eyeing you through her glasses from head to toe before landing on the comb. A long sigh pulls from her, like itâs a conversation sheâs already exhausted by.
âI told you to toss that thing.â
Your hand rises instinctively, brushing over the gem-encrusted metal nestled in your hair. Still warm from the sun. Perfectly centered.
âYeah⊠you did.â
And you meant to. You meant to do a lot of things. But somehow, each morning, it finds its way back to you. Like clockwork. Like ritual. As if it might mean somethingâif only you hold onto it long enough.
âSo⊠what?â Maki grumbles, dropping onto the bench beside you with a grunt. âDid they glue it to your damn skull when I wasnât looking?â
A faint smile touches your lips, but it fades quick. Your eyes drop to your lap, smoothing your kimono like the fabric might offer clarity you havenât found in weeks.
âI⊠wellâŠâ
âŠwhy do you keep wearing it?
âIâm expected to wear it. Mother says it would be disrespectful not to.â
Itâs not a lieâbut it isnât the truth, either.
Maki scoffs. âYeah. Right. Because heâs such a shining example of respectâŠâ
The wind shifts. You tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, gaze drifting past the koi pond, toward the ivy-wrapped wall. It all looks the same. Thatâs the strange part. This portion of the estate remained untouched by time. But you havenât been here in yearsânot since your clan shut you out. Not since you stopped believing theyâd ever let you back in.
A bird takes off, wings beating sharply against the quiet as Maki leans back on her hands, eyes fixed on the garden.
âItâs bullshitâŠâ she mutters. âYouâre always the one who has to look composed. Smile, bow, act grateful. If the roles were flipped, he wouldnât think twice about disrespecting you. You know that, right?â
Sheâs right.
âŠisnât she?
You donât know what to make of things. Because every time you believe youâve mapped Satoru Gojo out, he flips the entire picture. Turns the world on its back. And perhaps that is what you keep thinking aboutâwhat draws you to this quiet, this pain. Not the gift. Not the absence. But the look in his eyesâafter the ring, after the applause.
Like⊠he was mourning something you couldnât see.
âIâm⊠supposed to meet him tonightâŠâ you murmur, barely above the breeze. But the words feel hollow. Unbelievable, even now.
Because itâs been weeks. Weeks of silence. Weeks without him. Each meeting was canceled before starting, reduced to clipped apologies that never came from his mouth.
| âGojo-sama has been called away on urgent clan business.â
| âGojo-sama sends his regretsâsomething came up.â
Maki turns. âSupposed toâŠâ she echoes flatly. âIf he ghosts you again, Iâm clockinâ him in the face.â
That actually pulls a laugh from your chestâreal and sudden, surprising even you.
âMakiâŠâ
âWhat?â she huffs. âIâm serious. Right in that smug-ass smile of his.â And you shake your head, smiling despite yourself. âSure⊠okay. But how exactly are you planning to get past Infinity?â
âDoesnât matter,â she shrugs, reclining lazily against the bench. âIâll find a wayâŠâ She looks up toward the sky, squinting at the sun. âHmm⊠maybe Iâll trip him. Orâoh! Iâll insult his taste. Thatâll drop his guard.â
âMm⊠wouldnât work.â
âYeah, probably not,â she sighs, lips quirking. Then she nudges your arm. âBut youâŠ? You could put him on his ass.â
You blink. âMe?â
âPfft. Donât act innocent.â Her eyes gleam. âThat move your dad drilled into you a hundred times. What was it again? You nailed me with it when I was twelve.â
The memory creeps in, and you hesitate.
ââŠaiki otoshi?â
âYeah. That one!â she snorts. âThought I broke my elbow that day. Rude.â
âOkay, first of all, you fell wrong,â you say automaticallyâsoft, amused. But then, your voice lowers, quieter now. âAnd second⊠well. Thereâs more to itâŠâ
Pausing, your eyes flick to the path ahead, tracing the faded grooves in the stone with your gazeâweathered lines from years of footsteps. The place where the moss grows thick in the cracks. The corner where the old plum tree leans a little too far, as if itâs listening in.
You remember the sound of your fatherâs sandals there.
âLower, little crane. Bend your knees, not your pride. Feel the weight of things before you move them.â
He always spoke like that. Riddles. Soft warnings. You didnât always understand them. Because he made it sound so simple. But it wasnât.
âYouâll know itâs time⊠because youâll feel it. The pressure. The shift. And when you do⊠you must act. Donât hesitate.â
A breath catches in your chest. You hadnât thought of that lesson in years.
âMy father used to say⊠itâs not just how they fall, but why. Because the body doesnât lie. It reveals⊠everything. Where you carry your pride⊠where you bury your fear.â Your fingers curl slightly in the fabric of your kimono.
âAnd thatâs what makes the technique work best,â you finish quietly. âEspecially on the ones who think they canât be moved.â
Maki grins. âSo it was literally made for Gojo.â
You huffâbarely a laughâand for a moment, neither of you speak.
The lightâs shifted; sinking low across the courtyard, brushing the edges of the stone walk in amber. Cicadas hum in the hedges. A wind chime stirs in the distance. It should be peaceful. But all it does is press the silence in deeper.
Until, a soft vibration cuts through your stillness. You blink, pulling your phone from your pocketâyour thumb automatically unlocking the device.
   | Good evening. Gojo-sama will arrive shortly. You may proceed to the Gojo estate. Please meet him at the northern hall.
One of the Gojo household attendants.
You stare.
No postponement. No apology. No last-minute excuse. Simply⊠confirmation?
The message sits on your screen like a foreign object. You read it again and again, half-expecting it to disappear, to correct itself, to vanish before you can stand. But it doesnât.
Maki eyes you. âWhat?â she mutters. âDid he finally grow a pair and text you himself?â
ââŠno. Not him. But⊠look.â
You angle the device, her eyes skim the text, squinting through the fading lightâand when she looks over at you, the skepticism is soft, but certain.
âSo⊠what?â she pulls back, scoffing. âHeâs actually showing up?â
You stare down at the message again, not answering.
âŠis he?
Youâve learned not to believe it until heâs thereâuntil his voice is in the room, until his shadow hits the floor. Until the very idea of him stops feeling like a goddamn ghost.
With a slow breath, you tuck the phone away and rise. The comb stirs in your hair, catching the last kiss of sunlight like itâs waving goodbye. As your fingers find your sleeves, you smooth them with quiet precision, more out of ritual than need.
âWell⊠I guess I should get going.â
But Maki doesnât stand. Her weight stays sunk into the bench; arms draped across the backrest. Her gaze lingers on youâserious now. Quiet. The teasing edge in her voice gone.
âUm⊠you donât have to, you know,â she says after a moment. âMaybe⊠just⊠let him wait for once.â
Your eyes flick toward the garden path. The same path you used to race down barefoot, kimono hem clutched in one hand, laughter tucked behind your teeth. When things were simpler. When you didnât know how far youâd have to bend to fit inside a name that was never meant for you.
Itâs strange, how familiar it all feelsâand how removed you are from it now.
âNoâŠâ you say at last. âThereâs no avoiding the inevitable.â
But even as you speak it, your feet are heavy. And you are left wondering if youâre walking toward a reunion, or another silence.
àŒ»àŒșêšàŒ»àŒș
âMother?â you call, slipping off your sandals. âIâm heading off. And Iâll probably be home late.â
No reply.
But⊠you donât really expect one. Ever since the clan welcomed you backâwelcomed her backâitâs been like this. Quiet. Formal. Like someone drew a line through her, and the part that belonged to you got left behind. Youâve barely seen her after the yuino ceremony.
But stillâlike clockworkâyou make her dinner. Pack her a bento. Leave it on the counter without a word. And every morning, itâs gone. No note. No comment. But the box is always empty. And somehow⊠thatâs enough to keep you doing it.
Your feet pad across the tatami as you drift toward the kitchen, the scent of miso hanging in the air. The soupâs been simmering since dawnâseaweed curling at the edges. And clicking off the burner, you pack her meal.
Pickled daikon, tamagoyaki, a few slices of grilled fish. You fold the furoshiki with care, placing it where sheâll find it without a word. But as your gaze falls to the rest of the mealâthe food you prepared for yourself, more out of habit than hungerâyou pause. Because whatever tonight holds⊠it wonât be soft. Will it?
This isnât some⊠romantic dinner.
Youâre not expecting a meal. Or warmth. Or anything, really. Not from a ghost of a man.
So, without thinking, you pack anotherâfor yourself. Rice. A little kinpira gobo. A plum tucked against the edge. Enough to see you through the night. But as you seal the cover, your hand lingers.
âŠ
Would it be strange to bring one for yourself and not⊠him?
You stare at the lacquered lid, fingers hovering like theyâre waiting for permission. Like maybe, if you stall long enough, your better judgment will intervene. Because this is ridiculous. You know better. You shouldnât be thinking about this. Thinking about him.
And yet⊠you reach for the larger box anyway.
With a gentle tug, you tuck both bentos into your bagâyours, and his. Better to keep your hands busy than let your thoughts wander too far. Because itâs nothing. Simply food. A meaningless gesture. But⊠damnit. Your fingers wonât stop shaking.
Why are your hands trembling?
Nothing makes sense anymore. You havenât a clue what the fuck you want. Because heâs made it impossible to understandâshowing up one moment, disappearing the next. Feeding you silence like itâs something youâre supposed to be grateful for.
âŠare you grateful? Is this better?
No. It canât be. Not when the clan has already begun whispering again. Not when your mother has purpose again. Thatâs why you must fulfill yours.
You canât fuck this up.
The door slides shut behind you as you step out into the lazy afternoon, the sun dipping low past the tiled rooftops. Your sandals move soundlessly over the stone pathâthe bento bag hanging at your side. But then, you smell it.
Smoke.
Sharp. Bitter. The kind of smoke that used to slip through the shoji during clan meetings. That curled beneath doors when voices dropped to whispers. That clung to your sleeves long after the men stopped talking.
âSmoke speaks in ways we canât.â
Your mother always reminded you, every time the elders gathered, pipe stems between their fingers like they were carved from bone. And sure enough, as you round the corner, you see him.
Councilman Daigo.
Heâs perched on the edge of the engawa step beneath the old camellia treeâback straight, gaze steady, a kiseru nestled in his grasp as if an extension of his breath. Youâve spent your whole life reading the air between men like him. Because it isnât about whatâs said. It never was.
âAh.â The pipe taps once against its dish. He doesnât look up. âThe daughter returns.â
The daughter.
Never your name. Not even your role. Only the title that binds you to the man they erased. You bow, but it feels mechanical. Your spine bends, but your thoughts do not.
"Good evening, Councilman."
"Off to the northern hall, I presume?"
"Yes, sir."
A plume of smoke blooms from his lips as a ghost of a smile pulls at the corners. âThatâs wonderful,â he hums, tapping the kiseru once again. âWe were beginning to wonder when things would move forward.â
You force your shoulders to stay level, your breath even.
Theyâve noticed. Noticed Satoruâs absence. Noticed yours. Youâre the test they never stop administeringâthe girl with the wrong name, the wrong bloodline, the father no one speaks of, and now⊠the groom who doesnât show.
âYes⊠well. I should goââ
Click!
Each tap of his pipe on the dish is a clock ticking towards your unavoidable fall to failure, to shame.
"Of course," he smiles serenely, smoke curling upward in a lazy spiral, spilling out like a second language. "Donât let me delay your duties. Itâs good your bloodline has found some⊠renewed value. Better to be reclaimed than forgotten entirely, wouldnât you say?â
Thereâs no polite answer to that. So you say nothing. Because what heâs really saying is:
Youâre lucky we let you back in.
Youâre lucky we didnât bury your fatherâs name with him.
Donât make us regret it.
Your second chance is still conditional. And youâve yet to move in with Satoru.
He shifts, brushing ash from the rim of the dish with the edge of his pipe.
âI trust youâll handle things with care.â
âOf courseâŠâ you murmur, hand tightening on the bento bag. âI wonât let the clan down.â
âMm. Thatâs what your father said, tooâŠâ he scoffs, almost lazily, drawing in another long breath from the pipe. âThe problem wasnât that we didnât stop him⊠it was that we trusted him in the first place.â
Your breath catches. Your eyes flick to his face.
Becauseâwait. It's the most direct this man has ever been with you. Not cloaked in smoke or couched in implication. Not one of those offhanded remarks meant to sound like nothing and sting like hell three days later.
No. It seems like the nearest youâve ever gotten to the truth. Because all your life, theyâve only ever spoken of your father in fragments. A disappointment. A shadow. A shame.
A scandal⊠but never a story.
And no one ever tells you why.
Not your motherâwho goes quiet every time his name is mentioned, who changes the subject or leaves the room. Not the clanâwho speaks of him like a blemish on a blade, a weapon too flawed to be remade. Only that he betrayed them. And that youâhis daughterâare what remains.
A legacy of shame.
Youâve carried that weight in silenceâwearing it like silk. But a scandal with no name is more dangerous than one with a face. A curse with no shape festers. Expands. You've been living your entire life inside the silhouette of something unspeakable. And nowânowâheâs handed you a thread.
You shouldnât ask. You know better. Butâ
âWhat⊠do you mean? What did he do?â
You donât even realize youâve spoken it until the silence returns. The elderâs pipe stills, and for the first time since this conversation began, he looks at you. Not past you. Not through you.
At you.
And whatever he sees there⊠makes his expression harden.
âYouâve been given a second chance. I suggest you donât waste it on questions with no rightful answers.â
His voice is cold as stone.
That thread?
Gone.
Snapped clean in two.
âYes⊠of course. Apologies Councilman.â
âTch⊠a man like your father⊠what a disgrace. It was only a matter of time before he scorched everything he touched.â He inhales deeply, dragging a large breath from his pipe, eyeing you with contempt. âStrange, how some bridges only burn halfway.â
Half-burnt.
Thatâs what you are, arenât you? All you ever are. A daughter of ash and almosts. Not banished. But not embraced. Not quite reclaimed. But useful enough to keep.
For your clan⊠and for Satoru.
âBut⊠alas,â he sighs, tapping the pipe against the rim of the dish, âwe all owe our gratitude to Gojo-sama, donât we? Which is why you shouldnât leave him waiting. Yes?â
The smile he gives you is thin. Practiced. Meaningless. But the message beneath the smoke lands heavy as stone:
Youâre not here because you belong.
àŒ»àŒșêšàŒ»àŒș
You were still a young girl when your father left, but not so young that you donât remember the way he laughed. The way he held your hand when you walked to the shrine together. The way he said your name.
You remember the man. But⊠everyone else remembers the mistake.
Itâs strange, right? How memories soften at the edges. How warmth fades faster than truth. Because near the end, something in him changed. His voice, his gaze, his touchâresembling someone else entirely.
Like⊠a stranger had taken his place.
And you wishâgod, you wishâyou could ask him. Could look him in the eye and demand to know if any of it had ever been real. If the love you thought he gave you was yours to begin with. Or only a trick of the smoke. Because despite what your mind insists, your heart remembers differently.
âŠlike it does with Satoru.
âSmoke speaks in ways we canât.â
The words rise once again; your motherâs voice echoing where it doesnât belong. And as your sandals crunch down the gravel pathâyou stop before you realize what youâre doing, what youâre standing in front of.
Your fatherâs shrine.
âŠwhat are you doing here?
Thereâs no avoiding the inevitableâyou said so yourself. But⊠you veered right off the main trail, past the crooked pines, the leaning stone lanterns. Not toward the Gojo estate. Not toward Satoru. No. The opposite direction you should be going.
And here it is. Hidden, almostâtucked deep in the wooded edge of your estate, because he preferred it that way. Removed from ceremony. Removed from⊠your mother.
Your eyes drag across the structure, and the air changes, your heart aching. Because itâs not frozen in time like your clanâs gardenâin fact, the roof sags more than you rememberâwith wooden beams, weather-beaten and tiredâivy climbing along the edges like itâs trying to pull the whole thing back into the earth.
Your father tended to this place as though it mattered. And now, itâs just⊠abandoned. Not looked after like beforeânot without him here to sweep the steps every morning, pruning the ivy. Igniting the incenseâŠ
âSmoke speaks in ways we canât.â
IncenseâŠ
âDo you know why we light three sticks, little crane?â
You shook your head, crouched beside this very altar, your small hand pressed into his palm.
âThe past teaches. The present asks. The future⊠listens. Thatâs why we light all three. So that nothing goes unheard.â
Your father always talked about the core of time, and how in Buddhism, time wasnât a straight line, but a circle. He insisted that prayer didnât only go outwardâit entered something timeless. A loop. A thread that wound through all things.
âWe light incense to find our place in itâŠâ he murmured; gaze fixed on the curling wisps above the altar. âAnd sometimes⊠it says what weâre too afraid to.â
âŠit says what weâre too afraid to?
The wooden floorboards creak beneath your weight, your kimono whispering with each gentle step. A matchbox sits at the altarâdust clinging to the lacquered tray where an incense box rests. The bento bag slides off your shoulder with a quiet thud.
Right. Perhaps this will give you the clarity youâre searching for.
If smoke speaks in ways we canât⊠perhaps itâll finally say something worth hearing. Something that will straighten the knot in your chest. Something that will tell you what to do with all of thisâthis ache, this silence, this fucking confusion that no one else seems to see.
But as you wipe the box clean with your thumb, setting three sticks into the grooves with practiced hands, you wonder what the hell youâre even asking for.
Still, you light the initial match, holding it steadily to the stick.
Past.
The smoke curls up like a memory, drifting up, shapeless. And you let yourself follow its path, head tilted slightly, watching it disappear into the stillness above.
âŠ
Nothing.
No answer. No clarity.
Fine. It's possible that the past isnât where your answer lives.
Present.
This one doesnât take immediately. You have to breathe on it onceâsoft, coaxingâand when it flares, the scent rises sharper. The smoke curls into the space between the otherâtwisting, twinningâbefore drifting up, up, out of reach.
âŠ
Nothing.
No meaning. Simply a ritual. The same emptiness dressed up in ceremony.
And god, you hate it.
Hate that you keep doing thisâlooking at objects like theyâre going to give you something Satoru wonât. That your clan wonât. Your father wonât. Like the smoke will spell it out. Like the ring will hum some truth into your bones. Like the fucking comb in your hair will whisper: he cares, he just doesnât know how to say it.
And more so, you hate that youâre here again, in this shrine, searching for meaning in a pile of ash and tradition. Hate that part of you still waits for something. Still wants something. From him.
What the fuck do you even want?
An apologyâŠ? Possibly. A reason? Sure. For him to sit beside you and ask if youâre okay? Like it would matter? Like he would mean it?
No. That canât be right. Thatâs not it, either.
Then what?
What do you want?
Your breath catches. You donât want to answer that. You were hoping the smoke would do it for you. Hoping it would grant you permission to feel something before you had to name it yourself.
Your hand reaches for the last match, trembling, and with a shaky inhale, you steady it towards the box.
The future.
But⊠as you strikeâ
Snap!
The head breaks clean off, dropping to the floor. And you blinkâonce, twiceâstaring at the now-useless sliver of wood in your fingers. At the now empty matchbox below you. And of course. Of fucking course. At the unlit stick of incense. Because the future just sits there. Mockingly. Refusing to catch.
With a hissed breath, you toss the spent match at your feetâeyes cutting toward the storage tucked behind the altar, where forgotten things gather dust. And like that, youâre already rising. Because there has to be another match. Has to be an answer. Anything to ease the knot in your chest.
The hollow floorboards creak as you approach, and the shelf greets you in its usual state of quiet disarrayâdried herbs wrapped in string, a collapsed lantern, a splintered tray. You nudge things aside, shuffling through its contents.
âCome onâŠâ you mutter, âI know theyâre hereâŠâ and dust clouds the air, untilâtucked near the back, you spot a glimpse of cardboard.
A matchbox.
Breath catching, you stretch up, up, upâup on your tippy toes. But as your fingertips brush the edge, just shy, just barely out of grasp, you feel your eyes begin to water. Because⊠why? Why is everything like this? Always half a step out of reach. Slipping through your fingersâthe answers you seek, your father, your place in all this. Satoru.
âPleaseâŠâ you whisper, voice cracking. âSimply this⊠grant me thisâŠâ
And like Buddha himself heard your desperate plea, your fingertips close around it. Your heart flutters as you slide it open, finding one match. One. Sitting at the bottom. Like fate.
Finally. An answer.
But as you spin on your heelâ
Crash!
âWhoa thereâŠâ
You gasp, stumbling as firm hands catch you. One steadies your elbow, the other presses gently to your waist.
âEasy now⊠that was a close one.â
The voice rumbles near your shoulder, and with a blink, your gaze settles on the blue kimono before you, silk gentle and delicate, woven with coiling designs of green and gold.
A man.
You collided into⊠a man?
âI-I..â
Your words tangle in your mouth as your eyes climbs higher. Heâs tall. Broad in the shoulders, but⊠elegant. Not the stiff, lacquered kind of elegance your clan parades around in. Noâhis is effortless. Worn loose. Soft. Even the gauges in his ears make it seem heâs only half playing the part.
His violet eyes are studying you, and his raven hair is tied back in a half-knotâmost of it falling past his shoulders, loose and untamed, with a few strands slipping free to frame a face you swear youâve never seen before. And yet⊠something about it feels familiar.
âOhâthank you,â you manage, stepping back. His hold lingers, then drops. âSorry. I didnât realize someone else was here, I was justââ
But as you lift your hand, the words die on your lips. Because your matchâitâs snapped clean in half, broken right down the middle.
Again.
âI⊠I was justâŠâ You try again. âJustâumâŠâ you sniffle. âI-I wasâŠâ
But the sentence unravels before itâs ever whole, and suddenly your throat is tight, your eyes sting, andâgod. Itâs happening.
Stupidlyâinevitablyâthe tears come.
Too fast. Too late to stop.
âOhâshit. Shit.â His brows draw together, words tumbling like instinct, hands lifting cautiously. âHey. I didnât mean to scare you. That oneâs on me.â
Great.
Thatâs great.
Youâre crying. In front of a total stranger. In your fatherâs half-forgotten shrine.
Get it together.
âNo, Iâmâgod, Iâm fineâŠâ you mumble, swiping at your cheeks with the back of your hand. âSorry,â you add, breath catching on an awkward laugh. âI donât usually⊠Iâm not usually like this.â
âYeah, well⊠griefâs a bitch. Doesnât exactly RSVP.â
You let out a shaky laughâcaught somewhere between breath and break. It startles you, the way it slips out so easily. Thatâs the sort of comment your father would have said; wry, dry, but not unkind.
âTell me about itâŠâ you murmur, rubbing your eyes with the heel of your palm. âGrief and I are on a first-name basis at this point.â
âMmm,â his lips twitch into a faint grin. âMineâs been living rent-free in my head for years. Real moody, never shuts up. Terrible roommate.â
This time, your laugh comes softer. Thinner. The kind that escapes when youâve been holding everything in for too long. It lingers, even as silence reclaims the space between you.
Heâs⊠easy to talk to.Â
And familiar? No. Perhaps itâs just since he reminds you of your father.
Your eyes drop, fingers curling tighter around the broken match in your palm. Something twists low in your chest. Because here you are, left bearing a future without closureâagain.Â
So much for your answers.
âSo, uh. Bad day?â
You blink, glancing up. Oh, shit. Heâs watching you. And not in the way youâre used toânot the distant, speculative glance of someone weighing your worth. No. Heâs just⊠looking. Present.
ââŠkinda?â you manage. âI mean⊠it wasnât awful or anything. Iâve had worse. Way worse. ButâŠâ Your grip tightens around the match again, and gazing down, it mocks you.
How can something so small feel so heavy?
âI guessâŠâ you exhale. âSorry. Itâs stupid. But I just needed one thing to go right today.â
âAh.â His eyes flick to your grasp. âThat was your last one?â
âYeahâŠâ
His gaze shifts to the altar, where two sticks still burnâsmoke curling slowly toward the eaves. It clicks into placeâa long breath escaping his nose.
âThe futureâs always stubbornâŠâ he mutters, hand slipping into the inner fold of his robe. When it reappears, it carries something smallâsleek, worn around the edges like itâs been thumbed too many times.
A lighter.
âHere. Need a light?â
àŒ»àŒșêšàŒ»àŒș
Your stranger had a gentle, mysterious ease to his presence.Â
The kind of stillness that doesnât press silence onto you, but shares it. With him, silence was allowed. You were allowed. You watched as a small flame flickered to life in his hand, catching the final stick of incense with quiet grace. Smoke curled upward in slow, lazy ribbons, joining the other two as he settled beside you.
And now, the two of you wait. For what, you werenât sure. A sign? A memory? A whisper of something lost in the smoke?
But still⊠nothing came. No weight lifted. No truth revealed. Only the same dull ache where clarity was supposed to be. Only the sting in your eyes you could no longer blame on the smoke. And the more you sit with it, the more certain you become that, perhaps itâs not the ritual thatâs broken.Â
Perhaps⊠itâs you.
Youâre the one thatâs broken. Too far gone to hear whatever wisdom the smoke is supposed to carry. And you hate it.
Glancing down, your fingers curl around the broken matchstick still caught in your palm that you hadnât realized you were still holding.
âI keep lighting these sticks like theyâll tell me somethingâŠâ you admit. âBring clarity. Or peace. Or⊠I donât know.â You exhale, eyes tracking the lazy swirls. âAll I ever see is just smoke.â
He hums, not unkind. âMaybe thatâs the point,â he says, following your gaze. âClarity isnât always something you see. Sometimes itâs whatâs left behind when the smoke clears.â
âIt never clears,â you scoff, lips pursing. âOr maybe it doesâand Iâve just forgotten how to see without the blur. Because even when it fades, I canât tell whatâs clarity and whatâs just the same old haze, coming back to haunt me.â
He tilts his head, considering you. âDid you know incense wasnât always about peace?â he murmurs. âIt was meant to ward off spirits. Smoke as a barrier. A warning.â
ââŠreally?â
Your eyes meet his, and you sit with that.
Ghosts.
How ironic. Youâve spent so long trying to reach them. To make them speak. Your father, Satoruâboth of them swallowed by silence. And youâve been taught to return itâswallowing your questions like ash.
âI thinkâŠâ your voice trails before catching again. âIâm tired of chasing ghosts.â He hums in agreement. âFunny thing about ghosts is they only linger if we let them.â And you exhale slowly.
âIf I let them go⊠I think Iâd be more alone than I already am.â
As the words tumble out, you blinkâstartled by your own honesty. The ache behind your eyes sharpens, and you rub your temple, groaning softly.
âOh my god... I swear Iâm not usually this depressing.â
He chuckles as he rises, dusting off his kimono with easy grace. âTrust me,â he grins. âIâve heard worse confessions in places holier than this.â And glancing up, your lips twitch into a smile.
Well⊠thatâs intriguing. What kind of confessions has he heard? You donât ask. But somehow, the thought makes you feel a little less pathetic.
You shift, easing the bento bag into your lap.
âI canât believe I just trauma-dumped on a total stranger,â you murmur with a soft laugh, your voice rounding into something warmer, looser.
But your gaze lingers on himâlonger this time. Because thereâs something in the way he moves, the quiet strength, the deliberate grace, the way the moonlight threads through his dark hair like it belongs there.Â
FamiliarâŠ
âOr⊠maybe not,â you add, slower now. âI havenât seen you around the clan before, but⊠do I know you?â
The moment the words leave your mouth, you wish you could take them back. Because suddenly, itâs like a door closed within him. Like the temperature dropped a single, imperceptible degree.
His violet eyes harden, gaze shifting toward the far corner of the room, like youâre invisible. Passing over your fatherâs altar, the stone, the shelves left empty all these years. Like⊠he expected something to be there.
Exhaling, he looks back to youâand a shiver runs up your spine.
âMaybe Iâm just another ghost,â he says, smiling serenely. âRest assured⊠you donât know me. Iâm just passing through.â
Your stomach tightens, and suddenly, you feel small beneath himâin that haunting way that happens when you realize: youâve missed something. Because his smile comes slow. And soft. But something inside it is⊠off.
ââŠright,â you murmur, unsure. âSorry, I didnât mean toâum⊠I just thoughtâwell. You just seemed familiar, thatâs all.â
With a faint hum, he slides one hand into the fold of his kimono, drawing out his phoneâthumb brushing the screen.
âWell,â he says, slipping it back. âI should be off.â His gaze flicks toward the door. âPromised my girls crepes in the city. Canât be lateâtheyâve got a sixth sense for strawberry syrup.â
The sentence hangs there, soft and strange and jarring in its normalcy.
Girls?
âOh,â you manage. âThatâs⊠sweet. I hope they enjoy it.â
âThey always do,â that same smile pulls at his lips. âAnyways⊠take care. And good luck with your ghosts.âÂ
He tosses you a wave, and the moment heâs gone, youâre left sitting thereâstill a little thrownâwatching the doorway he passed through like it might offer you a clue.
Stranger. Ghost. Something in between.
You donât know what he was, only that something shifted when he left. Like the silence he carried took a piece of yours with it. Because as you glance towards the altar, where the incense is fizzling out, for once, it no longer feels like a question youâre desperate to hear the answer to.
HuhâŠ
What was your answer then?
Youâre not even sure, but perhaps⊠being heard was enough.
Bzzt!
Your phone buzzes against your thigh.
â| Gojo-sama is waiting. Will you be arriving shortly?
Shit.
You scramble upright, hoisting the bento bag across your shoulder, rushing down the path. Your sandals tap quickly against the stone, the scent of incense clinging to your sleevesâand just as the world begins to blur around you, the smoke behind you finally begins to clear.
àŒ»àŒșêšàŒ»àŒș
By the time youâd reached the estate, an attendant greeted you just past the gatesâyoung, wide-eyed, bowing quickly with a clipboard tucked beneath her arm.
âGojo-samaâs getting cleaned up,â she advised politely. âSaid he got tired of waiting. But heâll be out shortlyâyou can meet him in the north room. Down the hall, second left.â
The halls are quieter than you remembered. Weeks ago, they pulsed with ceremonyâelders drifting past in brocade, councilmen murmuring in corners, incense clouding the air. Now, itâs just you. Just the hush of your own footsteps across the tatami.
The edge of the corridor comes into view, and your eyes land on a familiar openingâthe dojo. Itâs just as beautiful as you remember, with shoji panels pushed ajar, the evening air slipping through, rustling the bamboo just outside the courtyard. Your gaze lifts, peaking inside, and thatâs when you see it.
âŠa three-pronged staff?
Itâs centered neatly on the wall, ordinary to anyone elseâbut not to you. Because you know that shape, that grain, that worn curve along the middle joint, and your breath catches before you can stop it.
âŠcan it be?
You donât even remember setting the bento bag down; youâre already halfway insideâsearching the grooves with your eyes, trying to memorize it all at once. But as you approach, disappointment immediately floods you.
âŠno.
It isnât your fatherâs weapon. Not the one you gave away. Not the one you sold. Itâs just a lookalikeâa ghost of itâlike everything else youâve tried to forget.
âWhat are you doing?â
The bite in his voice slices through stillness. You stiffen, turning slowly to face him, and you donât know what you were expectingâbut it wasnât this.
Satoruâs standing in the doorway; barefoot and shirtless, snowy hair damp and disheveled from the shower, grey sweatpants slung low on his hips. But itâs those eyes that pin youâtheyâre like fractured ice, cold in a way that burns.
Itâs⊠unsettling.
Despite how the hallway lantern casts a gentle glow, haloing his frame in gold, thereâs nothing angelic in the way heâs looking at you.
ââŠI was heading to the northern hall,â you murmur, taking a hesitant step away from the wall. âI didnât mean to touch anything. I justââ
âRight,â he cuts, low and cold. âLemme guess, just like how you didnât mean to touch him.â
You blink. Once. Twice. Your mouth opens, but nothing comes out at first. Because it takes a second to even register what he said.
âW-What?â
âDonât fuckinâ play dumb,â he scoffs, hands shoving into his pockets. âMy eyes donât lie. I can see it. See his cursed residuals all over you.â
Residuals? Him?
Your brows draw together in confusion as your brain tries to make sense of what heâs saying. All you know is heâs upsetâbecause those eyes are cutting through you like a goddamn curse. The weight of his stare makes you feel pinnedâslicing you with a precision that leaves nowhere to hide.
âŠis he talking about the man at your shrine? But⊠you hadnât even gotten his name, hadnât thought twice about him.
You try to swallow. âSatoruâwait. I went to my fatherâs shrine andââ
âFuckinâ hellâŠâ he mumbles, shifting his weight like heâs already bored of the excuse he thinks youâre about to give. His eyes cut back to you, voice rising. âSeriously? I donât have the patience to hear whatever story youâre about to spin. Donât bullshit me.â
âWhat?â You blink, stunned. âI-Iâm not. Listen, this guy was there andâ"
He huffs a disbelieving laugh, bitter. âAh⊠there it is,â and leaning against the doorway, heâs already decidedâalready branded you guilty. âResiduals cling two ways, sweetheartâdomain exposure⊠or contact.â
The condensation in his voice makes you recoil. His eyes flick to you, surveying you with disregard.
âAnd youâre wearing his residuals like fuckinâ perfume,â his expression hardens. âSo⊠what? What happened to your perfect little act, huh? Did you sit in his lap? Pray there like an offering? That it?â
Your mouth drops, and youâre fucking speechless.
Because what the fuck? Of all peopleâhe has the nerve? The audacity? The sheer fucking audacity? This man, who has given you nothing but silence for weeks?! Who was ready to fuck another woman on your fucking engagement ceremony?? The air goes tight in your lungs.
âI went there to honor my father,â you say, slower now. Firmer. âNot to be accused of⊠this.â
âHonorâŠâ he mutters, rolling his eyes, head tipping back. âSo fuckinâ tired of that word. Donât feed me that word like it absolves you.â
âExcuse me?!â The heat tears out of youâraw, jagged, a sound youâve never let yourself make. But you donât reel it back. âYou have no right! Not after weeks of silence! Not after Iâve given everything I couldâeverything I hadââ your throat tightens, eyes stinging, and for a split second his widen in surprise. But youâre not finished.
âDo you have any idea what Iâve had to give up? Iâve bent myself into knots trying to be whatâs expected, whatâs demandedâsmile when Iâm told, bow when Iâm told, hold my tongue when I want to scream. Iâve tried to do everything rightâall my life. And still, still I see you in that bathroom withâ!â
The rest sears your tongue. Your lips snap shut, your eyes fall closed, cutting it off before it can spill out and scorch the space between you.
Because you canât. You wonât.
You wonât hand him that memory. Wonât let him know how many nights itâs replayed in your headâthe way he touched you, the way you let him, the way it left you hollow and restless after.
No.
To say it now would make it sound like proof of something youâre not ready to name. And this man does not love you, does not want you.
âIf the roles were flipped, he wouldnât think twice about disrespecting you. You know that, right?â
Your breath stutters, your ribs aching as you try to resetâtry to count the way your lungs expand. God, what are you doing? This is not how you were raised to be. Pretend youâre fine, even if youâre not. This man holds your future, your fate. Come on now⊠you never expected warmth tonight, so get it together and face him.
But⊠despite not expecting warmth, youâre not ready. Youâre certain that cruelty is carved into his eyesâa seething anger, a blame you donât even understand. The words still burn on your tongue, too jagged to swallow back, and you donât know how to mend them. How do you patch something that was never meant to tear? Youâve never let the sharp edge of your temper slip before, and those eyes will surely slice through you like glass.
Your lashes flutter open, and the sight of him cleaves through the breath youâve been trying to hold steady. Heâs still there, blue eyes watching you, chest heaving like heâs holding something back. And⊠no.
Nonono.
Oh god. Not this again. Itâs that look. That same look that tied your stomach in knots then, and still does now. Like he sees you in a way you donât want to be seen, in a way you canât even stand under. Like he knows every thought youâre trying to choke down before you can even form it.
And it hurts.
Because anger, you can fight. Hatred you can meet head-on. But this? This silent recognition that says everything and nothing at onceâitâs all youâve ever known, and itâs crawling up your ribs, crowding your throat until you swear itâs going to split you open, raw.
âIâm not doing thisâŠâ you whisper.
He doesnât move as you turn across the tatami, reaching for the bento bag that remains where you dropped it. The strap digs into your palm when you lift it, and as your fingers rummage through its contents, Satoru observes your movementsâgaze landing on the comb nestled in your hair, the gems shimmering underneath the lantern glow.
The air shifts; something tightening low in his chest that he cannot name. Though all he says isâ
âWhere are you goingâŠ?â
âHome.â You answer, setting his meal on the low table. âI brought dinner. Iâll leave it here. Eat it⊠or donât.â
The silence stretches. You sense him moving before you hear himâsteps slow but certain as he crosses the threshold into the dojo.
ââŠrunning away already?â
ââŠIâm not running,â you murmur, smoothing the strap of your bag, hoisting it on your shoulder. âJust going home. Iâm tired. Have your attendants call for me another day.â
He huffs. âYouâre tired? TchâŠwhat the hell do you think I am?â
You purse your lips together, biting your tongue.
ââŠthen I suppose you should rest as well. Goodnight, Gojo-sama.â
With that, you turnâintent on slipping past himâbut his hand shoots out, closing firmly around your wrist. And your body doesnât think; it remembers.
Rather than pulling away, you pivot, folding into his momentum. His arm becomes the lever, your shoulder the hinge, and as your knees sink, his strength only feeds the fall. Before he can register it, the tatami is shuddering beneath his back, and youâre left kneeling beside himâbreath sharp, his wrist still caught in your hand.
For a heartbeat, neither of you moves. You blink, stunnedâtaking in how heâs sprawled on the floor, white hair mussed against the mat, blue eyes wide, blinking like he canât believe you dropped him.
And that realization hits you. Hard. Youâflipping Gojo Satoru.
You can already hear the verdict in your motherâs voice, in your clansâ whispers.
Reckless. Shameful. Disgraceful.
âIâIâŠâ your lips part, the beginnings of an apology fumbling out. âIâm⊠oh god⊠I didnât mean toâ"
But heâs gripping you before the words can form. You yelp, tumbling down against his chest one moment, twisting against his body the next as he pins you beneath his weight. His hands are on both sides of your face, his knee pressed to the floor between yours, and his breathing is loud in the space between your lips.
ââŠwho taught you aiki otoshi?â
Youâre lost in the blue of his eyes, because his face is so close it blursâmouth hovering just a breath away, snowy hair spilling forward, brushing your temple.
âMy fatherâŠâ you whisper, swallowing. âI-It was just instinct. I didnât mean toâŠâ
His tongue clicks mockingly gentle. âBad girlâŠâ he mutters, eyes landing on your lips. âYou shouldnât have done that.â
And then heâs kissing you.
Lashes flutter, and your breath stutters as your fingers bury between damp hair. Heâs not tender. Heâs desperateâand shit, itâs addicting, the way his breath spills between broken kisses, panting, groaningâevery exhale trembling against your mouth before he swallows it.
âSatoruâŠâ you mumble, but he cuts you off, rasping, âEnoughâŠâ and his mouth crashes back onto yours before you can form another wordâdevouring, drowning.
The kiss consumes you, his hands trembling, unable to keep still. One drags down your throat, pressing against the hollow, and you whimper, pulse fluttering. The other grips your waist, tugging your kimono, sliding lower as he hauls your hips against him.
âO-ohâfuckâŠâ The thick heat of his cock presses through his sweats, slotting perfectly between your thighs, and you gasp.
âHaaa⊠thatâs itâŠâ he groans, head dipping to your jaw, teeth grazing your skin as his hips rut hard, shameless, chasing friction like a man starved. ââŠmnhâfuck,â he pants, grinding again, harder this time, hot breath fanning your throat.
And god help you, your body arches up to meet him.
The nerve of this man! But worseâthe betrayal of your own body. Heatâs curling low, your hips are tilting into his, and you hate itâhate that you want this. Because you shouldnât. Not after weeks of silence, not after the bathroom, not after everything heâs put you through.
His thrust drags another moan from you. âAssholeââ you gasp, hands shoving at his shoulders. But a groan pulls from his chest when your nails bite into his skin, making you scowl.
âYou donât get to act like this, not afterâmnh!â
Your words break into a whine as teeth catch your lips in another bruising kiss. Heâs consumed, rolling his length harder, ruthless. Fabric rustles, him fumbling with your sash with trembling fingersâtugging the knot like itâs personally offended him.
When the cool air grazes your skin, his breath stutters in anticipation, mouth breaking from yours with another groan.
âGodâŠâ his lips trail fire down your jaw, your throat, your breasts. âShitâŠâ he mutters, tonguing at your nipple, sucking, groping greedy handfuls. âSo fuckinâ perfect⊠canât believe I wasted weeksâ"
Weeks?
The word burns, because whose fault is that?! But his hand distracts you before you can question itâsliding down your stomach with possessive intent. Dropping lower, he cups your heat, and you shudder, biting your lip as he holds your cunt.
ââfuck yes⊠canât believe I kept myself from this⊠my slutty little wife.â
The title drips from his lips like filth, and you canât help the laugh bubbling out of youâbreathless, brittle, trying to scorn.
The fucking audacity of this man.
âYou donât get to call me that!â you snap, heat flaring beneath your skin. âNot after you disappear for weeks, leave me with nothing but silence, nothing butâahn!â
Damn him. Your defiance cracks. His fingers are already dragging through your soaked panties, pussy dripping from the mess between your legs.
âOh?â he taunts, smirking, pushing the wet fabric against your slit. âThen whatâs this, hm? Say what you want, sweetheart. Your sweet little cuntâs already begginâ for me.â
You hate that heâs right. Hate the way your hips twitch into his hand. The tatami rustles beneath his shifting weight as he settles between your legs, fingers curling at the waistband of your panties.
âGonna strip these offâŠâ his breath fans your cunt. âFuckinâ make you mine all over the tatami andââ
âNo.â
Before you can think, your hand flies up, pressing hard against his forehead. The sudden stop jolts him. Damp strands of hair spill into your palm, soft against your trembling fingers, and his blue eyes flash wide, startled.
For a beat, neither of you move. Your breath is shaky, ragged, while heâs laying against the tatami, face between your legs, shocked. Tears are threatening to spill over, your eyes burning, because now youâre even more confused. Itâs not fair. Heâs not fair.
âYou donât get to use meâŠâ
The whisper scrapes out of you raw, cracked at the edges, and heâs looking at you like the very thought of you denying him doesnât compute. Guilt, hurt, something elseâall flashing quick across his face, dimming the usual gleam in his eyes. His brows pull tight, and the look on him is almost lost.
âWhat ifâŠâ his throat bobs with a swallow, blue eyes searching yours. ââŠyou donât have to touch me.â
You blink, looking down at this man, dazed, your fingers still tangled in snowy hair. His voice is hoarse, pleading in a way that doesnât sound like him, and his forehead presses harder into your hand, as if leaning into your rejection, desperate to stay connected to you.
ââŠwhat?â you whisper, head shaking in disbelief. âYouâre not making senseââ
âI know,â he cuts in, lips parting on a shuddering breath. His chest rises and falls against the tatami, fast and uneven. âJust⊠let me taste you. You donât need to touch me. I donât need anything else. I just⊠need you on my tongue. Please.â
Please.
That word doesnât sound real, doesnât belong on his mouth. Gojo Satoru doesnât askâhe owns, he takes. Yet here he is, head bowed between your thighs, looking up at you like heâd starve if you told him no.
This man keeps confusing the hell out of you.
Heâs supposed to be cruel, indifferent, cold. And yet⊠right now he feels terrifyingly close.
What if letting him do this means youâre handing him power youâll never get back? The thought terrifies you. Because you donât know what this meansâdonât know if this is desperation or devotion or just another game. And you canât risk being wrong. Canât risk being ruined.
So⊠maybe you close the door? Giveâwhatever this isâa label that protects your fragile heart. But⊠can you really draw that line when your thighs are already trembling open for him?
ââŠall right,â you murmur finally, and his eyes brighten immediately, unbearably blue. âButâŠâ your eyes narrow, lips pursing. âIâm only doing this because⊠itâs expected of me. My duty. Iâm not touching you, and Iâm not giving you the rest. Not until the wedding. Understood?â
He smirks, gaze dropping to your cunt. âYeah⊠sure. But once my tongue is buried inside that little pussy, doubt youâll be thinkinâ about duty, babe.â
Heat crawls up your neck from his sheer filth. âGodâhow can you justâsay shit like thaâah!â but the protest rips into a gasp as cool air hits your skinâSatoru tugging your panties down in shameless urgency.
âFinallyâŠâ his cock jerks up, twitching from the sight of your tiny hole. âLook at you⊠fuckinâ perfect. Prettiest cunt Iâve ever seen.â
Godâyour face is molten. Snowy hair is tickling your thighs, his breath warms your slick, and you feel flayed openâexposed in ways you never imagined. Like he can see every piece of you, every thought youâre trying not to have.
Maybe this isnât a good ideaâŠ
Tremors wrack your body as nerves take over. He notices, eyes lifting, and heâs instantly cooing. âShhâŠâ Thumbs stroke lazy circles into your trembling thighs. âSâokay baby⊠gonna make you feel so fuckinâ good, angel.â
That sweetnessâsoftness laced with filthâit confuses you way more than his cruelty ever did. Why does it hurt worse when heâs gentle? Why does it threaten the one wall you swore youâd keep up?
Duty, you remind yourself. Just duty.
Your lashes lower. âO-OkayâŠâ His grin spreads up, unholy. âThatâs it, babyâŠâ Strong hands push your legs apart, cunt glistening for him. âNow⊠be a good girl yeah? Open up for me. Wanna enjoy my meal.â
This wasnât your idea of a romantic dinner.
Satoruâs tongue hits you, dragging from your soaked little hole to your sensitive clit, and you gasp. âOhmygodââ Itâs wetter than you expected. Sloppier. âS-Satoruââ youâre squirming, trembling beneath him, unsure if you want to run or pull him deeper.
He decides for you, hands yanking your ass, burying himself into your cunt, and you moan.
âFfffuckâŠâ he slurs, sliding through your folds, groaning through the mess. âBetter than I fuckinâ dreamed⊠you taste so sweet⊠mnhâŠâ
Each swipe of his tongue leaves you raw, overstimulatedâmaking you whimper as his mouth works through your folds with ruthless devotion, like heâs trying to memorize the shape of you.
But⊠this is just duty.
The thought wavers when his nose nudges your slick and he licks a messy stripe through you, sloppy and relentless.
âSo fuckinâ pretty like this, babyâŠâ He pulls back just far enough to press his thumb into your clit, lazy circles that snap your back into an arch. Those vivid blue eyes flick up, watching you, and he rasps. âMmm⊠soaked for me already. Gonna fuckinâ cum on my face, huh sweetheart?â
Heat sears your neck. âSatoru, Iââ But he shifts, sliding one hand under your thigh, tilting your hips higher. The other pins your belly, holding you open while his tongue plunges back into your cunt. âO-oh⊠fuckââ Your cry pitches high.
âWanna eat you every nightâŠâ he pants, rutting against the floor, cock oozing at the tip. âMnh⊠fuck you full every morning⊠keep this tiny pussy stuffed till youâre too dumb to walkâŠâ
Duty. Duty. Duty.
You chant it like a prayer while your hips buck, chasing every flick of his tongue. Too goodâgod, too good. Heâs gorgeous like this, ruined between your thighs, and it would be so easyâtoo easyâto just let go, give inâcum all over his perfect face. Drench him in you.
âDoinâ so good fâme, babyâŠâ His voice vibrates against your clit, tongue circling before grazing you with his teeth. The ring on your finger shimmers as your hands fist in his hair, tugging, making him groan âFuck⊠thatâs itâŠâ he mumbles into your cunt, devouring again. âSuch a good girl. Such a needy girl, arenât you?â
âIââ
I want you.
A tremor rolls through, your throat tightening with the threat of tears. Fuck. Youâre losing your resolve.
Get it together.
âI canât⊠I canât think when you talk like thatââ you shudder, thighs trembling. ââcanât think when you look at me like thatâŠâ
Low laughter rumbles against your skin, his warm breath fanning you. âYeah?â he hums, tongue flicking your clit, slow and deliberate, before circling again in a wet brand of torture. âThen stop thinkinââŠâ
A long finger slips inside, and the sound you make is half-gasp, half-cry.
âMmm⊠tight little thing,â he groans, pumping slow and deep. âSlutty little pussy misses me already. Fuck⊠so fuckinâ wet, so fuckinâ sweet. Sheâs mine. Knows who she belongs to.â
His�
Blue eyes cut up to youâimpossibly dark, half-lidded, utterly gone. The look of him hits harder than his words, and your heart jerks painfully. You want itâwant it too muchâand thatâs exactly why it burns. He doesnât want you. He only wants this.
Tears bead at your lashes before you even realize theyâre there, cooling as they slide back toward your temples. And thatâs when it crashes in.
This was a mistake.
Youâd told yourself you could split your body from your heart and stay whole. That you could call it duty and survive it. That you could handle giving him this part of you if he didnât reach for more. But here you are, shaking under his mouth, coming apart anyway. And⊠heâs not even fucking you yet.
What happens when he does? What pieces of yourself will be left then?
How are you supposed to navigate this arrangement? How the hell did your mother do it for so many years? How did she learn to shut out the part of herself that still longed for softness, for gentleness?
âŠis that what strength looks like? A slow suffocation? A steady starvation?
And if thatâs the cost, are you willing to pay it?
The thought lodges sharp in your chest, bitter, because you already know the answer. You must. Youâve been paying it all your life.
And your hands are already moving, pressing at his forehead. âSatoruâstop,â you tremble, pushing him off, scrambling for your robes. âI⊠Iâm sorry. I canât.â
He jerks up at once, watching you fumble with the fabric, confusion sliding in with panic. âWaitâwhat?â he breathes, ragged, eyes searching you. âWhat is it? Whatâs goinâ on?â
But youâre already rising, reaching for the bento bag like itâs the only thing tethering you. âI justâŠâ with a shuddering breath, your head shakes, lashes wet. âSorry. I need to leave.â
âLeave?â
The word feels foreign on his tongue. He sinks back on his knees, unable to make sense of it, while youâre fumbling with your kimono, putting yourself back together before he can see how undone you really are.
As you turn, the comb he gave you slips loose in your hair, the jewels catching faint light before settling crooked. His gaze snags on it, and
DamnitâŠ
Thereâs that ache blooming low in his chest againâan ache he doesnât understand.
âBabe, justââ his lips press together, a frustrated breath pushing through his nose as he stands. âFuckinâ⊠wait,â his hand grabs your wrist. âSlow down and tell me whatââ
âLet go,â you say, sliding the strap over your shoulder, your voice too small to hide the crack in it. You donât pull away, but you donât look at him. âIâm going home,â you whisper, breath hitching. âI just⊠canât do this right now, Satoru. Please⊠just let me go.â
And with that, his mouth shuts. He lingers too long, fingers still circling your wrist, his gaze catching on the ring that glints faintly against your delicate handâhis gift, his burden, the tether neither of you asked for. Whatever protest was forming dies in his throat, swallowed by the silence stretching between you. At last, his grip falls away, leaving the air thrumming, swollen with everything unsaid.
You donât look back. You canât. If you do, youâll shatter completely.
àŒ»àŒșêšàŒ»àŒș
For Satoru, sex was supposed to make him feel better. So why does he feel like shit?
It had never failed before; a warm body, a quick fuck, that sweet, fleeting rush that burned everything else quiet. Because Satoru Gojo hates noiseâalways has. And sex is his reset button. His switch. Feelings? Theyâre meant to be buried.
But lately⊠itâs like theyâve been burying him.
Youâre gone now, and heâs left standing in the empty dojo with all this shit in his headâthoughts clawing at the inside of his skull, louder than ever. And he has no fucking clue what to do with any of it. No way to drown out this stupid, fucking noise.
Why did you leave? Was it something he said? Too much? Too fast? He tried being gentleâwasnât that what you wanted?
Noise.
Why didnât he stop you? Why does he care? Why the fuck canât he stop seeing your faceâthat night, in the bathroomâshocked, hurt, hollow. Why does it haunt him like this? Why does it piss him off?
Is he angry at you? Or himself?
Noise. Noise. Noise.
What now? What if you donât come back? What if you call it off, tell him this whole thing was a mistake? Is he that easy to walk away from? Does he push everyone away? Is that why Suguruâ
CRASH!
The tension snaps, his arm swinging blindly, knocking a ceramic vase off the low ledge by the wall. It shatters violently on the floor, jagged pieces splintering, water seeping into the tatami as blossoms scatter, bruised and broken.
But the noise of the vase isnât enough to drown out the noise in his headâbecause the crash fades, leaving only silence, and heâs standing there for a moment, staring at the wreckage, chest heaving.
âŠwhat the fuck is wrong with him?
Hands drag through his hair, tugging the roots in frustration until his legs give, slumping against the wall like his bodyâs too heavy to carry. With a shuddering breath, his face buries in his hands and he has no choice but to sit with the noise.
FuckâŠ
He canât even remember the last time he felt this. Doesnât want to. And when his eyes open, blinking through the sting, heâs left staring down at the tent in his sweatsâstill hard, still aching, a dark patch of pre-cum slicking through the fabric.
Pathetic.
Groaning, his head knocks back against the wall with a dull thud. Who the fuck even is he? He literally almost came in his pants, eating you out. Because itâs been weeksâweeksâsince heâs fucked anyone.
And not for lack of trying.
Every time someone offeredâbrushed up against him, pressed a hand to his chest, whispered something filthy in his earâthere you were. That same fucking face flashing through his mind, haunting him.
Sex had always worked for him. So⊠he thoughtâhopedâit might work for you, too. That he could fuck the pain off your expression, wipe it clean with his hands, his mouth, his tongue. Drag you into that quiet, mindless place where nothing hurts.
And for a secondâgod, for a secondâit looked like he had. You were trembling beneath him, gasping, clinging. Falling apart in all the right ways. You looked so fucking beautiful. So fucking perfect.
Until⊠you didnât. Until that look shifted, and suddenly you were slipping through his fingers again, all water and ache and tears he still doesnât understand, leaving his chest hollow with something he canât fucking name.
He scrubs a hand over his face, harder this time, hoping he can wipe that image of you away.
âŠwhat the hell is he supposed to do with himself if even thisâthe one thing thatâs always workedâdoesnât work anymore?
As the thought ruminates in his head, the shoji slides open.
âI heard a crash.â
The voice is crisp, stern. Satoruâs eyes flick up just long enough to catch sight of Gojo Hajime, standing at the threshold of the dojo, robes pristine, mouth tight.
Great. Just fucking great.
âYeah?â Satoru mutters, eyes rolling back toward the floor. âNo shit.â
Hajime doesnât move. But his eyes narrow as Satoru shifts, glass crunching beneath him, elbows resting to his knees. Water creeps across the tatami in slow, quiet veins, while the vase lies in ruinâjust like everything else.
ââŠwhere is she?â he presses, and Satoruâs head tilts back against the wall with an annoyed huff, staring blankly at the ceiling beams. âHome.â
Home?
That gets the old man to move.
âShe left?â he echoes, voice tightening with disbelief. The tatami creaks under his weight, arms folding into his yukata. âInconceivable. On today of all days?â
âYup.â
Satoru doesnât bother to elaborate. Doesnât even spare the man a glance. If Hajime wants drama, he can dig through the damn broken glass himself for it.
The elderâs eyes scrutinize, stopping a few paces away. âAnd what of duty?â he huffs, voice sharpening, turning brittle, formal. âWhat of ceremony? This marriage is not some dalliance, Gojo-sama. It is the cornerstone of our future. A convergence of bloodlines. Responsibility. Honorââ
Blah, fucking blah.
Satoru exhales through his nose, checking out entirely. More useless noiseâwords heâs heard a thousand times, could recite in his sleep if he cared enough to try. And tonight, of all nights? Heâs even less inclined to play along. Not with the taste of you still lingering on his tongue. Not while heâs sitting in the wreckage of his own silence, surrounded by the shards of everything he never said.
âThis is no small offense,â Hajime intones, rigid with judgment. âYou see now, donât you? That girl was never fit for this role. Your schedules finally coincide after endless delay, and she has the audacity to walk away? How deeply unbecoming. That woman is a disgrace.â
Disgrace?
At that, Satoruâs eyes flick up, brow furrowing.
âŠthe hell did he just say?
And why the fuck does hearing itâhearing him say it about youâmake his fingers twitch?
âIt appears she follows in the footsteps of her father,â Hajime continues. âShameful. Disrespectful of hierarchy, dismissive of ceremony. Itâs bred into her. That woman has no sense of place andâ"
âDonât.â
It leaves his mouth before he even knows what it is, and Hajimeâs gaze shifts back to himâback to Satoru, whoâs no longer slouched or half-listening. The glow of his Six Eyes is sharp now, cutting, lit with a quiet simmer that borders on dangerous.
He doesnât know what line just got crossedâonly that it did.
âSay another word about her,â he warns, the edge of his voice honed to steel, âor about her father, and weâll have a different kind of problem.â
For a moment, the room is silentâeerily so. Not even the wind breathes. Just that tight, taut stillness that always comes before something breaks. Hajimeâs lips seal, jaw ticking beneath the skin. Because no matter how old, how honored, how steeped in hierarchy he may be⊠even he knows the difference between authority and power.
Hajime wears the robes of authority.
But⊠Gojo Satoru wears power.
Still, he presses carefully. âWith respect⊠Gojo-sama. The council will not look kindly on a bride who walks away before the rites are even complete. It is not her place to decide whenâ"
âI sent her home.â The lie leaves his mouth easily. âShe didnât walk out. I saw she was tired and told her to leave. End of story.â
He doesnât know why he says itâonly that it lands before he has time to second-guess it.
Maybe itâs the fact that Hajime kept using words like disgrace and shame, as if you havenât spent your whole life trying to survive their expectations. Maybe heâs tired of watching people walk into fire for tradition while the old men stay seated.
Or maybe⊠itâs the look on your face when you turned away from him.
Either way, the lie sticks.
Hajimeâs mouth tightens further. âYouâd best be ready to explain yourself at the next council gathering.â But Satoru doesnât even blink.
âYeah, Iâm not explaining shit,â he says, flicking his hand like the conversationâs already beneath him. âAnd Iâm done for tonight. So⊠uh. Do me a favor, Hajime?â
A flicker of cursed energy coils beneath the surface, and that stareâcold, crystallineâlocks in, like lightning waiting for a reason.
âGet the fuck out of my estate.â
àŒ»àŒșêšàŒ»àŒș
âAre you the strongest because youâre Gojo Satoru, or are you Gojo Satoru because youâre the strongest?â
Satoru still doesnât know how to answer that question. Maybe he doesnât want to. Because the older he gets, the more that voiceâSuguruâs voiceâsounds less like philosophy and more like a trap; a snare meant to make him pauseâstop and think. Look inward in a way heâs spent years avoiding, because nothing worthwhile ever came from staring into that pit.
Itâs easier to be the strongest. Easier to be a weapon, a title, a consequence. Something for the world to worship or hate or fear. People expect less that way. Thereâs no room for tenderness or doubt.
No room for just⊠him.
With a frustrated exhale, Satoru kneels in the dim light of the dojo, limbs heavy as he sweeps the broken pieces of the vase into his palm, one by oneâthe tatami creaking under his knees. They clink together hollowly as he drops them onto the low table, and his gaze driftsâlanding inevitably, to the bento box you left behind.
You made it for him. After everything went to shit, and well before it went into even deeper shitâknowing he might not deserve it. And he doesnât know if that makes him feel better, or worse.
He pops the lid open, almost absently, and grabs the chopsticks. Steam clings faintly to the rice, the grilled fish glistens under the lantern glow, a wedge of pickled radish tucked neatly in the corner beside tamagoyaki cut into even squares.
'So⊠what? What happened to your perfect little act, huh? Did you sit in his lap? Pray there like an offering? That it?'
The image of your face flashes backâhurt, shocked, furiousâand he groans, shutting his eyes as he shovels in a bite.Â
God, heâs such a fucking asshole. What the hell is wrong with him? Why is he being so possessive over a girl he barely knowsâa girl who, by all rights, should hate him after everything heâs done? After everything he hasnât said?
He takes another bite, chewing mechanically, the food settling on his tongue.
It doesnât make any sense to him, but ever since this engagement started, youâve been getting under his skin in ways that make no sense.
Exhibit A: The sunglasses.
His free hand slips into the pocket of his sweats, fingers closing around the familiar weight, turning them over in his palm. He balances them against his knee, staring like they might offer an answer.
Theyâre just⊠sunglasses.
Right?
Heâs had a dozen pairs, broken twice as many. It pisses him off a little, that something so stupid carries weight. That he canât slip them on without thinking of you. And yet⊠he canât bring himself to throw them away. The thought of doing that would piss him off even more.
He shovels in another mouthful of rice, jaw tight. Which brings him straight intoâ
Exhibit B: He doesnât want a wife.
For fucks sake, he hates that word. Itâs loaded with tradition and expectation and a thousand eyes watching, waiting, molding him into something he never asked to be. And yet, every time he calls you it while youâre falling apart underneath himâsome fucked-up part of him likes the sound of it.
Huh⊠maybe heâs developed a new kink.
Satoru blinks.
Oh. Fuck.
That must be it⊠the only possible explanation, right?? Why else would he fantasize about the thought of fucking you so deep the only thing you remember is his name. Of filling you with his cum, creamy and thick, watching it spill out of you just to fuck it back in.
The idea hits him like a punch to the gut, and nowâgreatâhis dickâs joined the conversation again, throbbing against the inside of his sweats while heâs sitting here among broken glass and grilled mackerel like an idiot.
God, thatâs so fucking deranged.
He stuffs another bite in his mouthâchews like itâll grind the thought out of his skull. But it lingers; because the truth is, he wanted to fuck the pain he caused you right off your beautiful faceâright there, on the goddamn dojo floor. Wanted to kiss the anger from your mouth, to pull your thighs apart and fuck every trace of Suguru off your skin until there was nothing left but him.
His jaw ticks.
⊠why the hell were his cursed residuals on you?
He pauses, chopsticks halfway to his mouth, appetite curdling by the second.
Itâs been yearsâyears since heâs felt it, but heâd know it anywhere. Heâs felt it laced through battlefields, curled around corpses, stitched into silenceâand once, long ago, wrapped around a friend who stood beside him when they believed in the same world.
Itâs changed since thenâmuted, frayed at the edgesâbut it still clings like memory.
And tonight, it clung to you.
He sets the chopsticks down. Just for a moment. The food sours on his tongue, heavy in his gut. And he doesnât know if itâs jealousy or fear or something darkerâsomething uglierâbut it gnaws at him all the same. Because if Suguruâs cursed energy was on you⊠then Suguru had been close.
Too close.
And thatâs the problem, isnât it? Proximity. The reminder that no matter how far heâs tried to keep it buried, their paths will always curve back toward each other. Sooner or later. Like gravity. Like fate.
A muscle jumps in his jaw. Thatâs his duty. One heâs managed to stave off with excuses and avoidance, with silence and denial. But the truth presses at the edges of his mind, sharp and merciless.
Itâs only a matter of time.
He knows what it will demand of him. What heâs going to have to do.
a/n. hello my darlings! i hope you enjoyed this part. i intended it to be longer but i couldn't do another 20k one lol, i think i would have died. so i'm splitting it.
like i said, i really want this growth to feel earned and realistic. reader is starting to stand up for herself, satoru is having to sit with his own shame - something this man NEVER feels. this is just the beginning. our couple has a lot to work through. there are still a LOT of messy feelings going on. but as you can see, satoru is clueless. utterly, completely clueless. this man is so emotionally constipated and incapable đââïž he thinks sex fixes everything. bruh. i wish it did.
gosh there is prob more i could yap about. there are lots of clues i dropped, i wonder if you can pick up on them. BUT... as i'm typing this ya'll are waiting for me to post it so i'm gonna post it now, hehe. anyways - would love to hear your thoughts and i love you all! thanks for reading and supporting this fic đ„č mwah!
𧥠summary: what you intended to be a distraction from your unfortunate crush on your best friend turns into your worst possible nightmare; you sent pictures - those kind of pictures - to the wrong person on accident. the person on the other end? jungwon - your best friend of many years and the absolute last person youâd want to damage your friendship with. youâd do anything to keep it from falling apart, so you head out for a late night visit to the dance studio.
đ genre: best friends to lovers, fluff, slight angst, smut
𧥠rating: 18+ (mdni)
đ word count: 18,040 words (oof)
𧥠content warnings: reader is down bad for bestie jungwon and doesn't relalize it's mutual, reader sends lewds, trope of âoh no i sent these pics to my best friend iâm in love with what do i do,â dancer!wonie bc i feel like thatâs a warning by itself, love confessions, kissing, making out, groping, cursing, dirty talk, lots of praise, hair pulling, both are very sensitive bc âšin love thingsâš, fingering, mirror shenanigans, hand curved around jaw, oral (m.), jake is kinda a menace tbh but itâs for the plot everyone still loves him ofc
It was a typical Friday night, or at least it started out that way. You usually would come over every week or every other week on Fridays to watch movies or play games with Jungwon and his roommates â Jay, Jake, and Heeseung â who were also your friends.
Sometimes, Jungwon would work in a dance practice session before you guys could hang out, which was why you were here now in the studio, having watched him dance for the last hour.
Jungwon glanced up at you through the mirror as he heard you approach. He knelt down to re-tie his shoelaces that had come undone during practice.
"Sorry, I need to stay. I'm in the zone â don't wanna let go of that energy."
Your arms were crossed and you gave him your best pout. Which you already knew would have zero effect in this situation because your best friend was stubborn as hell, especially when it came to dancing.
It was one of the many things you admired about him, though: his passion. So even if you were a little bummed that your plans had somewhat fallen through last minute, you couldn't find it in yourself to be that upset.
"You're also my ride homeâ" you tried to reason before you were cut off by an arm slinging itself around your shoulder, the sudden weight making you stumble.
"You can ride with us back to our place!" Jake reached out to steady you with his hand that wasn't attached to the arm he nearly knocked you over with. "We're all going to the same place anyway."
"And besides," Jake leaned in closer to you, but didn't really make an attempt to lower his volume, "it gives us more time to hang out by ourselves, yeah?"
Jake was now giving you his best puppy dog eyes and honestly how could you ever say no to that? You smiled and nodded, laughing when Jake pulled you closer into his side.
"Sleepover!" He pumped a fist into the air before he finally released you. "I'll probably sit in the back of the car if, ya know â you wanna join or anything."
Jay simply rolled his eyes as he packed his gear and Heeseung was too busy downing a bottle of water to notice Jake being extra. You simply giggled at his antics before you turned to see what Jungwon thought of it all.
Jungwon was still in the same spot, hands frozen as he held his shoelaces. He was looking directly at Jake, and his jaw was slightly clenched.
"Wonie?"
He blinked at the sound of your voice and shook his head quickly, like he was trying to bring himself back to the present. His eyes focused on you and he gave you a soft smile. "Hm?"
"You good?"
"Yeah, uh, just making sure that I'm all set before I start the routine again." He finished tying his shoe before hopping back up like the abrupt change in altitude was nothing.
This time, it was Jungwon's arm that found its way around your shoulders as he pulled you into a hug. A small 'oof' expelled from you at the sudden movement, not expecting that you would collide with his chest the way you did.
Being in this position hugging him was the farthest thing from unfamiliar, but the heat radiating off of him made it feelâŠdifferent somehow.
"If you're staying the night, use my room, ok?"
You pulled back so you could look up at him, but his expression was hard to read.
"You want me to stay in your room?"
"Mhm." He hugged you closer for another moment before letting you go. His hand fell to your waist casually, like it was supposed to be there. "You can use my bed, and I've got a t-shirt I'm sure you can find if you need something comfortable to sleep in."
It wasn't like you'd never slept in his bed before, because you'd taken dozens of naps at his place, sometimes even with him in the bedâŠa respectable distance away, but still.
Even so, you didn't want to impose. "Wonie, I can sleep on you guys' couch, it's no big dealâ"
"Nah, you'll sleep better in my bedâ in my room." He corrected himself quickly and ran a hand through his hair, his blonde locks the slightest bit wavy with how damp they'd gotten from practice. "Think of it as my way of making it up to you since I can't drive you back."
"We'll look after her, don't worry." Jake slid over to you both, making it obvious that he'd just been eavesdropping on your conversation. "And my bed is plenty big enough for two, if you get lonely during the night." Jake added a wink for dramatic effect.
Jungwon's grip tightening on your waist took you by surprise.
It wasn't like Jungwon didn't want people showing you attention or anything like that. It was more like⊠after seeing you get treated badly one too many times, he'd had enough of it.
Was Jungwon protective of you? Always. Did all of your friends know that? Of course?
Did Jake care that his flirty nature was a little too much at times? Absolutely not.
"Thanks, Jake," you tried to be polite, but he really was going for it tonight. He'd always been more of the teasing sort, and you couldn't deny he was of the most charming people you'd ever met.
Jake had cranked the level up to 11 tonight for some reason, and the way Jungwon was reacting had your mind sprinting off into different directions.
"See you soon," Jake grinned at you as he stuffed his hands in the pockets of his black hoodie. He pulled the hood up and faced Jungwon, looking a little more serious now. "Hey, don't push yourself too hard, ok? You know you're the best â no one's better for this than you."
Jungwon blinked before nodding, holding you a little looser now as he smiled back at Jake. "Thanks, I need that reassurance sometimes."
Jake clapped a hand on Jungwon's shoulder before he left to join Jay and Heeseung near the door leading out of the studio.
Jungwon pulled you closer briefly into a side hug. "Guess you better go with them."
"I can stayâ"
"Nope," Jungwon was already gently ushering you towards your friends. "I've already taken up enough of your time tonight."
"Time with you is never wasted, so I disagree." When you said the words, it didn't feel like they had any weight to them. The look on Jungwon's face, however, had you second guessing yourself for a moment.
Was that too far? Surely not. You've said way more incriminatingâ no, embarrassing things to him before. Something about it this time just seemed⊠different.
Maybe it was the way his hand was still on your waist as he walked with you to the front of the studio. Maybe it was the way that you could feel the heat radiating from him where he touched you, even through layers of clothing.
Maybe it was because Jungwon was Jungwon. And you were you.
That's all the two of you had ever beenâ and that was enough.
Before you could think on it too long, you tuned in once again to the men in front of you.
Jake was talking to Jay about something, and as usual Jay just looked on fondly with a puzzled, but very amused, expression. Heeseung was looking over the fliers that had been pasted to the window at the front, adding notes in his phone for important dates like recitals, mandatory practices, etc.
"Text me when you're home?" Jungwon retracted his hand and you missed the warmth immediately. "Well, when you're back at my place."
"Don't worry, loverboy, we'll take good care of her," Jake offered as Jay started pushing him out the door. He was mumbling something to Jake that sounded like "If you don't go get in the carâ"
Heeseung waved and smiled at Jungwon before he followed the others, you right behind him as Jungwon closed the door when you finally stepped out into the cool night air.
The ride back to their place was pleasant â you always had a good time with them â but you couldn't shake this feeling that something was off.
[wonieđ] 10:08 PM: (but also yeah, because it's you)
You couldn't hold back your smile that time, catching Jake's attention as he was mid-ramble.
"What's got you grinning like that? Won already coming back?"
Jay chuckled and Heeseung went to raid the kitchen to find what you assumed would be ramen.
"No," you rolled your eyes playfully at Jake, "I was just letting him know we got here safe."
"Uh huh," Jake's sly smile didn't go unnoticed by you. "You let him know we were back home safe or that you were safe?"
Jake's knowing tone made you subtly shift from foot to foot. "âŠdoes it matter?"
Jake shrugged. "Guess not." He plopped down onto the couch before he resumed his conversation with Jay, this time with you listening in.
"I'm just saying â either she's into me, or she's asking me for advice on how to get another guy's attention."
Jay hummed like he was thinking it over. "And she did that by asking if you'd be alright with her sending you pictures?"
Heeseung called your name from the kitchen, prompting you to look over your shoulder. He raised a soda can to see if you wanted one, but you politely declined with a smile and shake of your head. He returned your smile before his head poked back into the fridge.
Jake groaned like he was personally offended by Jay's comment. "Not just pictures, bro. She asked if she could send me nudes."
Jay shoved Jake's shoulder and Jake retaliated with a shocked "What the hell, man?" You giggled at the absurdity of it all.
Jay, instead, groaned at the audacity and asked "Why are you always so crass?"
Jake shrugged. "Scorpio bullshit, I guess."
"We have a guest." Jay glanced over at you quickly, almost fast enough you didn't see it.
Jake followed the movement until his eyes landed on you. "Her?" He sputtered out a laugh. "C'mon, she doesn't care. We're all adults here, right?"
You sat in one of the chairs on the other side of the room, amused as always by Jake and Jay's push-and-pull with their discussions. "I don't care if you guys don't. Plus, I'm kinda curious to see what wisdom you're going to give us."
Jake made an exaggerated movement with his hand, motioning at you. "See? Thank you." Jay rolled his eyes but didn't disagree further.
Heeseung had joined the three of you now, bowl of ramen in one hand and a drink in the other while he sat in the chair next to you. "Ok so," Heeseung started, "she asked to send you nudes. Then what?"
For how much you sometimes thought Heeseung was in his own world when things were going on, he really did pay close attention to what was happening around him.
"Well I told her of course she could, duh," Jake said it like it was the most logical answer in the world. "I told her that it's one sure fire way to show your interest in a guy â at least if you have some inkling that he likes you back."
"It is?" Your voice even surprised you, because you thought you'd asked that question in your head.
Jake smiled. "Mhm." The smile stretched into a sly grin, one you knew all too well. "Why? You got someone you wanna send some pics to?"
You could feel your face heat up as you quickly shook your head. "No, justâŠwas wondering, is all."
"Fair. Well, if you ever want to send some to anyone, then by all means, I'm availableâ"
Jake barely got the last word out before Jay was smacking him with a couch cushion.
"What is your deal tonight?!" Jake was trying to fight the onslaught of pillowy punches.
"I could ask you the same thing," Jay nearly yelled back. "I swear, sometimes it's like you want to dig your own grave."
Jake managed to wrestle the cushion away from Jay before tossing it to the floor. Heeseung kicked it further out of the way but made no other moves to intervene.
"You're telling me if she wanted to send you nudes that you would be opposed?"
Jay's mouth hung open for a second as he looked back and forth between you, Jake, Heeseung â who was happily eating his ramen without a care in the world, then back to you again.
"Yesâ I mean, no, uh," Jay couldn't hold eye contact with you. "Personally I would say no because we're really good friends. No offense."
Jay offered you a smile but it felt like there was more he wasn't telling you.
"You're a different breed than me, then. If one of my really good friends was hot," Jake paused for a moment to catch your eye before he continued, smirking devilishly "and she wanted to send some to me, there's no way I'm turning that down."
You gulped. "Good to know."
Heeseung chuckled beside you, shaking his head at his friends' nonsense he was witnessing.
"Anyways," Jay said it with a tone of what you thought might be finality. "It's kinda late so I'm turning in soon. You have everything you need?"
You realized Jay was asking you that, having gotten lost in your own thoughts for a moment. "Huh? Yeah, I think so. Wonie said I could use whatever I needed from his room."
"I'm sure he did," Jake mumbled, still loud enough for you to hear. He followed Jay's lead and stood up from the couch, stretching his limbs as he did. "Sure you don't want company? I wasn't lying when I said my bed is big enough for two, you know."
Jay started pulling Jake toward their rooms at the opposite end of the apartment by the hood on his jacket before you could respond. "Goodnight," Jay addressed both you and Heeseung as he walked away, Jake waving as he was dragged along.
You laughed as Jake waved while he was being drug away, barely catching Jay say something like "One day I may not be here to save your assâ"
"Guess I'm gonna wind down, too." Heeseung yawned before he got up to clean his dishes. "You're free to stay in here of course, but I figured you're probably ready to head to Won's room and just chill."
His yawn triggered your own, the action making you realize then just how tired you really were. "Yeah, that sounds like the move."
Heeseung smiled before he turned around to face the sink. "Sleep well," he said over his shoulder, not waiting for you to acknowledge him before he turned the faucet on.
"You too," you hoped you said it at a volume he could hear over the water, but even if you hadn't, you knew Heeseung well enough that he would know you responded if he didn't hear it.
When you closed Jungwon's room door behind you, the search for a t-shirt started. You knew what drawer Jungwon kept most of his shirts in, and right on top you found a dark blue one that you recognized as being one you'd worn on several occasions at this point.
If you thought about it hard enough, you might even remember Jungwon telling you that he basically always put that shirt near the top for you because you seemed to like it so much. He also once joked about just giving it to you, but then that would 'take the fun out of you wearing something that was his.'
That man really did confuse you sometimes.
Certain things he said and special moments the two of you shared had made you wonder in the past if there really was more to your friendship. It obviously didn't help that you had â and have had for a while â a massive crush on him. You always tried your best to push those feelings down because your friendship mattered more to you than anything else probably ever could. But right now, here, in his room, wearing his shirt while you waited on him to get homeâŠ
Well, sometimes it was fun to imagine, right?
You changed clothes, slightly mortified at the fact that you'd forgotten to bring shorts with you. Of course, you had left your place in a kind of frenzy because Jungwon has decided he needed to get some dance practice in right then, which changed your plans. You didn't mind the plan changed, but him grabbing your hand to rush both of you out the door of your place didn't leave you much time to grab anything extra as you left.
You were a little nervous to lay in his bed without them. It wasn't like it'd be wrong or bad of you to do so, it just felt quiteâ intimate.
Even though Jungwon wasn't there with you. The fact that it was his clothes and his bed was enough.
Your chest had that familiar ache starting, the one that always presented itself whenever you thought about Jungwon too much in a specific way, when you thought about him in a way that you could never have.
When you thought about being his completelyâ not just being his best friend, but also his person. You thought about meaning to him what he meant to you.
You thought about loving him as more than your best friend.
When your head hit the pillow, you sighed, trying to whisk away all the pesky thoughts that plagued you in that moment. Dwelling on it didn't help anyone, and pining like this would only draw you in further and make it harder for you to claw your way back out.
Your phone vibrated, helping somewhat with bringing you out of your spiral.
[wonieđ] 11:15 PM: hey, i'm almost done here, be back soon. i'll try not to wake you if you're asleep when i come in
Always so considerate. It was just one of the many things you loved about him. You sent him a response and before you closed out of your messages screen, your eyes drifted down to see [jakeđ¶] sitting a few people under Jungwon in your most recent contacts.
The conversation from earlier came back to you then.
"âŠit's one sure fire way to show your interest in a guy â at least if you have some inkling that he likes you back."
Did you have an 'inkling' Jungwon liked you back, or was it just wishful thinking?
And what did it even matterâ there was no way in hell that you would sending any photos of that sort to Jungwon in the hopes of getting his attention.
âŠtaking pictures, howeverâŠthat was a different story.
Before you could chicken out, suddenly confident from the slight adrenaline rush you had at the idea, you slid out from under the covers and sat on top of Jungwon's bed.
Seeing yourself in the mirror across from his bed gave you an idea of a certain pose you thought might look nice. You bit your lip while you contemplated, noticing how the lighting in the room would probably look better if you adjusted it just a little bitâ
Within a few minutes, you had a setup that you were proud of: you had turned the lighting to more of a blueish hue (Jungwon had taught you how and knew you liked that setting, so he also had it like that a lot when you were over), your phone was set up to where it could take pictures of you through the mirror without you having to hold it or it be in the way, and you were perched almost at the edge of his bed.
You set the camera timer and took a few photos in a pose you felt comfortable with. You exposed skin, but not too muchâ just enough to leave a little to the imagination. It was exhilarating, not just the act of doing this but where you were doing it; almost like being in Jungwon's room emboldened you to do things that you normally wouldn't.
When you were satisfied with one of the pictures, you saved it and deleted the others before you fixed Jungwon's room back to how it was before you got there (aside from the lights, of course). It was easier then for you to fall asleep since you felt like some kind of weight had been liftedâ you just didn't know what.
Jungwon met you in your dreams, but this time, you welcomed the feeling without trying to fight it.
Soft whispers and a nudge against your shoulder woke you up. You made some incoherent noises as you stirred, blinking as someone came into view.
"Hey there, sleepyhead." Jungwon smiled, sitting down next to you now that you were awake. "I hated waking you but I also wanted to check on you."
"Hi, Wonie," you greeted him back, a slight slur to your voice since you had been sleeping pretty hard. "Happy you're home."
His laughter was soft, and it probably could have lulled you back to sleep if he did it long enough. You faintly were aware of him brushing some of your hair out of your face.
"Me too. Always nice to see you here when I get back."
That had you feeling a little more awake. Your eyes opened more now, and it was then that you noticed Jungwon in front of you. He had on different clothes than the ones he'd been dancing in, and his hair was considerably damp from what you could tell.
He must've already taken a shower and changed before waking you up, and that honestly had you feeling some kind of way.
"I thought about waking you up before I got a shower," Jungwon went on â he had to have the ability to read your mind or something. "You know, just so you'd be aware I'm here if you woke up. But you looked so peaceful I couldn't fathom waking you. I hope that's ok."
His hand was still near your face from where he'd brushed your hair away, and in a moment of bravery, you placed your hand on top of his. The small hitch in his breath had your heart rate picking up.
"It's more than ok. This is your space, Wonie, you're free to do whatever you want."
Jungwon gulped. "R-Right. Well, uh," he slowly pulled his hand away from yours, running it through his hair afterwards. "I'm sure you probably wanna get back to sleep soon, so I'll leave you to itâ"
You frowned. "Where are you going?"
Jungwon looked at you like it was obvious as he jerked his thumb behind him towards the bedroom door. "I'm going to go sleep on the couch? I'm not making you move out of my bed when you look this comfy."
You smiled and gently grabbed his wrist, tugging him forward a little bit, making him stumble. "Don't be sillyâ we can share the bed."
"Oh," Jungwon choked out. "Um, I mean, yeah, we can."
"We've taken naps before, right?" You yawned before you continued, your eyes slowly starting to droop closed again. "It'll be just like that, but kinda different."
Jungwon's lack of an answer had your eyes opening. "Unless you don't want toâ I don't want you to be uncomfortableâ"
"No, no, never," Jungwon rushed out, his free hand coming down to rest on top of yours that was still wrapped around his wrist. "I'm fine with sharing the bed. Only if you're ok with it, though."
"I wouldn't have made the suggestion if I wasn't." You tried teasing him a little with your tone, but all you did is manage to sound sleepier. The soft laugh you got in return was still worth it.
"Well then, I guess make some room for me. I'll give you as much space as I can." Jungwon walked over to the opposite side of the bed as you shimmied closer to the side you were laying on. You didn't really care about the space issues, but you also wanted him to be comfortable.
When he was settled in under the covers, you could almost feel how rigid his posture was with him trying to stay as far away as possible. Definitely not what you would consider comfortable.
"Wonie?" You didn't even bother looking over your shoulder.
"Y-Yeah?"
"You know you can come closer, right?"
A few seconds of silence before you felt the bed shifting behind you as Jungwon shuffled forward some. There was still some distance between the two of you, but you figured he wasn't at risk of falling off the bed anymore, at the very least.
"This ok?" He sounded hesitant, voice low like if he spoke any louder he might shatter the illusion of you both being here like this.
"Mhm," you nodded. Then you looked over your shoulder at him. "But you can still come closer, if you want."
"Do youâŠwant me to?"
"Do you want to," you tossed the question back to him. It didn't matter if you wanted to cuddle up with him while he held you close â if he didn't want that then it wouldn't happen.
He moved slightly behind you before he answered. "I, uh, I do, but only if you're fine with itâ"
You didn't let him finish, instead opting for reaching behind you to grab his arm and pull him closer. When he was closer to you, his hand accidentally brushed against your thigh.
"Shit, sorry, I didn't mean to," he paused. "WaitâŠyou didn't bring shorts?"
It was your turn to be flustered now, and in all honesty, you had forgotten about that small detail since you'd fallen asleep.
"I didn't get a chance to grab any when we left my place," you willed your voice to stay steady and not betray your panic. "I'm sorry, I can leave ifâ"
"No," Jungwon's hand landed on your arm, where he patted you reassuringly. "Stay. Please."
You tried to relax then. "Just do what feels right, Wonie."
His hand stopped moving against your arm for a second where he'd been lazily tracing patterns you couldn't identify. "You sure?"
You looked at him over your shoulder and smiled. "I trust you."
It seemed like you finally gave Jungwon the confirmation he needed to hear for him to relax with you. His hand disappeared from your arm, and then you felt his arm snake around your waist a moment later as he pulled your closer. He didn't pull you flush against him, but his arm was secure around you, like he didn't dare let you go.
"This ok?" You could feel how close he was to your neck when he spoke, voice quiet, almost inaudible.
You nodded. "It's better than ok." His hand flexed against your stomach in response.
You mumbled out what you hoped sounded like 'goodnight,' not really minding much since you were already halfway back to dreamland. You felt Jungwon chuckle behind you.
After a few moments, he finally responded, his words leaving you with a smile as you drifted back to sleep.
When you woke in the morning, the first thing you noticed was the warmth pressed up against your back, then the arm still looped around your waist. At some point in the night, it seemed like Jungwon had ended up pulling you closer against him â whether intentionally or while sleeping, though, you weren't sure. Jungwon's steady breathing behind you gave you a sense of peace.
Unfortunately for you, the peace didn't last long.
Jungwon let out what sounded like a sigh, his breath tickling your neck and making you shiver in surprise. That was when you felt it â when you felt him.
The slight brush against him was all you needed to be able to tell he was hard. And not just, like, a little bit. Hard enough for you to notice he was rather bigâ
Morning wood, your brain tried to reason, but whatever it was it did not help you with remaining calm in the slightest.
You shifted awkwardly as you tried to think of a way to shimmy yourself from his grasp. The small grunt he let out at your movement made you freeze before he pulled you in even closer, his grip tightening around you. You gasped as you collided against his chest, feeling your current problem against the back of your thighs.
You hated that you found yourself in this situation merely because you knew Jungwon would be mortified the moment he woke up. You hated yourself more for the fact that, if you put logic aside, you quite liked this.
Stupid conflicting feelings. Stupid Jungwon with his stupidly attractive face and his ridiculously strong arm and his very distracting problem behind youâ
You had to get out of here. Fast. You gulped quickly and shut your eyes.
"Wonie," you called out softly. You hated every moment of this because you'd much rather fall back asleep in his embrace, even in the 'compromising' position you found yourself.
He barely stirred behind you, groaning again when he came into contact with you. Your mind was running rampant as you bit your lip to stifle any unnecessary sounds.
"Wonie, hey," you tried a little louder this time. "It's time to wake up."
This time you managed to get his attention, and his face nuzzled against your shoulder. "Hm?"
You didn't say anything else, you simply let him process as he slowly woke up. It took maybe 10 seconds before he let out a sharp gasp behind you.
"Oh, fuck, oh my god, I'm so sorry," his voice was somewhat shaky and you wanted nothing more than to console him in that moment. "This is so embarrassing, godâ"
"Hey, it's ok," you tried to soothe him as you looked at him over your shoulder. He still had his arm wound tightly around you, so turning completely in his hold didn't seem like the best idea.
When his eyes met yours, he shut his immediately. "It's not ok, I can't believe this happened, well I actually can, but uhâ"
You reached an arm back as best you could, hoping that if you cupped his face he might calm down. It had the complete opposite effect, causing you both to let out startled noises when he bucked up against you as your fingers brushed along his jawline.
"Fuck, maybe don't, uh, touch me right now?" He laughed nervously.
"Right, yeah, whatever you need," you were matching his nervous demeanor, despite your best efforts not to.
Truth be told: you really weren't uncomfortable, not at all. Quite the opposite, in fact.
Waking up in bed next to your best friend you were devastatingly in love with, and him being in this state at the same time? Truly a win for you, honestly. Especially considering how he was reacting while awake.
Your excitement about the situation made you feel bad though, since Jungwon clearly didn't share the same sentiment, at least from what you could tell. So you kept those thoughts to yourself, like you did most of your thoughts about Jungwon that delved into the 'more than friendly' category.
"I need this to not be happening," he sighed in frustration. "Listen, can Iâ when I let go of you, I need you to not look at me, ok?"
You nodded, the action jostling you more than you'd hoped. Jungwon grunted again and finally released you.
As you tumbled off the bed, he was gone in a flash, running into the bathroom in his room faster than you'd ever seen him. It was pretty impressive if you thought about it.
You stood in the middle of the room, unsure of where to go while he wasâŠbusy? You couldn't hear any noise from the bathroom, but you also weren't really straining to listen because the idea made you feel even more guilty.
It was fairly late in the morning, so you figured the other guys must be up by now. Maybe trying to find some breakfast and sharing their company would placate your rattled nerves.
Or at least they would if not for the fact that you still didn't have shorts to wear. You didn't want to put on your clothes from the previous day, so you made a choice.
These men had been around you long enough and had surely seen your legs before, so it shouldn't be that big of a deal, right?
You forgot about one small detail: Jake also lived here.
And even if it was only morning, he was still ruthless in his flirting attempts.
You tried tiptoeing out of Jungwon's room and shutting the door quietly, but the low whistle across the room quickly clued you in to how not subtle you were being.
"Well, you sure are a sight for sore eyes." Jake was grinning ear to ear. Beside him on the couch, Jay rolled his eyes before offering you a soft smile, almost like he was saying 'sorry.' Heeseung acknowledged you with a head nod before he resumed eating his cereal.
"Thanks, Jake," you tried to give them a smile back but it probably came out more like a grimace based on Heeseung's slightly concerned face.
"No problem. Always happy to compliment a pretty lady when I see one." He winked at you, which didn't help your nerves at all. You slowly made your way over to the chair you usually sat in, trying to tug down Jungwon's shirt as much as possible.
You silently sat and watched for a few minutes as the boys casually spoke about their plans for the day. Jungwon still hadn't joined the four of you in the living room yet. You couldn't help but let your thoughts drift to⊠ideas about what might be taking him this long.
"Why don't you come sit next to me," Jake broke you out of your stupor as he patted the seat beside him. You blinked and looked over.
There was enough room for you, sure, but it would've put you in pretty close proximity to Jake. Which, you didn't really mind, but the only one you wanted to be close to now was Jungwonâ
Alright feelings, reel it in.
"That seat's taken," Jay piped up. Jake gave him a confused look before trying again.
"Bro, there's literally nothing in this seatâ"
Jay placed one of the pillows on the couch in the spot before Jake was finished. "Now there is."
Heeseung laughed into his cereal and you even let out a chuckle yourself. Jake groaned and let his head fall against the couch. "Why do you do these things?"
Jay scoffed, appalled. "Why do you do these things? I'm trying to help you."
He might've thought he was speaking low enough for his voice to not carry, but you still heard anyway. You spared a glance at Heeseung and he simply shrugged.
"What, you want me to lie? She looks damn good like that," Jake pushed further. You could feel heat across your face, which only intensified when you heard movement from around the corner.
"Who looks good like what now?" Jungwon's voice was still deeper than usual, since he hadn't been awake long, but he looked significantly less flustered. He was standing next to your chair, one hand in his pocket while the other was holding something.
"I brought some of my shorts for you â they'll probably be a little loose, but you can tie them as tightly as you need to."
"Of course, always Jungwon to the rescue." The words dripped from Jake with exaggeration and Jay coughed awkwardly.
You ignored Jake's comment as you took the shorts with shaky hands, your chest feeling fuzzy at the fact that Jungwon had remembered during his⊠peril. "Thanks, I'll, uh, I'll go change."
"Whose shirt are you even wearing anyway?" You heard Jake call after you, but before you could answer, Jungwon's voice cut through the air â sharp, but calm.
"Mine."
You closed Jungwon's bedroom door and quickly changed, not wanting to miss any of what might be going on outside. Jake liked to push Jungwon â playfully, of course â and you usually found the interactions to be very amusing.
This morning, however, Jungwon didn't seem to be in a 'playful' mood. This was even more evident when you walked back outside and he was now sitting in your chair.
Jake knocked the pillow off the spot next to him and gestured to it like it was the only viable option. You took one step toward himâ
âbut you were instantly tugged backward by a hand on your wrist.
You landed softly on Jungwon's lap with your back against his chest. Thankfully, this time, he felt normal underneath you. But your heartbeat picked up anyway due to the fact that he has just put you in his lap on purpose.
Not only that, but he wrapped both arms around you from behind, placing his chin on your shoulder. You felt like you couldn't breathe or the illusion might shatter.
Except this was happening, this was real. And your thoughts were even more out of control than before.
Anytime Jungwon showed even a shred of possessiveness it always made your chest feel fluttery. This was one of the most possessive type of gestures you'd ever seen from him, and coming off the heels of staying with him last night and your shared time this morning, the entire situation had you feeling lost for words.
"Aw, c'mon Won, lighten up. Not my fault she looks good in your clothes." Jake dragged out the word 'your,' for a reason you couldn't place. Jungwon's arms tightened around you.
"I know she does."
His bluntness took you off guard, and it didn't seem like it was just you â Jake also raised his eyebrows in surprise.
"Noted." Jake blinked before a sinister grin stretched across his face. "Hey, maybe if you're ever over and Won isn't here, you can borrow some of my clothes, yeah? Bet you'd look just as goodâ"
"No need to betâ you won't be finding out." Jungwon pulled you closer then, the action making you gasp softly.
Jay's mouth was hanging open as he looked between Jungwon and Jake before his stare rested on you. Heeseung had stopped eating his cereal, spoon still halfway to his mouth, full of another bite.
Jake held his hands up in defense, finally conceding, thankfully. "Whatever you say, man. Just teasing is all." His smug smile made you think there was more to his methods, but you let it drop for now.
Jungwon nodded (at least from what you could tell since he still had his chin on your shoulder) and that was the end of that interaction. The silence in the room wasn't tense, but if you had to describe it as anything, it was present.
Jay started up a new conversation, pulling Jake in instantly and even roping in Heeseung since it was about a game the three of them were playing. You watched with fondness in your gaze, resting against Jungwon's chest. You let out a happy sigh, and he readjusted his arms around you.
"Hey," he said quietly, voice right by your ear given the position you were in, "you doing ok?"
"Mhm," you nodded and looked to the side to give him a smile. He returned it, and you finally noticed that he looked a littleâŠshy, perhaps?
"Good. Didn't wanna scare you away withâ well, everything this morning."
You laughed as you leaned your head back against his shoulder and closed your eyes. "Nothing you do will ever keep me away. You're stuck with me â no returns, no refunds, no exchanges."
Jungwon chuckled beneath you, and one of his hands rested on your thigh now. "And I wouldn't have it any other way."
The rest of the morning was chill and calm, a break from the internal chaos you'd been experiencing for a little over maybe 12 hours now. At some point you dozed off, feeling comfortable and safe in Jungwon's warm embrace.
After you woke up some time later, you noticed that during your slumber, Jungwon had wrapped one of his pinkys around yours. He was still asleep underneath you, letting out soft snores against your shoulder while one arm was still curled around your waist.
It'd only been a few days but your feelings were more out of sorts than ever. Each time you and Jungwon hung out now there was some kind of weird energy between the two of you â not weird in a bad way, but just strange. Like you couldn't tell if he might've been feeling more like you were or if you truly were destined to stay this way forever â always the best friend, but never more than that.
For example, anytime Jake was around now, if Jungwon was there, he had to be touching you. Either his hand was brushing against yours, his arm was around your shoulders, he had a hand on your waist when you were beside him, basically anything like that.
Subtle, but very clearly saying: I'm here.
Did that deter Jake from flirting? Not really, but he did tone down the frequency of his comments at least, and for that you were grateful.
You knew there was no bad blood between Jungwon and Jake; they'd been close friends for too long to let lighthearted teasing shake things up. But you'd known Jungwon longer, and you know that for Jungwon, you were his best friend. And maybe that's why Jake being more bold bothered him the way it did.
You wouldn't delude yourself into thinking otherwise, because that would just get your hopes up before they inevitably came crashing down once again.
All these thoughts were racing through your mind while you sat with your back against the wall in the dance studio. Your arms were propped up on your knees as you watched Jungwon and Heeseung practice a routine for an upcoming show.
Jungwon decided today would be an amazing day to wear a black tank top and gray sweatpantsâ because who needs sanity, right?
Heeseung was a little more modest in his choice of clothing, a white t-shirt and black sweats, but Jungwon was distracting enough on his own that you didn't think it'd matter what Heeseung wore, your eyes would still be glued to him.
His blonde hair was damp from sweat, and he kept having to push it out of his face midway through their repeats of the routine. Heeseung called for a 5 minute break, and Jungwon started jogging over to you, big smile on his face.
"Did you see that? We're so close to nailing it, I can taste it."
That phrasing wasn't helping you think appropriate thoughts, especially not when this close you could see beads of sweat rolling down his neck and ending at the dip in his collarbone.
"You guys are doing great," you stood up and offered him his water bottle with a genuine smile, looking up at the ceiling afterwards to avert your focus from watching his Adam's apple bob when he drank from the bottle.
God, you really needed to get a grip. And not a grip of Jungwonâ you needed to pull yourself together.
Jungwon seemed pleased with your praise, wiping the back of his mouth before he handed the water back. "Sorry I'm a bit messy right now, I know it's not like, the most appealing sightâ"
"You're one of my favorite sights, no matter what."
The words slipped out before you could control them. There was no brain-to-mouth filter: only untethered feelings escaping you and taking up space in the atmosphere.
Jungwon blinked once, twice, before he stammered out an "O-oh. Thank you."
"R-right," it was your turn to stammer now, "well, uh, don't let me hold you up. Go get 'em!"
You tried to turn Jungwon around so he could walk back over to Heeseung, but when your hands reached out for his shoulders, he caught them with his own.
"By the way," he leaned in closer, giving your hands a small squeeze. You swore all other sound faded out in that moment.
"You're one of my favorite sights, too. Always."
You couldn't breathe. Jungwon's soft tone and closeness had you feeling intoxicated, and all you could do was nod in acknowledgement. He flashed that beautiful smile you saw all the time in your dreams before releasing your hands and turning around on his own.
"We don't have to stay too much longer, ok? Promise!" Without looking back, he held a hand up with his pinky outstretched â promising.
You sunk back to the floor, wrapping your arms around your legs this time (pinky out as you did). Jungwon really gave you whiplash sometimes, and your body was flush with a heat you didn't usually feel, at least not this intensely.
Not out in the open, not here in the actual vicinity of Jungwon. This was a feeling you mostly kept to yourself, left between you and your bed on nights where you were tangled in your sheets, frustrated while you tried to pleasure yourself and calling out the name of the only one you wanted: him.
Today was going to be a long day. You rested your forehead on your knees, already anticipating things to get much worse.
And they did â just not in the way you'd expected.
Back at your own place now, you couldn't get the images of Jungwon dancing out of your head. The way he moved so fluidly, like his body was influencing the music and not the other way around; you would stare at him in awe every time. You could watch him dance for hours, and had done so multiple times before, but seeing him like that today, it was like a switch had flipped.
His behavior earlier did nothing to stave off the desire you could feel creeping up and threatening to consume you. You'd gone through so many emotions in the span of a few hours and you were exhausted by it all.
Now was not the time to start spiraling over your best friend, the person who knew you better than you knew yourself, the person whose smile could always brighten your dayâ
You didn't need this breakdown. Not right now. Your thoughts were already muddled enough with all these (re)surfacing feelings about Jungwon.
You needed a distraction. Your mind drifted to Jake, who had been a bit more flirtatious than usual lately.
Were you thinking clearly? Not really.
But you'd try anything to get the stupid thoughts to shut the fuck up for once.
You remembered then the picture you'd taken the night you stayed over at Jungwon's place, in his room, posing on his bed. It was burning a hole in your camera roll, just waiting for you to send it to someone. Waiting for you to bare yourself in a way that you only wanted one person to see.
And you could never show that person â thus was your dilemma.
Although, just because you couldn't send it to that person didn't mean you couldn't send it to anyone. And Jake did say he wouldn't mind if you sent him a picture.
And honestly? If you really thought about it, you could actually see yourself flirting back with a guy like Jake. The two of you had good chemistry already as friends, and it was safe to bet that there was a mutual attraction between the two of you from the compliments you'd both give.
What would Jungwon say, though? If you started dating one of his other good friends â one of your other good friends? Especially now after he's been acting the way he has around Jake? Would he be upset, or annoyed, orâ
Would he even care to start with?
That last question left you with uneasiness in your chest. All of the pondering and 'what-ifs' started to make you feel antsy.
Without really thinking it through, you found the picture from the other night in your photo album and sent it.
[you] 8:28 PM: IMG.0902
You'd just texted Jake earlier in the day, so you knew he had to be near the top, if not at the very top, of your text list. You let out the breath youâd been holding, glad to have that out of your system. Now you could focus your attention on other thingsâ
You nearly dropped your phone as you stared wide-eyed at the screen.
âFuck,â you breathed out. âNo no no-â
[you] 8:29 PM: oh my god wait
[you] 8:29 PM: pls donât open that
[you] 8:29 PM: just
[you] 8:29 PM: donât scroll back up
[you] 8:29 PM: nothing to see up here
[you] 8:30 PM: iâll tell you some cool facts instead!!
[you] 8:30 PM: did you know that octopuses sometimes throw things when theyâre stressed
[you] 8:30 PM: just like people do
[you] 8:31 PM: crazy huh
You couldnât even see the picture message on your screen anymore, and you knew Jungwon had a similar, if not the same, phone model like yours. So, it had to also be off his screen by now.
âŠright?
Panic seeped through your body, trying to settle into your bones. Every passing minute that you didn't get a response felt like torture.
The time it took Jungwon to respond was enough time for you to think of all the ways you could salvage this. It was also long enough for you to realize the only thing you could probably do now is skip town and start a new life elsewhere.
[wonieđ] 8:38 PM: well hi to you too
[you] 8:38 PM: yes hi hello pls donât scroll up thank you đ«¶
[wonieđ] 8:38 PM: uh
[wonieđ] 8:38 PM: you know i canât just like
[wonieđ] 8:38 PM: ignore that youâre trying to hide something from me rn right?
[you] 8:38 PM: ofc you can!
[wonieđ] 8:38 PM: actually i canât
[wonieđ] 8:39 PM: itâs in the best friend handbook
[wonieđ] 8:39 PM: donât tell me you already forgot :(
Somehow, Jungwon hadnât managed to see it yet. Or he was just really good at pretending for your sake, which you wouldnât put past him at all.
A sigh of relief slipped past your lips and, like a fool, you thought for a moment that you might even be in the clear.
[wonieđ] 8:40 PM: since you forgot the sacred bestie rules, i think itâs only fair that you tell me what you're hiding
[you] 8:40 PM: jungwon i am so serious pls just forget about it
[wonieđ] 8:40 PM: using the full name?? now i gotta know what you sent me
[you] 8:40 PM: wonie donât
[wonieđ] 8:40 PM: nickname wonât save you now
The wording had your heart racing but you shoved aside the feeling for now. You were in damage control mode and everything else could wait.
[you] 8:41 PM: pls??
[wonieđ] 8:41 PM: begging? you REALLY donât want me to know do you
[you] 8:41 PM: believe me itâs better if you donât :,)
[wonieđ] 8:41 PM: huh
[wonieđ] 8:41 PM: that so?
His tone was decipherable even through a screen. You knew what was coming next.
[wonieđ] 8:42 PM: bet.
Well, it was nice having an untainted friendship while it lasted. A few minutes went by as you sat at the edge of your bed with your head in your hands.
The vibration from your phone made you squeak because you hadnât been expecting it so soon. Dread flowed through you as you opened it up to see what kind of damage had been done.
[wonieđ] 8:45 PM: oh
For some reason, you flinched. That simple âohâ hurt probably more than anything else he couldâve said. But also: why did you want him to say more when you were already mortified?
You knew why and just didnât want to admit it. You could keep the feelings in. You would keep the feelings in.
If there was any way you could crawl back from the cliff edge you were dangerously dangling yourself over, you would do it without hesitation.
Your friendship with Jungwon meant more to you than the happiness you thought you might have if you were ever more than that.
And as soon as you were done dealing with this, youâd make sure everything would be normal and fine and all good again.
Your phone vibrated again in your hold. Surprised, you opened it again.
[wonieđ] 8:46 PM: well
[wonieđ] 8:46 PM: definitely wasn't expecting that
[you] 8:46 PM: yeah well you saw it now so you can just delete it and forget what happened
[wonieđ] 8:47 PM: câmon you know me better than that
Pause. What?
Before you could question it further, another text popped up.
[wonieđ] 8:47 PM: where are you rn
[you] 8:48 PM: i'm at home. why??
[wonieđ] 8:48 PM: by yourself?
[you] 8:48 PM: yes?
You fumbled with your phone as it started vibrating wildly in your handsâthe custom vibration pattern you had set for whenever Jungwon was calling.
âŠJungwon was calling.
Could you answer him like this? Face him so soon without the guarded barrier of texted words without vocals behind them?
Your stomach swirled with anticipation as you decided âfuck it, why not.â You answered after another second of vibration.
âH-hi.â
âHey,â Jungwonâs voice wasâŠa little off. He still sounded calm, like usual, but there was a slight edge to it. âWe gonna talk about it, or?â
"About the octopus fact?" Deflection: that was your only tactic you had left up your sleeve. "It's really interesting actuallyâ"
"As much as I love hearing all your fun facts you have floating around in that pretty head of yours," Jungwon cut you off, tone sounding a little more amused now, "you and I both know what I'm asking about."
Your brain was trying to catch up with the fact that he just called you pretty. Well, more specifically your head, but you'd take what you could get.
It's not like Jungwon had never called you something like that before; he'd told you on numerous occasions when you looked nice in an outfit or he liked the way you styled your hair or something to that effect.
He'd even called you beautiful before, and you were very normal about that and definitely didn't dwell on it for 3 business days.
"Getting shy on me? Because you certainly don't look shy in that picture."
You whined. "Wonie, please delete it, it's so embarrassing."
A small chuckle filtered through the receiver. Had he always sounded that attractive over the phone?
"You sure we're talking about the same picture? Because what I'm looking atâŠ" he trailed off, leaving you to wonder where his thoughts were going.
"You're still looking at it," you nearly hissed in disbelief.
"Why wouldn't I? It's a nice picture. And if I'm not mistaken," his voice dipped lower, not a lot, but enough, "you're also wearing my shirt."
Of course he would be the one to notice that. You knew taking pics in his room had been a bad idea.
But you also felt soâŠconfident while doing it.
"You let me borrow shirts all the time, I fail to see why that's incriminating."
You did your best to keep your voice neutral, but the small hum he let out in response had the threads of your sanity fraying the longer you stayed on the phone.
"Just an observation. Was kinda hard to tell though, since you're almost not even wearing itâ"
"Jungwon!" You looked around your empty apartment, checking to make sure you were still alone, as if your outburst would cause someone to randomly appear in the room with you.
"Hey, I'm just pointing out what I'm seeing," you could almost imagine him with his hands held up in defense. "I'm not complaining either."
The conversation was taking aâŠbit more of an unexpected turn that you thought it would have. It definitely wasn't affecting you in any way, how he was talking to you. (It absolutely was affecting you.)
As if your body wanted to betray your delusions, you noticed then that your palm was sweaty and you had to readjust your grip on your phone.
It impressed you a little bit, not that you'd give him the satisfaction of knowing it, that he was able to tell the shirt was his since it was a dark blue color and the lighting in the room was also blueish in hue. You'd been very intentional about how you wanted the lighting to accentuate the shadows and highlights in the space.
If he only noticed the shirt, you could probably avoid being flustered into oblivion. He wasn't the biggest on attention to detail sometimes, so you breathed a little easier.
"WaitâŠis thatâ is that my room?"
Alright so maybe he paid a bit more attention to detail than you thought.
"Uhâ" you couldn't lie to him, you'd never been able to. "Yes."
Jungwon let out what sounded almost like a pained noise.
"Shit, ok, uhâ" nervous laughter you were unfamiliar with graced your ears. "That's, uhâ yeah."
You remembered at that moment how you were posing in the picture and you seriously wanted the ground to swallow you whole.
You were on your knees on Jungwon's bed, the same bed you slept in later that exact night, with him next to you. Your legs were slightly spread apart, thighs bare since you'd forgotten to bring shorts with you. Your hands tangled in the shirt as you were pulling it up; the hem of the shirt was only halfway up your chest, still covering you but barely. The look on your face in the picture as you stared at Jungwon's mirror was one that even you couldn't deny looked seductive.
You thought you heard Jungwon sigh; either that, or his breathing was off. "Listen, Iâ"
"I didn't mean to send it to you," you couldn't hold it in anymore. The words rushed out almost all at once, jumbled and incomprehensible to someone who didn't know any better. But you could tell by the shift you felt that Jungwon heard every word clearly.
"You didn't⊠mean to send it⊠to me?" He sounded like he was trying out the words for the first time in that order, saying them like they didn't feel right.
You gulped. "Yeah. I-I didn't."
Rustling could be heard from the other side and you desperately wanted to know what was going through his head.
"So you mean to tell me," his tone was much more stoic than it had been before, "that you took pictures looking like thatâ in my room, wearing my shirt, sitting like that on my bed."
He sounded guarded, unlike his usual tone with you. Your skin prickled as you waited for him to continue.
"You were posing in front of my mirror," a brief pause, "and you didn't mean to send it to me?"
You nodded, even though he couldn't see it. "Right. I meant to send it toâ"
"I don't wanna know," Jungwon was quick to cut you off. "It's better if I don't know, actually." He added the last part softer, almost like he didn't want you to hear it.
Your heart thumped painfully in your chest. "Wonie, I'm sorryâ"
"Nothing to be sorry for," he sounded a little more like himself, maybe even like he was smiling like he would whenever he wanted to comfort you, but you could see through it. "It was a mistake. Accidents happen. Doesn't mean I'm upset with you."
"I know, but⊠I'm still sorry." Your grasp on the phone was tight enough that you could feel the pain start to spread through your knuckles with how taut they were.
"Don't be." A moment of silence before he continued with what you knew this time was a sigh. "I need to go."
He hadn't said 'I should go' or 'I have to do something,' he said 'I need to go.'
The very specific phrasing had you panicking internally as you scrambled to fix thisâ whatever this was. "Wait, pleaseâ"
"I'll talk to you later," Jungwon ignored your plea for him to stay. You tried to swallow past the lump in your throat.
"WonieâŠ"
"Whoever it's meant for is lucky, though," he added quietly, making your breath catch. "And they better know it."
He hung up before you could answer. The dial tone had never seemed so loud.
You sat in the stifling silence of your room for a few minutes, replaying your conversation and trying to pinpoint exactly where you went wrong. The more you mulled it over, it didn't seem like Jungwon had really been bothered by the picture itself, but more so the fact that you didn't mean to send it to him.
Maybe you hadn't been imagining the possessive edge to his tone when he was talking about you being in his room wearing his clothes on his bed.
And maybe Jungwon just needed to leave to go hang out with the guys. Which would be a totally reasonable explanation as to why he would suddenly end the conversation⊠and also not invite you to tag alongâŠ
There wasn't much time to fixate on it further before your phone was going off again, but this time someone different was calling.
"Hello?" There was a small waver to your voice because your emotions were a little all over the place at the moment but you thought you managed to hide it well.
"Hey, hope I'm not bothering you," Jay was on the other end, sounding almost as confused as you were. "Do you have any idea why Won just left the apartment suddenly in the middle of the night? He's not answering his phone, so I figured if anyone knew where he went it would be you."
Your stomach lurched.
"No, he didn't say â I thought he was going somewhere with you guys."
You could picture Jay shaking his head. "Nah, he just walked out of his room and left. I don't think he even took anything like a bag with him and it's supposed to storm soon."
"I talked to him on the phone a few minutes ago but all he said was he needed to go â he's not answering when you call?"
"He hasn't answered me or Hee. I'd get Jake to try but I doubt that would work if us trying already didn't."
A feeling of guilt had clawed its way into your chest, weighing you down with each passing moment. Jungwon wasn't the type to just leave without saying something; he'd tell at least one of his friends, if he didn't already tell you.
Maybe you fucked up more than you thought.
"If he shows up there, call me, yeah? I'm not super worried, really, butâ this does seem kinda off."
You gulped. "Yeah, of course. You'll be the first to know if I find out anything."
"Thanks, and same here if we hear something before you do."
You hung up the phone after saying goodbye to Jay and wracked your brain as to where Jungwon could be. It was the middle of the night, there was bound to be rain soon so he probably wouldn't be outside, and it was somewhere he wanted to be right nowâ
You made up your mind and grabbed an umbrella along with your keys on the way out of your apartment, already knowing where to look first.
The dance studio â that was the only place that made reasonable sense. You tried a few other places before that, but honestly you should've just started with the studio to begin with.
You parked your car and noticed right away that Jungwon's car wasn't there, meaning he must've walked, despite it being later in the evening. The idea made your stomach twist further when you remembered Jay told you he left without a bag or anything.
The behavior was so unlike Jungwon. No wonder you were all worried.
You got out of the car and hesitated before you walked up to the front door of the studio. There wasn't a light on inside that you could see through the windows, but the feeling in your gut compelled you to try the doorknob anyway. When you did, it turned easily under your hand, and the door creaked open slowly.
Luckily for you, your intuition was right. It usually was when Jungwon was involved.
Light was peeking through underneath one of the doors down the hallway. It looked to be coming from the last room, if your perception could be trusted, which would also make sense because Jungwon preferred practicing in there anyway.
Music got louder as you made your way down the hall. You took a deep breath, hoping that Jungwon might not be here and maybe he went out to grab something quick and was already back home.
Another part of you hoped he was here and you weren't about to walk in on some stranger just trying to enjoy some alone time while they danced.
You wouldn't know until you tried â so with a cautious hand, you turned the door handle and gently pushed the door open. Without thinking, you locked it out of habit once you stepped in the room.
Inside the room was Jungwon, dancing more aggressively than you'd ever seen him dance before. Music was playing from his phone over the speaker in the room. You quickly texted Jay to let him know, heartbeat picking up slightly at his last response.
[jayđââŹ] 9:35 PM: thanks for letting me know
[jayđââŹ] 9:35 PM: take care of him, yeah? you're the person who does it the best
You would deal with what that could possibly mean at a later time. Right now: Jungwon.
With your eyes fixed on him now, there was a certain kind of ferocity to his moves that took your breath away. His expression that you could see through the mirror, however, hurt your chest.
His brows were furrowed in frustration and he was biting his bottom lip, hard enough that you figured it had to hurt. He was hitting every move with careful precision, but near the end of the song, he fumbled and fell to the floor, hard.
"Jungwon!" You couldn't help the cry you let out, surely inaudible to him due to the loud music that was still playing.
Jungwon sat himself up and stretched his legs out in front of him. He smacked the hardwood floor with his hand as he shouted "Fuck!"
He buried his head in his hands, pulling at the blonde strands of his hair while the music died down before the loop of audio started again.
There was no way you could sit back and watch him like this, you had to do something.
Even if you were the last person he wanted to see right now, even if he wanted nothing to do with you â he was still your best friend. He was still your Jungwon.
You ran over to him, steps barely making any sound since you were wearing lighter shoes. When you were beside him, you crouched down. One hand already was reaching out, but you didn't want to startle him, so you just hoped he'd be able to hear you.
"Wonie?" You said it as loudly as you could without yelling, still trying to do it softly even though there was just no way it would come out like that.
Jungwon flinched before he slowly removed his hands from his face. He looked over at you like he almost couldn't believe you were there next to him. His expression was pained, and you had no idea how to fix it.
He lowered the volume of the music so you didn't have to yell to be heard. "Why are you here?"
The sound of his voice broke your heart. He sounded defeated almost, and whether it was about him missing a move or something else, you still weren't sure.
"I needed to come see you. Needed to make sure you were ok."
He scoffed and looked away, the sound devastating you even further. "Why? It's not like I'm on your mind."
Ouch.
"Wonie, just talk to me, please," you tried to plead, to make him see sense.
"What is there to talk about? I'm here dancing, like usual. Nothing's wrong. You came all this way for nothing."
That may have actually been the first time Jungwon lied to you and you knew he was lying. And fuck, if that didn't also hurt.
"Why are you lying? Are you that upset with me?" You were trying not to let any tears fall but you had been through such an emotional roller coaster in the last hour alone that it was getting more difficult to hold it in.
Jungwon seemed to soften a little at that, but his jaw was still clenched. He shifted to where he was sitting with his arms propped up on his knees now, the movement making him wince slightly.
"Also you fell, are you hurtâ"
His laughter, devoid of humor, cut you off. "So you saw that? Great." He ran a hand through his hair, almost pulling on the strands. "How long were you watching me fail before you decided to let me know you were here?"
"You weren't failing, it looked like you were doing great to me."
"Maybe you just don't know what to look for."
The coldness of his tone took you by surprise. Even during fights you'd had in the past, Jungwon never seemed this distant with you. It sparked the defensive reaction in you, even though you desperately wanted anything but that to happen right now.
"I've spent countless amounts of hours watching you dance. I think I know what I'm looking at."
He scoffed. "Do you? Do you really?"
His sudden standing made you wobble a bit before you regained your balance. He was walking toward the mirrors, and you followed him with no hesitation.
"Do you really know what you're looking at when you see me? Because I don't think you do."
He was looking at you through the mirror, placing a palm on it for support.
"I see you dancing, I see your movement, I see when you manage to land what looks to be impossible. Wonie, I see how amazing you are when you dance. You come alive when the music plays."
His head turned and the sad smile on his face made your stomach drop.
"Not what I asked you."
He started walking back over to you, his steps almost hesitant. You stayed rooted where you were â afraid to move, to breathe, to even blink.
You had to find out what was going on, you needed to fix it.
"I'm asking if you see me," Jungwon reiterated, "when you watch me, when you look at me. Or do you see me as just your best friendâ just a person, something indifferent?"
Jungwon was, and always had been, so much more than 'just' anything and you'd tell him endlessly if you had to. But right now, you weren't sure what he was implying, so the thought stayed secure in your head, instead of making itself known like it probably should have.
You frowned. "I'm confused, I don't know what you're asking."
He sighed, the sound heavy like it weighed him down. "Just go home. I'll go back eventually."
His dismissal was what finally broke the dam. Tears fell now and you didn't bother to try and stop them.
"Did I fuck up that bad?"
Your voice was quiet, but it was enough. When Jungwon looked at you, any trace of prior frustration was wiped clean off his face as soon as he saw your lower lip quivering.
"Hey, waitâ"
"I understand if sending that picture fucked up things with us, and- and if you don't want anything to do with me anymoreâ"
"Whoa, hang on a second," he responded in an almost panicked voice. He reached a hand out, not sure where to place it or if he should even place it at all.
"âI need to hear it from you." You looked him in the eyes as you said it, before you angled your body away. "I need to know that's what you want."
"What I want," Jungwon placed both hands on your shoulders to turn you so you were facing him, his tone gentler now, "is for you to listen to me. Who said anything about you fucking up?"
You let out a shallow breath. "That's what this is about, isn't it? I fucked up our friendship by doing something stupid."
"No, no, you didn't do anything like that. Hey," Jungwon tilted your chin so you'd face him again, "I mean it."
He had said it with conviction, and you so badly wanted to believe him.
"Then why- why were you acting like I don't see you for who you are, or whatever the hell that meant?" You didn't want to raise your voice but it was getting harder to tame that urge. "Why are you acting like you can't stand to be near me?"
The last words came out as a sob. His hand fell from your chin while the other dropped from your shoulder.
"It's not that I don't want to be around you."
"Then what is it, Jungwon? You're giving me mixed signals." Some thoughts you had kept hidden away for a long time were filtering their way through now, words like 'mixed signals' being thrown around because you were at a loss.
"I don't know how you want me to answer that."
You inhaled, the move somewhat shaky since you'd been crying. "Answering honestly would be a good start."
Jungwon dragged a hand down his face. "Fuckâ fine. Fine." He took a deep breath before he continued.
"It's because being around you makes this harder."
That⊠wasn't what you'd been expecting to hear. You didn't really know what you were expecting, but it definitely wasn't that.
"Makes what harder? I don't understandâ"
Jungwon groaned, walking closer to the mirrors again. You followed instantly, like there was a magnetic pull between the two of you.
"It makes denying how I feel about you harder, ok?" His voice had raised somewhat, hand running through his hair again. "Please don't ask me to explain, because I don'tâ I'm not sure I can do that."
"Denying⊠how you feel?"
Jungwon gulped before he nodded.
"And how do you feel?"
Jungwon sighed, the sound rough, uneven. "Please don't make me do this. I can'tâ I won't mess up what we have. It's worth everything to me," his voice was quieter now.
At some point he must have stopped the music playing from his phone without you realizing because you couldn't hear it in the background anymore, leaving you plenty of opportunity to notice when he spoke softer.
The gears in your brain were turning and you thought that maybe, just maybe, you understood what path he was trying to go down. Your heart was slamming against your chest, beating much too fast for what was probably appropriate, but if he was saying what you thought he wasâ
Well, sometimes the risk was worth the reward, right?
"Jungwon," you started, "I love you."
A small smirk graced his lips, but you couldn't tell if it was one of amusement or one of disbelief. "I know. I love you, tooâ"
"Wonie," you interrupted, stepping closer to where you were right in front of him. "I love you."
Your emphasis on the word 'love' was clear.
Jungwon's breath hitched. His eyes searched yours, like he was trying to decipher a riddle you had just dropped on him. "âŠwhat are you saying?"
Well, no turning back now.
You took a deep breath and shut your eyes for a brief moment before you looked at him with all your vulnerability bared.
"I'm in love with you. And I'm tired of pretending that I'm not."
The way Jungwon's eyes widened made you panic internally for all of maybe 2 seconds before the most beautiful smile you'd ever seen adorned his face.
"No way," he breathed, laughing a little at the end. "No fucking way." His hands cupped your face as his thumbs gently brushed against your cheeks. "You're not fucking with me, are you?"
It was somewhat hard to shake your head in his hold but you still managed. "Never."
Jungwon pulled you into a tight, nearly suffocating hug and buried his face in your shoulder.
"Me too," he said softly. His embrace loosened a little, so as not to crush you, but he didn't dare move away.
"You too?"
He lifted his head, face mere inches away from yours as his arms remained wrapped around you.
"I'm in love with you, too. I'm so fucking gone for you, I have been for a long time."
Hearing him mirror your confession made your heart do a weird little stutter, but you didn't have long to process it before he was speaking again.
"I've been so terrified of ruining our friendship, which means more to me than anything else in the world, other than you." His eyes were shining, full of emotion.
"The night we slept in my bedâ don't remind me about the next morning," he immediately stopped you when your mouth opened the slightest amount. He knew that mischievous look on your face better than anyone else.
You giggled and let him continue.
"That night was the closest I'd come to throwing caution to the wind and confessing."
"Why didn't you?" You brushed a strand of hair back from his face, delighted in the way the small movement seemed to affect him.
Jungwon laughed, a sound you loved dearly. "Well, what was I supposed to say? 'Hey, it's driving me crazy being this close to you in my bed while you're wearing my shirt and looking like thatâ also I'm very much in love with you, by the way.'"
It was your turn to laugh fully as you laid your forehead on his shoulder. One of his hands came up to rest on the back of your head, while the other arm was still curled around your waist.
"I mean, had you said that, I wouldn't have been opposedâ"
Jungwon scoffed teasingly, making you look back up at him. "Of course you would say that."
"You got a problem with it," you teased him.
He smiled. "Not at all."
The silence after was comfortable, and you could feel the charged energy sparking between the two of you. Jungwon broke the silence first, bringing his hand from the back of your head to caress the side of your face.
"Can I kiss you?"
"Please," you responded instantly, wanting to feel his lips against yours more than you wanted anything else in that moment. Jungwon wasted no time leaning in and claiming your mouth with his own.
You'd often imagined what it would feel like to kiss Jungwon, and in every scenario your brain conjured up, you always deemed that it would feel amazing no matter what. Your imagination couldn't even begin to compare to the actual feeling.
His lips moved against yours with a slow, tender rhythm. He wasn't trying to rush anything, savoring the taste of you as you melted against him. His movements were purposeful and gentle, but with just enough pressure to take your breath away. Kissing him felt right, it felt like you were whole, it felt likeâ
Kissing Jungwon felt like home.
When he finally pulled away, his eyes were still closed and he was breathing hard. He rested his forehead against yours.
"Fuck, so much better than I thought it would be," he sounded breathless. You smiled and looked down, surprised to see the tiniest bit of shaking in his knees.
"Wonie? Your kneesâ"
He chuckled. "Oh right, that. Guess 'weak in the knees' isn't just a phrase after all."
You laughed at his silly response, trying to ignore how you were rapidly heating up inside.
Kissing you made Jungwon's knees weak. You had that much of an effect on him. The revelation was doing things to you.
This time, you were the one who flustered him as you took the lead, pulling him closer by fisting your hands in his shirt. His answering grunt at the impact made your stomach flip.
Jungwon took the opportunity to walk forward as you were kissing, his hands firm on your waist as he guided you backward. His lips didn't leave yours, and the way he deepened the kiss while still making sure you didn't fall as you walked drew a noise from you that he seemed to really like.
Your back collided with a surface, the thud making you gasp into Jungwon's mouth. His fingers curled tighter around your waist.
"Fuck, sorry," he breathed before he started trailing kisses along your jaw. "Can't believe I get to see you like this."
Your fists clenched in his shirt as he went further, leaving light touches along your neck that intensified the lower he went.
"Can't believe I get to hear you like this." He brushed his lips against a particularly sensitive spot on your neck and you whined at the sensation. You could feel Jungwon's pleased smirk against your skin.
"Can't believe I get to touch you like this." He emphasized his words by squeezing you where his hands were holding you by the waist.
His face was in front of yours again, eyes searching for a moment before you saw a breathtaking smile.
"Can't believe you're mine."
You leaned in for another kiss with a false sense of gentleness before you pulled him closer by the grip you had on his shirt. Your lips landed on his with a hunger you didn't bother trying to tame.
You'd waited so long for even a chance for something like this to happen, there was no way you were holding back now. Especially not when Jungwon was this receptive to it.
The noise you swallowed down from him had you noticing the way you were already soaked from just this little bit of intimacy.
When Jungwon finally managed to pull away â begrudgingly, it looked like â his eyes found yours.
"Are you?" He asked it softly, almost like he was scared of the answer.
"Am I what?"
Jungwon brushed a piece of hair from your face before his palm rested against your cheek.
"Mine."
You smiled so big that if your face could've cracked it surely would have â smiling so hard that it almost hurt.
"Always have been."
Jungwon's deep groan as he pressed his body up against yours was driving you crazy.
"Fuck, god, that'sâ you have no idea how long I've wanted to hear that. How long I've wanted this," his thumbs brushed along your hip from where his hands were still holding onto you for dear life, "how long I've wanted you."
You wound your arms around his neck, pressing yourself up against him until you could feel him. He was just as affected as you were by all this, which made you happy in a way you'd never quite felt before.
"Then show me."
His smirk was deadly. "Right now? In here? You sure you want that, baby?"
This man was going to be the death of you, what the fuckâ
"What if someone else came in, hm?" His tone was playful, but the look in his eyes made you wonder how much of it was meant in jest. "You want people to see you, to hear you while I make you mine?"
You gulped. "I locked the door, soâ"
"Oh? Look at you, thinking ahead," his thumbs skirted around the hem of your shirt, just barely pushing it up.
"I did it without thinking," you tried to clarify, but your body betrayed you when he placed another kiss on that same sensitive spot he found earlier.
"Sure, baby, sure. I believe you." His hands were fully underneath your shirt now, still lingering around your waist. The feeling of skin on skin made you shiver. "Gonna let me take care of you?"
You nodded, ready for whatever Jungwon was about to do and if he didn't do it soon you might have actually started whining for real.
A ghost of a kiss graced your lips, barely there but still enough.
"Can I touch you?"
You nodded a little too fast, making Jungwon chuckle at your eagerness before he shook his head.
"Have to hear you, sweet girl. Tell me what you want."
"Please, Wonie," you mumbled the words against his lips, "touch me."
Jungwon moaned against your mouth. "Fuck, hearing you say my name like thatâ god, I can't explain what it does to me."
He held you against the wall behind you with one hand while he dipped his other one into the front of your sweats, taking his time even as you trembled with want in his hold. He brushed lightly over your panties and the way you flinched made his eyes widen.
"Holy shit, really? That sensitive?"
"Don't make fun of me," you whined out, eyes shut as you prepared yourself for⊠well honestly anything, because it appeared that no matter what Jungwon did it was going to wreck you.
"No, baby, never, I'm not making fun of youâ it's hot as fuck, are you kidding me?"
He teased you again, pressing firmer against your clit through the fabric. The wetness he felt despite not actually touching you properly yet made his breath stutter.
"All this for me? God," Jungwon sounded amazed, "you're unreal."
"Please," you pleaded, hoping he'd actually touch you like he said he would.
"Fuck, ok, I got you," his tongue darted out to wet his lips as he pushed your panties to the side. His fingers caressed your folds gently, rubbing against your clit in slow, rhythmic circles.
"Wonie," you moaned out his name, making the rhythm of his hand falter.
"Ah, I can't get used to that," Jungwon threw his head his head back to get hair out of his eyes, "you sound so fucking pretty for me."
He caught your eyes as he teased your entrance with one finger, checking to make sure that this was ok, that you were ok.
"Please," you repeated it like a broken record. You wouldn't be surprised if by the end of the night you only knew that word and some form of Jungwon's name.
He didn't hesitate, moving inside you with a steady pace, one that had you clinging now to the back of his shirt. A sharp gasp left you when he hit a familiar spot. You tried to muffle your sounds by biting your lip, but Jungwon wasn't having that.
He pulled your bottom lip down from where your teeth were holding it, smoothing over it with his thumb. "Let it out, baby. Need to hear how I'm making you feel."
You moaned then, unrestrained, and felt how his thumb pressed against your lip in response before he placed his hand back on your hip.
Jungwon added another finger, managing to make you come undone with just two of them. Usually it would probably take more of this, but honestly you had no doubt that Jungwon could make you come untouched if he really tried hard enough.
You were sure he'd probably try that one dayâ if this was something that continued.
But now wasn't the time for those thoughts. Now was the time to focus on the beautiful man in front of you who you'd been dreaming about for years now, hoping to maybe experience a fraction of this with him even if it was just one time.
"You're so responsive, it's driving me crazy," Jungwon said the words with his tone full of wonder. "You sound like you're already closeâ"
"I am," you tried to warn him as your hand shot out to grasp his wrist â not to make him stop, but to encourage him to keep going. "Please don't stop."
"Wouldn't dream of it," he said the words against the column of your throat, finding that spot inside you over and over again, drawing you closer to your peak.
"God, I wish you could see yourself," he placed kisses anywhere he could on your face. "So beautiful."
When your moans started rising in pitch, you chanced a look at Jungwon. He looked like he'd been studying your reactions â every twitch of your body, every time your eyebrows furrowed, each time your mouth hung open in a silent scream of pleasure. He was studying you the same way he did a new dance routine, taking it all in until the motions were as easy as breathing for him.
He also had a devious expression on his face, which somehow, confusingly, made you even more aroused.
"Hey, baby?"
He was still moving, but the questioning tone took you off guard. "Y-yeah?"
It sounded way too casual for someone who was currently pulling downright depraved noises out of you.
"Got an idea â can I try something?"
"Does it involve you stopping, because please no," you sounded desperate, but if he truly did want to to stop you absolutely would with no questions asked. You had a feeling that wasn't what he was implying, though.
He chuckled and placed a kiss on your forehead. "I'll only stop for a second, but it'll be worth it, I promise."
You pretended to think about it, knowing damn well you'd happily and very willingly let this man do pretty much anything he wanted to you.
"Go ahead, but make it quick."
Your tone was clearly teasing, and you knew Jungwon got the vibe of it from the way he smiled.
Before you could comprehend what was happening, you were suddenly being turned around. Your hands shot out to brace yourself, and what you thought was a wall in fact wasn't one at all.
You came face to face with your own reflection â eyes glassy, lips swollen, breathing hard. And behind you stood Jungwon, looking just as much a mess, if not even more than you were. He looked beautiful like this, ethereal.
His stare in the mirror was lethal, and he kept his eyes on you as he gave your earlobe a gentle tug with his teeth. He pressed closer to you against your back when you moaned at the feeling.
He placed a kiss on your neck right underneath you ear before he finally said words you didn't know you'd been waiting to hear.
"You're gonna watch while I make you fall apart."
His hand found you again, and he slipped three fingers inside this time, the stretch surprising but not unwelcome. Jungwon grunted at the way you clenched around his fingers as your body jerked in his hold.
You had no time to react before you were moaning louder, eyes shut tightly, the feeling overwhelming you in all the best ways. The effort to open your eyes was overpowered by the intense pleasure coursing through you, but Jungwon wasn't having it.
"Keep those pretty eyes open for me," he mumbled the words against the exposed part of your shoulder, desire coating every syllable. "I meant what I said â you're gonna watch."
Your eyes barely blinked open as you tried to obey, but your head kept dropping down; Jungwon must've decided that he should give you some help.
His 'help' came in the form of a hand curving around your jaw from behind, holding your face in place as his fingers moved faster inside of you. Your back was flush against his chest now with the new positioning, and you could tell through the multiple layers of clothing just how bad he was aching for you â how hard he was for you.
He breathed along the shell of your ear, grunting when he felt your hips moving. "Fuck, do you know how many times I've thought about this? About watching you come undone for me?"
He ground against you, chasing the friction he so desperately wanted while you continued to melt in his hands.
You shook your head when you remembered he had asked you a question. "I don't knowâ but me too."
"Shit, you've thought about this too, yeah? Me ruining you with just my fingers?" He increased his pace and one of your hands grabbed his arm that was in front of you. Your nails dug in slightly, making him go even harder.
"Yes, yes Wonie," you answered truthfully, because honestly, you'd probably pictured him with you in every explicit way possible at this point.
"Fuck," you felt him moving against you more, somewhat matching the rhythm of his hand that was showing you no mercy. The way he was pushing you up against the mirror now with his own movements made you feel one separation away from going actually feral. You were close enough that your breath fogged up the glass as you tried to keep yourself together.
"Close, baby?" His own breaths were coming out in shorter pants now, and you could feel when he moaned against your cheek as he placed a tender kiss there. "Gonna cum for me?"
"Wonie, fuck, all for you." Your release was approaching quickly, and you still tried your hardest to keep your eyes open.
"All for meâonly for me," Jungwon spoke the words against your neck. You trembled in his hold.
"C'mon, give it to me," he continued. He stared at you through the mirror, his eyes determined, his bottom lip caught by his teeth. When he let it go, he leaned in closer, still keeping eye contact with you before he said what would ultimately be your undoing.
"I need it."
As the pleasure rippled through your body, your back arched and your head landed against his shoulder behind you. He held you through your climax, only letting up on his relentless pace when your moans turned more into whines of oversensitivity.
"Fuck," Jungwon almost sounded more out of breath than you did. "Came so good for me. Looked so beautiful, just like I always knew you would."
You tried to catch your breath as you gave him a lazy smile through the mirror. Jungwon carefully pulled his fingers out, focused so intensely on making sure he didn't overstimulate you that he almost missed your response. The sight of him sucking your essence from his fingers made you become the one more weak in the knees this time.
He hummed around his fingers before he pulled them back out. "Taste so good, too."
The sudden change as he went about fixing your clothing was unexpected, but not unwelcome. His gentle movements and the kiss he placed on top of your head made you feel warm and fuzzy inside for a completely different reason.
But if he thought you were done, he was wildly mistaken because you were far from it.
You turned in his hold, his arms releasing you easily. As you pulled him in for a kiss, you moved one hand down until you could feel him. The surprised moan he let out as soon as you touched him over his clothes had to be one of the hottest sounds you'd ever heard in your entire life.
"Oh fuck, didn't think I'd be that sensitive, ha," Jungwon's eyes were having a hard time staying open now â something you would inevitably tease him about later.
"Gonna let me return the favor, Wonie?" Your tone was teasing, playful, but the movements of your hand were a stark contrast, if the noises escaping him were anything to go by.
He managed to open his eyes again before he nodded. "Yeah, yeah, ahâ please."
Without wasting anymore time, you fell to your knees in front of him. You dragged your mouth along the bulge in his sweats, and he cursed above you.
Jungwon found it hard to look at you, and you could see his hands clenching and unclenching at his sides like he didn't know how to handle what was happening. "God, you on your knees for me, fuckâ"
"Wonie," you said the word against him before your hands went to his waistband. "Look at me."
"Might not be the best idea if you want me to last literally any time at all," Jungwon rushed the words out, resulting in a giggle from you. You really did love this man.
"You can do it, can't you? For me?"
You were using the most sickly-sweet tone you could. Which, honestly, probably wasn't fair because you knew how it made him feel to hear you like that.
With a groan, Jungwon obeyed to the best of his ability. The look in his eyes spurred you on with a renewed sense of vigor, and the way his bottom lip was captured once again between his teeth in anticipation almost ruined you again right there on the floor.
"Want you to watch me," you continued with a quick kiss over his sweats before you started pulling them down. You stopped for only a moment to make sure it was ok, and his vigorous nod was all the answer you needed.
Jungwon's head tilted back when you palmed him again, this time through one less layer. A deep groan rumbled from his throat. "Holy fuck. God, you'reâ I can't believe what I'm seeing right now."
When he looked back down at you, the smile you graced him with was nothing short of radiant, and you could tell by how it made his breath hitch. When you finally had all clothing out of the way, you just had to admire him for a few seconds because he had the prettiest cock you'd ever seen.
You couldn't help the small laugh you let out when you saw him twitch because you were staring.
"You, uhâ like what you see?"
Poor baby sounded so nervous, you had to put this man out of his misery. You wrapped a hand around him and he hissed at the contact.
"Love it," a slow stroke of your hand made him twitch again, this time in your hold. "So pretty, Wonie."
"Pretty is, uh, an interesting word that's for sure," he cut himself off with a moan when you placed a quick kiss on the tip. "How am I gonna survive thisâ"
"Just let me take care of you, ok?" A gentle tone to coincide with the slow drags of your hand was the perfect combo to have him already losing his mind even though you'd barely started. You had one more trick up your sleeve and you had to see if it would have the effect you were thinking it might.
"Oh, and Wonie?"
He hummed in response, the hum shifting quickly into a grunt when you added a little more pressure. He looked down at you and you gave him your most devious smile.
"It's my turn now to watch you fall apart."
The way Jungwon's head hit the mirror behind him when you took him into your mouth would've concerned you, had it not been for the sound of pure pleasure that he let out. His hands were reaching behind him as well, scrambling against the glass for something to hold onto and failing miserably.
You teased him for a few more seconds before you pulled back, giggling at the way his eyes were shut tight after he'd been the one making you keep yours open. You kept stroking him with a rhythm that had his hands pressing against the mirror once more.
"Can't keep your eyes on me, baby?" Jungwon twitched in your hand at the pet name; you truly loved the effect you had on this man. He opened his eyes just barely to peek at you before quickly shutting them again.
"If you don't want me to â fuck â cum down your throat in like 5 seconds then yeah, I fear I can't look at you."
The teasing tone made you feel a different kind of warmth inside, because as serious as he was (probably) being, he was still the same, silly Wonie you fell in love with.
"Who says I can't make you cum again?"
"Ok, what the actual fuckâ you can't just say shit like that and," he paused to swallow down a moan, "expect me to be normal after."
"Wonie, just let go." You reached out and took one of his hands, placing it on top of your head. When you did the same with the other one, his eyes snapped open.
"Oh my godâ"
"You can be rough with me, you know." The way Jungwon nearly fell over at your words proved to you that no, he did not know that, but you were determined that he could learn.
"You're sure," he panted out the question, already pulling your hair after every stroke of your hand made him jolt. "I don't, ah, wanna get carried away."
"It's ok, Wonie," you placed a kiss on his thigh as reassurance, but the soft gesture had probably the opposite effect.
And you loved it.
It seemed you had instead managed to spur him on and convince him to finally let go, because as soon as you took him back into your mouth, the way he thrusted was anything but gentle.
It didn't take long for him to find a steady pace. He was still careful to not completely destroy your throat (even if you kind of wanted him to), but tears were still pooling in the corners of your eyes anyway.
"Fuck, I love you, what the fuck," his hands fisted strands of your hair harshly, the sting of the pain making you moan around him. The vibrations made his hips stutter, and another wave of arousal singed your insides with its heat.
You didn't want to take your mouth off of him, so you blindly reached up to grab one of his hands. His eyes shot open and he slowed to a stop.
"Fuck, I'm sorry, are you ok? Am I being too rough?"
Still, very stubbornly, not wanting to take him out of your mouth, you shook your head as easily as you could. You intertwined your fingers with his hand you were holding now as you kept going. Jungwon's head hit the glass again, the thud sounding much more painful this time.
"Fuck, ok, just, if you need to like â fuck â stop or something, let me know, ok?"
A reassuring squeeze of his hand was all he needed to pick up right where he left off. His sounds were coming out quicker now, and you could feel him twitching in your mouth every few thrusts.
"Close, close, babyâ"
As much as you wanted to keep going until your mouth was quite literally full of him, you needed to know what he wanted. You pulled off of him and inhaled, your lungs grateful for the air you didn't realize you'd been depriving yourself of.
"Where do you want it?"
"God, fuck, anywhere, justâah," Jungwon was breaking down right before your eyes, other hand gripping your hair with a fierceness you didn't really know he had. "You chooseâ"
"Down my throat," the words sounded better coming from you than you thought they would, considering you didn't usually say things like that. "I wanna taste you."
Jungwon shuddered, nodding with his head rubbing against the glass. "Fuck, okâ won't be long, uh," he trailed off, letting out another alluring moan as he fixed his stare on you.
"This is what you want? You're sure?"
Even if Jungwon had to be moments away from spilling down your throat, it warmed your heart how he still managed to put your comfort above his own pleasure, just as you would do with him. He always put you first.
Always had. Always will.
Nodding wouldn't be efficient enough, you needed him to know just how badly you did want this. With a shred of courage (and honestly a hint of sheer curiosity) you let go of his hand just enough to wrap your pinky around his.
Your shared signal over all these years â you had no idea how this would go, but you couldn't think of a better way to convey how much you wanted to keep going.
And the reaction you got was better than anything you'd ever seen in your dreams.
The sound that left Jungwon's throat was one you weren't sure he made at first; it just sounded so⊠raw. It reverberated in that part of the room, where he was up against the mirror with you on your knees, taking him in.
You were already aching for him again, every sound driving you a little more crazy, every falter in movement making you throb with want. And now that you'd had a taste, you'd probably never be satiated by anyone but Jungwon ever again.
"I fucking love you, oh my god, you're perfect, Iâ" Jungwon tried to swallow down his next moan, instead succeeding in only biting his lip. "âcumming, fuck!"
Those few words were all you got for a warning before you felt him fill your mouth. You swallowed down everything you could, mindful of how his hand on the back of your head helped steady you as he was still squeezing your pinky with his.
As soon as he lifted his hand from your head, he helped you stand up, despite the fact that he was still trying to catch his breath. You were barely steady before he pulled you into another heated kiss, this one more sensual but still with the same amount of intensity as before. If he could taste himself on your tongue, he really didn't seem to care at all.
After a few more shared kisses, Jungwon pulled back and rested his forehead against yours. "I'm not dreaming, right? This is real?"
"It better fucking be or you're going to deal with a very annoyed me tomorrow."
Jungwon laughed, the sound thankfully so much brighter and happier than when you first got here earlier. "So like, a regular day. Got it."
You playfully tapped his arm. "I am not always that bad."
"No, you're not." Jungwon agreed. "But I am always the one taking care of you."
"In more ways than one it would seem," you smiled as you brushed some strands of hair out of his eyes.
"In all the ways you'll let me, for as long as you let me." Jungwon looked at you with a softness in his eyes that you'd seen so many times before, but never quite knew what it meant.
After all these years, you finally found the answer: love.
P: Camp Counselor!Jake X Camp Counselor!Reader (MDNI 18+)
Warnings: Prolonged Pining, Jealousy, Possessiveness, Teasing, Mutual Attraction, Oral Fixation, Begging, Big Dick!Jake, Praise Kink, Pussy Drunk!Jake, Attempted Humor, Needy!Jake, Body Worship, Tit Play, MESSY AND SLOPPY, Overstimulation, Multiple Orgasms, Dry Humping, Masturbation, Light Humiliation, Belly Bulge, Creampies, Marking, Heeseung being a W wingman.
Wordcount: 22,9k
Synopsis: Jake was the campâs golden boy, everybody loved his sunshine energy. But around you? He was wrecked. Hopelessly, stupidly whipped. Always hovering, stealing hungry little glances. He wanted to tell youâ âIâm in love with you. I want you so badly it hurts.â âbut the second you brushed against him or laughed at something he said, his brain shorted out. One touch and he was done for, stuck wondering how much longer he could keep his feelingsâand his desireâfrom exploding.
a/n: Hey! for once its not a dark fic :D but pure filth! so bucle up.. we all remember what that woman said about Jake. REBLOGS AND COMMENTARY IS APPRECIATED!
Jake Sim had never been lucky in love. Not once. Not even by accident.
It was almost comedic at this point: girls loved him at firstâsweet, polite, helpful Jakeâbut by month two they would look him straight in the eyes and say something gentle and devastating like:
âYouâre perfect⊠just not for me.â or âI think I need someone more exciting.â or, the personal favorite: âYouâre too nice. Itâs boring.â
Then theyâd leave him with a broken heart and a playlist full of songs he couldnât listen to anymore without wincing. After the last breakupâfour months ago, six dates in, sheâd left him âfor someone with more edgeââJake had sworn off relationships entirely
Jake felt something. Mainly humiliation.
So now he sat on Heeseungâs floor, sprawled on an unrolled sleeping bag even though there was a perfectly fine couch available, groaning loudly into a throw pillow that smelled faintly like beer and laundry detergent.
âI swear, man,â Jake mumbled into the cushion, âI must be cursed. LikeâI donât knowâromantically hexed or something.â
Heeseung, who wasnât listening in the slightest, hummed a vague, noncommittal sound. He was too busy packing: rolling shirts, stuffing toiletries into a bag, misplacing his water bottle six times in three minutes.
Jake didnât see the suitcase at first.
He didnât see anything.Â
He was too busy wallowing.
âI treat them well, right? Iâm nice. I try. Iâm not a jerk. Iâm respectful. And somehow, they still leave. Every. Single. Time. So clearly the common denominator is meââ
âMhm.â
âSo maybe relationships just arenât in the cards for me. Maybe I should take a break. A long break. Like a⊠celibate monk arc or something.â
âThat sounds dramatic.â
Jake lifted his head. âIâm dramatic! Iâm heartbroken!â
Heeseung zipped up his duffel bag with one hand and tossed a pair of sunglasses in after it. âThen come be a camp counselor with me this summer.â
Jake blinked. âWhat?â
Heeseung shrugged. âFresh air. No dating apps. No situationships. No exes. Just kids, nature, and free meals. Might fix your brain.â
Jake stared.
Heeseung continued stuffing socks into corners of the bag.
Jake stared harder.
Heeseung wasnât kidding, was he?
Jake sat up straighter. A distraction. A purpose. Something new. Something healthy. A break from the heartbreak factory his dating life had become.
He latched onto the idea like a lifeline.
âYou know what? Youâre right.â Jake sprang to his feet with renewed determination. âIâll do it.â
Heeseung snorted. âBro, I was justââ
Too late.
Jake was already gone.
The next morning Heeseung opened his doorâand froze.
Because on his porch stood Jake Sim:
Two duffel bags slung over his shoulders.
A bright orange life vest buckled proudly over his shirt.
Sunscreen unevenly smeared in streaks across his face.
A crooked baseball cap.
Sunglasses too big for his head.
A whistle hanging around his neck.
Hiking boots untied.
And the most earnest, determined expression imaginableÂ
âNope!â Jake stepped forward cheerily, boots thudding on the wooden porch. âSigned up, got accepted, printed the forms, even watched a knot-tying tutorial.â
âButâbut I wasnât seriousââ
âToo late! Iâm already mentally in nature mode.â
Heeseung ran a hand down his face. âJaeyun, you lookâridiculous.â
âPrepared,â Jake corrected, beaming.
And prepared he wasâprepared enough that when they arrived, he accidentally impressed the camp director by already knowing the emergency protocols, showing his whistle-usage demonstration unprompted, identifying poison ivy correctly and shaking everyoneâs hand like he was running for office.
Within an hour, he was given a standard camp uniform, a set of keys, and a shared hut assignment with Heeseung.
Heeseung had mourned.
âGreat,â He sighed dramatically, tossing a string of condoms into his drawer. âThere goes my bachelor hut. No more bringing hot counselors back here.â
Jake blinked. ââŠHot counselors?â
He hadnât thought about that. He hadnât thought about women at all, actually.
The whole point was to get away from them. Reset. Recalibrate. Heal.
But thenâ
Then he walked into the staff orientation meeting.
And he saw them.
Women his age. Attractive women. Very attractive women.
Sun-kissed skin. Short shorts. Uniform shirts tied at the waist or stretched across curves. Laughs that carried across the field. Smiles bright as the July sun.
Jakeâs brain short-circuited.
Heeseung slapped his back. âForgot to mention that part. Oops.â
Jake choked. âYouâyou brought me to temptation island?!â
âItâs literally just a summer camp, bro.â
There was nothing âjustâ about it for Jake.
He tried his bestâreally triedâto stay focused. To be professional. To avoid unnecessary touching or staring. To keep his voice steady when talking to female counselors.
He failed often.
But all those attempts shattered the moment you walked in.
You had years of experience written in confident steps. A clipboard under your arm. Hair pulled back loosely, with strands falling in the sun. Two top buttons of your uniform undone, enough to make Jake swallow hard. A glint of a lacy bra edge that seared itself into his retinas and soul. Little pins decorating your shirt pocket. Bandages sticking out of one cargo pocket. A smile that made the kids run to you like you were the sun itself.
You kneeling to tie a childâs shoelaces? Lethal. You laughing when a little boy told you you were âthe prettiest lady everâ? Fatal. You twirling a strand of hair while listening to another counselor? Catastrophic.
Jake had been doomed before you even looked at him.Â
And when you did look at himâeyes bright, lips curved in a friendly helloâJake felt his knees weaken so dramatically he nearly collapsed into the nearest picnic table.
Heeseung, of course, noticed.
âAh,â he said smugly. âFound your distraction.â
Jake didnât answer, because for the first time in a long, miserable stretch of heartbreakâŠ
He felt something spark. Something warm. Something like desire. Something like falling.
And unfortunately for himâ
It was happening fast.
It was happening hard.
And it was happening with you.
Jake Sim had survived three breakups, one allergic reaction to a cat he tried to impress a girl with, and a disastrous blind date where the woman only talked about her exâs crypto investments.
But you?
You were the first thing to genuinely terrify him.Â
Which is exactly why he spent the next few days avoiding you like you were trained specifically to hunt down boys with fragile hearts. And luckilyâmiraculouslyâthe kids kept him occupied enough to make avoidance a legitimate battle plan.
Jake made sure his entire schedule left no space for accidentally brushing shoulders with you.
Archery practice? He volunteered. Canoe supervision? Signed up. Arts and crafts? Already promised the kids heâd make them braided bracelets. Bug safety presentation? He memorized the handout and delivered it with genuine enthusiasm.
It helped that thirty-six children seemed determined to orbit him like satellites.
âJake hyung! Jake hyung! Can you help me find my water bottle?â
âJake! Tie my shoe!â
âJake, can you do the whistle thing again?â
Heeseung, watching from across the field, looked like a man witnessing a strange phenomenon.
âDude,â he said, leaning beside him, âyouâre like⊠dad-coded.â
Jake wiped sweat from his forehead. âPerfect. The more dad-coded I am, the less chance I have of embarrassing myself in front ofââ He abruptly clamped his mouth shut.
Heeseung smirked. âAh. Avoiding that counselor, are we?â
Jake reddened. âIâm not avoiding anyone. Iâm being productive.â
Heeseung pointed across the field.
You were kneeling beside a little girl helping her braid wildflowers into a crown, hair glimmering in the sun, shirt loose enough that the breeze caught it.
Jake immediately turned around and pretended to fix a crooked signpost.
Heeseung laughed for a full thirty seconds.
Jake perfected the art of being physically present but socially absent.
When you entered the dining hall? Jake exited stage left, carrying a stack of napkins he didnât technically need.
When you walked toward the docks? Jake suddenly remembered he left sunscreen in his cabin and sprinted away.
When you greeted him with a warm, friendly âGood morning, Jake!â He panicked, waved too fast, nearly dropped his tray, then escaped into a group of eight-year-olds debating whether frogs could fall in love.
Jakeâs system of avoidance worked flawlesslyâuntil nature decided to betray him.
It happened during a swimming rotation.
Jake was teaching a small group how to float on their backs, explaining the basics with gentle encouragement. The sun was warm, the water cool, the kids giggling.
He was happy. Stable.
And then he heard your voice behind him.
âJake! Can you help me with something?â
Every muscle in his body tensed.
Slowlyâagonizinglyâhe turned.
You were standing at the edge of the dock, clipboard against your chest, sunglasses perched on your head, uniform shirt half-unbuttoned because of the heat.
Jake forgot what language he was speaking for a moment.
âOne of my campers is scared of getting in. Youâre great with the nervous ones. Mind giving her a demonstration?â
âSure,â he croaked. âHappy to help.â
You guided the shy camper forward and knelt beside her, encouraging her gently.
Jakeâs heart clenched.
God, you were sweet. Sweet in a way that made him ache. Sweet in a way that made him terrified of falling again.
He moved into the shallow water, demonstrating calmly, voice soft, arms open.
And it worked.
The little girl eventually stepped into the lake, holding onto Jakeâs hands, trusting him completely.
You glanced at him, smiling warmly.
Jake forgot to breathe.
As you praised the camper who had conquered her fear, Jake found himself staring.
Not in a âwow, sheâs niceâ way. But in a âI am absolutely, undeniably screwedâ way.
The sun hit your damp shirt in a way that made it cling, outlining the curve of your waist. Your hair was messy from the lake breeze, strands stuck to your cheek. You brushed them back casually andâ
Jake swallowed.
He turned back to the kids, voice several octaves too high.
âGREAT JOB EVERYONE, LETâSâuhâfloat!â
It had started small. Then it got worse.
You had a habit of scribbling notes on your palm when you lost your pen. Jake noticed the ink smudge once and spent the rest of the afternoon wondering what you had written. What you were thinking. What you cared about.
Every day, it felt like you were leaving breadcrumbs without even knowing it.
Breadcrumbs Jake kept picking up like an idiot. He often found himself watching you from across the fieldâtelling himself it wasnât weird, he was just⊠aware. Vigilant. Noticing. Except it was weird, because he wasnât noticing anyone else. Only you.
The way you pushed your hair out of your face when the wind blew. The way your shirt rode up when you bent over to pick up stray sports equipment. The way your hands moved when you talkedâsoft but animated. The way your laughter rolled across the lawn, making the younger kids giggle just because you did.
He tried to stop.
He really did.
But every time you smiled at someoneâeven a kidâJake felt that awful, sinking heat curl in his stomach.
At night in the hut, Jake lay on his back, staring at the wooden ceiling while the darkness pressed in around him.Â
He remembered the way your shirt clung to your back when you came in from the heat, the thin fabric damp and outlining things he had absolutely no business noticing. He could still see it when he closed his eyes. He remembered the moment you stretched to hang a sign above the craft table, your uniform lifting just enough to reveal the soft line of your waist. Heâd looked away immediatelyâtoo fast, too guiltyâyet the image stuck to the inside of his skull like honey.
He remembered your voice going low and warm when you comforted a kid who scraped their knee. It wasnât meant for him, not even close, but it still sank under his skin, unraveling him from the inside out. He remembered walking behind you on the trail, watching how the breeze tugged at the hem of your shortsâhow heâd forced himself to stare at the trees instead, counting them like that would save him.
Each memory hit him with the force of something he wasnât prepared for, something he couldnât guard against no matter how hard he tried.
And he hatedâtruly hatedâhow quickly his thoughts slipped into places they shouldnât go. Places that made his breath hitch and heat rise under his skin.Â
This summer was supposed to save him. Give him distance. Help him reset.
A clean slate. A distraction. A break from feeling too much.
But all it took was youâjust youâand Jake was already spiraling. Falling again, harder than ever.Â
Jake groaned low in his throat, the sound muffled against the crook of his elbow as he rolled onto his stomach. The thin camp mattress creaked under him like it was judging every pathetic shift of his hips.
The fan whirred uselessly on the nightstand, pushing lukewarm air across his bare back. It did nothing for the heat crawling under his skinânothing for the way his pulse had taken up permanent residence between his legs.
He pressed his forehead harder into the pillow, trying to smother the images that kept flashing behind his eyelids.
You, laughing after that cannonball contest with the older kids. You, bending to tie a little girlâs shoelace, the curve of your ass filling out those damn camp shorts like they were custom-made to torture him.Â
He imagined what it would feel like to slide his palms up under that damp shirt, fingers splaying wide over your ribs, until you arched into him.
Imagined pinning you against the boathouse wall after lights-out, your legs hooked around his waist, while he ground against youâslow at first, then desperate, fabric dragging over his leaking cock until you were both shaking.
His hips rocked once, involuntary, into the mattress. The friction sent a sharp jolt straight up his spine. He bit the inside of his cheek hard enough to taste copper.
âFuck,â he whispered into the dark.
He shouldnât. He really, really shouldnât.
But his hand was already movingâsliding down his stomach, past the elastic of his boxers, wrapping around the thick, aching length of himself. He was so hard it hurt; the head flushed dark and slick, smearing precome across his palm the second he touched it.
One slow stroke and his breath punched out of him.
He pictured your mouth insteadâsoft, parted, tongue flicking out to taste him. Pictured the way your eyes would widen when you realized just how big he was, how youâd have to stretch your lips around the head, cheeks hollowing while you tried to take more. Pictured the little whimper youâd make when he hit the back of your throat, the way your thighs would press together like you were already soaked just from having him in your mouth.
Another strokeâtighter this time, twisting at the crownâand his hips jerked up off the bed.
He imagined flipping you onto your stomach on this very mattress, yanking your shorts down just enough, spreading you open with his thumbs. Imagined the way youâd gasp when he nudged the fat head against your entranceâteasing, barely dipping inâbefore sinking in until your back bowed and you sobbed his name into the pillow.
âJakeââ
He choked on a whine at the fantasy of you saying it like thatâbreathless, wrecked, needy.
His fist sped up. The wet, filthy sound of skin on skin filled the tiny cabin, louder than the fan, louder than his breathing. He didnât care anymore if Heeseung woke up in the next bunk. Didnât care about anything except chasing the image of you clenching around him, milking him, begging him to come inside, to fill you up.
Heat coiled low and vicious in his gut.
He turned his face into the pillow, muffling the broken moan that tore out of him as he cameâhot, messy pulses spilling over his knuckles, soaking into the sheets. His hips bucked through it, chasing every last aftershock, thighs trembling.
Jake lay there for a long minute after, chest heaving, sticky hand still curled loosely around his softening cock. The fan kept droning like nothing had happened. The cabin smelled faintly of pine, sweat, and sex.
He dragged himself up on shaky legs, boxers half-down his thighs, come already cooling on his fingers and streaking the inside of his shorts. He hissed at the mess, at himself, at how pathetic this had become.
The bathroom was just a small stall tacked onto the side of the counselorsâ hutâ row of sink, flickering bulb, mirror that made everyone look like a zombie at 2 a.m. Jake flicked the light on and winced at his own reflection: flushed cheeks, wild hair, pupils blown wide like heâd been drugged. He looked wrecked. He felt worse.
He turned the faucet to cold and shoved his hand under the stream, scrubbing at the tacky evidence with furious little jerks. Soap foamed pinkish-white down the drain. He kept scrubbing long after it was gone, like he could wash the thoughts out too.
But they came back anyway. Uninvited. Relentless.
His cock twitched against his thighâalready half-interested again, traitor that it was.
âStop,â he muttered under his breath, gripping the sink edge so hard his knuckles bleached. âJustâfucking stop.â He splashed cold water on his face. It dripped down his neck, soaked the collar of his tank top. Didnât help. The images kept looping: your thighs parting for him, your fingers in his hair pulling him closer, your voice cracking on his name while he licked into you until you were shaking.
He groaned, low and defeated, forehead thunking against the cool mirror.
He was hard again. Not fullyâyetâbut enough that the waistband of his boxers tugged uncomfortably. Enough that he could feel the slow, heavy throb returning, insistent, like his body hadnât gotten the memo that this was supposed to be over.
âYouâre disgusting,â he whispered to himself.
The door creaked open behind him.
Jakeâs eyes snapped to the mirror.
You.
Standing there in the doorway like a fever dream he hadnât earned the right to have.
Tiny sleep shortsâbarely more than cotton underwear with legsâriding high on your thighs, the hem frayed from too many washes. A thin, worn tank top clinging to you from the humid night air, straps slipping off one shoulder, the fabric so soft and faded it was practically see-through under the shitty bathroom bulb. Your hair was a wild, sleep-tousled mess, strands sticking to your neck from the heat. Flip-flops slapped softly against the tile as you took one hesitant step inside.
You froze when you saw him.
âJake?â Your voice was sleepy, soft, and surprised. âIâI thought everyone was asleep. I just needed to⊠brush my teeth or something. Sorry, I didnâtââ
You stopped talking.
Because youâd noticed.
The way he was braced over the sink, shoulders rigid, tank top rucked up from where heâd been gripping the counter. The flush that hadnât left his cheeks. The obvious, obscene tent in his boxersâthick outline straining against the thin cotton.Â
Your eyes widened, pupils blowing out in the dim fluorescent light.
For a split second, the world narrowed to just the two of you: the hum of the fan outside, the drip of the faucet, and the way Jakeâs cock twitched visibly under your stare, the fat head pushing insistently against the waistband like it had a mind of its own.
âShitâfuckâwaitââ Jake scrambled, voice cracking high and panicked. He spun half-away from you, one hand flying down to cup himself through the boxers while the other snatched the nearest thingâa thin, ratty hand towel hanging off the rackâand tried to hide it over his crotch like that would somehow erase the last thirty seconds.
The towel was too small. It barely covered anything.
âIâI wasnâtâ I mean, this isnâtâ fuck, I was justâ washing my face! Yeah! Washing my face andâ and thinking aboutâ about tomorrowâs schedule! Canoe races! Kids! Lots of kids! Totally innocent!â
The words tumbled out in a frantic, breathless rush. His face was scarlet, ears burning, eyes darting everywhere except your face. He kept shifting his weight, trying to angle his body away, but the mirror betrayed himâevery desperate twitch of his hips reflected right back at both of you.
You just stood there, your gaze dropped again to where his hand was futilely trying to shield the bulge. You watched the way his fingers flexed, knuckles white, like he was fighting not to stroke himself right there in front of you.
Jakeâs mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water.
âIâm sorry,â he choked out, voice wrecked. âIâm so fucking sorry. I didnâtâ Iâll go. Iâll justâ Iâll leave. Right now. You canâ you can have the bathroom. I swear I wonâtââ
Jake took a hesitant step forward, trying to sidestep you toward the door, but the bathroom was small and you were right there, blocking the narrow path like youâd grown roots into the tile.
He froze mid-motion, arms hovering awkwardly at his sides. Every inch of him screamed to bolt, but moving meant brushing past youâmeant feeling the heat of your body, the soft brush of your bare arm against his, and he couldnât. He just couldnât trust himself not to shatter if he touched you right now.
So he stood there. Frozen. Breathing too fast. The air between you thick.
You still didnât move.
âUhââ His voice cracked. âCan youâpleaseâjustââ He swallowed hard, eyes darting to the door, then back to you.
You tilted your head, just a fraction. Still silent. Still watching.
The silence stretched until it hurt.
Finally, desperation won.
Jake reached outâgentle, careful, like you were made of glassâand placed one trembling hand on your upper arm. His fingers curled lightly around your bicep, warm skin under his palm, soft and fever-hot from the humid night.
The contact hit him like a live wire.
He pushedâjust enough to ease you sideways, creating the barest sliver of spaceâand slipped past you in one frantic, clumsy movement. His shoulder grazed yours. Your arm slid against his chest for half a second. The scent of your skinâcoconut, lake waterâflooded his lungs.
The door banged shut behind him as he stumbled out into the cool night air. Flip-flops forgotten somewhere on the bathroom floor. Bare feet slapping against the wooden path as he half-ran, half-staggered back toward the hut.
He could still feel you.
The exact imprint of your arm under his palmâsoft, yielding, alive. The ghost of your heat lingered on his skin like a brand. Every nerve ending in his hand tingled, replaying the texture, the warmth, the way your muscle flexed just slightly under his touch.
He burst into the hut, door slamming louder than he meant. Heeseungâs soft snores came from the other bunkâthank fuck he was still asleep.
Jake collapsed onto his mattress face-first, heart hammering so hard it hurt.
He pressed his handâthe same hand that had touched youâagainst his cheek, trying to cool the flush there.
It didnât work.
Because now all he could think about was how close heâd been. How easy it wouldâve been to pull you against him instead of pushing you away. How your skin had felt like silk under his fingers.
His cock throbbed painfully against the mattress, still hard, still leaking, still aching for the one thing heâd just run from.
âFuck,â he whispered, voice muffled and broken. He was never going to sleep tonight.
Not after⊠that.
So the next morning, Jake implemented Operation: Avoid you at all costs with military precision.
And he meant it.
He avoided you like you were a live wire and he was barefoot in the rain.
The first new rule: Never be alone with you.
He woke up earlyâbefore Heeseung, before the kids, before the mosquitoes even had the decency to start buzzingâjust to leave the hut before you could walk by on your usual morning route.
At breakfast, he positioned himself strategically between two tablefuls of kids, knowing youâd never be able to squeeze into the chaos.
During activities, he always made sure another counselor was nearbyâsomeone loud, someone distracting, someone who would prevent you from stepping within armâs reach.
It worked.
For a few hours.
Then the universe remembered Jake was its favorite target.
And the main problem: You were everywhere.
You walked into the arts-and-crafts cabin to grab paint just as he was slipping out the door. Jake swerved so hard he crashed into a rack of hula hoops.
You laughed softly behind him and Jake nearly ascended into the stratosphere from shame.
Jake was supposed to be supervising the canoe station.
Supposed to be.
Instead, he stood rooted to the dock, gripping his paddle so tightly his knuckles whitened, because across the shorelineâjust a few feet awayâyou were kneeling in the grass helping three little campers tie their life vests.
And the heat was brutal today.
Which meant the camp uniformâalready a questionable sinâlooked even worse on you. Your shirt clung to every curve. Your shorts were barely shorts at all. Your legs caught the sunlight like it had a personal vendetta against him.
Jake swallowed hard. Noâhe choked on air.
God, he was so screwed.
You leaned closer to one of the kids, brushing hair from their face. Your shirt dipped. Jake saw far more than he shouldâve. His brain immediately short-circuited, crashing like a cheap computer overloaded with images he had no business imagining.
And then his body responded.
Fast. Painfully. Predictably.
Jake inhaled sharply and discreetly tugged his paddle lower, shielding the very visible problem forming in his shorts.
âDude.â
Heeseungâs voice came from behind him like a death sentence.
Jake jumped. âWhâwhat?â
Heeseung leaned his elbow on Jakeâs shoulder, smirking like the menace he was.
âYouâre staring so hard Iâm shocked her clothes havenât caught fire.â
âIâI wasnât staring,â Jake stammered, sweating harder than the sun could account for.
âYouâre literally drooling.â
âIâM NOTââ
Heeseung just laughed, clapping him on the back. âBro, youâre gone. Like, beyond gone. NASA couldnât retrieve your dignity at this point.â
Jake groaned into his hands. âShut up.â
But it was too late. Heeseung had seen everythingâJakeâs flushed face, blown pupils, and the way he kept subtly angling his paddle to hide the mess in his shorts.
Heeseung whistled low. âWow. She bends over one time and youâre ready to propose marriage?â
Heeseung leaned closer, voice dropping. âThen stop looking at her like you want to get on your knees in the middle of the camp.â
Jake choked on his own saliva.
âHEESEUNG!â
âWhat? Iâm just narrating what Iâm seeing.â
Jake was going to kill him. Slowly. Painfully. Preferably with a life vest.
Jake, still recovering from the verbal assault that was Heeseungâs commentary, made the single worst mistake of his entire existence.
He looked back at you.
And you were already staring at him.
Not glancing politely. Not half-looking. Not scanning the field. You were focused. Eyes on him like he was something worth noticingâworth studying. Your brows lifted the barest amount, lips soft and parted, like youâd caught him mid-thought⊠mid-stare⊠mid-sin.
Jakeâs brain detonated.
Full catastrophic system failure.
His throat tightened. His hands numbed. His pulse skyrocketed so violently he wasnât sure if he was dying or being reborn in the worst possible way.
Because you werenât just looking at him. You were looking into him.
He felt heat explode across his cheeks, racing down his neck, blooming under his shirt. His heartbeat slammed hard enough to rattle his ribs.
You saw him. You saw him staring. You saw the mess he was trying so desperately, pathetically, humiliatingly hard to hide.
Beside him, Heeseung made a choked noise of triumphâlike a man who had just spotted Bigfoot and gotten it on video.Â
âOh my GOD,â he whispered, gleeful as sin. âSheâs LOOKING at youââ
And that was it.
Jake panicked. He panicked like someone had just shouted âSHARK!â in knee-deep water.
His grip spasmed.
The paddle slid out of his hands.
âNo no no noââ Jake lunged for it.
âDONâTâ!â Heeseung snapped, reaching out.
But Jake was already in motion. Already doomed. His foot caught the edge of the dock. His balance tipped backward. His whistle swung up and smacked him in the chin. His sunglassesâhow were they even still onâflew off into the air.
Jake grabbed wildly at nothingâtruly nothingâbecause the paddle bounced away from him like it had been training for this moment its whole life. He went down hard, arms flailing, knees buckling, legs pinwheeling like a newborn deer.
And thenâ
SPLASH.
The sound burst across the entire lake like a small tidal wave.Â
Kids shrieked. Counselors gasped. Birds took flight in a panicked cloud overhead. Even the lake seemed offended.
Heeseung made a sound like he was being physically strangled by laughter.
Jake sank beneath the surface with all the grace of a bowling ball. For one long second, he sat there at the bottom of the shallow lake, bubbles drifting up around him as he contemplated every decision that had led to this moment.
Then he kicked up, resurfacing in a violent gasp, sputtering, coughing, eyes wide, looking like a drowned cat that simultaneously regretted every life decision.
But it got worse. Much worse.
Balanced perfectly on top of his headâ as if placed there by the comedic gods themselvesâ was a bright green lily pad.
A lily pad.
On his head.
And sitting comfortably on that lily pad, blinking slowly⊠was a frog.
A frog.
Jake Simâcamp golden boy, heartbreak survivor, current emotional disasterâwas treading water with a literal frog crown.
Kids started laughing. One screamed, âJAKE IS KING OF THE FROGS!â
Heeseung folded onto the dock, wheezing, nearly crying from how hard he was laughing. âOhâmyâgod,â he gasped between breaths. âThis is the best day of my LIFE.â
Jake spit out lake water. âThis isnâtâ! I didnâtâ! GET IT OFF ME!â
The frog did not get off. It simply adjusted itself, as if settling more comfortably into its throne.
Jake, sputtering and panicked, swiped his hand over his head in a frantic attempt to knock the frog off.
âGOâSHOOâLEAVE ME ALONEâ!â
The frog blinked once, unimpressed. Then, with the dignity of a royal being dismissed by an incompetent servant, it hopped off the lily pad and launched itself into the lake beside Jake.
PLIP.
A small, perfectly aimed splash hit Jake right in the face.
Jake shut his eyes, jaw clenching.
Great. Perfect. Amazing.
There went any hope of impressing you. Straight to the bottom of the lake with the lily pad.
He groaned under his breath and swamâmiserablyâtoward the metal ladder bolted to the dock. The water felt colder now, mocking him with each stroke. He grabbed the rungs, dragged himself up rung by rung, boots heavy, clothes clinging to him like a second skin. Dripping. Humiliated. Confidence somewhere downstream, probably floating next to the frog.
The moment he reached the top, two adult counselors rushed over, shoving towels at him.
âOh my god, Jake, are you hurt?â
âAre you okay?â
âThat was a fall, man.â
âIâm fine,â Jake muttered, rubbing water from his eyes. He was fine.Â
Physically.Â
Emotionally? He had the confidence level of a damp crouton.
A couple of the other male counselors snickered behind their hands, whispering to each other. Jake didnât have to hear the words to know exactly what they were saying. They werenât exactly subtle. One mimed falling off a dock. Another did a frog ribbit.
Jakeâs jaw tightened. Great. Just great.
He was the newest counselor. The one who was already trying to prove he wasnât a total walking disaster.
This definitely helped.
Not.
Of course. He couldnât even fall into a lake normallyâŠ
But none of that mattered.
Because suddenlyâ
You were there.
Right in front of him.
Where did you even come from? Had you teleported? Materialized from thin air just to make his pulse explode?
âJake?â you asked softly, stepping closer. âHey. Are you sure youâre okay?â
Jake forgot how to breathe. He forgot how to stand. He forgot everything.
Because you were looking at him with real concernâwarm eyes scanning his face, brow furrowed just a little. Not laughing. Not mocking.
Worried.
About him.
Jakeâs heart did a full somersault. And before he could react, you reached up and gently tugged the towel onto his head, fingers brushing his temples.Â
âHere,â you murmured. âYouâre freezing.â
Jake made a strangled noise.
You started blotting water from his hair, using both hands, the towel rustling softly. You leaned in slightly to reach the back of his headâcompletely unaware of how absolutely, catastrophically close you were.
Jake went rigid.
Your scent drifted over himâclean laundry, sunscreen, something sweet he couldnât name. His face hovered dangerously close to your shirt, just inches from your chest, close enough that he could feel the faint warmth radiating from you.
His brain ceased all function.
Thoughts: gone.Â
Language: deleted.
Motor skills: offline.
He stared ahead helplessly, praying he wasnât shaking.
You kept drying his hair, completely focused, completely gentle. âHold still,â you whispered. âYouâll catch a cold like this.â
Jake tried to respond. He really did. He tried to say, âThanks,â or âIâm okay,â or literally anything that resembled human speech.
What came out was:
âAhâguâhââ
You giggled softlyâquiet, warm, like the sound was meant only for him.
The little puff of laughter brushed against his forehead, and Jakeâs entire nervous system short-circuited all over again.
You kept drying his hair, gentle fingers working through the wet strands at the back of his head, tugging the towel this way and that. Every small movement seemed to pull you closer. Or maybe he was imagining it. Maybe the universe had decided to personally torture him today.
But noâno, he wasnât imagining it.
Your chest was definitely inching nearer.
The soft swell of your breasts, barely contained by that thin, slightly damp camp shirt, hovered closer with every careful swipe of the towel. Close enough now that he could see the faint freckles scattered across your collarbone. Close enough that the fabric stretched just a little tighter across your skin. Close enough that when you leaned in to reach the stubborn wet patch at his crown, the very tips of your breasts brushedâbarely, feather-lightâagainst his cheek.
Jakeâs brain flatlined.
A strangled, high-pitched noise escaped his throatâsomething between a whimper and a prayer.
Your giggle turned into a soft hum of amusement. âRelax, Jake,â you murmured, voice low and teasing, warm breath ghosting over his temple. âYouâre so tense. Iâm not gonna bite.â
He wanted to die.
He wanted to live forever.
He wanted both at the same time.
His hands flexed uselessly at his sides, fingers curling into fists so he wouldnât do something stupid like grab your waist and pull you the rest of the way against him. His face was burning so hot he was sure the lake water was evaporating off his skin in little puffs of steam.
Jakeâs eyes squeezed shut.
He was going to pass out.
Right here.
In front of the entire camp.
He could feel his pulse hammering in his ears, in his throat, lowerâhis shorts suddenly way too tight despite the cold water still dripping down his legs.
You finally pulled backâjust enough to look at him, towel still draped over his head like a sad, soggy crown. âThere,â you said, smiling that soft, devastating smile. âAll better.â
Jake opened his mouth.
Closed it.
Opened it again.
ââŠTh-thanks,â he managed, voice cracking like a thirteen-year-oldâs.
Your eyes sparkled with something dangerously close to mischief.
âAnytime, Jake.â Then you gave the towel one last gentle patâright on top of his headâand turned to walk away, hips swaying just enough to make sure he watched every step.
Jake stood there, dripping, red-faced, towel askew, heart trying to claw its way out of his chest.
After that towel incident, Jakeâs dick officially declared independence.
It had a sixth sense for you nowâlike a goddamn compass needle snapping toward north the second you walked into a fifty-foot radius. Full traitor mode. Uncontrollable. Radar-locked to your presence like some feral heat-seeking missile.
You walked into the mess hall for lunch? Instant throb in his shorts before you'd even crossed the threshold, straining against the zipper like it could smell your coconut lotion from twenty feet away. He'd cross his legs under the picnic table, fist clenched around his fork, pretending to focus on his mystery meat while visions of bending you over that very table flashed behind his eyes.
You laughed during arts & crafts, that husky ripple carrying across the field? His balls tightened. Cock swelled heavy and hot, leaking into his boxers so fast he felt the wet spot bloom. He'd mutter excusesâ"Gotta piss"âand bolt to the nearest bathroom stall, slamming the door and yanking his shorts down. Fist wrapped tight around his throbbing lengthâveins pulsing, head flushed purple and slickâstroking furious and sloppy while he bit his lip bloody to stay quiet. Imagining your thighs spread wide on the craft table, your pretty cunt clenching around his fingers.Â
He'd come with a muffled groan, ropes of thick cum splattering the toilet rim, knees buckling as he slumped against the wall. Only thenâonly after painting his hand whiteâwould the ache finally ebb enough for him to face the world again.
The worst was the day Heeseung walked in.
Jake had bolted to the hut after free swim, your bikini top had slipped just enough while you adjusted a strap, flashing a sliver of underboob that sent him spiraling. Jake thinking he had the hut to himself â curled on his bunk, shorts shoved to his knees, hand flying over his dick as he pictured you on your knees, tiny shorts pooled at your ankles, mouth stretched wide around his girth. Drool dripping down your chin. Eyes watering as you gagged, taking him deeper.
He was so closeâthighs trembling, precome slicking his palm when the door banged open.
Heeseung froze in the doorway, one hand still on the knob, eyes wide.
Jake yelpedâhigh-pitched, mortifiedâscrambling to yank the sheet over his lap.
"SHITâHEESEUNGâFUCKâSORRYâ"
Heeseung slapped a hand over his eyes, but not before that perv glanced downâclocking the sheer size of it.
âDUDE! WE SHARE THIS SPACE! THERE ARE RULES! AT LEAST WARN A GUY!â
"I'M SORRYâOH GOD, I'M SO SORRYâ" Jake babbled, rolling off the bed in a tangle of sheets, cock flopping heavy against his thigh as he tried to hide like a cornered animal, trying to tuck himself away while babbling apologies like a broken record. "It won't happen againâswearâI'll go outsideâI'll jerk off in the lakeâPLEASE DON'T TELL ANYONEâ"
Heeseung backed out, still shielding his eyes, laughing so hard he wheezed. "Chill, virgin! I'm not telling the whole camp you're blue-balling over her. But boundaries, bro! Boundaries!"
Heeseung peeked through his fingers, then dropped his hand with a dramatic sigh. âBro. Youâre jerking it like three times a day now.Your dickâs gonna file for workersâ comp.â
âI know! I know! Iâm disgusting! Iâm sorryââ
âBro. Listen to me. You are not disgusting. You are tragically horny. Thereâs a difference.â
Jake dragged both hands down his face, smearing come across his cheek in the process. He didnât even notice. âI came in my shorts during swim lessons yesterday. Justâwatching her adjust her whistle. I had to dive into the lake to hide it.â
Heeseung barked another laugh. âClassic.â
âNo it's not!â Jake wailed, flopping backward onto the floor like a starfish of despair. âI tried thinking about baseball. Taxes. My grandmaâs knitting club. Nothing works. Itâs like my brain is just⊠her. All the time. Her smile. Her laugh. The way her hair sticks to her neck when sheâs wet from the lake. The way her thighs look when sheâs sitting on the dock. Iâm gonna die, Heeseung. Iâm actually gonna die.â
âOkay, drama queen. First: breathe. Second: you need to do something about this before you actually combust. Or before you get caught jerking it in the supply closet again.â
Jakeâs head snapped up. âYou know about the supply closet?â
âDude. Everyone knows about the supply closet. Thereâs a rumor youâve christened every shelf in there.â
Jake made a sound like a dying animal and pulled the sheet over his head.
Heeseung snorted, leaning against the doorframe, suddenly way too amused. âYou know what the funniest part is?â
Jake groaned into his hands. âPlease donât.â
âSheâd probably love your little buddy.â
Jakeâs head snapped up. âWhat?â
Heeseung grinned like the devil. âIâm saying, if she knew how whipped your dick is for her, sheâd probably be flattered. Might even wanna meet it. Personally.â
Jakeâs brain blue-screened.
With a wordless yell, he launched himself across the roomâfull football tackleâcrashing into Heeseung and sending them both tumbling onto the nearest bunk in a tangle of limbs.
âSHUT UP! SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UPââ
Heeseung cackled underneath him, arms up in mock surrender while Jake tried (and failed) to smother him with a pillow. âOkay okay! Truce! Truce! Iâm just sayingâsheâs got you by the balls, man! Literally!â
Jake groanedâlong, defeated, the sound of a man whoâd lost every battle with his own dignityâand rolled off Heeseung, collapsing face-first onto the bunk mattress like heâd been shot. The pillow stayed clutched to his chest like a shield.
Heeseung sat up, still grinning, brushing imaginary dust off his shirt. âYou done trying to murder me?â
Jakeâs voice came out muffled into the fabric. âI hate you.â
âNo you donât. You love me. Iâm your emotional support wingman.â Heeseung poked him in the ribs with his foot. âCome on, bro. You canât keep living like this. Youâre one accidental brush of her hand away from coming in your shorts in front of the entire camp.â
Jake lifted his head just enough to glare. âIâm handling it.â
âYouâre not handling it. Youâre jerking off six times a day and jumping me like a feral cat every time I mention her tits. Thatâs not handling itâthatâs a cry for help.â
Jake buried his face again. âShut up.â
Heeseung sighed dramatically, flopping back onto his own bunk and staring at the ceiling like a philosopher. âLook. Iâm saying this as your best friend who has seen you suffer more than any human should: confess. Or at least do something. Ask her to help you âcheck the boathouse inventoryâ after lights-out. Corner her behind the craft shed. Hell, just tell her youâve been thinking about her non-stop since day one and your dick wonât give you a single peaceful moment.â
Jake made a strangled noise.
âIâm serious,â Heeseung pressed. âSheâs been looking at you like she knows exactly whatâs going on in that horny little head of yours. The towel thing? The eye-fucking across the lake? The way she âaccidentallyâ brushes up against you every five minutes? Sheâs teasing you, man. She wants you to crack. Sheâs waiting for you to man up and take what you both clearly want.â
Jake rolled onto his back, staring at the wooden beams overhead. His chest rose and fell too fast. âAnd what if Iâm wrong? What if sheâs just⊠being nice? And I make it weird and ruin everything?â
Heeseung snorted. âDude. She dried your hair like a mom while her tits were literally in your face. Thatâs not ânice.â Thatâs foreplay.â
Jake groaned again, dragging both hands down his face. âFuck.â
âExactly. Fuck. Her. Preferably soon. Before your balls explode and we have to explain to the camp director why thereâs a crater where you used to be.â
Jake was quiet for a long minute. Then, quieter:
ââŠWhat if she says no?â
Heeseung sat up again, suddenly serious. âThen at least youâll know. And you can stop torturing yourself. But Jakeââ He leaned forward, voice dropping. âIâve seen the way she looks at you when youâre not paying attention. The way her eyes linger. The way she bites her lip when you talk to the kids. Sheâs not saying no. Sheâs waiting for you to say yes.â
Jake swallowed hard. His heart was hammering againânot from embarrassment this time, but from something sharper. Hope. Terror. Want.
Heeseung kicked his foot lightly. âSo whatâs it gonna be, lover boy? Keep hiding? Or finally grow a pair and go get your girl?â
Jake stared at the ceiling for another beat.
Then he sat up slowly, jaw set, eyes a little wild.
ââŠIâm gonna do it.â
Heeseungâs grin returned full force. âAtta boy. Tonight?â
Jake exhaled shakily. âTonight?â
The hut suddenly felt too small, the air too thick with the scent of pine and his own unresolved tension. He was still flushed from head to toe, cheeks burning, cock giving a traitorous twitch in his shorts at the mere idea of finally confessingâof touching you, kissing you, burying himself so deep inside you that neither of you could think straight. But first, he had to actually get you alone. How hard could that be? Heâd spent the last week dodging you like a pro; reversing it should be easy, right?
Heeseung, sensing Jake's hesitation like a shark smelling blood, hopped off his bunk and grabbed a crumpled notepad from the nightstandâthe one they used for doodling dumb canoe race strategies. "Alright, lover boy, let's strategize. We're not sending you in blind. This is Operation Get Jake Laidâer, I mean, Confessed. Whatever..."
Jake rubbed his palms on his thighs like he could wipe away the nervous sweat. "Okay. Plan. Good. What's the move?"
Heeseung paced the narrow space between the bunks, tapping the notepad with a chewed-up pen like he was a general mapping out a battlefield. "First things first: timing. Tonight's the bonfire sing-along after dinner. Everyone's gonna be thereâkids roasting marshmallows, staff pretending not to hate 'Kumbaya' for the hundredth time. That's your window. Chaos equals opportunity. You slip away early, say you're grabbing extra firewood or some bullshit. I'll create a distractionâmaybe 'accidentally' knock over the s'mores station. Kids go nuts, staff scrambles, and boomâyou pull her aside to the boathouse path. It's dark, secluded, romantic as fuck with the lake view. Confess there. Worst case, if she rejects you, you can jump in the water and drown your sorrows."
Jake nodded slowly, picturing it. The boathouseâdim moonlight filtering through the trees, the soft lap of water against the dock. You standing there, close enough to touch, your eyes widening as he finally spilled it all: how he couldn't stop thinking about you, how every brush of your skin made his brain melt and his cock ache, how he wanted to drop to his knees and worship you until you were the one begging. His breath hitched. "Yeah. That... that could work. But how do I get her to follow me? Just... ask?"
Heeseung snorted. "Subtlety, man. Walk by her during the fire, lean in closeâlike, whisper something about needing help with 'inventory' in the boathouse. Make it sound urgent but flirty. You've got that puppy-dog charm; use it. Girls eat that shit up. And if she hesitates, flash those dimples. Bam. She's hooked."
Jake ran a hand through his hair, tugging at the roots. "Okay. Distraction. Whisper. Boathouse. Got it." He stood again, pacing now himself. "What if someone's with her? She's always got a kid hanging off her or one of the other counselors chatting her up. Remember yesterday? She was braiding hair for like six girls at once during free time."
Heeseung waved it off. "That's why the bonfire's perfect. Everyone's scattered. I'll scout aheadâmake sure the path's clear. If there's interference, I'll run blocker. Pretend I need her friend's help with something dumb, like fixing the guitar strings. Easy."
They spent the next twenty minutes hashing out contingencies: If the bonfire ran late, pivot to the morning hike trail before breakfast. If rain hit (unlikely, but summer storms were sneaky), use the supply shed as backupâcozy, private, full of ropes and tarps that Jake's filthy mind immediately twisted into fantasies he had to shove down before Heeseung noticed his shorts tenting again. Heeseung even drew a crude map on the notepad: X for bonfire, arrow to boathouse, stick-figure Jake with hearts for eyes confessing to stick-figure you.
By the time they finished, Jake felt a fragile buzz of confidence. "Alright. This is solid. Thanks, man."
Heeseung fist-bumped him. "Go get cleaned up. And heyâdon't chicken out. You've got this."
Jake nodded, grabbing a fresh towel and heading to the showers. Under the lukewarm spray, he tried to psych himself up, but his hand drifted south anywayâwrapping around his half-hard cock, stroking slow as he imagined your reaction. Your lips parting in surprise, then curling into a smile. Your hands pulling him closer. Your thighs wrapping around his waist as he pinned you against the boathouse wall, cock sinking into your tight heat until you were whimpering his name. He came with a choked groan, cum mixing with the water swirling down the drain. Tonight, he promised himself. No more running.
But as dinner rolled around, the plan started crumbling like a stale graham cracker.
You were at the head table, surrounded by a gaggle of giggling preteens who'd apparently declared you their queen. They were all over youâhanding you plates, showing off friendship bracelets they'd made "just for you," dragging you into their drama about who kissed who. Jake hovered at the edge of the mess hall, plate in hand, watching like a creeper. Every time he thought about approaching, another kid popped up. Heeseung shot him a thumbs-up from across the room, mouthing "After eating."
Post-dinner cleanup? You volunteered to help the kitchen staff, elbow-deep in soapy water with two other female counselors, chatting and laughing about some inside joke. Jake lingered outside the window like a stalker, pretending to tie his shoe for the third time. Heeseung wandered by, whispering, "Abort. Bonfire next."
The bonfire crackled to life as the sun dipped low, casting orange glows over everyone's faces. Kids clustered around the fire pit, staff scattered on logs and blankets. Jake scanned the crowdâthere you were, sandwiched between a hyper ten-year-old boy telling ghost stories and one of the senior counselors, a chatty guy named Sunghoon who kept leaning in way too close to "share" his marshmallows. Jake's jaw clenched. Fuck. He circled once, twice, trying to catch your eye for the whisper ploy, but every approach was blocked: a kid running by with sparklers, the camp director calling everyone for the first song, Heeseung's distraction (a fake spill of chocolate syrup that only drew more people over).
"PstâJake!" Heeseung hissed from behind a tree as the group launched into a off-key "The Wheels on the Bus."Â
"New plan: Wait 'til s'mores wind down. I'll lure Sunghoon awayâsay I need help with the canoes for tomorrow. You swoop in then."
Jake nodded, heart pounding. But s'mores time turned into chaos: Sticky fingers everywhere, kids demanding seconds, you organizing a impromptu "s'mores assembly line" with half the staff involved. By the time it quieted, the director announced lights-out in fifteen, and you were already herding your cabin group toward the bunks, arms linked with two girls who wouldn't let go.
Jake deflated against a log, watching your silhouette disappear into the trees. Heeseung plopped down next to him, clapping his back. "Tough break. Tomorrow, then. Early bird gets the wormâor the girl alone."
But tomorrow was worse.
Morning hike: You were at the front of the pack with the lead guide, pointing out birds and plants to an enraptured cluster of kids. Jake hung back, trying to work his way forward, but the trail was narrow, and every time he got close, someone needed water or a bug bite check. Heeseung tried distracting the guide with questions, but it backfiredâdrawing you into the conversation instead.
Arts and crafts: You were manning the bead station, kids swarming like bees. Jake "casually" wandered over to the paint area nearby, but before he could signal, a little girl dragged you away to judge her macaroni necklace.
Swim time: You were on lifeguard duty with three others, perched on the dock in that red one-piece that hugged every curve, whistle around your neck. Jake swam laps to "cool off," planning to ask for your help with "equipment" after. But post-swim, you got roped into a volleyball game on the beachâsurrounded by laughing staff and kids spiking the ball like noobs.
By lunch, Jake was fraying. He and Heeseung huddled in the hut during siesta, notepad out again. "This is insane," Jake muttered, head in hands. "It's like the universe is cockblocking me now! She's never alone. Avoiding her was easy enoughâgetting her isolated? Fucking impossible!!"
Heeseung tapped the pen thoughtfully. "She's popular. Kids love her, staff loves her. We need stealth. New plan: Fake an injury during archery this afternoon. Nothing badâtwisted ankle or some shit. Ask her specifically to help you to the first-aid cabin. It's private, got that cot in the back. Confess there. I'll cover your group."
Jake's eyes lit up. "That's... genius. Yeah. Let's do it."
Archery rolled around. Jake "tripped" mid-demoâdramatic groan, clutching his ankle like he'd been shot. The kids gasped; staff rushed over. "I'm good, justâah, shitâtwisted it. Hey, can someone grab Y/n? She's great with this stuff."
But fate laughed. You were already there, kneeling beside him with concern etching your pretty faceâbut so was half the camp. The director insisted on two people helping him limp to the cabin, and a nurse volunteer tagged along. Inside, it was a circus: Ice packs, questions, kids peeking in the door. No alone time. The "injury" fizzled out fastâJake had to fake recovery to avoid real medical attention.
Dinner: More crowds.Â
Evening games: You refereed capture the flag, untouchable, no time alone.
By nightfall, Jake was back in the hut, collapsed on his bunk, cock throbbing painfully from a day of near-misses and pent-up fantasies. Every glimpse of youâbending to tie a shoe, laughing with wind-tousled hairâhad him hard and leaking again. He'd jerked off twice already, once in the woods mid-hike (hiding behind a tree, fist flying as he imagined pinning you against it, rutting into your soaked pussy while you muffled moans into his neck), once in the shower (coming to the thought of you on that lifeguard chair, legs spread, his face buried between them until you squirted on his tongue).
Heeseung flopped down, undeterred. "Alright, Plan Z: Tomorrow's the talent show prep. She's emceeing. I'll sign us up for a 'duet' or something dumbâget you backstage with her. Private green room vibes."
Jake groaned, rolling over. "If this doesn't work, I'm quitting camp. Moving to Antarctica. Penguins don't tempt me."
Heeseung laughed. "Hang in there. She's worth the blue balls."
But as Jake drifted off, dick still half-chubbed under the sheets, he wondered if he'd survive another day of this torture. Getting you alone wasn't just hardâit was a goddamn quest. And he was more desperate than ever to win.
The talent show prep turned out to be another spectacular disaster in Jake's ongoing saga of blue-balled misery. He and Heeseung had signed up for a "duet"âsome half-assed acoustic cover of an old camp song that Jake could barely strum through without his fingers shaking from nerves. The plan was simple: Get backstage with you during rehearsals, where you'd be organizing the lineup. The "green room" was really just a curtained-off corner of the main pavilion, cluttered with props and folding chairsâprivate enough for a quick confession, or at least a stuttered invitation to talk later. Heeseung would "forget" his guitar picks or something, leaving Jake alone with you for those precious few minutes.
But reality? A shitshow. The pavilion was packed with hyper kids practicing their acts: Little girls twirling batons, boys doing awkward magic tricks, a group of teens attempting a rap battle that devolved into giggles. You were in the thick of it, clipboard in hand, directing traffic like a proâsmiling that soft, devastating smile as you adjusted a kid's costume or gave a thumbs-up to a nervous singer. Jake lurked at the edge, guitar slung over his shoulder, heart hammering so loud he was sure the strings were vibrating from it. When Heeseung finally nudged him forward during a break, Jake approached, mouth dry. "Hey, uh..." he managed, voice cracking like he was back in puberty. You straightened up, turning with that warm gaze that made his knees weak. "Need help with... with the script? Or something?"
You blinked, then laughed softlyâgod, that sound went straight to his balls. "Actually, yeah! Can you hold this for a sec?" You thrust the clipboard at him, your fingers brushing his in the handoff. Electric. His dick twitched hard, thickening instantly like it knew exactly who was touching him. But before he could stammer out anything resembling a confession, a swarm of kids descended: "Miss, my hat fell off!" "Can I go next?" "Look at my dance!" You were pulled away in a whirlwind of tiny hands and excited chatter, leaving Jake standing there with the clipboard pressed awkwardly against his crotch to hide the growing bulge. Heeseung shot him a sympathetic shrug from across the room, but the moment was gone. Rehearsal ended with Jake barely exchanging three words with you beyond "Here you go" when you reclaimed the board.
That night, back in the hut, Jake jerked off furiously under the sheetsâfist pumping his thick cock in brutal strokes. He came with a muffled groan, cum spilling hot over his knuckles, but the relief was temporary. Hollow. He needed the real thing.
The next day brought more failures, each one chipping away at Jake's sanity like a dull axe. Morning yoga session by the lake: You were leading a group stretch, and Jake "casually" joined, positioning himself in the back row for a view that nearly killed himâyour body bending into downward dog, ass up, shorts clinging to every curve. His cock went rock-hard in seconds, throbbing painfully against his thigh.Â
The plan was to linger after, ask for "private tips" on his form. But as the group dispersed, Sunghoonâthat tall, smug bastard with the perfect hair and easy charmâsauntered over, slinging an arm around your shoulders like he owned the place. "Hey, great class. Wanna grab coffee from the mess hall? I could use some pointers too." You laughed, nodded, and walked off with him, leaving Jake frozen.
Afternoon canoe races: Heeseung rigged it so Jake's team "needed" your help as a spotter on the dock. But the races turned chaoticâkids capsizing, laughter echoing, and you ended up knee-deep in the water, helping flip boats and towel off soaked campers. Jake paddled close, ready to "accidentally" bump your section and pull you aside, but Sunghoon appeared again, "helping" by lifting you out of the water with his hands on your waistâyour wet shirt clinging transparently to your breasts. Jake's vision tunneled red. Alarms blared in his head: Red zone. Danger. Back off. He paddled away furiously, beaching the canoe and disappearing into the boathouse for a frantic wank.
Evening campfire stories: Heeseung's new ployâstart a "scary tale" chain and "need" you to sit next to Jake for "moral support." But you arrived flanked by staff, including Sunghoon, who plopped down beside you first, sharing a blanket and whispering something that made you giggle. Jake sat across the fire, staring daggers, his dick traitorously hardening at the sight of your lips curving into that smileâeven if it was for someone else. The alarms in his head screamed louder: He's too close. Touching her knee. Fuck him.Â
Jake excused himself early, claiming a headache, and jerked off in the hut.Â
The failures piled up like a cruel joke.Â
By mid-week, Jake was a wreckâeyes bloodshot from sleepless nights. Heeseung was fraying too, his pep talks turning exasperated. "Dude, this is ridiculous. She's like a magnet for people. And Sunghoon? That guy's orbiting her like a fucking moon. Saw him 'accidentally' bump her during volleyball yesterdayâhand on her ass for a second too long. If you don't do something soon, he's gonna beat you to it."
Possessive heat curled low in his gut, twisting with jealousy until he felt physically sick.
âIâm done, man,â he mumbled, voice cracking. âIâm done. Sheâs too busy. Too liked. Everyone wants a piece of herâkids, counselors, fucking Sunghoon. I canât even get close without someone interrupting. Penguins in Antarctica sound better than this torture. They donât have perfect tits and laugh like angels and make my dick try to escape my body every five seconds.â
Heeseung flopped backward onto his own bunk, arms spread wide, staring up at the wooden ceiling beams like they held the answers to lifeâs greatest mysteries.
âMaybe,â he conceded, tone dry. âBut watching Sunghoon get closer? Thatâs the cherry on top of this shit sundae. Alarms are blaring for a reason, bro. Red zone. Full red alert. If he makes a move firstâŠâ
Jakeâs fists clenched so hard his knuckles bleached white. The thought hit him like a punch to the solar plexusâSunghoonâs perfect, smug face leaning in, lips brushing yours, hands sliding under your tank top to cup your breasts while you arched into him with that soft little gasp Jake had only heard in his filthiest dreams. Sunghoonâs cockâprobably average, probably nothing like Jakeâsâpushing into your perfect, tight, dripping pussy, stretching you open while you moaned his name instead of Jakeâs.
The image was so vivid Jake could almost hear it: the wet slap of skin, your breathy whimpers, Sunghoonâs low groan as he bottomed out inside you. Jakeâs vision tunneled red while his heart hammered with a mixture of murderous jealousy and bone-deep despair.
âI canât,â he whispered, voice raw. âI canât watch him touch her. I canât watch him make her smile like that. I canâtâIâll fucking die, Heeseung. Iâll actually die.â
Heeseung watched Jake unravel for a long momentâfists clenched, eyes glassy, breathing too fastâlike the guy was one wrong word away from either punching a wall or bursting into tears. Finally, Heeseung sighed, long and dramatic, and flopped back onto his bunk with the air of a man who had officially thrown in the towel.
âAlright,â he said, voice flat, resigned. âFine. You win. Sheâs untouchable. Sunghoonâs probably already got his tongue down her throat behind the craft shed or whatever. Letâs just⊠move on. There are other fish in the lake, right? Plenty of hot counselors who arenât currently being fought over by every breathing person in a ten-mile radius.â
Jake didnât respond. He just stared at the ceiling, jaw so tight it looked painful.
Heeseung kept going anyway, ticking names off on his fingers like he was reading from a mental catalog.
âThereâs Minji from the arts cabinâtall, legs for days, always smells like vanilla and paint thinner. Sheâs got that whole âquietly unhinged artistâ vibe. Could be fun.â
Nothing from Jake. Just a slow blink.
âOr Yuna,â Heeseung continued, undeterred. âLifeguard duty with her would be a religious experience. Sheâs got abs you could grate cheese on and that little mole right under her left eye? Deadly. She smiled at me once during relay races and I forgot how to swim.â
Still nothing. Jakeâs breathing was shallow, like he was trying not to hyperventilate.
Heeseung rolled onto his side, propping his head on one hand. âChaeryeongâs single now, too. The one with the short black hair and the lip piercing? Sheâs got that âI could ruin your life and youâd thank meâ energy. Probably bites. You like biting, right?â
Jakeâs voice came out small, cracked. âStop.â
Heeseung ignored him.
âOr hellâgo for someone completely different. Jiwoo from the mess hall. Sheâs sweet, makes those killer brownies, always smells like cinnamon. Zero drama. Zero competition. Sheâd probably bake you cookies after you fuck. Low stakes. Safe.â
Jakeâs fists clenched harder. His knuckles were white.
Heeseung kept listing, voice getting flatter with each name.
âSoojin. The one who teaches archery. Quiet, deadly accurate, thighs that could crush a watermelon. Sheâd probably pin you to the target board and have her way with you. Hot, right?â
Jakeâs breathing hitched.
âOr Hyein. Blonde, always in those little sundresses, giggles at everything. Easy. No baggage. Sheâd probably blush the whole time and call you âoppaâ while youââ
âStop.â
The word ripped out of Jake like a gunshot.
Heeseung finally went quiet.
Jake sat up slowlyâelbows on his knees, head in his hands, shoulders hunched like he was trying to fold in on himself.
âNone of them are her,â he whispered, voice raw and trembling. âNone of them laugh the way she does. None of them smell like coconut and lake water and summer. None of them look at the kids the way she doesâlike they hung the fucking moon. None of them make my chest hurt just by existing in the same zip code.â
He dragged his hands down his face, hard enough to leave red marks.
âI donât want Jiwooâs brownies or Yunaâs abs or Chaeryeongâs lip piercing or any of it. I want her. I want her smile. I want her teasing me across the mess hall. I want her thighs wrapped around my waist. I want her moaning my name. I want to wake up every morning and see her marks on my neck and know I put them there.â
He looked up at Heeseungâeyes red-rimmed, voice cracking on every word.
âAnd if Sunghoon gets there first⊠if he touches her, if he kisses her, if he makes her come⊠Iâm gonna lose it. Iâm gonna fucking break. Because sheâs supposed to be mine. Sheâs always been mine. And Iâm too much of a coward to do anything about it.â
Jake's life really sucked sometimes.
Jakeâs blood ran hot and cold at the same time.
Fifteen minutes after lights-out, the camp had fallen into that soft, cricket-laced quiet. He was supposed to be in his own hut, following Heeseungâs latest desperate plan: wait until tomorrowâs canoe trip, âaccidentallyâ capsize near you, then use the chaos to pull you aside on the far shore. Simple. Safe. Controlled.
Instead, he was crouched behind the big pine tree that overlooked the girlsâ row of huts, heart slamming against his ribs like it wanted out.
Because heâd seen you.
You stepping out of your cabin door, hair loose and messy from the day, wearing that oversized camp hoodie that swallowed your frame and those tiny shorts that barely existed. And Sunghoon right there beside youâclose enough that his shoulder brushed yours when you laughed at whatever smooth bullshit heâd just said. The two of you lingered on the porch for what felt like an eternity: heads bent together, your hand brushing his arm onceâtwiceâbefore he leaned in and murmured something that made you smile that soft, devastating smile.
Jakeâs stomach twisted into a green, burning knot.
Then Sunghoon gave you a lazy, smug little waveâfingers lingering in the air like he owned the right to touch youâand sauntered off toward the boysâ side, hands in his pockets, shoulders relaxed like a man who knew he was winning.
You watched him go for a second.
Then you turned, slipped back inside your hut, and closed the door.
Jake didnât think.
He just moved.
His feet carried him across the pine-needle path before his brain could catch up. Every step felt like stepping off a cliff. Alarms blared louder in his headânot the jealous ones this time, but the: âthis is insane, youâre going to get fired, youâre going to ruin everythingâ ones.Â
He ignored them.
The door to your hut was in front of him, he tested the handleâquiet, carefulâand it gave easily under his palm.
He pushed the bug net aside with trembling fingers and slipped inside.
The air hit him like a drug.
Warm. Sweet. Coconut sunscreen mixed with vanilla body lotion and the faint smoky trace of the bonfire that had clung to your clothes all night. Candles flickered on the small wooden table near the windowâthree of them, soft golden light dancing across the walls, turning everything hazy and intimate. The scent of melting wax and you wrapped around him so completely he nearly groaned out loud.
And there you were.
Standing with your back to him.
Undressing.
The oversized hoodie was already off, pooled at your feet. You were shimmying out of the khaki shorts, letting them slide down your legs until they puddled around your ankles.
All that was left were the tiniest pair of lacy pantiesâwhite, delicate, the kind with little satin ribbons. The fabric hugged the perfect curve of your ass, barely covering anything, the lace so sheer he could see the shadow of skin beneath.
You reached for the thin cotton sleep top folded on the edge of your bunk. No bra. Nothing underneath. Just soft, bare skin and the gentle sway of your breasts as you lifted your arms to pull the top over your head.
Jakeâs mouth went dry.
He had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from making a sound.
You hadnât noticed him yet.
You were humming softly under your breathâsome little tune from the campfireâcompletely unaware that he was standing in the doorway, staring like a man starved.
The green monster in his chest roared louder than ever.
She was alone.
No Sunghoon. No kids. No staff. Just you. In lace panties.Â
And Jakeâdesperate, defeated, possessive, aching Jakeâfinally snapped.
He stepped forward.
The floorboard creaked.
Your humming stopped.
You froze, hands still tangled in the hem of your sleep top.
Slowlyâagonizinglyâyou turned.
Your eyes widened when they landed on him.
âJakeâŠ?â Your voice was barely a whisper, soft and surprised and a little breathless.
He didnât move. Every muscle was locked tight, gaze raking over you like he was trying to memorize every inch before you screamed or told him to get out.
Your nipples were visible through the thin cotton of the topâhard little peaks that made his mouth water. The lace panties clung to you, the fabric already darkened slightly between your thighs.
You didnât cover yourself. You didnât scream.
You just stared back at himâeyes wide, lips parted, cheeks flushing a deep, telling pink.
And then, so quietly he almost missed it:
ââŠYouâre not supposed to be here.â
But you didnât tell him to leave.
And Jakeâheart in his throat, cock throbbing so hard it hurtâtook another step closer.
âI know,â he rasped, voice wrecked. âBut I couldnât⊠I couldnât stay away anymore.â
Jake took that final, trembling step forward, crossing the threshold completely into your hut. The wooden door swung shut behind him with a soft, definitive thud that echoed in the quiet space like a heartbeat.
He reached back without lookingâfingers finding the simple metal latchâand slid it home.
Click.
The sound was small, but it rang out sharp and clear in the candlelit hush. No one could walk in now. No interruptions. Just the two of you.
Your breath caught audiblyâa tiny, startled hitch that made Jakeâs cock jump hard in his shorts. He watched the way your eyes widened fractionally, pupils blowing out in the flickering light. Your lips parted on a soft, involuntary exhale. You didnât move to stop him. Didnât protest. If anything, your body language shiftedâshoulders relaxing just a touch, thighs pressing together almost imperceptibly.
The thrill of it surged through him like lightning.
You liked the sound of that lock.
You liked being trapped in here with him.
Jakeâs pulse roared in his ears. His hands flexed at his sides, aching to touch you, but he forced himself to stay still for one more second, drinking in the sight of you like a man whoâd been starving for years.
Jakeâs voice came out rough, almost broken. âYou didnât tell me to leave.â
Your gaze flicked to the locked door, then back to his face. Your tongue darted out to wet your bottom lip and Jake nearly groaned out loud at the sight.
âI know,â you whispered, voice soft and a little shaky, but there was heat underneath it. âI⊠I didnât want to.â
Another step. Closer now. Close enough that he could feel the warmth radiating off your body, smell that intoxicating mix of coconut and vanilla and you.
His eyes dropped to your chest againâcouldnât help itâwatching the way your breasts rose and fell with each quick breath. Then lower, to the lace clinging to your hips. âIâve been going fucking insane,â he rasped, the words spilling out before he could stop them. âEvery time I see you⊠every time you smile, or laugh, or bend over, or just exist⊠I get so hard it hurts. I canât think straight. I canât sleep⊠I canât stop wanting you.â
Your thighs pressed together and a tiny, needy sound escaped your throat.
Jake took one more step. Now he was close enough to touch. Close enough that if either of you leaned forward even slightly, your bodies would meet. He lifted one shaking hand, hovering it near your cheekâgiving you every chance to pull away.
You didnât.
Instead, you tilted your head just enough that your cheek brushed his palm. Soft. Warm. Perfect.
His thumb traced the line of your jaw, slow and reverent.
âI saw you with Sunghoon tonight,â he admitted, voice low and raw. âLaughing. Touching his arm. Smiling at him like that. It fucking killed me. I wanted to drag him away and show him youâre mine.â
Your eyes fluttered half-shut at the rough edge in his voice, but the corner of your mouth curledâjust a tiny, wicked little tilt that made Jakeâs heart stutter.
âYours?â you echoed softly, voice breathy and teasing, like you were tasting the word. Your cheek stayed pressed to his palm, nuzzling ever so slightly into his touch. âThatâs a pretty big claim, Jake⊠especially when youâve barely said two words to me all week.â You tilted your head further, letting your lips brush the pad of his thumbâbarely a kiss, more like a ghost of one. Just enough to make his breath hitch audibly. âI mean,â you continued, voice dropping lower, silkier, âif Iâm yours⊠then why did Sunghoon get to make me laugh tonight? Why did he get to walk me back to my hut? Why did he get to touch me rightââ You lifted your hand and traced one fingertip down the length of his forearm, following the tense line of muscle. ââhere?â
Jakeâs entire body locked up. A low, guttural sound rumbled in his chestâhalf growl, half plea.
You leaned in closer, lips hovering just shy of his, so close he could feel the warmth of your breath against his mouth. âWere you jealous, puppy?â you whispered, the pet name slipping out sweet and cruel at the same time. âDid it hurt watching him get so close? Did you imagine ripping him away and fucking me right there on the porch so heâd know who I really belong to?â
That was it.
The last thread of Jakeâs restraint snapped like a cheap string. With a broken, desperate groan he surged forwardâhands clamping around your waist like iron bands, yanking you flush against him so hard your feet left the floor for a split second. His mouth crashed down on yours in a kiss that was anything but gentle.
It was filthy. Starving. All teeth and tongue and weeks of pent-up obsession pouring out at once. He kissed you like he was trying to devour youâlips bruising yours, tongue plunging deep to taste every corner of your mouth, swallowing the soft, surprised moan you let out. One hand slid up your back, fingers tangling roughly in your hair to angle your head exactly how he wanted.
His other hand slid down your body with rough, greedy purposeâfingers digging into the soft flesh of your ass through the thin lace of your panties. He squeezed hard, kneading the curve like he was trying to imprint himself into your skin.
A low, broken groan vibrated against your lips as he rolled his hips forwardâslow at first, testing, savoringâthen harder, more insistent. The thick, heavy length of his cock dragged against your lace-covered pussy with every grind, the rigid heat of him pressing right where you were already soaked and aching.Â
âFuckââ he gasped into your mouth, voice wrecked and trembling. âYou feel that? Thatâs all for you. Been like this for weeks.â He ground againâdeeper this time, hips snapping forward in a filthy rhythm that made your clit throb against the swollen head of his cock through the layers.Â
Jakeâs control was unraveling fast. His brain was goneâcompletely hijacked by the pulsing, aching need between his legs. His dick had taken over like some feral puppet master, yanking every string, making his hips buck harder, faster, more erratic. He couldnât stop. Didnât want to. âShitâshit, babyââ he panted, forehead dropping to your shoulder, teeth scraping over your collarbone. âCanâtâcanât thinkâneed you so bad it hurtsâfuck, youâre so wet, I can feel it through everythingââ
He was shaking nowâwhole body trembling with the effort of holding back, but his hips wouldnât listen. They kept grinding, kept fucking against you like he was already inside, like he could come just from this alone. One particularly hard thrust had you gasping and Jake whimpered. A real, broken, needy sound that he couldnât swallow back.
âS-sorryâfuck, Iâm sorryââ he babbled against your neck, but he didnât stop. âJustâneed to feel youâneed toâgonna come like this if you donât stop meâpleaseââ
You didnât stop him.
Instead, you leaned in closerâlips brushing the shell of his earâand whispered, soft and wicked, âCome like this, Jake. Right here. Make a mess for me.â
That was all it took.
He came hardâso hardâhot, thick pulses spilling into his shorts, soaking through the fabric in heavy, obscene spurts. A long, wrecked moan vibrated against your neck, muffled into your skin as he shuddered through every wave, hips stuttering, cock jerking with each rope of cum that painted the inside of his shorts. âF-fuckâoh godâbabyââ he babbled, voice cracking, tears pricking the corners of his eyes from how intense it was.Â
When the last pulse finally ebbed, he sagged against youâforehead dropping to your shoulder, chest heaving like heâd run a marathon.Â
You didnât let him catch his breath.
Your fingers tightened in his hair againâharder this timeâand you pulled his head back just enough to crash your mouth against his in a deep, filthy kiss.
Jake moaned into itâloud, devastated, the sound vibrating against your tongue. He kissed you back desperately, sloppy and needy, letting you lead. His tongue slid against yours, tasting faintly of salt and desperation, and when you tugged his hair againâsharp, possessiveâhe made the most broken, wrecked noise from the back of his throat. You pulled him with you, guiding him backward step by stumbling step until the backs of his knees hit the edge of your bunk.
One firm push, and he went down.
He landed on the mattress with a soft oof, legs splayed, chest still heaving. The kiss broke with a wet, obscene soundâstrings of saliva connecting your lips for a heartbeat before snapping.
Jake stared up at you, dazed and utterly ruined. His hair was a wild messâstrands sticking to his sweaty forehead, eyes huge and glassy with that big, pleading puppy look that made your stomach flip. Drool glistened on his swollen, kiss-bitten lips and ran in a thin line down his chin. His cheeks were flushed dark red, pupils blown so wide they were almost black.
And between his legsâ
The incriminating wet stain on his shorts was massive. Dark, spreading across the front, clinging to the thick outline of his cock. Even nowâafter coming so hard heâd nearly blacked outâthere was still a heavy, obscene bulge there. His dick hadnât gone down at all. If anything, it looked even thicker, twitching visibly under the soaked fabric like it was already begging for more.
You slid down slowly, your knees hitting the worn wooden floor of the hut with a soft thud that seemed to echo, Jakeâs breath punched out of him in a sharp, shaky exhale as he watched you settle between his spread thighs, your hands resting lightly on the tops of his knees.
âFuck,â he whispered, voice cracking. His hands flexed uselessly at his sides, like he didnât know whether to reach for you or grip the sheets to keep himself grounded.
You looked up at him through your lashesâeyes dark, lips partedâand hooked your fingers into the waistband of his ruined shorts. The fabric was soaked through, clinging obscenely to his skin, the dark stain spreading from the thick outline of his cock all the way down his inner thighs.
You tugged.
Jake lifted his hips on instinct, helping you drag the shorts and boxers down in one pull. The elastic caught for a second on the swollen head of his dick before snapping free, and then he was bareâspringing up against his stomach with a wet slap.
His cock was thick, veiny, flushed an angry dark pink at the base and deeper at the tip where precome still leaked in steady, glistening beads. The length curved slightly upward, heavy and throbbing, the slit weeping openly. Cum from his earlier release still streaked the shaft in pearly ropes, mixing with fresh precome to make everything slick and shiny.
You gasped involuntarily, eyes widening as you took him in fully.
Jakeâs entire body tensed. His face flushed deeper, a wave of self-consciousness crashing over him even as his dick twitched violently at the sound. âShitâsorryâI know itâs⊠itâs a lot, I get it, I canââ The words tumbled out in a frantic, breathless ramble, hands fluttering like he wanted to cover himself. âI didnât mean toâfuck, I can go if itâs too much, I donât want toââ His babbling choked off into a strangled, high whimper the second your fingers wrapped around him.
Your grip was warm and perfect, circling the thick base where your thumb and fingers barely met. You gave one slow, experimental stroke upward, and Jakeâs hips jerked up off the mattress like heâd been shocked.
Then you leaned in.
And kissed the tip.Â
Just a gentle press of your lips to the swollen, leaking head, tasting salt and him on your tongue.
Jakeâs head fell back against the pillow with a broken, devastated moanâlong and raw, the sound tearing from deep in his chest. His hands flew to the sheets, knuckles bleaching white as he gripped them hard enough to tear fabric.
You lingeredâlips still brushing the sensitive slit, letting your tongue flick out in a swipe to collect the fresh bead of precome that had welled up the moment your mouth touched him. The taste of him burst across your tongue: salty, musky, unmistakably Jake.Â
A high, broken whine tore from his throatâraw and helplessâand his hips bucked upward, pushing the swollen head past your lips just enough for you to feel how hot and velvet-hard he was against your tongue. âF-fuckâoh godâpleaseââ His voice cracked, trembling on every syllable. Veins pulsing along his forearms where his hands gripped the sheets like a lifeline. Knuckles white. Fingers shaking.Â
You hummed softly around the tipâbarely a vibrationâand Jakeâs head snapped forward. His eyes flew open, glassy and wide, pupils blown so huge they swallowed the hazel entirely. He looked wrecked: cheeks flushed dark, mouth hanging open, drool shining on his chin, messy hair plastered to his sweaty forehead. That big, pleading puppy stare locked onto you like you were the only thing keeping him tethered to earth.
âBabyâshitâI canâtâIâm gonnaââÂ
You pulled back just enough to speakâlips still brushing the head, breath hot against the slick skin. âShh,â you murmured, voice low and soothing, almost teasing. âIâve got you.â
Then you took him deeper.
Just the tip at firstâlips wrapping around the fat, flushed crown, tongue swirling slow circles over the slit while your hand stroked the base in long, firm pulls. Jakeâs moan was immediate and devastatingâlong, ragged, breaking into little whimpers every time your tongue flicked the sensitive underside.Â
âOh fuckâoh fuckâyour mouthâbaby, your mouthââ The words dissolved into another whine as you hollowed your cheeks, sucking gently, letting your tongue press flat against the underside and drag back up in one slow, wet stroke.
Fresh precome flooded your mouth. His cock throbbed so hard you felt it against your tongue, thick veins pulsing under your grip. You could taste how close he already was againâhow the earlier orgasm had done nothing to take the edge off, only made him more sensitive, more desperate.
One of his hands flew to your hairâfingers tangling gently at first, then gripping tighter as he fought not to push. âPleaseâpleaseâdonât stopâgonnaâgonna come againâfuck, Iâm sorry, I canâtââ
You answered by taking him deeper stillâhalf his length sliding into the wet heat of your mouth, lips stretching wide around his girth. Your tongue worked relentlesslyâswirling, pressing, lapping at the underside while your hand stroked what you couldnât fit.
Jakeâs back bowed off the mattress. A strangled cry ripped from his chestâhigh and brokenâand his thighs trembled violently around you.
âBabyâoh godâgonnaâgonna comeââ
He tried to warn you. Tried to pull back.
But you didnât let him.
You sucked harderâhollowing your cheeks, tongue flicking the slit one last timeâand Jake shattered.Â
His hips snapped up, burying another inch deeper as he came with a long, wrecked moan that echoed off the cabin walls. Thick, hot ropes of cum flooded your mouthâpulse after pulse, so much it spilled past the corners of your lips, dripping down your chin in messy streaks.Â
Jake collapsed back against the pillows with a shuddering exhale, his entire body going limp as the last weak pulses of his orgasm ebbed through him. His head lolled to the side, eyes half-lidded and glassy, mouth open in a dazed, wrecked expressionâlike heâd just been hit by a truck and loved every second of it.
You pulled off him slowly, lips swollen and glistening, a soft, wet pop echoing in the quiet hut as the head slipped free from your mouth. Thick strings of cum and saliva stretched between your tongue and the flushed, still-throbbing tipâglistening, obscene, snapping one by one as you leaned back. A final bead of his release clung to your lower lip before you licked it away with a slow swipe of your tongue.
âYour turn now,â he rasped suddenly, voice wrecked but burning with intent. âBeen dying to taste youâbeen dreaming about it every fucking night.â
Before you could respond, he surged upâhands strong despite the way they still shookâand pushed you onto the mattress. You landed on the soft sheets with a quiet gasp, hair fanning out around your head like a halo. Jake climbed over you instantly, caging you beneath him with his broad shoulders and trembling arms.Â
He kissed you deeplyâmessy, desperate, tasting himself on your tongue and groaning into your mouth like the flavor drove him insane. His lips were swollen, breath ragged, teeth grazing your bottom lip as he poured everything into the kiss: gratitude, obsession, raw need.Â
Jakeâs hands roamedâsliding up your sides, under the hem of your thin sleep top. His palms were warm, calloused from weeks of camp work, and they trembled slightly as he pushed the fabric higher. Inch by inch, he revealed you: the soft curve of your stomach, the dip of your waist, the underside of your breasts. He broke the kiss just long enough to drag the top over your head and toss it somewhere behind him, only to immediately descendâhot, open-mouthed kisses trailing down the column of your throat like he was starving and you were the only thing that could feed him.Â
When he reached the swell of your breasts, he paused, breath ragged and hot against your skin, eyes flicking up to meet yours. âCan IâŠ?â he whispered, voice hoarse, almost pleading.
You nodded, fingers still tangled in his hair, tugging gently. âPlease, Jake⊠touch me. Taste me. I want you to.â
Jake groaned and dove in like a man whoâd finally been given permission to worship. His mouth closed around one nipple, hot and wet, tongue swirling slow circles around the hardened peak before he suckedâhard, greedy, pulling the sensitive bud deep into his mouth. His hand cupped your other breast, thumb brushing back and forth over the nipple in perfect rhythm with his tongue.Â
You arched into him with a soft, needy moan, back bowing off the mattress. âOh godâJake, yesâjust like thatâŠâ
The praise hit him like a drug.
He moaned against your breast and switched sides, giving the other nipple the same devoted attention. âFuckâyou taste so good,â he mumbled against your skin, voice muffled and wrecked. âSo perfectâbeen dreaming about these tits every nightâwanted my mouth on them so badââ
You threaded your fingers deeper into his hair, tugging hard enough to make him whimper around your nipple. âYouâre so good, puppy,â you breathed, voice trembling with pleasure. âSo good with your mouthâdonât stop, please donât stopââ
His hands roamed everywhereâkneading, squeezing, thumbs flicking your nipples until they were swollen and aching. He buried his face between them, groaning deep in his throat as he nuzzled the soft valley, then dragged his tongue up the underside of one breast in a slow, filthy stripe before latching on again.
âBeautiful,â he whispered against your skin, voice thick with awe. âSo fucking beautiful.â
He shifted lower, trailing open-mouthed kisses down the center of your stomach, worshipping every inch. His tongue dipped into your navel, swirling lazily before he pressed a lingering kiss just above it. His hands followedâpalms sliding up your sides, thumbs tracing your ribs, fingers splaying wide across your waist like he was trying to hold all of you at once.Â
âYouâre perfect,â he murmured against your skin, voice cracking with emotion. âEvery single part of youâfuck, Iâve wanted this for so long. Wanted to touch you, taste you, make you feel how much Iââ His hands slid down to your thighs, spreading them wider with gentle pressure, thumbs stroking the soft inner skin in slow circles.
He looked up at you againâeyes shining, cheeks flushed, lips swollen and glistening.
âI love you,â he whispered, raw and shaky, like the confession had been ripped out of him. âIâm so fucking in love with you it hurts. Every smile, every laugh, every time you look at meâIâve been gone for you since the first day. And now youâre here, letting me touch you⊠letting me love youâŠâ His voice broke on the last word. A single tear slipped down his cheek, but he didnât wipe it awayâhe just leaned down and pressed his forehead to your stomach, breathing you in like you were oxygen.
Your breath caught at the trembling confessionâhis words sinking into you like warm honey, sweet and heavy and almost too much to hold. âJakeâŠâ you whispered, voice soft and thick with emotion. âLook at me.â
He lifted his head just enough to meet your eyesâhis own wide, glassy, shining with something so vulnerable it stole your breath.
âI love you too,â you said, voice barely above a whisper, but steady. âIâve loved you since the first time you smiled at me across the mess hall and tripped over your own feet. Iâve loved you every time you played with the kids and made them laugh, every time you looked at me like I was the only person in the world. Iâve loved you through every single one of your shy glances and every time you blushed so hard I thought youâd catch fire.â
A fresh tear slipped down his cheek. He let out a shaky, disbelieving laughâhalf sob, half joyâand turned his head to press a desperate kiss to your palm.
âBabyâŠâ he choked out, voice wrecked. âYou⊠you love me too?â
You nodded, smiling through the tears gathering in your own eyes.
âI love you so much it hurts,â you whispered. âSo please⊠donât hold back anymore. I want everything. I want you.â
âYou mean it?â he whispered, voice barely audible, cracking on every syllable. âYou really want⊠everything? All of me?â
âI mean it,â you breathed. âI want all of you, Jake. No holding back. No hesitation. I want you to take meâlove meâthe way youâve been dying to. Iâm yours. Completely.â
The last thread of restraint snapped.Â
He trailed kisses down the crease where thigh met hip, then lower still, until his lips found the plush, sensitive skin of your inner thigh. He kissed one thigh, then the other, alternating back and forth like he couldnât decide which one deserved more attention.
Every time his mouth moved, his breath ghosted over your soaked panties, making you squirm. You moaned softlyâfingers tightening in his hairâand the sound made him whimper against your skin, hips twitching helplessly against the mattress.
âJakeâŠâ you breathed, voice trembling. âPleaseâŠâ
He pulled back just enough to look.
And stare.
âLook at this pretty fucking pussy,â he rasped, voice raw with devotion. âSo wet sheâs crying for meâŠIâve dreamed about thisâimagining.. And now youâre letting me see it⊠letting me have itâŠâ
You couldnât take it anymore. The ache between your legs was unbearableâevery word, every hot exhale making you clench around nothing.
âJakeâŠâ you breathed, voice trembling, hips lifting just a fraction off the mattress in desperate search of contact. âPlease⊠please, just taste me. I need your mouth on meânow.â
That single, pleading âpleaseâ snapped something inside him. With a low, guttural groan that sounded like it had been torn from his soul, Jake smashed his face against you.
No hesitation.
His nose pressed right to your clit through the laceâinhaling deeply, greedily, like he was trying to drown himself in your scent. A long, broken moan vibrated straight through your core as he breathed you inâonce, twice, three timesâhis whole body shuddering with how good you smelled.
Then he opened his mouth.
Wide.
And dragged his tongue flat and hard up the entire length of your soaked slit through the lace. The rough texture of the fabric dragged deliciously over your swollen folds, catching on your clit with every pass. He licked againâbroader this timeâtongue pressing firm and hot, soaking the already drenched lace even more with his spit.
âGodâtaste so fucking good,â he mumbled between licks, voice wrecked. âEven through this⊠so sweet⊠so wet⊠canât get enoughânever gonna get enoughââ His hands gripped your thighs tighterâfingers digging in possessivelyâas he smushed his face deeper, cheeks flushed and slick with your arousal, chin glistening.Â
âTell me you love it,â he pleaded against you, words muffled and frantic. âTell me my tongue feels goodâplease, babyâtell me Iâm making you feel so fucking goodââ
âYesâfuck, Jakeâyour mouth is perfectâdonât stopâplease donât stop tasting me like thatââ
Jake was utterly gone.
âJakeâpleaseââ you gasped, voice breaking on a whine. âPlease⊠take them off. I need your tongue on meâproperly. Need to feel youâplease, puppy, I canât take it anymoreââ
âAnything,â he rasped, voice trembling. âAnything for you.â With shaking hands, he hooked his fingers under the soaked lace at your hips and tugged the fabric down your thighs.Â
You were spread open for himâglistening, swollen, blooming like the prettiest flower heâd ever seen. Your folds were dark and slick, clit throbbing visibly, entrance fluttering with every shaky breath you took. A fresh trickle of arousal slipped free, sliding down toward your ass, and Jake made a low, devastated sound in the back of his throat before he dove back inâface-first, no hesitation, no lace in the way this time.
The first real taste of you made him groan so deep it vibrated through your entire body. His hands gripped your thighs harder, spreading you wider, holding you open as he buried his face between your legs like he never wanted to leave.
And god almightyâhe never wanted to.
His mouth worked messily, greedily, with no trace of restraint left. Long, sloppy drags of his tongue from your entrance to your clit, lapping up every drop of your arousal like he was dying of thirst and you were the only thing that could save him.Â
The sounds were filthy.
Wet. Obscene. Disgusting in the best possible way.
Every time his tongue plunged back into your dripping entrance, there was a lewd shlickâthe slick glide of his tongue through your folds, followed by the wet slurp as he sucked your arousal straight from the source.Â
Then his hands moved. He slid both palms up the backs of your thighs, fingers hooking under the soft, swollen lips of your pussy before he pulled them apartâspreading you wide open, exposing every inch of your glistening, fluttering core to his hungry gaze.
He didnât even give you time to feel shy. He dove right back inâface buried even deeper now, tongue thrusting inside you, fucking you while his nose ground against your clit.Â
Your hips rolled shamelessly against his face, grinding your clit against his tongue, smearing your arousal across his cheeks, his chin, his nose. He was soakedâface glistening, hair sticking to his forehead, eyes squeezed shut in pure ecstasy as he devoured you like a man whoâd never eat again.
Thenâwhile his lips were sealed tight around your throbbing bud, tongue flicking fast and relentlessâtwo of his fingers slid down through your dripping folds.
He teased your entrance firstâslow circles around the fluttering hole, collecting your slick before pressing the tips inside. Just the first knucklesâenough to make you gaspâthen deeper, until both long fingers were buried to the hilt.
The moment Jakeâs fingers sank fully inside youâlong, thick, curling perfectly against that spongy spot deep withinâyour whole body seized.
A sharp, broken shout tore from your throatââJakeâoh fuckâ!ââand then you were coming.
Hard.
Your walls clamped down around his fingers like a vice, fluttering and pulsing in violent, rhythmic waves as the orgasm ripped through you. Slick gushed around his knuckles, coating his hand, dripping down your thighs and onto the sheets. Your back arched off the mattress, fingers yanking at his hair so tightly you were sure it hurt, but Jake only moaned louder.
When the first brutal wave finally began to ebb, Jake pulled back from your clit with a loud, wet popâlips swollen and shiny, chin dripping with your release. He didnât give you time to catch your breath. He crawled up your body in one fluid motion as he settled between your legs. His fingers never left youâstill buried deep, still curling lazily inside your fluttering walls.
Then his mouth crashed down on yours.
You moaned helplessly into him, arms wrapping around his neck, nails digging into his shoulders as you pulled him closer, arms wound tight around his neck, nails raking down the backs of his shoulders, leaving stinging little trails heâd feel tomorrow and love.Â
Minutes passed like that. Maybe longer. Time dissolved into nothing but heat, wet sounds, and the feeling of Jake consuming you from the inside out.
Thenâreluctantlyâhe pulled his mouth off yours. A thick string of spit connected your bottom lip to his for a heartbeat before it snapped.Â
âNeed to taste you again,â he rasped, voice ruined. âEverywhere.â
And then he started moving down. Open-mouthed kisses. Hot. Hungry. Worshipful.
He kissed the corner of your mouth to your jaw, down the column of your throat, sucking a fresh bruise into the skin heâd already marked earlier. Lower. Lower. His mouth found your tits againâimmediately latching onto one nipple. At the exact same moment, you felt pressure at your entrance.
A third finger.
He didnât force itâjust nudged, teasing the slick, fluttering rim, letting your own arousal coat the tip while he waited.
You answered instantly.
Your thighs fell open wider, hips canting up in a silent, desperate plea.Â
He moaned against your breastâvibrating the sensitive budâbefore he started pushing in.
Slow.
So fucking slow.
Just the tip at first, letting you feel the stretch, then deeper, until all three thick fingers were buried inside you, spreading you open, filling you so perfectly your eyes rolled back. Your walls fluttered wildly around the new fullness, clenching and releasing as he curled them gently, stroking that perfect spot over and over.
The stretch of his three thick fingers inside you was overwhelmingâperfect, burning, delicious. They filled you so completely, knuckles brushing every sensitive wall as he pushed in slow and deep, then dragged back out with agonizing patience before thrusting in again. Every time he curled themâhooking right against that spongy, electric spotâyour walls fluttered wildly around him, clenching down like you were trying to keep him buried forever.
âJakeâoh godâfuckââ Your fingers tightened in his hair, yanking him closer to your chest while your other hand cradled his face like he was something precious.
Jake never wanted to let go.
His mouth stayed latched to your breastâspecifically that one perfect, swollen nipple. Every few seconds, he let his teeth grazeâjust a gentle scrape, a soft chewânothing hard enough to hurt, but enough to make your whole body jolt. Heâd nibble lightly at the tender flesh around the areola, then soothe it immediately with his tongue, sucking the nipple back between his lips like he couldnât bear to be parted from it even for a second.
He had always had a thing for keeping something in his mouth.
A pacifier when he was little. A pen cap when he was nervous. His own fingers when he was deep in thought.
And nowâyou.
The taste of your skin, the weight of you on his tongue, the way you filled his mouth so perfectlyâit was everything heâd ever craved without knowing it.Â
You didnât hate it.
Not even close.
Your reactions told him everything.
Every time his teeth grazed, you gaspedâsharp and needyâhips bucking up against his thrusting fingers. Every time he chewed softly, nibbling like he was savoring the softest candy, your thighs trembled and squeezed around his head, trapping him there. Your fingers in his hair tightened to the point of pain, yanking him closer, pressing his face deeper into your chest like you were trying to smother him with your titsâand god, he would have happily died like that.
His mouth stayed locked on that one perfect breastâthe right one, the one that seemed to fit his lips like it was made for him. It throbbed under his attentionâdark, puffy, flushed an angry pink. It pulsed against his tongue with every heartbeat, swollen and hypersensitive, sending sharp jolts of pleasure straight between your legs every time he drew it deeper.
The desperate whines spilling from your lips, the way your body arched and shook, the way you clung to him like youâd die if he pulled awayâit was too much.
Jake felt itâthe perfect moment.
With a low, muffled groan against your breast, he shifted his hand. Three fingers were already stretching you wideâcurling deep, stroking that perfect spot over and overâbut he needed more.
You needed more.
He was big. Far too much to take without preparation. And he refused to hurt you. He wanted you ready. Desperate. Begging for every inch when the time came.
He kept his mouth working to keep you distracted, keep you lost in the pleasure. At the same time, a fourth finger nudged at your entranceâsliding through the dripping slick, teasing the already stretched rim before he pushed in.
The stretch was intenseâburning, overwhelming. Four thick fingers spreading you wide, filling you so completely your walls fluttered wildly around him, clenching and releasing in helpless little spasms. He curled them gentlyâstroking that perfect spot in slow, deep dragsâwhile his thumb found your clit and started rubbing circles.
You were a mess of high, needy soundsâwhimpers turning into broken sobs, hips rolling up to meet every thrust, fingers yanking at his hair so hard it had to sting. Your other hand cradled his cheek, thumb stroking over the flushed skin as you clung to him like he was the only thing keeping you grounded.
Only when your pleas turned truly desperateâwhen you were practically sobbing his name, begging for his cock, hips bucking wildly against his handâdid he finally decide you were ready.
With a reluctant whine he pulled his mouth off your breastâleaving the nipple dark, swollen, glistening with spit and throbbing in the cool air.Â
Then agonizingly, he slipped his fingers out of you.
A thick, wet string of your arousal connected his knuckles to your entrance before it snapped, dripping down onto the sheets. Jake stared at the mess heâd madeâyour pussy gaping slightly, fluttering around the sudden emptiness, slick coating his hand from wrist to fingertipsâand groaned like a dying man.Â
Without hesitation, he brought his dripping fingers to his mouth. He sucked them in deepâeyes fluttering shut, cheeks hollowing as he licked every trace of you off his skin.Â
You watched himâbreathless, mesmerizedâwatching the way his tongue swirled around his knuckles, the way his eyes rolled back a little, the way he drooled over his own hand like he couldnât get enough.
Then his gaze flicked back to youâdark, hungry, adoring. He pulled his fingers from his mouth with a wet pop and brought them to your lips instead. âOpen,â he whispered, voice trembling.
You didâimmediatelyâparting your lips so he could slide his slick fingers inside. You tasted yourself on his skin and sucked eagerly.
Jakeâs breath hitched. His eyes dropped lowerâto your open, dripping pussy, folds swollen and glistening, entrance fluttering like it was begging for him. And godâit was begging. Winking at him. Opening for him. Practically pleading for his cock.
Jake groaned and pulled his fingers from your mouth with a wet pop. He wrapped his hand around the thick base of his cockâveins pulsing visibly under the flushed skin, head swollen dark and leaking a steady stream of precome that dripped in slow, silvery strands. He lined himself up, the fat, blunt tip kissing your entranceâhot, slick, pressing insistently against your fluttering hole.
He watchedâcompletely entranced, eyes dark and glassyâas he started to push in.
The first inch was already a challenge.
Your pussy opened for him, stretching around the impossibly thick head like it was being forced to learn how to accommodate something so massive. Your walls fluttered wildly, clenching and spasming around the intrusion, trying to adjust to the sheer girth that was splitting you open. It felt like he was carving out new space inside you, reshaping you to fit only him.
You couldnât breathe properly. Every shallow inhale came out as a shaky whimper. Your thighs trembled around his hips, muscles jumping with the effort of staying open for him.
âFuckâbabyââ Jake choked out, voice wrecked and trembling. âYouâre so tight⊠so fucking tight⊠trying to take me⊠god, look at youâtrying so hard to let me inâŠâ The head popped past your entrance with a soft, wet sound, and your walls clamped down hard around him in reflex. A sharp, high gasp tore from your throatâhalf pleasure, half overwhelmed stingâas the thick ridge stretched you wider than youâd ever been stretched before.
âJakeâoh godââ you whimpered, voice cracking. âYouâre so bigâtoo bigâitâsâfuckâitâs stretching me so muchââ
âShhâshh, babyâIâve got you,â he whispered, voice shaking with both restraint and awe. âYouâre doing so good⊠taking me so perfectly⊠just breathe for me⊠let me in⊠let your pretty pussy open up for my cockâŠâ He rocked forward another fractionâbarely an inchâand you cried out softly, nails digging into his shoulders. The stretch burned hotter now, your walls fluttering desperately around the thick intrusion, trying to accommodate the impossible girth. You could feel every vein, every ridge as he sank deeperâslow, torturous, filling you so completely it felt like he was reaching places inside you no one else had ever touched.
âFuckâlook at that,â he groaned, eyes fixed on where your bodies joined. âLook how your little pussy is stretching around me⊠taking my fat cock⊠so greedy for it⊠so wet and hot⊠god, youâre perfect⊠made for meâŠâ
Another inch.
Your back arched, a broken moan spilling from your lips as the head nudged against that deep, sensitive spot inside you. The pressure was everywhereâfilling you so full it felt like he was rearranging your insides, claiming every inch of space as his. âJakeâpleaseââ you sobbed, voice trembling. âItâs so muchâso deepâstretching me so wideâfeels like youâre gonna break meââ
You couldnât take it anymore.
The sound of his voice pushed you right to the edge of sanity. With a soft, needy whimper you slid both hands up to cradle his faceâthumbs brushing the sharp line of his jawâand pulled him down into a fierce, hungry kiss. The moment your lips crashed against hisâfierce, hungry, desperateâJakeâs entire world narrowed to that single point of contact and his restraint shattered like glass.
His hips snapped forward in one brutal, perfect thrust.
The last thick inches drove into you hardâburying him to the hilt so deep the fat, swollen head slammed right up against your cervix with a force that punched the air from your lungs.
You screamed into his mouthâhigh, startled, overwhelmedâback bowing off the mattress, thighs clamping around his hips like a vice.Â
âYou took meââ he rasped, voice cracking with awe and disbelief. âAll of meâall of meâgod, look at you⊠stretching around my cock like you were fucking made for it⊠so tight⊠so hot⊠I can feel you squeezing meâmilking meâfuck, baby, youâre perfect⊠so fucking perfectâŠâ The overwhelming heat, the tight, rippling grip of your walls clenching around every pulsing inch of himâit was too much. Too perfect. Too everything.
âYouâre squeezing me so good⊠feels like youâre trying to keep me inside foreverâŠâ He started rocking into youâshallow thrusts. Just a few inches back and forth, never pulling out too far, never giving you a second without feeling him. The wet, filthy schlick of him moving inside you filled the room, mixing with your shared breaths and soft moans.
Thenâhe made the mistake of looking down. He only meant to admire your tits but his gaze drifted lower.
And he froze.
Thereâright above your pubic boneâwas the unmistakable bulge of his cock. Every slow rock made it shiftâhis thick head pressing up against your lower belly, the outline visible under your skin like a brand.
Jakeâs breath punched out of him in a strangled groan.
âOh⊠fuckâŠâ
Something primal snapped inside him. With no warningâno hesitationâhe pulled all the way out. Until only the fat, leaking tip remained nestled against your entrance.
Your walls clenched around nothingâaching at the sudden emptinessâand you whimpered, hips lifting instinctively.
Then he thrusted in. Hard. Deep. One brutal stroke that buried him to the hilt again.
Your back arched off the mattress with a raw, broken scream âJahkeâ!â
His mouth found your throatâteeth grazing, then biting down just hard enough to markâwhile his hands flew to your waist, gripping your waist like handles, fingers digging into the soft flesh, using the leverage to yank you back onto his cock every time he pulled out. âLook at how deep I am inside you⊠look at this fucking bulgeâsee it? See how my cock stretches your little belly every time I bottom out? Thatâs me. Thatâs my dick rearranging your insides, making you feel me in places no one else ever has.â
He made sure you felt every thick, veiny inch drag against your fluttering walls before slamming back in with a wet smack. âSunghoon could never fuck you like this,â he snarled, the name dripping with venom. âHe could never fill you this deep. Never make you scream like that. Never leave you shaking and dripping and marked the way I do. Heâd be done in two minutesâaverage little cock barely touching the sidesâwhile Iâm here splitting you open, ruining this perfect pussy for anyone else.â Another brutal thrustâhard enough to make your tits bounce, hard enough to punch a raw cry from your throat. âHeâd never make you cry from how good it feels,â Jake continued, voice shaking with triumph. âNever make you come so hard your legs stop working. Never pump you so full of cum that it leaks out for hours. Heâd never look down and see his own cock bulging in your stomach like thisâlike Iâm branding you from the inside. Youâre mine. This pussy? This body? All mine. Not his. Never his.â
He leaned back just enough to look downâeyes locked on the obscene outline of his cock moving under your skinâwatching it shift with every deep, claiming thrust. âThatâs me. Thatâs how much bigger I am. Thatâs how much better I fuck you. He could never do this. Could never make you take every fucking inch like you were born for it. Could never make you sob my name while your tight little cunt milks me dry.â He slammed in againâharderâmaking the bulge rise sharply under your lower belly. âSay it,â he demanded, voice low and dangerous, teeth grazing your earlobe. âTell me who owns this pussy. Tell me who fucks you like this. Tell me who you belong to.â
You could barely speakâvoice wrecked, breath punched out of you with every thrustâbut the words spilled out anyway, broken and desperate. âYouâyou, Jakeâonly youâfuckâonly your cockâonly yoursââ
He groanedâdeep, guttural, victoriousâand fucked you even harder, hands bruising your waist, hips snapping forward like he was trying to imprint himself into your very core. âDamn right,â he snarled against your throat.Â
Thenâwithout warningâJakeâs hands slid under your ass. Strong arms flexed under your thighs, biceps bulging as he lifted you clean off the mattress in one smooth, powerful motion. The world tilted for a heartbeatâyour back leaving the sheets, your weight shifting entirely onto himâas he pulled you up and settled you firmly in his lap, legs draped over his hips like you belonged there.Â
You sank down hardâgravity and his guiding hands forcing you onto his cock in one brutal, breathtaking drop. The thick length speared into you deeper than before, the angle hitting new, untouched places inside you that made your vision blur and a raw, high-pitched cry rip from your throat. He was too big, too deep, too everything.
He set a punishing rhythm immediately: slow on the upstroke, lifting you with those powerful hands until only the thick, flared head remained nestled just inside your entrance, then he yanked you back down, burying himself to the hilt in one brutal stroke that punched the air from your lungs. Your ass met his thighs with a sharp, wet slap that echoed through the cabin, followed immediately by your broken, high-pitched moan as he filled you completely once more.
Again. And again.
Each time he yanked you down, your breasts bounced heavilyâfull, flushed, marked with the dark red-purple blooms of his bites and the faint indents of his teeth. The soft, bruised flesh jiggled with every rough drop, practically begging for attention.
And Jake?
Jake needed his mouth busy.
Always had.
The sight of your tits bouncing right in front of his faceâclose enough to tasteâwas the most tempting invitation heâd ever been given.
With a low, broken groan that sounded more animal than human, Jake surged forward.
His mouth crashed onto your right breast like a starving man finally allowed to feast. No preamble, no teasingâhe simply opened wide and took the swollen, dark nipple deep into the wet heat of his mouth, lips sealing tight around the areola as he sucked hard enough to hollow his cheeks.Â
His free hand slid up cupping the underside of your other breast. He lifted it, squeezed, then slappedâhard enough to make the flesh jiggle. The sharp smack echoed through the room, followed immediately by your high, broken moan. He watched, utterly fascinated as the red bloom of his handprint bloomed across the pale skin. Another slapâharderâwatching the flesh move in hypnotic ripples.Â
âJahykeeeââ The sound came out high and needy, open-mouthed, drool slipping from the corner of your lips as your head fell back. You couldnât form full sentences anymoreâjust his name, over and over, moaned like a prayer.
Everything was wet.
Disgusting.
Perfect.
You were babbling nowâincoherent, desperate little sounds that barely formed words. âgonna comeâoh godââ
A few more brutal thrustsâdeep, punishing, hips snapping up to meet every downward slamâand Jake broke. With a raw groan that vibrated against your breast, he buried himself to the hilt one last time and came. Thick, hot ropes of cum flooded deep inside youâpulse after violent pulseâfilling you so full you could feel every spurt painting your walls.Â
The sheer volume of his cum filled you so completely you could feel it sloshing gently with every tiny shift of your hips, warm and heavy, some of it already leaking out around the base of his cock in slow, creamy rivulets that dripped down his balls and onto the sheets beneath you. Neither of you moved to pull apart.Â
You didnât want to. He didnât want to.
His mouth stayed latched to your swollen nippleânursing with slow, lazy pulls that made the tender bud throb against his tongue. Every few seconds heâd give a tiny, gentle suckâlike he was drawing comfort, drawing life from you. He gnawed softly at the areola, not hard enough to hurt, just enough to make you shiver, then returned to nursing with quiet, contented hums vibrating against your chest.
You let your own hands drift upâfingers threading gently through his damp, messy hair. You smoothed it back from his forehead, petting him slowly, lovingly, nails scratching lightly over his scalp in soothing little circles.
âGood boy,â you whispered, voice soft and wrecked. âFilled me up so perfectlyâŠâ
That made him melt.
A high, broken whimper escaped around your nipple as his hips gave a tiny, helpless roll beneath you. The motion dragged his still-hard cock against your sensitive walls, stirring the thick load heâd just pumped deep inside you.
You gaspedâsweet and softâat the sensation.
âGood boy⊠look at youâstill so hard for me⊠still filling me upâŠâ
Jakeâs entire body trembled against yoursâshaking like a leaf in a stormâhis face buried so deep between your breasts that his nose pressed into the soft valley, inhaling you like you were the only air he needed. His arms wrapped around your waist tighter, hands splayed wide across your lower back, fingers digging in just enough to keep you locked against him. He wasnât thrusting anymoreânot really. He was just⊠moving. Like his body couldnât bear to be still inside you.Â
âPlease say it again⊠pleaseâŠâ He sounded so small, so utterly wrecked. The filthy boy whoâd just fucked you senseless was gone. In his place was this trembling, desperate thing.Â
You cradled his face gently between your hands, thumbs brushing over the flushed apples of his cheeks, feeling the way he trembled under your touch. His eyesâbig, glassy, and completely lostâlifted to meet yours, pupils blown wide with need and adoration.
âMy sweet puppy,â you murmured, voice soft but firm, lips brushing his forehead. âYouâve been so good for me. You can fuck me again, baby. You have my permission, puppy. Take what you need.â
A broken, grateful whine tore from his throatâhigh and shakyâlike the words alone were enough to unravel him completely. âThank youâthank youââ he choked out, voice cracking as he nuzzled into your neck for a heartbeat before lifting his head.
You tilted his chin up with gentle fingers, guiding his mouth to yours.
The kiss started softâslow, deep, tender. You led at first, tongue sliding against his in lazy, loving strokes, swallowing the little whimpers he let out every time you nipped his bottom lip. He melted into itâletting you take control, letting you set the paceâhands trembling where they gripped your hips like he was afraid to move without your say-so.
But Jake was needy.
Desperate.
And he could only hold back for so long.
A low moan slipped out against your mouth as his tongue plunged deeperâstill following your rhythm at first, but growing hungrier, chasing every slide of your tongue like you were pure nectar heâd die without. You could taste the salt of his tears, the faint musk of your earlier release still lingering on his tongue, and it made you moan softly into him.
You started movingâlifting yourself up his thick length with agonizing slowness, letting him feel every dragging inch as your walls clung to him, fluttering and squeezing around his girth. When only the swollen head remained inside youâstretching your entrance wideâyou sank back down in one smooth, deep drop, taking him to the hilt again.
Jakeâs entire body jerked beneath you, and his hands on your hips tightened, fingers digging in just enough to help guide your rhythm, lifting you just enough on the upstroke, then guiding you back down with gentle pressure, making sure you took every inch. But he didnât thrust up into you. He didnât dare. He just⊠assisted. Letting you use him exactly how you wanted.
Eventually you could feel it building againâslow, hot, inevitable. Your thighs trembled uncontrollably around his waist, breath coming in short, ragged gasps as the pressure crested. âJake.. gonnaâgonna comeââ you sobbed, voice breaking into a high, desperate whine.Â
The second the words left your lips, something shifted in him. His handsâpreviously only guiding, tightened. His fingers dug into your hips hard enough to leave fresh marks over the old ones, and he took over.
No more teasing rhythm. No more letting you lead.
He surged upward driving his cock deep inside you in one smooth, punishing stroke that punched the air from your lungs. Your back arched violently, a raw cry tearing from your throat as he bottomed out again. One hand slid up your side cupping the heavy curve of your breast, thumb flicking over the swollen, spit-slick nipple before pinching it hard enough to make you gasp. His other hand slipped between your bodiesâfingers finding your clit immediately, rubbing fast little circles, then pinching the sensitive bud between his fingers, rolling it gently before flicking it hard enough to make your hips buck.Â
âGonna come so pretty for me, arenât you? Gonna cream all over my dick while I fill you up againââ
You shattered.
Your orgasm crashed through you like a waveâwalls clamping down around his cock in violent, fluttering spasms. Your thighs squeezed his hips so tight it hurt, toes curling, vision whiting out at the edges.Â
You went limp beneath him, your arms flopped weakly to your sides, legs splayed open around him, chest heaving with ragged breaths. You could barely think, barely moveâjust lay there, wrecked and panting, letting him use you as he chased his own release. And with a few more desperate grinds, he broke.
With a muffled cry, he came againâhot, thick ropes flooding deep inside you, mixing with the first load until you felt impossibly fuller.
You both stayed like thatâlocked together, tremblingâfor long minutes. Jakeâs hands roamed lazily over your body, petting your sides, squeezing your ass, like he was memorizing every curve.
Then slowlyâever so slowlyâhe shifted, with a soft, reluctant whineâhe started to pull out.
You winced at the feelingâsharp and emptyâas his cock dragged against your oversensitive walls. A gush of his cum followed immediately, spilling out of you in a warm, thick flood that ran down your ass and pooled on the sheets. The sudden loss made you whimper, thighs twitching.
But before you could even process itâ Jakeâs mouth was there, strong hands gripping your thighs, spreading you wideâand buried his face in your pussy.
You shoutedâhigh and startledââJakeâfuckâtoo muchâ!â
Overstimulation hit like lightningâyour hips bucking up instinctively, hands flying to his hair to push him away as his tongue dragged flat up your leaking slit.
But Jake didnât budge.
His tongue pushed past your swollen folds, lapping at the creamy mess heâd left inside you: his thick cum mixed with your slick, warm and salty-sweet on his tongue. He scooped every drop with broad swirlsâmoaning low against your pussy like the flavor was pure ecstasy.
âGotta clean you,â he mumbled against your folds, voice thick and wrecked, lips moving wetly as he spoke. âGotta taste usâŠâ
He ate you thoroughlyârelentlesslyâtongue curling inside you, swallowing with a low humâthroat working visibly, nose nudging your swollen clit with every deep thrust of his tongue.
You tried to push at his head, but he wasnât having it. He grabbed both of your wrists in one large hand and pinned them to your stomachâholding you down, while his other hand clamped harder on your thigh, thumb stroking the soft inner skin in slow, soothing circles.
âStay still, baby,â he rasped between licks, voice muffled and dripping with need. âLet me clean you⊠Iâm not done yet⊠not even closeâŠâ
He kept goingâtongue plunging deep, then dragging up to your clit before sucking the swollen bud between his lips with gentle insistence. He nursed on it softlyâsucking, licking, humming in quiet bliss.
He kept going until your pussy was clean, glistening only with his spit now, fluttering weakly around nothing.
He gave one last long, savoring lick from your entrance all the way up to your clitâcollecting the final tracesâbefore pulling back with a low, wrecked groan.
He crawled up your body until his face hovered over yours.
Then he kissed you.
Deep. Slow. Filthy.
His skin was flushed and sweat-slicked, chest rising and falling in heavy breaths, but his eyes never left yoursâdark, glassy, shining with something so raw and tender it made your heart stutter.
When his face finally hovered over yoursâclose enough that you could feel the heat radiating from him, smell the salt and musk of sex clinging to his skinâhe paused for one heartbeat, just breathing you in.
Then he kissed you.
His mouth sealed over yours like he was trying to crawl inside you all over againâlips soft but insistent, parting yours with a gentle nudge before his tongue slid in, hot and thick and unhurried. The first taste hit you immediately: the heady, salty-sweet mix of both of youâhis cum still lingering on his tongue, thick and musky, blended with the slick tang of your own arousal that coated every inch of his mouth. It was obscene, intimate, utterly filthy in the most perfect wayâevidence of everything heâd done to you, everything youâd let him do, still warm and fresh on his tongue.
You moaned into the kiss and he groaned backâlow and wreckedâswallowing the sound like it was nectar, his tongue sliding deeper, curling around yours in slow, lazy drags that made your toes curl against the sheets.
The kiss was sloppy, unashamedâfilthy in the best way.
He shifted slightlyâweight settling more firmly over youâand one of his hands slid down your body with intent. Rough fingertips trailed over your ribs, your stomach, until they reached the space between your thighs. He cupped your pussy in one big palmâhot, calloused, fingers splaying wide to cover every inch of your swollen, sensitive folds.
Your thighs clamped around his hand instantlyâreflexiveâtrapping him there. The wet heat of you was obsceneâ still swollen and tender from everything heâd done to you.
Without breaking the kiss, his ring and middle fingers slipped inside you easilyâtwo thick digits sinking deep into your heat with a soft, wet schlick. Your walls fluttered around them immediately, still sensitive, still clenching like they were trying to pull him deeper. He curled them slowlyâhooking against that perfect spot inside youâwhile his thumb brushed feather-light over your swollen clit, circling once, twice, then pressing down just enough to make your hips buck. Your own hand came down to cover hisâfingers wrapping around his wrist, not to stop him, but hold on, feeling the flex of his tendons, the way his forearm tensed every time he pushed deeper.
He worshipped you like this for long, unhurried minutesâfingers massaging slow and deep, thumb circling your clit with perfect patience, mouth moving against yours in lazy, loving strokes. You could feel yourself climbing again, pleasure coiling tight and hot in your belly despite the oversensitivity. But Jake felt it too. He felt the way your walls started fluttering faster, the way your breath hitched against his mouth, the way your fingers tightened around his wrist.
With a soft, reluctant groan he finally eased his fingers out carefully, curling them one last time against that perfect spot before sliding free.Â
He broke the kiss just enough to press his forehead to yoursâbreathing hard, eyes glassy and dark with adoration.
âDonât wanna push you too far, baby,â he whispered, voice hoarse and trembling. âYouâve already given me everything.â He pressed one last, soft kiss to your swollen lipsâgentle this time, then collapsed beside you and immediately pulled you into his arms, chest to chest, legs tangling, his face immediately burying in the crook of your neck. His breath came in shaky, happy little puffs against your skin as he nuzzled closer, one hand sliding up to cradle the back of your head, the other resting possessively on your hip.
âMineâŠâ he whispered, voice hoarse and drowsy, lips brushing your pulse point. âAll mineâŠâ
He pressed a soft, lingering kiss to the side of your throatâthen another, and anotherâlike he couldnât stop tasting you even now.
You hummedâsoft, contentâfingers threading gently through his damp hair, petting him slowly while your other arm wrapped around his shoulders, holding him close.
Completely, blissfully content.
The next morning dawned bright and mercilessly hot, the kind of summer day that turned the entire camp into a shimmering haze. You stood in front of the tiny mirror in your cabin, tryingâand failingâto cover the evidence of last night.
The marks were everywhere.
Dark, blooming hickeys and faint bite marks painted your throat like a collar of bruises. A constellation of red-purple blooms trailed down your collarbone, over the tops of your breasts, and disappeared beneath the neckline of your top. Your inner thighs were mottled with finger-shaped imprints and suction marks, and your hips bore the faint outline of Jakeâs hands where heâd gripped you like he never wanted to let go.
You tried a scarfâridiculous in this heat. A high-collared shirtâimmediately discarded when sweat beaded on your neck within minutes. Long sleeves? Impossible. The sun was already brutal, and the thought of layers made you feel like you were suffocating.
So you gave up.
You tugged on your usual camp uniform and stepped outside. Immediately, the heat pressed against your skin like a living thing, but more noticeable than the temperature was the way your body moved.
You were limping.
Not dramatically, but enough that every step sent a dull, delicious ache radiating from between your thighs. Your pussy still felt swollen, tender, stretched in a way that made you clench involuntarily every time you shifted your weight. And your skinâgod, your skinâglowed. That unmistakable post-sex flush clung to you, making you look like youâd been thoroughly, repeatedly ravished.
The female counselors noticed first.
They were gathered near the mess hall, sipping lukewarm coffee, when you limped past.
âHoly shit,â Minjiâchoked on her drink, eyes widening as she took in the full display. âGirl, what the hell happened to you? Did you get attacked by a vacuum cleaner?â
Chaeryeongâleaned forward, grinning wickedly. âNo, no, look at those marks. Thatâs not a vacuum. Thatâs a whole-ass man. Who fucked you so good you look like you got mauled?â
You laughedâhoarse, a little breathlessâand tried to shrug it off, but the movement pulled at a particularly sensitive spot on your neck, making you wince.Â
âSomeone got carried away,â you said, voice still a little raspy from all the moaning and screaming the night before.
âCarried away?â Yuna echoed, eyes sparkling. âBabe, thatâs not carried away. Thatâs claimed. Look at your thighsâthose are handprints. Plural. Who is this man and does he have a brother?â
The male counselors, meanwhile, were noticeably quieter.
They glanced overâthen quickly looked away. Some flushed red. Others suddenly found the ground very interesting. Sunghoon, in particular, was standing near the canoe rack pretending to check ropes, but his ears were bright pink and he refused to meet anyoneâs eyes.
The kids were⊠less subtle.
A group of eight-year-olds ran up while you were trying to help set up the morning activity board.Â
âWhoa, Miss, what happened to your neck?â one little girl asked, pointing openly at the dark hickey just below your jaw.
Another boy gasped dramatically. âDid a bear get you? Or a tiger? You look like you got mauled by an animal!â
You crouched downâwincing slightlyâand ruffled his hair. âNo bears, promise,â you said with a grin. âJust⊠a very enthusiastic mosquito.â
The kids blinked, clearly unconvinced, but ran off to tell their friends about the âmosquito attack.â
The adult staffâcounselors and the camp director includedâmostly just stared at you like youâd grown a second head. A few raised eyebrows. A couple of knowing smirks. One of the older female staff members muttered something about âkids these daysâ while pointedly looking anywhere but at your neck.
But none of it really bothered you. Not when Jake was trailing behind you like a lovesick shadow.
He hadnât let you out of his sight since breakfastâstill a little dazed, still a little sore, still glowing. He carried your water bottle without being asked. He hovered while you handed out activity schedules. He practically vibrated with pride every time someoneâs eyes flicked to your marks and then to him.
And when Sunghoon tried to approach you near the craft tableâcasual, friendly, like nothing had changedâJake was suddenly right there, sliding an arm around your waist, chin resting possessively on your shoulder.
Sunghoon blinked, glanced at the obvious handprints on your hips peeking out from under your top, then at Jakeâs smug little smileâand backed off without another word.
Jake practically preened.
By evening, the bonfire crackled high, kids roasting marshmallows, counselors scattered on logs and blankets. Jake was sitting on one of the bigger logs, legs spread, looking every inch the smug, satisfied man whoâd finally gotten his prize.
You didnât even hesitate.
You walked straight overâlimp still noticeableâand plopped right into his lap. His arms wrapped around you instantly, pulling your back flush against his chest. His chin hooked over your shoulder, nose brushing your neck right over one of the darkest hickeys.
âHi, baby,â he murmured against your skin, voice low and content, just for you.
Kids giggled and whispered. Counselors exchanged looksâsome amused, some scandalized, most just resigned. Sunghoon stared into the flames like theyâd personally offended him.
Jake didnât care.
He pressed a soft kiss to the side of your neckâright over a particularly dark markâand sighed like the happiest man alive.
You were perfectly content right where you were: settled sideways across Jakeâs lap, back resting against his chest, legs draped lazily over one of his thighs. His arms were wrapped around your waist like he was afraid someone might try to steal you away if he let go for even a second. His chin rested on your shoulder, nose occasionally brushing the side of your neck where the darkest, most obvious hickey bloomed like a bruise-colored flower.
You werenât doing anything.
Just sitting.
Breathing.
Existing in his arms.
And that was more than enough. Because beneath you Jake started to harden.
You felt it happen in stages: the first subtle thickening against the underside of your thigh, the way his cock twitched once, then again, as if waking up. Then the gradual swell, pressing insistently against your ass through the thin layers of your shorts and his. He shifted onceâbarely a movement, just trying to adjustâand the motion only made him harder, the thick ridge of him settling right between your cheeks.
A soft, involuntary groan slipped from his throatâbarely audible over the fire, but you heard it. Felt it rumble against your back. You tilted your head just enough to whisper against the shell of his ear, voice low and teasing, lips brushing the sensitive skin.
âGetting hard just from me sitting on you, puppy?â you murmured, letting your breath ghost over his earlobe. âPoor thing⊠canât even control yourself around me anymore, can you?â
Jakeâs whole body jerked. âBabyâfuckââ he breathed against your neck, voice wrecked and trembling. âDonâtâdonât say thatâpleaseâIâm trying to be goodââ
But he wasnât being good.
Not at all.
His hips gave another tiny, helpless rollâgrinding his aching length against youâjust enough to make you feel every thick inch. His breath came in short, shaky pants against your throat, lips brushing the bruise heâd left there like he couldnât help himself.
Across the fire, Heeseung was watching the whole thing with the stupidest, most shit-eating grin on his face.
When Jakeâs eyes flicked upâwide, panicked, pleadingâHeeseung just raised both thumbs in an exaggerated double-thumbs-up, wiggling his eyebrows like he was at a comedy show.
Really helping the situation.
Jake buried his face deeper into your neck with another pathetic whine, hips twitching again despite his best efforts to stay still. âIâm gonnaâfuckâIâm gonna lose it right here if you keep talking like thatâŠâ
You only smiledâslow, wickedâand shifted just enough to press your ass down a little harder against his straining cock.
âShhh,â you whispered, lips brushing his ear again. âBe good for me, puppy. Or everyoneâs gonna know exactly what youâre thinking about right now.â
Jakeâs only answer was a low groan, broken, and completely wrecked.
a/n: i wrote most of this while at work. so sorry its shit.
genre: college au, eventual simp x simp dynamic, smut, slow burn
synopsis: getting partnered with jake, the tall awkward nerd from on of your computer science classes, should've been simpleâwork on the project, get your grade, move on. except now you're completely obsessed with him and he's totally clueless about it. between tutoring sessions you definitely don't need and "coincidental" dorm hall run-ins, you're pulling out all the stops. too bad jake's more interested in his textbooks than your very obvious flirting.
you've never been rejected before, so this should be fine.
âŠright?
warnings (MDNI 18+ only!!) : smut (oral sex(f. and m. receiving), fingering, unprotected sex, creampie, size difference, big dick!jake, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, pussy drunk!jake, dry humping, heavy makeout, whiny!jake), cursing, mild alcohol use, emotional manipulation, jealousy, themes of insecurity, angst, lots computer science related terms(i kind of geeked out here), reader's kind of delulu and a jerk
note: i'm back to my writing style for lighthearted fics for this one hehe. i lovelovelove nerdy shy men tropes sooo much. i did try to keep it a little realistic though. i hope you like this! enjoyyy
word count: 21.8k
taglist | more works!
you were alone in the computer science lab at nearly midnight, which wasn't unusual. assignments had a way of turning the building into a second home. but tonight felt wrong. everything felt too much. the lights buzzed too loud, drilling into your skull with that persistent electrical hum. your eyes burned from staring at your screen for four hours straight, vision going fuzzy at the edges. somewhere around hour three, you'd stopped actually processing code and started just staring through it.
your cold coffee sat forgotten beside your laptop, abandoned but still somehow necessary because the alternative was admitting defeat and going back to your dorm where your roommate and her boyfriend were probably still taking up the entire common space. you'd rather deal with this. the overstimulation. the way every tiny sound felt amplified in the empty lab. the aggressive brightness of your laptop screen. the uncomfortable pressure building behind your eyes that meant you were about to either cry or throw your laptop across the room. probably both.
your code wasn't working. hadn't been working for two days, and you'd tried everything. every forum suggestion, every stack overflow solution, every pathetic office hours visit where you'd explained your problem three times and still left confused. the cursor blinked at you on line two thousand and forty seven, mocking. the compiler kept throwing errors you didn't understand, and you'd rewritten that function six times already. your hands shook slightly from too much caffeine and not enough food. that tight, hot feeling crept up your throat. the one that signalled imminent breakdown.
you pressed your palms against your eyes until you saw spots, trying to reset something in your overwhelmed nervous system. didn't work. nothing worked tonight.
the silence in the lab was the worst part, it was so quiet that it made you hyper-aware of your own breathing, your heartbeat, the small wet sound your tongue made against the roof of your mouth when you swallowed. you hated it.
then suddenly, the power cut out. total darkness that swallowed everything in an instant, your laptop screen going black, even the emergency exit signs disappearing. your heart kicked into overdrive, adrenaline flooding so fast you felt dizzy. you reached out instinctively for your laptop, fingers scrabbling across the desk, needing to confirm it was still there, that everything you'd been working on wasn't just gone.
suddenly you heard footsteps. someone else was in the lab. you hadn't known anyone else was here. the realisation sent fear spiking through your chest because you'd been so certain you were alone. now there was someone moving closer, footsteps uneven and hurried like they couldn't see any better than you. you opened your mouth to say something, but before you could form words there was sudden pressure against your shoulder, hard and unexpected, and then there was the splash of cold liquid, spreading across your lap and chest.
your coffee. the cup tipped and spilt, liquid soaking through your jeans, spreading sticky and uncomfortable across your thighs. panic hit first, pure and primal, because for a split second all you could think was laptop, everything's gone, hours of work, my entire project. your hands flew out in the darkness, patting frantically at the desk, trying to assess the damage. your chest was so tight you couldn't get a full breath.
then came the anger. fast and hot and overwhelming, rising from somewhere deep in your stomach. you wanted to scream. wanted to grab whoever crashed into you and shake them. wanted to cry from sheer frustration because this was exactly what you didn't need tonight, not when you were already hanging on by a thread.
"oh my god, oh my god, i'm so sorry, i didn't see you, i didn't think anyone else was here, i'm so sorry." the voice came rapid-fire from somewhere to your left. male, young, pitched higher than normal with genuine distress.Â
he kept apologising, words tumbling over each other, and there was something in his tone that didn't sound rehearsed. he sounded actually afraid, like he'd just committed some unforgivable sin.Â
"i didn't mean to, i couldn't see, the power just went out and i was trying to get to the door and i'm so sorry, did it get on your laptop? please tell me it didn't get on your laptop."
you took a breath, trying to force words past the tightness in your throat, trying to formulate some response that matched the fury still coursing through your veins. your mouth opened, something sharp and cutting right on the edge of your tongue.
the emergency lighting kicked in. not much, just pale green strips along the baseboards casting everything in eerie, insufficient glow. enough to see by. enough to make out shapes, faces.
the guy who'd run into you stood about two feet away, and the first thing you noticed was his hands. hovering in the air between you, trembling visibly even in the dim light, fingers spread like he wanted to help but didn't dare touch anything. he was tall and lean, dark hair stuck up in odd directions like he'd been running his hands through it repeatedly. glasses had slipped down his nose, and behind them his eyes were wide. genuinely panicked in a way that didn't feel performed at all.
"your laptop," he said, voice still shaking with that same desperate concern. "what model is it? did the coffee get on it? the keyboard is the main concern, if liquid got into the keyboard we need to shut it down immediately and flip it over to drain, we need to know if you had everything backed up."Â
he was already moving closer, trembling hands reaching toward your desk, and you realised with a start that he hadn't even looked at you properly yet. his entire focus was on your laptop. on the problem he'd created. on fixing it.
"it's fine," you managed, voice coming out rougher than intended. you looked down at your computer. sitting safely to the right of where your coffee had been, completely dry and unharmed. "it didn't get on it."
the relief that washed over his face was so profound you almost felt embarrassed witnessing it. his shoulders sagged. his hands finally dropped to his sides. he let out a long, shaky breath like he'd been holding it since the collision.
 "okay. okay, that's good, that's really good." then, almost as an afterthought, his eyes finally moved to actually look at you. taking in your coffee-soaked lap, your tense posture, your expression which you were sure wasn't friendly. "are you okay? did you get burned? that coffee looked hot, if it was hot we should get you to a sink, run cold water on it."
"it was cold," you said. true, but didn't make the situation better. your jeans were soaked through, fabric clinging uncomfortably to your skin, coffee starting to seep into your chair. you were sticky and irritated and still running on too much adrenaline. but he looked so genuinely distressed that some of your anger started deflating despite yourself.
"cold coffee is still a problem," he said, already pulling his backpack off his shoulder, unzipping it with fumbling fingers. "the sugar content means it'll get sticky when it dries, and it can stain, especially on lighter fabrics. i have napkins, i think, or maybe paper towels, i definitely have something."Â
he was rummaging through his bag now, pulling out crumpled papers, a graphing calculator, several pens, tangled earbuds, talking the entire time in that same rapid, anxious way.Â
"i'm really sorry, i should have been more careful, i knew the power was out, i should have used my phone flashlight, i just thought i knew the layout well enough to navigate in the dark but obviously i was wrong."
you watched him. something uncomfortable shifted in your chest. you'd been prepared to snap at him, to unleash all your accumulated frustration on whoever had been careless enough to run into you. but he wasn't making excuses. wasn't trying to minimise what he'd done or deflect blame or make some joke to lighten the mood. he was just genuinely, almost painfully concerned about the problem he'd created. the way he kept apologising, kept trying to fix things, made it very hard to stay angry.
"here," he said triumphantly, producing a small pack of tissues from the bottom of his bag. he held them out, then seemed to realise how inadequate they were and let out a frustrated sound. "these aren't going to be enough. we should go to the bathroom, get some actual paper towels. or maybe the kitchen area on the second floor, they have those industrial dispensers that are way more absorbent."Â
he paused, finally seeming to register that you hadn't moved, that you were just sitting there watching him. his ears went red, visible even in the dim green emergency lighting. "sorry, i'm sorry, i'm doing it again. my sister always tells me i go into problem-solving mode when i'm anxious and it makes people feel like i'm not actually listening to them. are you okay? like, actually okay, not just physically okay?"
the question caught you off guard. nobody had asked you that in days. maybe weeks. everyone just assumed you were fine because you were handling things, meeting deadlines, showing up to class. but this stranger who'd just spilt coffee all over you was looking at you with genuine concern, waiting for a real answer. something in your chest felt suddenly too tight.
"i'm fine," you said, softer than intended. you took the tissues from him, dabbing uselessly at your jeans. he was right. they weren't nearly enough. but the gesture felt important somehow. "it's been a long night."
"assignments?" he asked. when you nodded he made a sympathetic noise. "yeah, same. i've been here since six. had a project deadline at midnight but then the power went out fifteen minutes before and now i don't know if my submission went through because the wifi died with the electricity." he pushed his glasses up his nose. nervous gesture you got the impression he did frequently.Â
"i'm jake, by the way. jake sim. i feel like i should probably introduce myself since i just, like, assaulted you with your own beverage."
despite everything, ruined jeans and exhaustion and broken code, you felt the corner of your mouth twitch. not quite a smile, but close. "assaulted me with my own beverage?"
"well, yeah," he said, looking vaguely embarrassed. "i mean, i weaponised your coffee against you. that's technically assault, right? or maybe battery? i always get those mixed up. my roommate's a poli-sci major, he'd know."
 he was rambling now, words spilling out in that same anxious rush, and there was something almost endearing about how completely lacking in artifice it was. he wasn't trying to be charming. wasn't trying to be funny. just genuinely nervous and dealing with it by talking too much.
you told him your name. he repeated it carefully, like he was committing it to memory. "i really am sorry," he said again, quieter this time. "what were you working on? before i interrupted?"
"data structures project," you said. just thinking about it made your shoulders tense again. "it's due tomorrow and there's a bug i can't figure out and i've been staring at it for hours."
his eyes lit up behind his glasses, spark of interest that transformed his whole face. "what kind of bug? runtime error? logic error? is it a pointer issue? those are always the worst, especially with linked lists."
 he was already moving closer to your laptop, stopping himself at the last second like he'd realised he was being presumptuous. "sorry, i mean, i could take a look if you want? i'm pretty good with data structures. it's kind of my thing. i'm a TA for comp 201 actually, so i see a lot of common bugs. but also totally no pressure, i know i just dumped coffee on you so you probably don't want my help."
you should have said no. didn't know this guy, didn't owe him anything. you'd been managing just fine on your own. except you hadn't been managing fine. you'd been on the verge of a breakdown in an empty lab at midnight. now here was this nervous, rambling stranger offering help without expecting anything in return, looking at you like your problem was genuinely important to him.
it was disorienting. how quickly your anger had evaporated, replaced by something you couldn't quite name. you found yourself noticing details you shouldn't care about. the way he kept pushing his glasses up. the way his hands had finally stopped shaking now that he had something concrete to focus on.
"okay," you heard yourself say. his whole face brightened in a way that made something flutter uncomfortably in your stomach. "yeah, if you don't mind looking at it."
"i don't mind at all," he said quickly, already pulling up a chair. he left careful distance between you though, hyper-aware of not invading your space again. "show me what you've got."
you turned your laptop toward him. he leaned in, eyes scanning the lines with immediate focus. his expression shifted into something concentrated, intense. this was probably what he looked like when he wasn't tripping over people in the dark and panicking about it. he started asking questions about your implementation, your logic, what you'd already tried. his voice had lost that nervous edge. this was clearly where he was comfortable. in the clean logic of code, in problems that had solutions.
you answered his questions. watched as he nodded, occasionally pushing his glasses up, finger tracing lines of code on the screen without quite touching it. the emergency lighting cast strange shadows across his face, highlighting his cheekbones, the strong line of his jaw, the way his brow furrowed in concentration.
you were noticing things you shouldn't notice. but you told yourself it wasn't because you found him attractive. you were just paying attention because he was helping. because he'd disrupted your solitary misery and replaced it with something else. something that felt almost like companionship.
"there," he said suddenly, pointing to a line in the middle of your function. "you're incrementing the counter before you check the condition, but you need to check the condition first. it's causing an off-by-one error. see? you're accessing index n when your array only goes up to n minus one."
you stared at the line he was indicating. slowly, horribly, you realised he was right. such a simple mistake, the kind of thing you should have caught hours ago. but you'd been too tired, too frustrated, too deep in your own head to see it. "oh my god," you said quietly. "that's it. that's the whole problem."
"easy fix," jake said, smiling now. a real smile that crinkled the corners of his eyes. "just move that line down two spaces and add the conditional check first. you want me to...?" he gestured at your keyboard, asking permission. you nodded, watched as he made the adjustment with quick, confident keystrokes. "there. try running it now."
you hit compile, holding your breath. for the first time in two days the program ran without errors. the output printed exactly the way it was supposed to. clean and correct and perfect. relief flooded through you so intensely you felt dizzy with it, all the tension you'd been carrying suddenly releasing at once. "thank you," you said, voice more emotional than intended. "seriously, thank you, i've been losing my mind over this."
"it happens to everyone," jake said gently. "sometimes you just need fresh eyes. i've definitely been there." he leaned back in his chair, that nervous energy returning now that the immediate problem was solved. "your code is really clean, by the way. like, really well-structured. that bug was literally the only issue, everything else is solid."
the compliment settled warm in your chest. you realised with a start that you felt calm. actually calm, for the first time all night. your heart rate had slowed. your hands were steady. the overwhelming pressure behind your eyes had eased.
the lab was still too quiet, the emergency lighting still eerie and insufficient, your jeans still soaked with cold coffee. but somehow none of it felt as unbearable as it had fifteen minutes ago. and that was because of him. because jake had crashed into you in the dark and apologised too much and fixed your code and made you feel less alone in this empty building at midnight.
jake was gathering his things, shoving papers and pens back into his backpack with the same energy he'd had while searching for tissues. "i should probably try to find someone about the power situation," he said. "and you should probably change before that coffee stains permanently. there's a campus store in the student centre that's open twenty-four hours, they have overpriced sweatpants but at least they're dry."
"yeah," you said, surprised to find you didn't want him to leave yet. "yeah, i probably should."
he stood up, slinging his backpack over his shoulder, and hesitated. "hey, um. if you ever need help with code stuff again, or if you just want to work in the lab at the same time, i'm here most nights. usually not spilling beverages on people, but, you know. tonight was special." he smiled awkwardly. you found yourself smiling back, a real smile this time.
"i might take you up on that," you said. meant it.
jake's expression brightened again. that same transformation you'd noticed earlier. he nodded. "cool. yeah, that would be cool. okay. i'm gonna go now before i accidentally break something else." he gave you a small wave, started toward the door, then turned back. "your code really is good, by the way. i wasn't just saying that."
then he was gone, disappearing into the dark hallway beyond the lab. you were alone again. but that realisation, that awareness that a stranger's clumsy kindness had affected you so much, sat uncomfortable and warm in your chest as you saved your work and finally, finally, packed up to leave.
you walked into your lecture the next morning running on four hours of sleep and caffeine-induced alertness that felt vaguely hallucinogenic. your jeans from last night were balled up in your laundry basket, probably stained beyond saving, and you'd thrown on the first clean thing you could find.Â
you slid into your usual spot next to yunjin, who was already comparing notes with beomgyu across the aisle. they were your people. your safe zone. the ones you'd suffered through intro courses with, pulled all-nighters with, shared desperate pre-exam breakdowns with.
"you look like death," yunjin said cheerfully, not looking up from her phone.
"thanks. love you too."
"late night?" beomgyu leaned over, stealing one of yunjin's chips. "you missed the group chat meltdown about the algorithms homework."
you hummed noncommittally, pulling out your laptop. your code from last night was still open, that perfect, error-free output staring back at you. you'd submitted it at 12:47 am, seventeen minutes after jake had fixed it. seventeen minutes after he'd disappeared down that dark hallway.
you hadn't told yunjin and beomgyu about any of it. the power outage, the coffee, jake. especially jake. it felt somehow private, like explaining it would cheapen it or make it feel less significant than it had been in the moment.
professor kim walked in, and the room settled into that particular brand of restless attention that morning lectures always had. "alright, alright," she said, pulling up a slide that made half the room groan in unison. "i know you're all thrilled to hear this, but it's time to discuss your semester-long project."
chairs scraped against floors as people twisted around to look at their friends. voices overlapped, people already calling out names, forming pairs out of habit and convenience. you felt yunjin's hand on your arm at the same time beomgyu leaned over.
"partners?" yunjin said.
"obviously we're doing a group," beomgyu added. "the three of us, right?"
you nodded, half-listening, your attention already drifting across the lecture hall. you weren't sure what you were looking for until you found it. him. jake was sitting near the back with a small group of guys you vaguely recognised from other cs classes. he was hunched slightly over his notebook, pen moving across the page, taking notes while everyone else was busy forming alliances. his hair was even messier today, sticking up on one side like he'd rolled out of bed. his glasses kept sliding down his nose and he kept pushing them back up with his index finger, that same nervous gesture from last night.
he looked small somehow, despite being tall. like he was trying to take up less space. one of his friends said something and laughed, nudging jake's shoulder, but jake just smiled politely without really engaging. his attention stayed on his notebook.
you watched him for a moment longer than necessary. watched the way his shoulders curved inward, the way he held his pen, the concentrated furrow of his brow. something in your chest did an uncomfortable little flip.
"so we're agreed then?" yunjin was saying. "i'll handle the frontend, beomgyu can do the database stuff, and you canâ"
you stood up. the decision happened before you'd fully processed it, your body moving on instinct or impulse or something you didn't want to examine too closely. your chair scraped loud enough that a few people glanced over.
"actually," you said, already stepping past beomgyu into the aisle. "i'm gonna partner with someone else."
"what?" yunjin's voice pitched up in genuine confusion. "who?"
but you were already walking. moving up the steps toward the back of the lecture hall, weaving between people who were still negotiating partnerships and arguing about skill distributions. you were aware of people watching. of yunjin and beomgyu's matching expressions of confusion. of the way conversations paused as you passed.
jake's friends noticed you first. one of them, a guy with bleached hair, nudged jake's arm and nodded in your direction. another one went quiet mid-sentence, eyes tracking your approach with unconcealed curiosity. jake looked up last, following their gazes, and when his eyes met yours he froze. actually froze, pen suspended over his notebook, lips slightly parted like he'd been about to say something and forgotten how.
you stopped at the edge of their row. suddenly hyperaware of how many people were definitely watching this interaction. "hey," you said, aiming for casual and landing somewhere near awkward. "you have a partner yet?"
jake blinked. once, twice. his friends were staring at him now, then at you, then back at him like they were watching a tennis match. "iâwhat?"
"for the project," you clarified, gesturing vaguely at professor kim who was still explaining requirements at the front of the room. "do you have a partner?"
"iâ" jake's hand came up to push his glasses up his nose even though they hadn't moved. his ears were already turning red. "no? i mean, no, i don't, butâ" he glanced at his friends, then back at you, looking genuinely lost. "are youâdo you meanâ"
"i'm asking if you want to partner up," you said, more directly this time. your heart was doing something weird and arrhythmic in your chest. "for the semester project."
the guy with bleached hair made a noise that might have been a strangled laugh. another one of jake's friends just gaped openly. jake himself looked like you'd just spoken to him in a language he only half understood. "you want toâwith me?"
"yeah."
"butâ" he gestured helplessly toward where yunjin and beomgyu were sitting, both of them now watching with unconcealed shock. "don't you usually work with your friends? i thoughtâ"
"i'm asking you," you said, cutting him off before he could talk himself out of it or before you could overthink what you were doing. "if you already have other plans it's fine, i just thoughtâ" you paused, scrambling for justification that didn't sound insane. "you're good at this stuff. you're a TA. you knew exactly what was wrong with my code last night in like, five seconds. it makes sense. strategically."
strategically. god, you sounded unhinged.
jake stared at you. his friends stared at you. half the lecture hall was probably staring at you at this point. "iâ" jake swallowed visibly. "yeah. yes. i mean, if you want to, thenâyeah. okay."
"yeah?"
"yeah." he nodded, more firmly this time, though he still looked vaguely shell-shocked. "we canâyeah. that would beâyeah."
his friends exchanged glances that were absolutely loaded with unspoken communication. the bleached hair guy, jungwon you think, was grinning now, looking between you and jake like he'd just witnessed something phenomenal. "well," he said, voice thick with amusement, "this is interesting."
you ignored him. "cool. we should probably meet up sometime this week to go over the requirements?"
"yeah, definitely," jake said quickly, already pulling out his phone with hands that trembled slightly. "i canâdo you want my number? or i can get yours, orâwe could use email if that's easierâ"
"number's fine." you rattled it off, watching him type it into his contacts with endearing focus, tongue poking slightly between his teeth. when he looked up his expression was softer, less panicked. almost shy.
"okay," he said. "i'll text you?"
"sounds good."
you turned to head back down to your seat, acutely aware of the weight of multiple stares following your retreat. yunjin grabbed your arm the second you sat down, eyes wide with questions, but professor kim chose that moment to actually start the lecture and yunjin had to settle for furious whisper-hissing "what the hell was that?" while you studiously ignored her.
you pulled up your laptop, pretending to focus on the slides about project requirements and grading rubrics. but your attention kept drifting. you could feel it, that awareness of jake sitting several rows behind you. you wondered if he was taking notes. if his friends were grilling him. if his ears were still red.
you told yourself this was practical. logical. jake was skilled, focused, clearly knew his stuff. working with him made sense from a grades perspective, from an efficiency perspective. it was a smart choice. strategic, like you'd said.
but the justification felt thin even as you repeated it to yourself. because practical partnerships didn't make your pulse spike like this. strategic choices didn't leave you feeling weirdly breathless, or hyperaware of your phone in your pocket, waiting for a text that might come in an hour or a day. smart decisions didn't come with this flutter of satisfaction sitting warm and dangerous in your chest, the kind that felt unearned and a little reckless.
you'd just chosen jake over your actual friends for a semester-long project. you'd walked across the entire lecture hall in front of everyone to ask him specifically. you'd done it without planning it, without fully understanding why, acting on instinct alone.
your phone buzzed. you grabbed it maybe too quickly, ignoring yunjin's pointed look.
unknown number: hi, it's jake. from the lab? and also from just now. obviously. you know who i am. anyway this is my number.
unknown number: we can meet whenever works for you btw. i'm pretty flexible.
unknown number: sorry i'm rambling over text now apparently. i'll stop.
despite everything, despite the weirdness of the entire situation, you felt yourself smile. properly smile, which made yunjin lean over and whisper, "oh my god, you're blushing," which you absolutely were not.
you saved his number. typed out a response. deleted it. typed it again.
you: library tomorrow at 6?
his reply came almost instantly.
jake: perfect. i'll see you there.
yeah. perfect. that's exactly what this was.
you'd gotten there ten minutes early, which was ridiculous and you knew it, but you'd told yourself it was just to secure a good table. not because you were nervous. definitely not because you'd changed your shirt three times.
jake showed up at 6:02, slightly out of breath like he'd been rushing, backpack slung over one shoulder and hair even messier than usual.Â
"sorry, sorry," he said, sliding into the chair across from you. "my last class ran over and then i couldn't find my charger andâ" he stopped himself, ears going pink. "sorry. you don't need the full explanation. i'm here now."
"you're fine," you said, surprised by how much you meant it. "i just got here too."
it was a lie, but whatever.
he pulled out his laptop, a slightly battered thing covered in tech company stickers, and immediately opened what looked like a meticulously organised project folder.Â
"so i was thinking we could start by breaking down the requirements," he said, already pulling up the assignment sheet. "if we divide it into modules we can work on different parts simultaneously and then integrate everything at the end. i made a rough outline last night, but obviously we can change whatever you want."
you blinked at him. "you made an outline? already?"
"iâyeah?" he looked uncertain suddenly, like he'd done something wrong. "was thatâshould i not have? i just thought it would be helpful to have a starting point, but if you wanted to plan it togetherâ"
"no, that'sâ" you leaned closer to look at his screen, close enough that you could smell whatever soap or shampoo he used. something clean and faintly citrusy. "that's really good actually. you're like, super organised."
"oh." he pushed his glasses up, not quite meeting your eyes. "thanks. i just like having things structured, it makes the actual coding part less chaotic."
you shifted your chair around the table, closing the distance between you under the pretence of seeing his screen better. your knees almost touched under the table. jake didn't seem to notice, already walking you through his outline with the kind of focused enthusiasm that made his whole face more animated. he talked with his hands a little, you realised. small gestures that punctuated his explanations.
it was kind of endearing. he was kind of endearing, in this unpolished, genuine way that made you want to keep watching him talk even though you should probably be paying attention to the actual content of what he was saying.
"âso if we use that framework it'll save us a ton of time on the backend. does that make sense?" he glanced at you, expectant.
"yeah, totally," you said, even though you'd caught maybe half of it. "you're really good at this."
"at what?"
"explaining things. breaking stuff down." you let your voice soften deliberately, the kind of tone you'd use on someone you were interested in. testing. "you must be a really good TA."
jake's expression brightened with genuine pleasure, completely innocent. "oh, thanks! i really like teaching actually. it's really satisfying when something clicks for someone, you know?" he turned back to his laptop. "okay so for the first module, i was thinking we couldâ"
you felt something deflate slightly in your chest. he'd just. moved on. thanked you politely and redirected straight back to work like you'd commented on the weather.
you tried again twenty minutes later, when he'd finished explaining the database architecture. "seriously, how is your brain even wired like this?" you said, letting your hand rest on the table between you, close enough to his that moving a few inches would mean touching. "like, this would've taken me hours to figure out and you just see it."
"i mean, i've been coding since i was like twelve," jake said, smiling in that self-deprecating way that made your stomach flip. "my dad's a software engineer so i kind of grew up around it. you'd be just as good if you'd had the same exposure."Â
he grabbed his water bottle, took a sip, completely oblivious to the way you were looking at him. "anyway, should we start on the initial setup? i can handle the repository if you want to draft the pseudocode for the first function?"
"sure," you said, trying not to sound as frustrated as you felt.
it continued like that. you'd find little ways to compliment him, to touch his arm when he said something funny, to lean into his space. and every single time jake would light up with friendly appreciation and then just. keep going. keep working. keep being nice in this utterly platonic way that was starting to drive you slightly insane.
when you suggested taking a break and offered to buy him coffee, he'd said "oh that's so sweet, but i'm good, i don't want to lose momentum." when you'd asked about his hobbies, trying to find some common ground beyond code, he'd given you a genuine answer about gaming and soccer and then immediately asked about your hobbies with the same earnest interest he gave to literally everything.
he wasn't being cold. wasn't being dismissive. he was just. friendly. sincerely friendly in a way that suggested he thought you were also just being friendly and nothing more. the idea that you might be flirting with him clearly hadn't even crossed his mind.
it shouldn't have bothered you. it was one study session. you barely knew him. but there was something about the way he was so completely unaffected that made you want to push harder, try more obviously, make him see you the way you were apparently seeing him.
which was insane. you were being insane.
"okay i think that's a good stopping point," jake said eventually, glancing at his phone. "we got through way more than i expected, honestly. you're really fast at this."
"we work well together," you said, maybe too much emphasis on the together part.
"yeah," he agreed easily, already packing up his stuff. "this is gonna be way less painful than i thought. usually group projects are a nightmare but i think we're pretty compatible."
compatible. he said it like he was talking about software versions.
you packed up your own stuff, trying to shake off whatever weird frustrated feeling had settled in your chest. this was good. you had a competent partner who was easy to work with. that's what mattered. not whether he noticed when you laughed at his jokes or sat closer than strictly necessary.
the library had gotten dark outside while you'd been working, the early winter darkness that feeking too heavy for eight pm. you pushed through the doors together, the cold air immediately biting at your face.
"which way are you headed?" jake asked, adjusting his backpack.
you pointed toward the east side of campus. "miller hall."
jake stopped walking. just fully stopped and stared at you. "wait, seriously?"
"yeah?"
"i'm in miller," he said, and his face did this thing, this open, delighted thing like you'd just told him something genuinely exciting. "i'm on the fourth floor. what floor are you?"
"third," you said, trying to keep your voice normal even though your brain was already racing ahead. same building. same building. you lived in the same building and you hadn't known. "that'sâwhat are the odds?"
"i know, right?" jake fell into step beside you, and he seemed more relaxed now, less formal than he'd been in the library. "i can't believe we haven't run into each other before. though i guess i'm not around that much, i'm usually either in class or the lab orâ" he laughed. "okay i'm making myself sound really boring."
"no you're not," you said, maybe too quickly. "i'm the same way. especially during midterms."
"the worst," he agreed. "hey, at least now if we need to meet up for the project it's super convenient. we can literally just knock on each other's doors."
he said it so casually. so normally, like it was just a nice logistical benefit and nothing more. meanwhile your mind was already cataloguing possibilities. you could time your meals to match his schedule. figure out when he usually left for class. find reasons to be in the common areas when he might pass through. it would look natural, coincidental. just friendly neighbors running into each other.
you were already strategising.
the realisation made something uncomfortable twist in your stomach. this was. this was too much maybe. you were thinking about him too much, cataloguing details about him like you were studying for an exam. getting frustrated when he didn't respond to your flirting even though you had no actual reason to expect him to. you'd had one late-night interaction and now one study session and somehow you were already rearranging your mental map of campus to accommodate his presence in it.
"you good?" jake asked, and you realised you'd gone quiet.
"yeah, just tired."
"same." he smiled at you, easy and warm. "thanks for picking me as your partner, by the way. i know you could've worked with your friends and i'mâi'm really glad you asked me instead. i think this is gonna be fun."
fun. he was looking forward to the project because he thought it would be fun. because he liked coding and teaching and he probably thought you were a cool person to work with. he was just. happy to have company. happy to make a new friend.
meanwhile you were over here planning imaginary coincidental run-ins and getting weirdly possessive over someone who didn't even know you liked him.
god, you were pathetic.
"yeah," you managed. "me too."
you reached miller hall, and jake held the door open for you, still talking about some technique he wanted to try for the project. you half-listened, watching the way his hair flopped over his forehead, the animated way he gestured when he got excited about something.
the elevator ride to your floor felt too short. jake got off with you, said he'd just walk up the extra flight of stairs for the exercise. "text me if you think of anything for the project," he said, already heading toward the stairwell. "or honestly just text me whenever. i'm always on my phone."
then he was gone, and you were standing alone in the hallway outside your door, feeling weirdly deflated and wired at the same time.
your phone buzzed before you'd even gotten your key out.
jake: forgot to say this but your idea for the UI was really smart. i think it's gonna make the whole thing way more intuitive.
jake: ok NOW i'm done bothering you. have a good night!
you stared at the messages, that dangerous warm feeling spreading through your chest again. he'd texted you immediately to compliment your idea. with absolutely no prompting.
you were smiling at your phone like an idiot.
yeah. you were definitely pathetic.
"i'm just saying, he's clearly not interested," yunjin said, stabbing her salad with more force than necessary. "like, you've tried everything."
you were sitting in the dining hall, picking at your food while yunjin and beomgyu conducted what was essentially an intervention about your jake situation. an intervention you hadn't asked for and definitely didn't want.
"maybe he's just shy," you said, defensive.
beomgyu snorted. "shy guys still notice when someone's flirting with them. they just get weird about it. this guy sounds like he genuinely has no idea."
"which means he's not into you," yunjin added, gentler now. "and that's fine, you know? you can just be project partners. you don't have to keep torturing yourself."
except the thing was, you weren't entirely convinced jake wasn't interested. or maybe you just didn't want to accept it yet. because he texted you unprompted sometimes, sent you memes he thought you'd find funny, always smiled when he saw you in the hallway. that had to mean something, right?
"i'm not torturing myself," you muttered.
"you've mentioned him like fifteen times in the past hour," beomgyu pointed out.
"have not."
"you literally just told us about how he holds his pen. his pen."
okay. maybe you were torturing yourself a little.
you left the dining hall feeling irritated and restless, your friends' words circling in your head. he's not interested. he has no idea. you're torturing yourself. maybe they were right. probably they were right. you should just focus on the project, get a good grade, and move on like a normal person.
you were cutting through the student centre, not really paying attention to where you were going, when you passed the community bulletin board. the usual chaos of flyers and posters, study abroad programs, club meetings, someone selling a barely-used microwave. your eyes skimmed over it automatically, not really looking.
then you saw his name.
TUTORING AVAILABLE - COMP 101, 201, 301
patient, experienced, flexible schedule
contact: jake sim
there was a row of little tear-off tabs at the bottom with his phone number. several were already missing. the flyer itself was simple, almost plain. you stared at it. people flowed around you, conversations and footsteps and the ambient noise of the student centre, but you just stood there staring at jake's handwritten flyer.
you didn't need tutoring. your grades were fine. good, even. you and jake were in the same advanced class, for god's sake. he'd probably seen your test scores when he was TAing. this would beâŠobvious. wouldn't it? taking a tab would be transparent and desperate andâ
your hand moved before you'd fully decided. the paper tore with a soft sound that felt too loud. you stared at the little strip in your palm, jake's number printed in his neat handwriting even though you already had it saved in your phone.
what were you doing?
you shoved the tab in your pocket and walked away quickly, like someone might have witnessed you doing something incriminating. your heart was beating too fast. this was insane. this was transparent. he was going to see right through it.
but.
but it was also legitimate, wasn't it? people got tutoring all the time, even when their grades were fine. wanting to understand the material better, wanting a different perspective, wanting to be extra prepared. those were all valid reasons. normal reasons. and yeah, maybe you had ulterior motives, but the cover story was solid enough that you could maintain plausible deniability. to him. to yourself.
you made it back to your dorm before you pulled out your phone.
you: hey! i saw your tutoring flyer in the student centre. do you still have availability?
you hit send before you could overthink it. then immediately started overthinking it anyway. he was going to ask why. he was going to point out that you clearly didn't need help. he was going toâ
your phone buzzed.
jake<3: oh hey! yeah i have some slots open. but wait, aren't you doing pretty well in class? i've seen your test scores when i'm grading and you're like, consistently in the top range
jake<3: not that you CAN'T get tutoring obviously! everyone can benefit from extra help
jake<3: i just want to make sure you actually need it and aren't just being nice or something
god, he was even considerate about this. checking in to make sure you weren't wasting your time or money on something you didn't need. being thoughtful and genuine while you were over here manipulating the situation to manufacture more time with him.
you felt a twinge of something uncomfortable. guilt maybe. but you pushed it down.
you: i mean yeah my grades are okay, but i feel like i'm just memorising patterns without really UNDERSTANDING the concepts you know? like i can solve the problems but i couldn't explain WHY
you: i just want to make sure i actually get it. especially since the material keeps building on itself
it wasn't entirely a lie. you did sometimes feel like you were pattern-matching your way through assignments. and deeper understanding was always good. these were reasonable concerns. the fact that they weren't your primary motivation didn't make them untrue.
jake<3: oh yeah that makes total sense actually. i see that a lot with students. they can execute but the underlying logic isn't solid
jake<3: okay yeah we can definitely work on that! my rate is $20/hour but honestly for you i'd be happy to just do it for free? since we're already working together on the project anyway
you: no way i'm paying you. you're already helping me so much with the project
jake<3: the project is a two person thing, you're helping me just as much
jake<3: but okay we can argue about payment later. when works for you?
you felt that warm, dangerous flutter again. he'd offered to tutor you for free. just casually, like it was no big deal. like spending extra time with you was something he actively wanted to do, even without compensation.
you: i'm pretty flexible. whenever you have time
jake<3: thursdays at 7? we could do the library again or somewhere on our floor if you want somewhere quieter
jake<3: also i promise i'll actually TEACH and not just fix your code for you like last time lol
you smiled at your phone. somewhere on your floor. which meant his room or yours. which meant private, just the two of you, no other students around.
you: thursdays work for me!Â
jake<3: cool! we can switch off. i'll bring snacks
jake<3: this'll be fun :)
he'd sent a smiley face. an actual emoticon. it shouldn't have made your heart skip but it did.
you locked your phone and sat on your bed, that satisfaction settling warm in your chest. you'd done it. you'd created a legitimate, recurring excuse to see jake outside of project work. an hour a week, minimum, where you'd have his complete attention. where you could sit close to him in the privacy of a dorm room, help him help you, let those boundaries get just a little bit blurrier.
it was harmless. he was offering tutoring anyway, you were just taking him up on it. and yeah, maybe your motivations weren't entirely pure, but you weren't lying to him. not really. you did want to understand the material better. the fact that you also wanted to be around him more was just. additional context. secondary reasoning.
you were being smart about this, honestly. creating opportunities without being pushy. letting things develop naturally within structures that already existed.
you ignored the small, quiet voice in the back of your mind that whispered this was too much. that you were engineering situations and manufacturing proximity and maybe that wasn't as harmless as you wanted to believe. that jake was offering to help you in good faith while you had an agenda he knew nothing about.
you were good at ignoring that voice.
your phone buzzed again.
jake<3: btw i've been thinking about the database structure and i had an idea
and just like that you were smiling again, typing back, that uncomfortable feeling dissolving into something easier and warmer and more immediately gratifying.
it was fine. everything was fine. this was just tutoring. just spending time with someone you enjoyed being around. there was nothing wrong with that.
nothing wrong with it at all.
you'd been doing the tutoring sessions for three weeks when your roommate officially moved out. well, not officially officially. her stuff was still there, her side of the room still technically occupied. but she'd been spending every night at her boyfriend's off-campus apartment for the past month, and one day she just stopped pretending she was coming back.
"i'm still paying rent," she'd said, shoving clothes into a duffel bag. "so like, it's still my room. i'll probably crash here sometimes. but you basically have the place to yourself."
you'd nodded sympathetically while internally celebrating. your own space. privacy. no need to coordinate schedules or deal with her boyfriend's annoying habits. it was perfect.
it took you less than a day to realise it was perfect for other reasons too.
the next tutoring session was supposed to be in the library. thursday at seven, like always. but you'd been sitting in your empty apartment that afternoon, looking at your space with new eyes, and the idea had planted itself so naturally you'd almost convinced yourself it was practical.
you: hey, would you maybe want to do tutoring at my place tonight instead? my roommate moved in with her boyfriend so it's way quieter than the library
you: totally fine if you prefer the library though!
the response took longer than usual. long enough that you started second-guessing yourself. maybe this was too much. too obvious. crossing some line from study partner into something else.
jake<3: oh
jake<3: um
jake<3: yeah that's fine. if you're sure?
jake<3: i don't want to like. intrude or anything
jake<3: but yeah quieter is definitely better for focusing
you: you're not intruding i literally invited you haha
you: i'm in 3B. just come by at 7
jake<3: okay! see you then
you spent the next two hours in a cleaning frenzy you absolutely did not want to examine too closely. you weren't trying to impress him. you just wanted the place to look nice and presentable. the fact that you changed your clothes twice and lit a candle that made the whole apartment smell like vanilla and sandalwood was just. coincidence.
the knock came at exactly seven. jake was annoyingly punctual.
you opened the door to find him standing in the hallway looking uncertain, backpack slung over one shoulder, holding a bag of chips. "hi," he said. "i brought snacks. i didn't know what you liked so i just got the variety pack."
"you didn't have to do that."
"i know, butâ" he shifted his weight. "i don't know, it felt weird showing up empty-handed."
you stepped back to let him in, watching as he moved into your space with obvious hesitation. he didn't walk in so much as carefully entered, like he was worried about disturbing something. his eyes went immediately to your walls, taking in the art prints you'd hung, the string lights, the bookshelf crammed with novels and textbooks. then to your desk setup, the small kitchen area, the couch that your roommate had left behind.
"wow," he said quietly. "this is. really nice."
"it's just a dorm apartment."
"no, i know, butâ" he gestured vaguely at everything. "it's decorated. like, actually decorated. my place looks like a prison cell compared to this." he was still standing near the door, like he hadn't fully committed to being here. "is that an original print?"
you glanced at the framed artwork he was pointing at. "yeah. local artist. i got it at a campus market thing."
"it's really cool." he finally took a few more steps inside, setting his backpack down carefully on the floor like he was afraid it might scuff something. his attention caught on your kitchen counter, where you'd left out the fancy coffee you'd bought yesterday. the expensive cheese and crackers. the fruit you'd pre-cut and arranged in a bowl because apparently you were that person now.
jake went quiet for a second. then he laughed, but it sounded a little uncomfortable. "okay i have to ask. are you like, rich?"
you felt your face heat. "what? no."
"because thisâ" he gestured at your apartment again, at the candle burning on your coffee table, the throw blanket artfully draped over your couch, the general aesthetic coherence of the space. "this seems like. i don't know. very put together for a college student."
"i just like my space to feel nice," you said, defensive. "there's nothing wrong with that."
"no, definitely not! i didn't meanâ" he ran a hand through his hair, flustered. "i just meant. my room has like, a bed and a desk and some clothes on the floor. this looks like an apartment from a magazine. in a good way," he added quickly. "it's impressive. i'm just. you know. mildly intimidated."
"don't be intimidated," you said, softer now. trying for casual. "seriously, make yourself comfortable. do you want something to drink? i have coffee, tea, juice, those fancy sparkling watersâ"
"you have fancy sparkling water?"
"they were on sale."
they were absolutely not on sale. you'd bought them specifically because you remembered jake mentioning he liked trying different flavours. but he didn't need to know that.
"um, sure. i'll try one." he was still standing awkwardly in the middle of your living room, like he couldn't figure out where he was allowed to exist.
you grabbed two cans from the fridge, handing him one and gesturing toward the couch. "we can work there if you want. or the desk. whatever's comfortable."
"couch is good," he said, finally sitting down and immediately looking slightly less tense. he opened the sparkling water, took a sip, and made a surprised noise. "oh this is actually really good."
"told you." you sat next to him, closer than you would have in the library. not touching, but close enough that you could feel the warmth of him next to you. close enough that when he leaned forward to pull his laptop out of his backpack, you caught that familiar scent of soap and citrus.
he pulled up the lesson he'd prepared, something about optimisation algorithms, and fell into his teaching rhythm. you'd noticed this about jake before. when he was explaining code, he became more confident. less apologetic. his hands moved as he talked, tracing invisible diagrams in the air, and his whole face became more animated.
you were trying to focus. really, you were. but you kept getting distracted by the fact that he was here, in your space, sitting on your couch. his knee bumped yours at one point and he apologised even though it was barely contact. you told him it was fine. his handwriting was neat when he sketched out examples in your notebook. he had a small scar on his left hand you'd never noticed before.
"are you following?" he asked, glancing over at you.
"yeah," you said, snapping back to attention. "sorry. just thinking."
"it's kind of a dense topic," he said, apologetic again. "we can take a break if you need."
"no, keep going. you're good at this."
something in his expression softened. "thanks. iâi actually really like doing this. the tutoring, i mean. it's nice having someone to talk through concepts with who actually cares about understanding them properly." he paused, looking around your apartment again like he was seeing it with fresh eyes. "and this is. yeah. this is better than the library for sure."
"yeah?"
"the library's always so loud, even in the quiet sections. and people keep interrupting to ask if they can take chairs from our table." he settled back into your couch slightly, his shoulders loosening. "this is way better. i can actually think here."
you felt that dangerous satisfaction bloom in your chest. this is better. i can actually think here. he was comfortable. in your space. comfortable enough to relax, to take up room, to exist without that careful hesitation he'd had when he first arrived.
"we should do all our sessions here," you said, trying to sound casual. "if you're cool with it."
jake glanced at you, then around the apartment again. for a second you thought he might question it. might recognise this for what it was. but then he just smiled, easy and genuine. "yeah, i'd like that. this is really nice."
"cool," you said. your heart was doing that annoying fluttery thing again.
you went back to the lesson, jake's voice steady and patient as he walked you through increasingly complex problems. his knee stayed pressed against yours. he'd stopped apologising for taking up space. he reached for the fancy crackers you'd set out without asking if it was okay first, just casual and comfortable like he belonged here.
and god help you, you liked seeing him like this. liked having him in your space, surrounded by your things, relaxed and focused and entirely unaware of how much thought you'd put into creating this exact scenario.
he was more comfortable here than he should be. settling into your life with an ease that should have alarmed you but instead just made you want to pull him deeper.
you were playing a game he didn't know existed. creating intimacy in careful increments. manufacturing closeness that felt organic to him but was entirely designed by you.
"okay your turn," jake said, pushing your laptop toward you. "try implementing that function we just talked through."
you pulled the computer into your lap, fingers moving over the keys, hyper-aware of jake watching. of his presence next to you, patient and encouraging. of how easy it would be to let this become routine. thursday nights on your couch, just the two of you, the rest of the world locked outside.
professor kim handed back midterms on a wednesday, and the energy in the lecture hall was exactly what you'd expect. nervous shuffling, people immediately comparing scores, that girl in the front row who always cried regardless of her grade already tearing up.
you flipped your exam over and saw the 100 staring back at you. perfect score. you felt a flush of satisfaction that had nothing to do with the grade itself and everything to do with the fact that jake would see it.
"holy shit," yunjin whispered, leaning over to look. "you got a perfect score?"
"apparently."
"that's insane. i got an 87 and i thought i did well." she shook her head, impressed and maybe slightly annoyed. "what did jake think? he must be so proud, that's basically a direct result of his tutoring."
speaking of jake, he was two rows behind you, and you could hear his friends' voices carrying.
"dude, you got a 98," one of them said. "that's insane."
"i missed this one question," jake said, and he sounded genuinely disappointed. "i can't believe i mixed up the time complexity."
you turned around without really thinking about it, catching his eye. he was already looking at you, and his face did this thing, this hopeful uncertain thing. "how'd you do?"
you held up your exam. his eyes widened.
"you got a hundred?" he said it loud enough that a few people glanced over. then he was standing up, moving past his friends, coming down to your row with his exam still in his hand. "holy shit, that'sâthat's amazing. youâ" he stopped himself, looking almost embarrassed by his own enthusiasm. "sorry, i'm like. weirdly excited about this."
"don't apologise," you said, smiling despite yourself. "you sound more excited than i am."
"because iâ" he gestured at your exam, then at you. "you understood it. like really understood it. i could tell during our sessions that things were clicking but seeing it actually translate to a perfect score is justâ" he ran his hand through his hair, grinning in a way that made your stomach flip. "i'm really proud of you."
the words hit you weird. i'm proud of you. said with such genuine warmth, such unironic sincerity. like your success was somehow his success too. like he was personally invested in your performance because he'd helped you get there.
except you hadn't really needed the help. you'd manufactured the entire situation. you'd been doing fine before the tutoring started and you'd probably have gotten a perfect score regardless. jake's proud smile was based on a false premise. he thought he'd helped you achieve something when really you'd just. used him. used his time and his patience and his genuine desire to help people, all so you could sit close to him once a week.
something uncomfortable twisted in your chest. you shoved it down.
"i couldn't have done it without you," you said, because that's what you were supposed to say. what he expected to hear. even if it made you feel slightly sick.
"i know, i know. it's a good grade. i just hate making careless mistakes." he smiled at you again, softer this time. "but seriously, i'm really happy for you. you worked really hard for this."
"we should celebrate," you said, before you could second-guess it. "both of us. good scores, successful tutoring, whatever. come over tonight? i'll make dinner, we can watch a movie. my treat, as a thank you."
jake hesitated, just for a second. "you don't have to thank me."
"i want to," you said firmly with a smile. "you've been helping me for weeks and not accepting any payment. the least i can do is feed you."
"when you put it that way." he was smiling again, that easy smile that made your heart do stupid things. "yeah, okay. what time?"
"seven?"
"perfect."
...
you went slightly overboard with dinner. not crazy overboard, just. more effort than was strictly necessary for a casual thank-you meal. homemade pasta, the good parmesan, a salad that actually had more than three ingredients. you'd also bought wine, which felt very adult and sophisticated until you remembered you were literally just having your study partner over.
jake showed up at seven on the dot, holding a bag of cookies from the expensive bakery near campus. "i know you said your treat, but i can't show up empty-handed," he explained, handing them over. "it's like, physically impossible for me."
"you're ridiculous."
"i've been told." he stepped inside, immediately more comfortable than he'd been that first time. he knew where to put his shoes now, where to set his bag. he went straight for the couch like he belonged there.
dinner was easy. conversation flowed naturally, jumping from classes to campus gossip to a debate about whether the dining hall pizza was underrated or genuinely terrible. jake argued passionately for underrated, gesturing with his fork, getting sauce on his chin that he didn't notice until you pointed it out. he laughed, embarrassed, wiping it away.
"wine?" you offered, after you'd cleared the plates.
"oh, um. sure?" he looked uncertain. "i'm not really a big drinker."
"me neither. but we're celebrating, right?"
"right." he accepted the glass you poured, taking a small sip and making a face. "god, why do people like this? it tastes like someone made juice go bad on purpose."
you laughed despite yourself. "it's an acquired taste."
"that's what people say about things that are objectively bad." but he took another sip anyway, settling back into the couch as you pulled up netflix.
you ended up on some action movie neither of you had seen, the kind with improbable stunts and a plot that didn't require much attention. which was good, because you weren't really watching it. you were too aware of jake next to you, closer than he needed to be, his shoulder occasionally brushing yours. he'd finished his wine faster than you expected and seemed looser now, more animated. he kept making commentary on the movie, pointing out plot holes and questionable physics, his hands moving as he talked.
"âand there's no way that building would still be structurally sound after that explosion," he was saying, gesturing at the screen. "like, basic engineering, you know?"
"you're thinking too hard about it."
"i can't help it. my brain won't turn off." he glanced at you, something warm in his expression. "this is nice though. just hanging out. we're always studying or talking about the project, it's cool to justâŠexist. without an agenda."
without an agenda. the words hit harder than they should have. because you did have an agenda. you'd had one this entire time. this whole evening was carefully constructed, from the homemade dinner to the wine to the deliberately casual intimacy of it all.
"yeah," you managed. "it's nice."
the movie continued. jake shifted closer, his thigh pressing against yours. you didn't move away. his arm ended up along the back of the couch, not quite around your shoulders but close enough that you could feel the warmth of it. neither of you acknowledged it, but neither of you adjusted either.
"can i ask you something?" jake said during a particularly slow part of the movie.
"sure."
"why did you pick me? for the project, i mean." he was looking at you now instead of the screen, his expression curious and open. "you could've worked with your friends. people you already knew. but you walked all the way across the lecture hall to ask me."
your heart kicked up. "i told you. you're good at this stuff."
"yeah, but." he paused, like he was trying to figure out how to phrase something. "it felt like. i don't know. like you went out of your way. and i've been trying to figure out if i'm reading too much into it or if there was something else."
the air felt suddenly thinner. "something else like what?"
"i don't know." he laughed, self-conscious. "i'm probably being weird. forget i said anything."
"jake."
"i justâ" he met your eyes, and there was something vulnerable in his expression that made your breath catch. "i really like spending time with you. like, more than i probably should for someone who's just a project partner and tutoring student. and sometimes i think maybe you. i don't know, feel the same? but i'm also really bad at reading these things so i'm probably completely wrong."
oh. oh.
"you're not wrong," you said quietly.
his eyes widened slightly. "i'm not?"
instead of answering, you leaned in. gave him enough time to pull back, to stop this, but he didn't. he met you halfway, his lips soft and uncertain against yours. for a second neither of you moved, the kiss chaste and almost careful. then something shifted. his hand came up to cup your face, thumb brushing your cheekbone, and you pressed closer, your fingers curling into his shirt.
jake made a soft sound against your mouth, surprise or maybe pleasure, and kissed you back with more confidence. his other hand found your waist, tentative at first then firmer, pulling you closer. you ended up in his lap somehow, his hands spanning your back, your fingers threading through his hair. he tasted like wine and something sweet from the cookies he'd brought.
"is this okay?" he whispered against your lips, breathing hard.
"yes," you said, and kissed him again before he could second-guess it.
his hands moved under your shirt, warm against your skin, and you felt him shiver when you rolled your hips experimentally. "god," he breathed, sounding almost pained. "we shouldâare we reallyâ"
"do you want to stop?"
"no. god, no. i justâ" he looked up at you, pupils blown, lips kiss-swollen. "i didn't think this would happen. i'm not. i don't usually."
"it's okay," you said softly, meaning it. "we don't have to do anything you don't want."
jake didnât stop you. instead, he seemed to melt into the contact, his hands trembling as they slid further up your back, skin hot through the thin fabric of your shirt. when you moved to guide him off the couch and onto the rug, he followed with a sort of dazed compliance, his glasses slightly askew on his face.
you knelt between his legs, and the shift in atmosphere was immediate. the movie was still playingâsome distant sound of tires screechingâbut all you could hear was the ragged, uneven hitch of jakeâs breath. when you reached for the button of his jeans, his hand flew to your wrist, not to stop you, but just to steady himself. his knuckles were white.
"are you sure?" he whispered, his voice cracking. "iâi'm not... i don't want to mess this up. our project, the tutoring... i don't want to make things weird for you."
"jake," you said, looking up at him through your lashes. "shut up and let me."
he let out a shaky, half-strangled laugh, his head hitting the base of the couch as he let go of your wrist. "okay. okay, yeah. shutting up."
as you eased his jeans down, you realised the lanky, awkward way he carried himself in the halls was a massive deception. he was built with a surprising, heavy sturdiness that the oversized hoodies always hid. his legs were long, his thighs thick with the kind of muscle that suggested he actually did play soccer as more than just a hobby. and when you finally freed him, you couldn't help the small, sharp intake of breath that escaped you.
"jake," you breathed, your eyes widening. "holy..."
he groaned, the sound vibrating deep in his chest, and covered his eyes with his forearm. "don't. don't look at me like that. i know. i'm sorry, is it... is it too much? i canâ"
"it's perfect," you cut him off, reaching out to touch him. his skin was searing, and the moment your fingers closed around him, his entire body jolted like heâd been hit with a live wire.
when you leaned forward to take him into your mouth, jakeâs reaction was explosive. he arched off the floor, his fingers tangling desperately in your hair, his breath coming in short, panicked gasps. he was so sensitive, so completely overwhelmed by the sensation that it felt like he was losing his grip on reality.
"oh god," he choked out, his voice high and strained. "wait, waitâthat'sâyouâre so... the pressure, i can'tâ"
you didn't slow down. you liked the way he lost his composure, the way the articulate, logical TA was reduced to incoherent stutters. you used your hands to keep him steady, your tongue swirling around the head of him, and jakeâs hips began to move in a frantic, uncoordinated rhythm. he was trying to keep some semblance of control, trying to stay "polite," but the sheer intensity of it was breaking him.
"i'm gonna... i'm actually gonna..." he gasped, his hands tightening in your hair, pulling you closer until he was practically burying himself in you. "please, don't stop. don't stop, just like thatâright thereâ"
he hit his limit with a loud, guttural shout that was muffled only by the back of his hand as he bit down on his own knuckles to stay quiet. his body went rigid, muscles in his arms and chest standing out in sharp relief as he came, the force of it leaving him limp and shuddering against the couch.
it took him a long time to come back down. for several minutes, the only sound in the room was his heavy, labouring breath and the flickering light of the tv. you pulled back, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand, feeling a fierce, glowing sense of triumph. he looked completely wreckedâhair a disaster, glasses hanging off one ear, chest heaving.
you felt powerful. youâd spent weeks engineering this, calculating every move, and seeing him like thisâtotally undone by youâwas better than any perfect exam score.
"you okay?" you asked, leaning your chin on his knee.
jake let out a long, shaky exhale, finally moving his arm to look at you. his eyes were hazy, his face flushed a deep, beautiful red. "i... think my brain just short-circuited," he whispered, a small, dazed smile tugging at his lips.Â
"in a good way?"
"in the best way." he reached out, his fingers trembling as he tucked a lock of hair behind your ear. "thank you. seriously. i don'tâi don't even know what to say."
you smiled, leaning into his touch. the apartment was warm, the air still smelling of vanilla. "you don't have to say anything. you should just stay."
the words were soft, natural. it felt like the obvious next step. but the second they left your mouth, you felt the shift.
it was subtle at firstâthe way jakeâs fingers went still against your skin. then his pupils, which had been blown wide with pleasure, suddenly constricted. he blinked, the haziness clearing as his internal "problem-solving mode" kicked back in with a vengeance.
"stay?" he repeated, his voice sounding suddenly small.
"yeah. it's late, and it's cold out. just stay over. we can... i don't know, wake up and have coffee. maybe look at the project again."
jakeâs eyes darted toward his hands, then to his backpack, then to the door. the relaxation in his shoulders vanished, replaced by a rigid, frantic tension. he looked like heâd just realised he was standing in the middle of a minefield.
"iâ" he started, scrambling to pull his jeans up. he was moving so fast he almost tripped over his own feet. "i can't. i mean, i should... i have that grading to finish. for kim. and iâi didn't bring my toothbrush. or my meds. and my roommate, heâhe'll wonder where i am. he gets worried."
"jake, itâs fine, you can borrowâ"
"no!" he said, a bit too loudly. he was fumbling with his belt, his fingers shaking so badly he could barely loop it through. he wouldn't look at you. his face wasn't flushed with pleasure anymore; it was pale, his expression twisted into something that looked dangerously like panic. "no, i really should go. iâm sorry. i just... i realised the time. i have to go."
you stood up, feeling a cold, hollow pit open in your stomach. "did i do something wrong? was it... was it too much?"
"no! no, it was... it was amazing," he said, finally getting his shoes on, not even bothering to tie the laces. he grabbed his backpack, clutching it to his chest like a shield. "it was too amazing. that's the... that's the problem. i'mâi'm not good at this. i think i need to... i need to think. logically. about the implications."
"the implications?" you asked, your voice rising with a sharp, hurt edge. "it was just a night, jake. it doesn't have to be a 'logical problem' to solve."
"i know, i know. i'm sorry. iâm just... i'm a mess." he backed toward the door, his hand fumbling for the handle behind his back. "i'll text you? about the project? we still have that deadline on tuesday."
"jakeâ"
"goodnight! thank you for dinner. the pasta was really... the texture was perfect. okay. bye."
he practically fell out of the door, the sound of his hurried footsteps echoing down the hallway as he sprinted toward the stairs.
the click of the door closing felt final. you stood in the centre of your perfectly decorated, candle-lit apartment, surrounded by the remnants of the dinner youâd spent hours on. the half-empty wine glasses, the bag of expensive cookies, the rumpled rug.
you felt a hot, stinging prickle behind your eyes. youâd done everything right. youâd been strategic, patient, and kind. youâd gotten him to open up, to trust you, to want you. and yet, watching him run away like you were a bug in his codeâsomething to be deleted or fixedâhurt more than any midterm failure ever could.
you sat back down on the couch, the silence of the room suddenly feeling just as oppressive as it had back in the computer lab. you picked up your phone, looking at his last text. this'll be fun :)
you threw the phone onto the cushions and buried your face in your hands, the smell of his citrus shampoo still clinging to your skin, mocking you.
jake didn't text.
you stared at your phone for the entire next day, watching the screen like you could will a message into existence. the "i'll text you" he'd thrown over his shoulder before fleeing felt increasingly like a polite lie. by saturday afternoon you broke first.
you: hey, you okay?
the message sat there. delivered, but no response.
you tried again sunday morning, going for casual.
you: still on for project work this week?
still no response.
by monday you'd moved past confusion into something that felt uncomfortably like panic. this wasn't how things worked. people didn't just. stop responding to you. they didn't ignore you or avoid you or remove you from their orbit like you were some problem to be managed. you were used to being wanted, pursued, the one who had to let people down gently. this reversed dynamic was unfamiliar and honestly humiliating.
you saw him in the dining hall on tuesday. he was with his friends, laughing at something one of them said, looking completely normal. like nothing had happened. like he hadn't been on your couch four days ago falling apart under your touch.
you started walking toward their table before you could think better of it, but jake's eyes flicked up, met yours for a fraction of a second, and then he was standing, gathering his tray, saying something to his friends. they all got up and left. just. left. walked out the side exit while you stood there holding your lunch like an idiot.
yunjin grabbed your arm. "okay, what the hell was that?"
"nothing," you said, but your voice came out wrong.Â
"that was not nothing. did something happen with you and jake?"
"no. i don't know. it's complicated."
it wasn't complicated. it was actually pretty simple. you'd pushed too hard and now he wanted nothing to do with you.
wednesday he wasn't in his usual spot in lecture. you spent the entire class scanning the room, finally spotting him in the very back corner, a place he'd never sat before. he kept his eyes on his laptop the entire time, didn't look up once. when class ended he was the first one out the door.
thursday was supposed to be tutoring. seven pm, his room or yours, the standing appointment you'd had for weeks now. you waited in your apartment, laptop open to the half-finished project, telling yourself he'd show up. he was responsible and dedicated. he wouldn't just bail without saying anything.
seven came and went. then seven-thirty. by eight you accepted he wasn't coming.
you: are we still working together on the project? i need to know so i can plan accordingly.
again, no response.
friday morning you were walking to class when you saw him ahead of you on the path. for once he hadn't spotted you first. you sped up, closing the distance, and watched in real time as he seemed to sense your presence. his shoulders tensed. then he took a sharp left turn down a path that definitely wasn't toward any of his classes. he was actively avoiding you. taking different routes. altering his entire routine just to not run into you.
something hot and humiliated burned in your chest.
by next week, you'd had enough. you knew his schedule. knew he had algorithms right before lunch on mondays, in the engineering building, third floor. you positioned yourself outside the classroom before class ended, ignoring the curious looks from other students filing out. you spotted jake immediately when the doors opened. he saw you at the same moment and actually stopped walking, causing someone behind him to bump into his back.
"we need to talk," you said.
"i haveâi need to get toâ"
"jake." your voice came out sharper than intended. "five minutes. please."
something in his expression shifted. resignation maybe. he nodded once, following you to an empty study room down the hall. you closed the door. the small space suddenly felt suffocating.
"you've been ignoring me," you said.
"i know."
"for a week. you didn't text, you didn't show up to tutoring, you're literally avoiding me on campus."
"i know," he said again, quieter. he wasn't looking at you, his eyes fixed somewhere around your shoulder. "i'm sorry. that wasn'tâ i should have communicated better."
"so communicate now. what's going on?"
jake was quiet for a long moment. when he finally spoke, his voice was careful. measured. "what happened last week. that crossed a line for me."
"we both wanted it."
"did we?" he looked at you now, and there was something in his expression that made your stomach drop. "because i've been thinking about it a lot. about how we got there. and i feel like. i don't know. like maybe i missed something."
"what do you mean?"
"the tutoring," he said. "you didn't actually need it, did you? your grades were already good. and the project. you had friends you could have worked with. people you actually knew. but you picked me." he paused. "why did you pick me?"
the question hung in the air between you. you could lie. deflect. but something about the way he was looking at you, patient and a little sad, made it feel pointless.
"i liked you," you said finally. "i wanted to spend time with you."
"okay." he nodded slowly. "so the tutoring was. what. an excuse? a way to manufacture time together?"
"it wasn't like that."
"wasn't it though?" there was no anger in his voice. just. tiredness. "because from my perspective, i thought i was helping someone who needed help. i thought we were becoming friends. and then suddenly we're⊠doing that. and i'm trying to figure out when the shift happened and i can't. because maybe there was no shift. maybe that's what you wanted the whole time and i just didn't see it."
"i did want to be your friend," you said, defensive now. "i wasn't. it's not like i was using you."
"weren't you?"
the words hit harder than they should have. because he wasn't wrong. you had used him. used his kindness, his eagerness to help, his complete inability to see through your motivations. you'd engineered situations and manufactured proximity and told yourself it was harmless.
"i like you," jake said, and somehow that made it worse. "i really do. but i feel. god, i don't even know how to explain it. exposed? like you saw something in me that made me an easy target and you just. went for it. and i didn't even realise what was happening until it had already happened."
"that's notâ"
"and the thing is," he continued, talking over you gently, "you're so far out of my league. like, objectively. you're smart and pretty and confident and you have your shit together. and i'm just. me. i'm awkward and i ramble and i spend friday nights debugging code for fun. so the fact that you were interested never made sense. i kept waiting for it to click, for me to understand why, and now i think i do. it wasn't about me. it was about. i don't know. the chase? the conquest? i was a project to you."
"no," you said, but your voice came out weak. "jake, that's not true. you weren't a project."
"then what was i?"
you didn't have an answer. or you did, but it was complicated and messy and saying it out loud would mean admitting things you didn't want to admit.
jake sighed. "i'm not trying to be cruel. i'm really not. but being around you right now makes me feel uncomfortable. like i can't trust my own judgement because i didn't see any of this coming. and that's. that's my issue to work through. but i need space to do it."
"what about the class project?"
"we can do it over email. divide up the work, combine it at the end. we don't have to see each other."
"and tutoring?"
"i think we should stop. you don't actually need it anyway."
each sentence felt like a door closing. practical, reasonable, and completely final.
"i'm sorry," you said, and meant it. "i didn't mean to. i wasn't trying to hurt you."
"i know," jake said, and he sounded sincere. "i don't think you set out to do anything malicious. i just think you didn't really consider how it would feel from my side. and now we're here."
"so that's it? we just stop talking?"
"for now, yeah. maybe later we can be normal around each other. but right now i need. distance."
he moved toward the door, his hand on the handle. you wanted to say something, anything that would fix this. some argument that would make him see you differently. but looking at his face, at the quiet certainty there, you knew there was nothing you could say. he'd made up his mind. he'd set a boundary. and you had no choice but to respect it.
"i really am sorry," you said again.
"i know," jake said. "me too."
then he was gone, the door clicking shut behind him with that same horrible finality. you stood there in the empty study room, staring at the space where he'd been.
you couldn't even argue with his reasoning. everything he'd said was true. you had manufactured situations. you had used his kindness and his obliviousness to get what you wanted. you'd told yourself it was harmless, that your feelings were real even if your methods were questionable.
but intent didn't matter when the impact was someone feeling manipulated and exposed.
you left the study room feeling hollowed out. the campus looked the same. people laughed and talked and went about their days. somewhere out there jake was probably headed to lunch with his friends, relieved to have finally said what he needed to say.
and you were just. alone. with the sharp realisation that you'd ruined something before it even had a chance to be real.
the party was exactly the kind of loud, chaotic mess you needed. bass thrumming through the floors, bodies packed into every available space, the air thick with sweat and cheap alcohol and too many competing perfumes. yunjin had dragged you here, insisting you needed to "get out of your head" after moping around for two weeks straight.
so here you were. red cup in hand, smile fixed in place, laughing at jokes you weren't really hearing. performing normalcy while your brain kept circling the same thoughts on loop. jake's face in that study room. the careful way he'd said i need space. the hollow feeling that had taken up permanent residence in your chest.
"you good?" beomgyu asked, leaning close to be heard over the music.
"yeah, great," you said automatically, taking another drink.
you were on your third. or fourth. you'd stopped counting. the alcohol sat warm in your stomach but hadn't managed to quiet your thoughts yet. maybe if you drank enough you'd stop replaying every conversation with jake, analysing every moment for signs you'd missed, evidence of how thoroughly you'd fucked everything up.
"i'm gonna get another drink," you said to no one in particular, pushing through the crowd toward the kitchen.
that's when you saw him.
jake. standing near the makeshift bar someone had set up on the counter, red cup in hand, talking to a girl you didn't recognise. and he was laughing. actually laughing, head thrown back, completely at ease in a way that made something hot and ugly twist in your chest.
because he never looked like that with you. even before everything went wrong, even during those tutoring sessions in your apartment when you'd thought you were building something real, he'd always been slightly careful and polite, like he was containing himself. but now he was loose and animated, gesturing with his free hand while the girl laughed at whatever he was saying, her hand resting on his arm.
her hand was on his arm.
you watched as she leaned closer, saying something that made jake grin. that specific grin, the one where his eyes crinkled at the corners and you could see his perfect teeth on display. you'd thought that smile was special. something you'd earned. but apparently he was just like this, with everyone who wasn't you.
the jealousy hit so hard it felt physical. burning through your chest, turning your vision sharp and focused. you were moving before you'd decided to, weaving through people, your jaw clenched so tight it hurt.
jake saw you coming. his smile faltered, something uncertain crossing his face. "heyâ"
"who's this?" you said, gesturing at the girl. your voice came out sharper than you'd intended, heavy with something you couldn't quite name.
the girl looked between you and jake, confused. "i'm mina. jungwon's sister remember? we just met like ten minutes ago."
"oh right." you focused on jake, ignoring her entirely. "you look like you're having fun."
"iâyeah?" jake's eyebrows drew together. "it's a party?"
"funny how you can make time for parties but couldn't respond to any of my texts about the assignment."
"i told you we could do it over emailâ"
"is that what you're doing right now? project work?" you knew you sounded irrational, accusatory, but you couldn't stop. the words kept spilling out, poisoned by alcohol and jealousy and two weeks of feeling like you'd been the only one affected by any of this.Â
"or are you just. moving on? found someone new toâ"
"okay, i'm gonna go," mina said, backing away with her hands up. "this seems like. a thing. nice meeting you, jake."
she disappeared into the crowd. jake stared at you, his expression shifting from confused to something harder. "what the hell was that?"
"you tell me. you've been ignoring me for two weeks and now you're here flirting with random girls?"
"flirting?" jake's voice pitched up slightly. "flirting? i was literally just talking to her. she asked where the bathroom was and then we started chatting about the music. that'sâthat's not flirting, that's called being polite."
"she had her hand on your arm."
"so?" jake looked genuinely baffled now. "people touch arms when they talk. that doesn't mean anything. and even if it didâ" he stopped himself, jaw tightening. "i don't owe you an explanation. you don't get to. we're not together. we're not anything."
the words hit exactly where they were meant to. "right. because you decided we're not."
"no, because you decided we weren't, like a month ago when you started playing games instead of just being honest." his voice was rising now, frustration bleeding through. "and now you're mad because i'm talking to someone else? you don't get to do that. you don't get to manipulate me into something and then act possessive when i try to move on."
"i'm notâ" you started, but stopped. because he was right. you were being possessive and irrational. reading intent into a harmless conversation because you wanted there to be something there. wanted confirmation that jake was thinking about you as much as you were thinking about him.
but he wasn't. he was just living his life. talking to people at parties. laughing easily with strangers. completely unaffected while you spiralled.
"i wasn't flirting with her," jake said, quieter now. tired. "i was just being friendly. that's what normal people do. they don't engineer entire relationships or manufacture situations. they just exist around each other."
"i know," you said, your voice coming out smaller than you wanted. "i'm sorry. i shouldn't have. that was out of line."
jake nodded once, already turning away. "yeah. it was."
you watched him disappear back into the crowd, leaving you standing alone by the kitchen counter. your hands were shaking. you downed the rest of your drink in one go, the burn doing nothing to quiet the noise in your head.
you'd just proven everything he'd said about you. possessive. manipulative. unable to let go. you'd projected your own feelings onto a completely innocent interaction and made a scene because you couldn't handle seeing him okay when you were so thoroughly not okay.
you'd been so certain. so sure he was flirting, that the girl meant something, that you'd caught him in some kind of lie. but you'd been wrong. completely, embarrassingly wrong. because you didn't actually know what jake was thinking. you never had. you'd just assumed, projected, filled in the gaps with your own narrative.
and now he was probably telling his friends what a psycho you were. probably regretting he'd ever let you into his life in the first place.
you grabbed another drink.
âŠ
the party had devolved into that late-night haze where everything blurred together. people you didn't recognise, conversations you weren't part of, music that had gotten somehow both quieter and more invasive. you'd lost track of yunjin and beomgyu somewhere around drink number six. or seven. the room tilted slightly when you moved too fast.
you were trying to find your jacket, ready to call it a night, when you spotted him. jake. sitting alone on a couch in the corner, looking absolutely exhausted. his head kept drooping forward like he was fighting to stay conscious, then jerking back up. his eyes were half-closed, his usual careful posture completely abandoned.
you should walk past him. nothing good could come from another interaction tonight. you'd already embarrassed yourself once. but your feet carried you closer anyway, some magnetic pull you couldn't quite resist even knowing it was a bad idea.
you were almost past him when his hand shot out, fingers wrapping around your wrist. "don't," he said, not looking at you. his voice was rough, slurred slightly. "don't leave."
you stopped. "jakeâ"
"been trying," he mumbled, his grip loosening but not releasing. "trying so hard. but you make it impossible."
"what are you talking about?"
he finally looked up at you, and his eyes were unfocused, glassy with alcohol. "you. i'm talking about you. can't stop thinking about you. it's driving me insane."
your heart lurched. "you're drunk."
"i know but so are you," he said, like that explained everything. "that's the only reason i'm saying this. because sober me knows better. sober me has self-control and boundaries and all that shit." he pulled gently on your wrist, making you stumble slightly closer. "but drunk me is tired. so tired of pretending i don't want you."
"you said you needed space."
"i do need space. because when i'm around you i can't think straight. i can't trust myself." his words were coming out uneven, tripping over each other. "you think i was avoiding you because i was mad? i was avoiding you because if i saw you i'dâ" he made a frustrated noise. "i'd do something stupid. like this. this is stupid."
you sat down next to him, his hand still wrapped around your wrist. "jakeâ"
"you're so pretty," he said, almost accusatory. "and you smell good. and you're smart, like actually smart, not just good at school. and when you laugh it's. it does things to me. and i hate it. i hate that you have this much power over me when i don't even know if you actually like me or if i'm just⊠convenient."
"i do like you," you said quietly. "i've liked you the whole time."
"but do you?" he turned to face you more fully, his eyes searching yours even though he seemed to be having trouble focusing. "or do you like the idea of me? the nerdy guy you can manipulate? your little project?"
"that's notâ" you stopped. "it wasn't like that. it's not like that."
"then what is it like?" he was still holding your wrist, his thumb pressing against your pulse point. "because i've been trying to figure it out for weeks and i can't. i can't understand why you'd want me. what you get out of this. and maybe i'm just stupid but i need you to tell me. plainly. what do you want from me?"
"you," you said, the word coming out more honest than you'd intended. "just. you."
jake laughed, bitter and tired. "that doesn't make sense."
"i know."
"i'm not interesting. i'm not cool or funny orâ"
"you are though," you interrupted. "you are all of those things. you just don't see it."
he went quiet for a long moment. then, so quietly you almost missed it: "i've been trying so hard not to want you back. because i knewâi know it's not good for me. but i can't stop. and i'm so tired of trying."
his hand slid from your wrist to your hand, fingers threading through yours. the touch was so much gentler than you expected, almost reverent. "i deleted your texts without reading them," he admitted. "because if i read them i'd respond. and if i responded i'd end up right back where i started. wanting you. letting you in. getting hurt."
"i don't want to hurt you."
"i know. that's what makes it worse." he leaned his head back against the couch, eyes closing. "you don't mean to. you just. do."
you didn't know what to say to that. didn't know how to fix the damage you'd done or convince him that your feelings were real when your actions had been so calculated. so you just sat there, holding his hand, feeling the warmth of him next to you.
"i missed you," jake said, so quiet you barely heard it over the music. "i fucking missed you and i hated myself for it."
"i missed you too."
"yeah?" he opened his eyes, looking at you with something raw and unguarded. "you missed manipulating me?"
"that's not fair."
"isn't it though?" but there was no heat in his words. just exhaustion. "god, i'm so tired. tired of being angry. tired of trying to stay away from you. tired of pretending i don't want you so badly it hurts."
the confession hung in the air between you. jake was looking at you like he was waiting for something, permission or rejection or maybe just confirmation that you'd heard him.
you leaned in. gave him time to pull away, to remember all the reasons this was a bad idea. but he didn't. he met you halfway, his lips crashing against yours with none of the careful hesitation from before. this was messy and desperate, his hand coming up to cup the back of your head, fingers tangling in your hair. he kissed you like he'd been holding back for too long, like all that careful control had finally snapped.
you shifted closer, practically climbing into his lap, and he made a sound against your mouth that went straight through you. his hands were everywhere, spanning your waist, sliding up your back, gripping like he was afraid you'd disappear if he loosened his hold even slightly.
"been thinking about this," he mumbled against your lips, barely pulling back enough to speak. "every night. hated myself for it but couldn't stop."
"me too," you admitted, kissing along his jaw. "i couldn't sleep. kept replaying everything."
"i lied about the texts i didn't respond to," he said, tilting his head to give you better access. "i read them. all of them before deleting. at like three am. read them over and over."
"why didn't you answer?"
"because i wanted to say things i shouldn't say. like how much i missed you. how i kept going to the lab hoping you'd be there. how seeing you at the party tonight fucking destroyed me even though i pretended i was fine." his hands tightened on your waist. "how i've been so fucking miserable without you."
you kissed him again, harder this time, swallowing his words. he responded immediately, pulling you fully into his lap now, and you could feel how much he wanted this, wanted you. it was overwhelming. intoxicating. the desperation in every touch, every small sound he made.
"we should," he said between kisses, "we should probably stop."
"do you want to stop?"
"no. god no." he pulled back just enough to look at you, his pupils blown, lips swollen. "but i'm drunk and you're drunk and tomorrow we're gonna regretâ"
"i won't," you said firmly. "i won't regret this."
something shifted in his expression. softened. he touched your face with a gentleness that made your chest ache, thumb brushing across your cheekbone. "you're gonna break my heart," he said, not quite a question.
"i'm not."
"you will." but he kissed you anyway, softer this time. slower. like he was memorising the feel of you. "and i'm gonna let you. because i'm weak and pathetic and i want you so much i don't even care anymore."
"you're not weak."
"i am though." he rested his forehead against yours, eyes closing. "i'm so weak for you. it's embarrassing."
you could feel his exhaustion creeping in, the way his body was getting heavier against yours, his movements slowing. "come on," you said softly, standing and pulling him up with you. "let's get you somewhere you can actually sleep."
"don't wanna sleep," he protested, but let you guide him anyway. "wanna stay with you."
"you will. i'm not going anywhere."
you found an empty bedroom on the second floor, the door unlocked and the bed mercifully unoccupied. jake collapsed onto it immediately, pulling you down with him. he was asleep within minutes, his arms wrapped around you, face buried in your neck. his breathing evened out, deep and steady.
you should probably feel guilty. taking advantage of his drunken honesty, letting him confess things he'd normally keep locked away. but you were too tired, too overwhelmed by everything he'd said. i want you so badly it hurts. i've been so fucking miserable without you. you're gonna break my heart and i'm gonna let you.
you didn't have answers. didn't have promises you could make. didn't know how to fix the fundamental imbalance between you, the manipulation and hurt that had gotten you here.
but for now, in this quiet room with jake's warmth pressed against you, you could pretend tomorrow didn't exist. could pretend this was simple. just two people who wanted each other, tangled together in the dark, nothing more complicated than that.
you fell asleep still wearing your shoes, jake's arms tight around you, his heartbeat steady against your chest.
you woke to pale morning light filtering through unfamiliar curtains and the warm weight of jake still wrapped around you. for a disorienting moment you couldn't place where you were. then it came back in pieces. the party. the confrontation. jake's drunken confessions. falling asleep tangled together.
jake stirred against you, his breath catching as he woke. you felt the exact moment awareness returned, the way his body went tense. slowly, carefully, he pulled back just enough to look at you. his hair was a disaster, sticking up in every direction. his glasses sat crooked on the nightstand. his eyes were cautious but clear.
"hi," he said quietly.
"hi."
he didn't let go of you. didn't immediately scramble away or apologise or retreat into panic like last time. he just looked at you, searching your face for something.
"i said a lot of things last night," he finally said.
"yeah."
"i meant them." his voice was serious, steady despite the embarrassment colouring his cheeks. "i know i was drunk, and i probably shouldn't have said half of it, but. i meant it. all of it."
your heart kicked up. "jakeâ"
"i like you," he said, cutting you off gently. "i've liked you since that first night in the lab when you were stressed about your code and i got to actually help you with something. and it's been killing me trying to stay away from you because every time i see you i just. want you. so much that it scares me."
"why does it scare you?"
"because i don't know how to want someone this much and still protect myself." he shifted slightly, propping himself up on one elbow so he could see you better. "last time i didn't protect myself at all. i just. gave in. and then i panicked because it felt too big, too fast, and i didn't know how to handle it."
"and now?"
"now i'm still terrified," he admitted. "but i'm more scared of not trying. of walking away and spending the rest of college wondering what could have happened if i'd just. been brave enough to give you a real chance."
you felt something tight in your chest start to loosen. "i want that. a real chance. i want to do this right."
"yeah?"
"yeah." you reached up, brushing his messy hair back from his forehead. "i'm sorry. for all of it. the manipulation, the games, not being honest about what i wanted. you deserved better than that."
"i know," jake said simply. then, softer: "but i also know you were scared too. just in a different way."
he leaned down, kissing you with a gentleness that made your chest ache. different from last night's desperate intensity. this was slow, careful, almost questioning. you kissed him back, trying to pour everything you couldn't quite say into it. apology and promise and want all tangled together.
when he pulled back his eyes were dark, pupils blown. "i want to try again," he said. "properly this time. but i need you to be honest with me. about what you want. about what this is."
"i want you," you said. "not as a project or a conquest or whatever i convinced myself it was before. just you jake."
something in his expression softened. "okay," he said. "okay. we can work with that."
he kissed you again, deeper this time, and you felt his weight settle more fully over you. "i want to make it up to you," he murmured against your lips. "for running away before. for making you feel like you did something wrong when i was just scared."
"you don't have toâ"
"i want to." he was already kissing down your neck, hands sliding under your shirt. "let me. please."
there was something in his voice, almost pleading, that made you nod. he smiled against your skin, helping you out of your clothes with more confidence than he'd had before. when you were bare beneath him he just. looked. taking his time, hands mapping your body like he was memorising every detail.
"you're so pretty," he said, almost reverent. "i thought about this. about you. so many times."
then he was moving lower, pressing kisses down your stomach, your hip bones, the inside of your thighs. when his breath ghosted over where you needed him most you couldn't help the small sound that escaped.
"tell me if anything's too much," he said, glancing up at you. then he lowered his mouth to you and your brain short-circuited.
he started slowly, almost tentatively, like he was learning you. his tongue moved in careful strokes, testing what made you gasp, what made your hips shift toward him. when he found the rhythm that had your fingers tightening in his hair, he made a low, satisfied sound against you that you felt everywhere.
"jake," you breathed, and he looked up at you through his lashes, pupils blown wide, lips glistening with your arousal.
"tell me," he said, voice rough. "tell me what feels good."
"thatâ" your words cut off as he did it again, tongue flicking over your clit with that same perfect pressure. "right there. just like that."
he was a quick learner. always had been. he catalogued every reaction, every sound you made, adjusting and refining. except this wasn't detached or analytical. this was hungry. desperate. he sucked your clit into his mouth and you moaned, loud and unrestrained, your thighs trembling on either side of his head.
"fuck, jakeâ"
"god, you taste so good," he mumbled against your pussy, barely pulling back enough to speak. his chin was wet, his glasses fogged slightly. "been thinking about this. wanted to do this right last time."
he was getting lost in it now, the careful control slipping into something messier, greedier. he alternated between focused attention on your clit and broad, indulgent strokes through your folds, like he couldn't decide between making you fall apart and simply savouring you. his tongue pushed inside you and you keened, your back arching off the bed.
"oh my god," you gasped. "jake, your mouthâ"
he moaned against you, the vibration making your thighs clench around his head. he didn't seem to mind, just gripped your hips harder, pulled you closer, like he wanted to suffocate in your pussy. when his fingers joined his mouth, sliding through your wetness before pressing inside, you nearly sobbed.
"so wet," he murmured, almost to himself.
he crooked his fingers, finding that spot inside you that made you cry out, and worked it mercilessly while his tongue circled your clit. the dual sensation was overwhelming, pleasure building so fast you couldn't catch your breath. your fingers tightened in his hair, probably painful, but he just groaned and doubled his efforts.
"jake, i'mâfuck, i'm gonnaâ"
"i know," he said against you, his voice wrecked. "i can feel it. let go for me."
his fingers thrust deeper, faster, his mouth sucking hard on your clit, and you shattered. your orgasm hit like a shockwave, your whole body going taut as pleasure whited out your vision. you were dimly aware of the sounds you were makingâhigh, desperate whimpers and moansâbut you couldn't stop them.
jake moaned against you, the sound vibrating through your core, and he didn't let up. he worked you through it with devastating patience, his tongue lapping up everything you gave him like he was starving for it.
"jake," you gasped, trying to push at his head. "too muchâ"
but he just whinedâactually whinedâand gripped your thighs tighter, keeping them spread. "please," he mumbled against your pussy, his words muffled and desperate. "please, just one more. need to feel you come again. please."
"i can'tâ" but your protest died as he sealed his lips around your clit again, sucking gently, his fingers still working inside you. the overstimulation was almost painful but it was already shifting into something else, something that had you gasping and arching into his mouth instead of away from it.
he was making sounds nowâdesperate, needy whimpers and moans that vibrated against you. he was rutting against the mattress, you realised dimly, seeking friction while he lost himself in eating you out. his hair was a mess from your fingers, and he looked absolutely wrecked.
"so good," he whined between licks. "taste so good. could do this forever. please let meâneed to make you come againâ"
he was babbling now, drunk on you, his movements getting messier and more desperate. his tongue worked your clit in frantic circles while his fingers curled inside you, and the pleasure was building again impossibly fast. you were so sensitive that every touch felt electric, overwhelming.
"that's it," he gasped, feeling you start to tighten around his fingers. "yeah, give it to me. please, pleaseâ"
your second orgasm hit even harder than the first, ripping through you with an intensity that had you crying out his name, your thighs clamping around his head. jake moaned like he was the one coming, his hips jerking against the mattress as he worked you through it, tongue lapping up everything, fingers gentling but not stopping until you were actually sobbing from oversensitivity.
only then did he pull back, and when he finally lifted his head he looked completely gone. his face was flushed and wet, his eyes glazed and unfocused, his lips swollen and red. he looked drunk on you, his eyes unfocused and dark.
"fuck," he breathed, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "you're so hot when you come. the sounds you makeâ"
you pulled him up into a kiss, tasting yourself on his tongue, feeling the way he groaned into your mouth. his cock was rock hard against your thigh, leaking and desperate.
"your turn," you said, reaching down to wrap your hand around him.
he hissed at the contact, his hips jerking forward. "you don't have toâ"
"i want to." you stroked him slowly, base to tip, feeling how hot and heavy he was in your palm. precum leaked from the slit and you used it to ease the glide. "you're so hard, jake. does eating my pussy turn you on that much?"
"fuckâ" his voice broke. "yes. god, yes. you have no idea."
"tell me." you tightened your grip slightly and he whimpered. actually whimpered. "tell me what you were thinking about."
"i was thinkingâ" he gasped when your thumb swept over the sensitive head. "thinking about how good you taste. how you were shaking. how i could feel you clenching and i wantedâwanted to be inside youâ"
"yeah?" you stroked him faster, loving the way his abs tensed, the way his thighs trembled. "you want to fuck me, jake?"
"so bad," he choked out.
you guided him between your legs, not quite inside yet, just letting the head of his cock slide through your wetness. he made a strangled sound, his whole body shuddering.
"we shouldâdo you haveâ" he was trying to think through the haze of arousal, being responsible even now. "condom?"
"pill," you said. "i'm on the pill. and i'm clean. tested recently."
"me too. clean, i mean." his cock twitched against you, smearing precum through your folds. "can iâfuck, can i feel you bare?"
"yes," you breathed. "want to feel all of you."
he positioned himself at your entrance, the thick head pressing against you, and even that felt like too much. he pushed in slowly, so slowly, and the stretch was intense. you were wet enough that he slid in smoothly at first, but the sheer size of him was overwhelming.
"oh fuck," you gasped, your hands flying to his shoulders. "jake, you're soâyou're so bigâ"
"i know, i'm sorryâ" he froze, only halfway in. "am i hurting you?"
"no, don't stop," you urged, your legs wrapping around his hips to pull him deeper. "justâgo slow. need to adjust."
he sank in another inch and you both moaned. he was splitting you open, stretching you so full you could barely breathe. when he finally bottomed out, buried completely inside you, he dropped his forehead to yours.
"oh my god," he choked out. "you're so tight. so fucking tight and wet andâi can'tâ"
"don't move yet," you managed, clenching around him involuntarily. he was so deep you could feel him everywhere, pressing against spots that made your toes curl. "just let meâfuckâ"
"you feel incredible," he said, his voice shaking. "i've neverânothing compares to this."
you tightened around him experimentally and he swore, his hips jerking forward. "sorry, sorry," he gasped. "i'm trying to hold still but when you do that i want toâ"
"want to what?" you rolled your hips slightly and he groaned, deep and guttural.
"want to move," he admitted, his control clearly fraying. "want to fuck you."
"then do it," you said.
something in him snapped. he pulled almost all the way out and thrust back in hard, the force of it punching a cry from your lips. he did it again, and again, finding a rhythm that was deep and relentless. the bed creaked beneath you, the headboard hitting the wall with each thrust.
"yes," you gasped, your nails digging into his shoulders. "just like thatâdon't stopâ"
"god," he panted, his voice wrecked. "you feel so good."
you looked down between your bodies and moaned at the sightâhis thick cock disappearing into you, glistening with your wetness, stretching you obscenely. "jake, oh my godâ"
"feel how deep i am?" he thrust particularly hard and you keened.
"yesâfuck yesâ"
he wasn't being careful anymore, wasn't being gentle. he fucked into you with abandon, each thrust hitting that spot inside you that made sparks shoot up your spine. the sounds were obsceneâskin slapping against skin, the wet slide of his cock, his grunts mixing with your moans.
"wanted this," he said against your neck, his breath hot. "wanted you. for so long."
"tell me more," you demanded, loving this unfiltered version of him.
"thought about this constantly," he admitted, his thrusts getting harder. "thought about having you like this. making you feel good. hearing you say my name."
"jakeâ" you were getting close again, that familiar tension building low in your belly.
"touch yourself," he said. "want to feel you come on my cock. need it. please."
you slid your hand between your bodies, finding your clit, already swollen and sensitive. the added stimulation made you clench around him and he swore, his rhythm faltering.
"that's it," he encouraged, his eyes fixed on where your fingers worked. "fuck, that's so hot. you're so hot. make yourself cum. let me feel it."
you worked your clit in tight circles, the pressure building faster with each thrust of his cock. he was so deep, hitting all the right spots, the slide of him inside you absolutely perfect. you were making sounds you'd never made beforeâhigh, desperate whines and gasps.
"close," you managed. "so closeâ"
"come for me," he urged, his voice strained. "squeeze my cock. want to feel your pussy milk me. come on, baby, let me feel itâ"
the orgasm hit you like lightning, sudden and intense. you cried out his name, your whole body convulsing, your pussy clamping down on him rhythmically. waves of pleasure crashed over you, so intense you forgot how to breathe.
"oh fuck," jake choked out, his hips stuttering. "you'reâi can feel youâi'm gonnaâ"
he tried to last, you could see it in the tension of his jaw, the way his arms were shaking. but your pussy was still fluttering around him, still clenching in aftershocks, and it was too much. he buried himself deep with a broken moan, his cock pulsing inside you as he came. you felt the warmth of it, felt him fill you up, and the intimacy of it made something in your chest crack open.
"fuck," he gasped, collapsing on top of you. "oh my god. that wasâi've neverâ"
you wrapped your arms around him, both of you breathing hard, hearts racing in sync. he was still inside you, softening slowly, and you could feel his release leaking out around his cock.
"that was amazing," you said when you could finally speak. "you were amazing."
he lifted his head to look at you, his expression soft and vulnerable. "i think i might be falling for you," he said quietly. "is that okay? am i allowed to say that?"
your throat felt tight with emotion. "yeah. that's okay."
"good." he kissed you gently, sweetly. "because i don't think i could stop even if you told me to."
he pulled out carefully and you both hissed at the sensitivity. immediately he was gathering you into his arms, pulling you against his chest like he couldn't stand not touching you. you fit there perfectly, your head tucked under his chin.
"we should probably talk about this," you said after a while. "about us."
"we will," jake promised, his fingers tracing patterns on your spine. "but can we just stay like this for a bit first?"
"yeah." you pressed closer, breathing in the scent of him. "we can stay like this."
and you did. stayed tangled together as the morning light grew stronger, as the sounds of people leaving the party filtered up through the floor. his cum was still leaking out of you, making a mess on your thighs, but neither of you moved to clean up. you just held each other in this new, tentative peace.
jake changed almost overnight once you started dating. it was like giving him permission to want you openly had flipped some switch in his brain. suddenly he was everywhere.
he'd show up at your door before your 9 am lecture with coffee, your exact order memorised, his hair still messy from sleep because he'd woken up early just to see you. he'd kiss you goodbye and then text you five minutes later with some random thought he forgot to mention. did you know that octopuses have three hearts? just learnt that. thought you should know.
in class he'd sit next to you instead of in his usual back corner spot, his knee always pressed against yours under the desk. sometimes his hand would find its way to your thigh, just resting there, his thumb tracing absent patterns while he tried to focus on the lecture. you'd catch him staring at you instead of his laptop, and when you'd raise an eyebrow he'd just smile, unashamed.
"you're distracting," he'd whisper.
"i'm literally just sitting here."
"i know. it's very distracting."
study sessions became impossible. you'd be explaining a concept and he'd lean over to kiss your shoulder, your neck, the corner of your mouth. "jake, i'm trying to help you."
"i know, keep going," he'd say, already doing it again.
"you're not even listening."
"i am. you were talking about. um." he'd grin sheepishly. "okay i wasn't listening. but you're just so pretty when you're focused."
your friends noticed immediately. yunjin had taken one look at jake's arm slung around your shoulders at lunch, the way he was playing with your hair while talking to beomgyu, and pulled you aside.
"okay so he's like. obsessed with you," she said. "it's actually kind of cute. in a golden retriever kind of way."
"he's not obsessed."
"babe, he just offered to carry your bag even though your apartment is literally three minutes away. and he's been smiling at you for the past ten minutes like you hung the moon. it's obsessed behaviour."
but she said it fondly, and later you caught her telling beomgyu that she'd never seen you this relaxed before. "she's not performing," yunjin had said. "she's just. being."
and she was right. with jake you didn't have to strategise or calculate or perform anything. he wanted you. obviously, openly, without games or subtext. when you showed up to his place in sweats and no makeup, he'd light up like you'd dressed up specifically for him. when you stole his hoodies, he'd just buy more so you could steal those too.
"i like seeing you in my clothes," he'd admitted once, pulling you close. "makes me feel like. i don't know. like you're mine."
"possessive," you'd teased.
"is that bad?"
"no," you'd said, kissing him. "i like it."
jake's friends had their own reactions. you'd been nervous meeting them properly, remembering that disastrous first encounter at the party. but they'd welcomed you easily, even if they did give jake endless shit.
"dude, you're so whipped," his roommate said, watching jake immediately get up to refill your drink without being asked.
"and?" jake had said, completely unbothered.
"and nothing, it's just funny. remember when you said you'd never be that guy who drops everything for someone? and now you're literallyâ"
"finish that sentence and i'm not helping you with discrete math anymore."
but he was smiling when he said it, and later his roommate told you that jake talked about you constantly. "it's honestly annoying how happy he is."
the thing was, you were happy too. unexpectedly, overwhelmingly happy. jake made you sharper somehow, more focused. when you studied together you actually retained information because he made learning feel collaborative instead of competitive. he celebrated your successes like they were his own, staying up with you before big presentations, bringing you stress-relief snacks, sending you encouraging texts.
and you did the same for him. learnt his patterns, his tells when he was overwhelmed. you'd show up at the lab with dinner when you knew he'd been working for hours. you'd run your fingers through his hair when he was stressed, and he'd melt into your touch, all that tension draining away.
"you make everything easier," he'd told you once, late at night when you were both too tired to filter. "like the world's less heavy when you're around."
"that's the cheesiest thing you've ever said."
"i know. i mean it though."
weeks blurred together in the best way. stolen kisses between classes. jake's hand always finding yours. the way he'd kiss you goodbye at your door and then text you goodnight five minutes later even though he lived one floor up. movie nights that turned into makeout sessions on your couch, jake's glasses getting in the way until you carefully removed them, setting them aside so you could kiss him properly.
he got clingy when he was tired, wrapping around you like a koala, mumbling into your neck. "don't leave."
"i'm just going to get water."
"too far. stay."
"jake, i'll be gone thirty seconds."
"thirty seconds too long."
you'd laugh, running your fingers through his hair until he fell asleep, and feel something warm and settled in your chest. this was what it was supposed to feel like.
the beach had been jake's idea. "there's supposed to be a meteor shower tonight," he'd said, eyes lighting up behind his glasses. "and i know this spot that's perfect for stargazing. barely any light pollution. we could bring blankets, make a whole thing of it?"
so here you were, sitting on a blanket in the sand while the ocean crashed softly in the background. the sky was impossibly clear, stars scattered across it like someone had spilt diamonds. jake lay with his head in your lap, one of your hands playing with his hair while he pointed up at the sky.
"okay, so see those seven stars there?" he traced a pattern with his finger. "that's the big dipper, which is part of ursa major. but if you follow those two stars at the edge, they point directly to polaris. the north star."
you hummed, only half listening to the actual words. you were too busy watching him. the way his eyes sparkled with enthusiasm, how animated his expressions were when he talked about something he loved. the moonlight caught on his features, highlighting the sharp line of his jaw, the soft curve of his lips.
"and that oneâ" he was still going, completely absorbed. "that's cassiopeia. she was a queen in greek mythology who bragged about being more beautiful than the sea nymphs, so poseidon punished her by placing her in the sky upside down. you can see how the constellation kind of looks like a W? that's her throne."
"jake," you said softly.
"oh, and if you look over there, that really bright one? that's actually venus, not a star. common misconception. planets don't twinkle like stars do becauseâ"
you leaned down and kissed him, cutting off his rambling mid-sentence. he made a surprised sound but responded immediately, his hand coming up to cup the back of your neck. when you pulled back he followed your lips automatically, trying to chase another kiss.
"you were saying?" you teased.
"iâ" he blinked up at you, slightly dazed. "what was i saying?"
"something about venus."
"right. venus. because of the. um." he lost his train of thought as you leaned down again, kissing him slower this time. "you're distracting me from the meteor shower."
"am i?"
"yeah. very effectively." but he was smiling, pulling you down for another kiss.
you shifted, moving to straddle his lap properly. jake's hands immediately found your waist, sliding under your shirt to rest against bare skin.Â
the kissing turned heated quickly. jake made these small, needy sounds that drove you crazy, his hands roaming over your back, your sides, anywhere he could reach. when you rolled your hips experimentally he gasped into your mouth, his grip tightening.
"fuck," he whispered. "you're gonna kill me."
you kissed down his jaw, his neck, feeling his pulse racing under your lips. his hands had moved to your hips now, guiding your movements, and you could feel how affected he was. "still thinking about the stars?" you teased.
"what stars?" he pulled you down for another bruising kiss, one hand tangling in your hair. "can't think about anything except you."
you ground down harder and jake made a sound that was almost a whine, his head falling back against the blanket. "please," he gasped. "please, i needâ"
suddenly, the loud, insistent beeping of his watch interrupted the moment.
you both froze.
jake's face went bright red as he fumbled with his wrist. "oh my god. oh my god. it's my fitness watch. it thinks i'm exercising because my heart rateâ" another beep. "make it stop."
you couldn't help it. you burst out laughing, burying your face in his shoulder while his watch continued its concerned beeping about his elevated heart rate. "it's not funny," jake groaned, still trying to silence the watch. "this is so embarrassing."
"it's a little funny."
"my watch just cockblocked me. there's nothing funny about that."
you kissed his jaw, still giggling. "i think it's cute. your heart rate got that high just from kissing me?"
"you were not just kissing me, you wereâ" he made a frustrated noise. "yes. okay. yes. you have that effect on me. are you happy?"
"very." you settled against his chest, feeling his heartbeat still racing under your ear. the watch had finally stopped beeping. "for what it's worth, my heart's doing the same thing."
"yeah?" he wrapped his arms around you, holding you close.
"yeah."
you lay there together, the ocean providing a steady soundtrack, the stars scattered above you. jake pressed a kiss to the top of your head. "i love you," he said softly. "in case that wasn't obvious from the way my watch literally staged an intervention."
you lifted your head to look at him. his eyes were soft, open, vulnerable in the moonlight. "i love you too," you said, meaning it completely.
he smiled, that full, genuine smile that made his eyes crinkle at the corners. then he kissed you again, sweet and unhurried, his hands gentle on your face.
"we should probably head back soon," you murmured eventually. "it's getting late."
"five more minutes," jake said, pulling you closer. "just. let me hold you for five more minutes."
you settled back against him, his arms wrapped securely around you, both of you looking up at the vast sky. you'd come here to watch a meteor shower but you'd been too distracted by each other to notice if any had passed.
somehow, you didn't mind at all.
"hey," jake said softly. "thank you."
"for what?"
"for giving me another chance. for being patient with me while i figured my shit out. for. this. all of it." his arms tightened around you. "i know i was difficult at first."
"you weren't difficult. you were protecting yourself. i get it now."
"still. you could have given up on me. but you didn't."
"of course i didn't," you said, pressing a kiss to his jaw. "you're worth it. you've always been worth it."
jake made a soft, overwhelmed sound, burying his face in your hair. "i'm gonna marry you someday," he mumbled. "just so you know."
"jakeâ"
"not now. obviously not now. but someday. when we've graduated and figured our lives out and i can actually afford a ring. i'm gonna marry you."
you felt your chest go tight with emotion. "okay," you whispered. "someday."
"yeah. someday."
you stayed like that until the cold started seeping in, until you were both shivering despite being pressed together. finally, reluctantly, you packed up the blanket and headed back to campus. jake held your hand the entire walk, occasionally pulling you close to kiss you at random intervals.
"what was that for?" you asked after the third surprise kiss.
"just because," he said, smiling. "because i can. because i love you. do i need more reasons?"
"no," you said, kissing him back. "no more reasons needed."
if you liked this please comment or reblog to give me your feedback! <3
àšà§ summary: you hate chan because your boyfriend hates chan, and youâre pretty sure he hates you too. so when he proposes a fake dating arrangement after you get cheated on, you accept only for the revenge plot. but that doesnât exactly go as planned, because maybe you two never really hated each other after all.
àšà§ pairing: student!bang chan x fem!student!reader
àšà§ genre: college!au, enemies to lovers / fake dating, a lil fluff, a lil angst, smut MINORS DNI
àšà§ word count: 20.6k
àšà§ featuring: jaehyun of nct and mina & jihyo of twice
àšà§ warnings: 18+, cheating (not between reader and chan), mentions of alcohol, explicit language, poor communication, some arguing, overuse of italics (sorry!), oral (f receiving), fingering, unprotected sex (pls dont do it), breast play (+ one slap !), creampie, multiple orgasms, spitting, dirty talk, teasing, pet names (baby, princess), afab reader
àšà§ author's note: let's play a game of how many tropes can i fit into one fic! i did all of my college courses online so not too much on me and my unrealistic depictions pls⊠also obviously this is not an accurate portrayal of jaehyun, i love that man down okay!! and i got a lil lazy midway through this and rushed it to get to the smut lmao sorry!
You hated parties.
You hated parties because they were loud, because spaces with that many bodies on top of each other were too suffocating, because men always tried to hit on you with boozy breath and wandering eyes.
Now you hated parties because they made your boyfriend want to stick his tongue down other girlsâ throats.
Jaehyun had managed to destroy nine months within three minutes â thatâs the length of time youâd convinced yourself youâd spent standing there, unable to avert your gaze from the horror unfolding in front of you. Three whole minutes that he hadnât even noticed your presence, too preoccupied. Too focused on kissing this random girl like he had something to claim, as if you werenât enough. And worst of all, he hadnât even cared enough to bring it somewhere private. They were in a corner of the living room, tucked away but not hidden. It had only taken a little bit of squeezing between partygoers and quick apologies to make your way to them.Â
They had gathered a crowd, too. A few spectators, voices meant to be whispers â drunk people canât seem to mind their own volume.Â
âYo, is that Y/N?âÂ
âNah, I just saw her getting a drink.âÂ
âShitâŠsheâs gonna be so pissed.â
At least the alcohol hadnât made them completely brainless. You were, in fact, pissed. There was the unmistakable heartbreak too, but you werenât going to let anyone see that. Instead, you blinked back your tears and cleared your throat to make sure the words didnât get stuck. Each step you took towards him made it more real, until you were close enough that you knew he could hear you over the raging music.
âWhat the fuck are you doing?â you hiss, far from an actual question. Your voice still broke on the last word, and you hoped he hadnât noticed. As soon as he registers that itâs your voice, his girlfriend, Jaehyun tries to push the girl away, feigning disgust. Itâs almost pathetic in a way, his little act.Â
âShit, Y/N,â he curses. âI didnât mean to â fuck, I didnât mean for this to happen, I just â â
He stumbles on his words as if his mouth wasnât working perfectly fine just seconds before. When he tries to inch towards you, you step back, refusing to allow him the comfort.Â
âYouâre fucked, Jaehyun,â you say flatly. Thatâs as much of your energy as you would give him, at least for now. Heâd embarrassed you enough by kissing another woman in the middle of a party; you decided against escalating your humiliation by shouting at him and causing a scene. You turn on your heels and begin pushing through bodies again, away from him, and you can tell heâs following. You can hear your name, barely reaching your ears but definitely there.Â
Once you make it out of the most concentrated pool of people, he staggers soon after and latches onto your wrist. The same fingertips that used to run across your skin so gently now felt like betrayal and poison.Â
âLet me go,â you snap. His grip loosens slightly, but he still holds you there, determined to defend himself.Â
âI fucked up, I know, but please just hear me out,â he begs, as if he has the right to. His excuses are the last thing you want to hear right now, and you know thatâs all they would be. Stupid excuses for a stupid âmistake,â and it makes you sick to even think about listening to him explain why and how he ended up making out with another woman in the corner of a party he asked you to go with him to.
âNo! Fuck you, seriously,â you spit, words laced with venom you prayed would hurt him even a fraction of the way he hurt you.Â
And perhaps they did, or at the very least stunned him, because he drops your arm entirely. Now, you take the final steps towards the door, reaching for the handle. He tries to follow you again, unsatisfied, unrelenting. âAnd if you follow me out this door, I promise you Iâll never speak to you again.â
That stops him in his tracks. Maybe gives him some hope that if he just lets you cool off for the night, youâll let him explain in the morning. Regardless of how he perceives it, you lunge at the opportunity to escape, finally making it out the door and into the crisp night air. It hits your skin viciously, your skirt and halter top offering little protection from its bite. Youâre cold, heartbroken, and, worst of all, not even nearly drunk enough to mask it.Â
Without the vivaciousness of the party, you can only see Jaehyun kissing her in your mind, can only hear the hushed whispers of the onlookers, replaying on a torturous loop. Youâd only made it down the steps of the house before the tears began to fall. Now you let them, assuming you were away from prying eyes.Â
Unfortunately, you hadnât noticed someone standing right next to the door while you and Jaehyun had your little spat. A certain someone who would get far too much enjoyment out of such a scene. You had been followed once more, but this time not by your stupid cheating ex boyfriend, but by his equally as stupid ârival.â It was still a mystery to you why they hated each other, and at this point, you didnât care at all to find out.
âThose were some harsh words,â he chuckles, and you donât even need to turn around to recognize the voice. The same way you donât need to turn around to know heâs smirking. You hurriedly wipe your eyes, careful not to smudge your makeup; the last thing you need is him to see you crying, another thing for him to derive sick pleasure in. You wouldnât dare grant him that.
Because it was an unspoken relationship rule that an enemy of your partner is an enemy of your own. So, for no real reason other than the fact that Jaehyun hated him, you hated Bang Chan.Â
âFuck off, Chan,â you snarl, quickening your pace. It doesnât matter, since he catches up to you in a few short strides. âWhy the hell did you even follow me out here?â
He steps in rhythm with you, making it clear he had no intentions of leaving. Not until he got what he wanted, whatever that may be. The satisfaction of seeing you broken? The chance to remind you how shitty Jaehyun is and how great he is? You arenât sure, but you keep walking anyway.
âI just didnât expect to hear you say such things to your boyfriend,â he answers. His emphasis of âboyfriendâ makes you both angry and repulsed, then bitter and devastated. Nine months of your life gone in minutes, and now you had the displeasure of dealing with Chan on top of it.
You scoff and finally stop, turning to face him for the first time. His eyes twinkle with something devious, and it infuriates you. âHeâs not my boyfriend. Not anymore.â
âOh?â he draws his head back in shock. Heâs silent for a moment, and you fold your arms across your chest, glaring at him in a way he finds cute more than intimidating. âIâm surprised you two lasted this long, actually. Figured it was about time for Jaehyun to do what he does best.â
You blink at him incredulously, his careless words cutting deep. Thereâs no reason anything he says should bother you, but thereâs something about it that stings. And Chan notices, too, watching your entire face shift from rage to sorrow. Your features soften in a way heâd never seen before â youâd only ever looked at him with hatred and annoyance â and it deflates him.Â
âI donât know why you two donât get along. Seems like you should be best friends â youâre both fucked up,â you retort quickly, though it comes out as a strained whisper.Â
Chan hates being grouped with him, especially in your mind where Jaehyun now seems to be synonymous with evil. He never expected to be giving you of all people an apology, but he figures he needs to. For his own consciousness, of course. Definitely not because he felt an odd pang in his chest when you looked at him with something other than disdain for once.
âOkay, okay, Iâm sorry. I shouldnât have said all that. Are you alright?â he asks cautiously. He never thought heâd be so relieved to see someone roll their eyes, but when you do, he swears he feels ten times lighter. Your hostility he could navigate, but your sadness was uncharted territory; he was glad to be back to familiarity. And since you hadnât walked away from him yet, he takes the chance to dig deeper. âWhat did he do?â
âLike Iâd want to talk to you about it. Just give it a few hours, youâll hear about it from someone, Iâm sure,â you shrug, trying to pretend that youâre unbothered. That you donât care that youâll likely be the talk of campus, the woeful ex-girlfriend people will look at in that pitiful way they look at small, broken things.Â
As much as you hate Chan, youâre grateful he isnât looking at you like youâre small or broken. Heâs looking at you the same as always, like youâre a challenge, a puzzle he hasnât yet solved. Maybe thatâs why you decided to keep standing there, holding more of a conversation with him than youâd likely ever had before.
âProbably. But I want to hear it from you. So tell me, what happened?â he asks again.
He doesnât say it with demand or snark. It sounds almost unsettlingly genuine. It sounds like someone that isnât Chan, or at least the Chan youâre familiar with. You hesitate, conjuring up another smart remark, but you let it die in your throat.Â
âHe fucking cheated on me. He was making out with some girl in front of everyone. Can you believe that?â you chuckle sarcastically, forgetting who exactly is standing before you. âNevermindâŠIâm sure you can believe it. God, Iâm so stupid.âÂ
âNo, youâre not stupid,â he says adamantly. âHeâs stupid. An even bigger idiot than I thought, actually.â
It angers him more than it should that youâre degrading yourself over Jaehyunâs horrible decisions, and he has a fleeting thought of going back and telling him off for it. And as the thought passes, he canât understand why. He knows you hate him. He knows you have likely been fed lies and half-truths by Jaehyun for months. He knows he shouldnât care about any of this. He canât seem to figure out why he does.Â
âI just canât get that image out of my head. Itâs making me sick,â you mumble, and it replays all over again. The ear-splitting music, the crowd, his lips on hers, that look on his face when he saw you. All your emotions bubble back up to the surface and come out as a loud groan, though internally you just want to scream until your throat is raw. âI wish I could make him feel even half of what I feel right now.â
The idea that pops up sounds ridiculous in his head and likely even more so said aloud, but his mouth opens before he can stop himself. âWell, maybe you could,â he trails.Â
âI know it may be hard for you to believe, but Iâm actually a good person,â you sneer. âI would never cheat.âÂ
He laughs dryly and you furrow your eyebrows in confusion, awaiting an explanation. âBelieve me, I know youâre just a perfect princess,â he mocks, and youâre certain if you roll your eyes any harder theyâll get stuck like that. âBut who said anything about cheating? Besides, youâre not together anymore,â he reminds. âAnd thereâs only one thing I can think of that would drive him just as mad.â
Youâre intrigued now, though doubtful thereâs anything that could reflect the same level of hurt you currently felt. Anything rational, at least. Still, you wanted to hear whatever silly idea Chan had, if not for your own amusement.Â
âWhich is what?â you question.
âBeing with me,â he answers, too quickly, too plainly, as if it was something entirely normal and not an absolutely insane statement. When your eyes widen, he continues, waving his hands urgently to indicate you had gotten the wrong impression. âOkay, not for real, Jesus. Like faking it, you know? Just for him to see and lose his mind.âÂ
That was quite possibly the last thing you expected, and youâre forced to laugh at the absurdity of it. You wait for him to join in, to tell you he was joking just to fuck with you. That would have been the Chan thing to do. Instead, he stares at you, a half-smile playing on his lips.Â
âYeah, okay, youâre insane,â you scoff.Â
âIs it that insane?â he says smugly, poking his tongue in his cheek. âThink about it, imagine how pissed heâd be seeing us together.â
For a moment, you canât help but realize how attractive he actually is. Itâs not that you hadnât noticed before â you had perfectly functional eyes â but now being single and also inches away from him, it was an unavoidable fact. It made you almost begin to consider his idea. Almost.
âYes, itâs insane! Just because I gave you five minutes of my time on a shitty night doesnât mean I want to talk to you ever again, let alone pretend to date you.â
âOh, Princess Y/N gave me five minutes of her precious time, thank you so much,â he quips, and this time heâs the one to roll his eyes. âWhatever, I gave you a guyâs perspective on how to get back at him. Youâre not gonna get any better revenge than that.â
âAnd what do you get from it?â you ask, certain there must be some mutually beneficial aspect beneath it. Thereâs no way he would suggest something so outlandish without thinking of his own gain, and you know thatâs true when he grins wickedly.
âJust the satisfaction of seeing his face when he realizes he lost his girl to the one person he hates more than anything.â
You arenât sure why you hadnât grasped that from the beginning. All Chan wanted, as always, was to get under Jaehyunâs skin, to take something of his, to win. The idea is still crazy, and far more theatrical than youâd usually approve of, but youâre a lover scorned.
Then, you think back to the unspoken rule, the sole reason and origin of your hatred for Chan. Jaehyun hadnât even followed relationship rule number fucking one: donât cheat on your girlfriend. So, you figured you could break some rules and allow some theatrics.
âOkay. Okay, fine, Iâll fake date you or whatever,â you huff, trying to ignore his triumphant smirk. âBut nothing weird, alright? And once itâs all over, we go back to hating each other.â
He throws his hands up like itâs offensive youâd even insinuated it. âBelieve me, thatâll be no problem,â he agrees.
âGood,â you say simply, a forced tight-lipped smile on your face.
âGood,â he repeats.
The silence that falls over you two is uncomfortable, only disrupted by the sound of the wind lifting leaves along the sidewalk and the faint thumping of music. You can still see the house down the road, and it makes you wonder if Jaehyun is still inside and if he went right back to her. Suddenly, you feel the need to get home and cry in the shower with your carefully-curated sad music playlist.Â
 âWellâŠIâm gonna go back to my dorm now,â you finally speak, shifting on your feet awkwardly.
âIâll walk you,â he offers without a second thought.Â
You canât help the way you exhale a little too harshly. Truthfully, you just wanted a short walk on your own to process all of the nightsâ events, including the proposal youâd just accepted. And you had already spent more time than youâd like with Chan for one night (although you know youâll have to spend much more now).
âUh, no thanks. I donât think we need to start the whole fake dating thing right now,â you reject bluntly.Â
He pinches the bridge of his nose and shakes his head, trying to stop himself from saying the wrong thing. Heâs just trying to do a nice thing, the right thing, but you have a way of getting under his skin. The next few weeks are surely going to be a challenge. âItâs not for that, Y/N,â he sighs. âItâs late and dark out. Just let me make sure you get home safe, please?â
The roads are lit only by streetlights and the moon shining above, and you shiver from both the chilly air and the thought of making the walk to your dorm alone. Youâd expected to be going home with Jaehyun, definitely not on your own in the middle of the night.Â
âFine,â you agree reluctantly. âBut can we just walk in silence? Not really in the mood to talk anymore.â
You deliberately exclude that you feel like if you keep talking, youâre going to break. Youâd kept a relatively strong front â far stronger than you thought youâd be after being cheated on â but it was slowly crumbling. Maybe it was all the adrenaline that kept your emotions contained, because now everything was slowing down and soaking in.Â
âSure,â he nods, following closely behind when you turn and begin taking steps forward. Your dorm is ten minutes away, and you walk side by side, arms occasionally brushing against each others. You only make it about two minutes in before he stops, shrugging off his jacket. Then, he holds his hand out, gesturing to it when you stare dumbly.Â
âHere,â he offers. âYouâre freezing.â
Thereâs no denying that heâs right, but that didnât mean you were going to wear his jacket. You could survive a few more minutes of the cold, even though your skin was covered with goosebumps that hadnât gone away since youâd first left Jaehyun at the door. âIâm not wearing your jacket, Chan,â you shove his hand back.Â
Before you can start walking again, he drapes it around your shoulders, ignoring the glares you send his way.Â
âDo you always have to be this stubborn?â he groans. âYouâre literally shaking, but God forbid you wear my jacket.â
You click your tongue and pull your arms through the sleeves anyway, mumbling a grudging âthank you.â The newfound warmth was a great comfort, and youâre so wrapped up in it you donât notice the way he steals short glances over at you. His eyes drag down your body, drinking in how his jacket sits on your shoulders like it belongs there. How the sleeves fall past your wrists and the hem lines your thighs, still mostly exposed from your skirt length of choice. How you look good wearing something of his.
And then he curses himself for even thinking it, tearing his eyes away even though he really doesnât want to. He clears his throat loudly, awkwardly, trying to ground himself, and you look over wordlessly. Any words you were going to say get caught in your throat when you notice how muscular his arms are now that theyâre no longer covered.Â
Still, neither of you speak again, both thinking silent thoughts that youâd never let the other know. Once you arrive at your dorm building, he walks you all the way to your door despite your protests, muttering something about you being stubborn yet again.Â
âThank you for walking me home,â you force out, gratitude sounding like exasperation. Your back is pressed against the door, hand wrapped around the handle. All you want is to throw yourself in bed and sob and sleep at this point, but Chanâs presence keeps you in the hallway.
He nods, combing a hand through his hair, wondering when it became so difficult to think of the right words to say to you. âTry not to think about him too much tonight, alright?â he sighs. âI know thatâs hard, but just try to get some sleep or something.â
Such gentle advice sounds odd coming from his mouth, and he waits for your sarcastic reply. Counts on it, actually.Â
It doesnât come. Instead, you smile at him weakly, telling yourself you simply donât have the mental capacity to go back and forth with him anymore. Not that you were actually hating him a little less.Â
âIâll try,â you assure. âOh, yeah. Here.âÂ
You pull off his jacket, the one that had begun to feel a little too comfortable, and fold it over your arms towards him.Â
âKeep it. You can wear it around or whatever,â he suggests indifferently. It would make your fake relationship more believable, but beyond that, it would appeal to that small part of him that enjoyed seeing you in it.Â
Fuck, what had gotten into him?
âI wonât,â you sass, bringing the jacket back to your chest anyways.Â
He runs his tongue along his teeth, chuckling. âOf course you wonât. So stubborn.â
âStop calling me that.â
âStop being that,â he shoots back.
Seemingly, youâd met your match. Someone who could keep up with your quick retorts, your mouthiness. And it came in the form of a man your ex boyfriend hated, a man you hated. You werenât sure why that made it all the more exciting for you.Â
His gaze lingered, a curious glint in his eyes. He was trying to piece you together bit by bit, but you were a more difficult puzzle than most.Â
âHave a good night, Chan,â you say, finally turning the handle. When the door swings open, he finds himself looking around unintentionally, another opportunity to figure you out. He can see a few plushies on your bed, posters lined on the walls, and framed photos he canât quite make out. Thereâs probably some of you and Jaehyun, and he hopes those are long gone by the next time he ends up at your dorm.
You slip inside hastily, and he realizes heâd been too engrossed in examining your room to respond. The door comes to a close in front of him.
âYeah, you too,â he breathes out when you canât hear, standing there just a few moments longer.
Once inside, you wait to hear the sound of his footsteps padding away, and when you do, you crack. The pictures of you and Jaehyun sit on your bedside dresser, mocking you, and you slam them down against the wood. Youâre partially inclined to throw them against the wall and hope they shatter, but you donât particularly feel like cleaning up glass shards through tears.Â
At least you let the teddy bear he gifted you stay on your bed, unharmed. An innocent soul caught in the crossfire, a child of divorce even.Â
âFuck Jaehyun, fuck parties, and fuck this whole night,â you curse, though it comes out in choked sobs. And fuck Chan, your brain wants to say, but you bite it back. He had walked you home, given you his jacketâŠand become your fake boyfriend (soon to be, anyways) within the span of thirty minutes. Still, he was annoying, arrogant, impossible-to-deal-with Chan.
 As much as every fiber of your being yearned for the soft comfort of your bed, you trudge to your bathroom and start the shower, making sure to put on your playlist while the water warms. Because if you were going to be heartbroken, you were at least going to be heartbroken while listening to Cigarettes After Sex.
After thirty minutes of crying and scrubbing your body of any traces of Jaehyun, you finally step out and decide to check your phone for the first time since everything had completely unraveled. Apparently getting cheated on was all you needed to reduce your screen time, so maybe that was a positive?
Naturally, thereâs a few texts from people you could hardly consider friends but would now act like you were with feigned sympathy, full nosiness. Among them, however, is a text from a number you hadnât saved.
y/n?Â
whoâs this?
Iâd say the guy you hate the most but i think someone else mightâve taken that spot
Chan. It was almost impressive that he managed to sound annoying even through texts.
ha. and howâd you get my numberâŠ?
I asked someone for it. you think theyâll take the bait?
theyâll probably just think youâre a freak who goes for recently heartbroken girls.
Nah. thatâs not really my type.
oh yeah? whatâs your type then?
You watch as the typing bubble pops up and disappears a few moments later, and then nothing. Minutes pass and you assume heâs leaving you on read, and thatâs fine. Itâs late, anyway, and after such a thorough cleansing and crying session, youâre exhausted.
So itâs no surprise when your phone buzzes again just as you manage to get comfortable in bed.Â
Just because thatâs not my type doesnât mean i have a type
âLiar,â you mumble to yourself. Whatever, itâs not like you care who or what heâs into. In fact, youâre glad he didnât answer. Who knows what kind of weird things heâd come up with, if not just to irritate you.Â
okay, boring
What about you then? whatâs your type?
Youâre torn between giving him a genuine answer or something along the lines of âbasically the antithesis of you.â Then, you realize you can probably do both at once, since you donât consider Chan to align with any of your dating criteria.
i like someone whoâs warm, attentive, and can make me laugh. someone who notices the little things, too
Yeah, definitely not Chan. But then againâŠ.
That canât be right. i mean, you ended up with jaehyun
Also not Jaehyun. That was something you could admit now, but it was different coming from someone else. Like you were the only one who couldnât see the flaws, the incompatibility. You feel stupid all over again, trying to ignore the way your throat began to tighten once more.
iâm going to sleep.
Hahaha
Aw man. i was having fun.
goodnight, chan.
Goodnight princess
The nickname mightâve been a term of endearment from anyone else, but from Chan, it was a thinly veiled taunt. You save his contact with a very fitting eyeroll emoji just to spite him, finally drifting off to a surprisingly peaceful sleep soon after.Â
âWhat an asshole,â Jihyo hisses. âIâm sorry I wasnât there, you know I would have ripped into him.â
With all the craziness of the night, you hadnât even thought to text any of your friends. It was one of the rare times none of them could make it out with you, and now you were being inundated with questions over lunch.
You wave her off, poking at your plate idly. âItâs fine, I promise,â you sigh.Â
âHas he texted you today?â Mina asks, glancing down at your phone on the table. You look down too, half-expecting to see another flurry of messages from Jaehyun â heâd already sent about twenty since the morning, all going unanswered.Â
âYes,â you groan, unlocking your phone and passing it to the two girls for them to read the same desperate pleas youâd been spammed with. They scroll through, mouths slightly agape. âShould I answer? Iâm worried heâs gonna end up showing up at my dorm if I donât.â
âHere, let me answer,â Jihyo says, and you reach over and snatch the phone out of her hands before she can type. It wasnât that he didnât deserve whatever insults sheâd send his way, but that you worried any response would entice him at this point.Â
To satisfy her, you finally text him back, telling him to leave you alone and that you would let him know when you were ready to talk. You truly had no idea when that would be, but any more silence from your end would inevitably have him tracking you down on campus.Â
Then, you remembered the other half of the night, the part where you agreed to fake date the same man your friends had heard you complain about more than once. There was no way you were going to keep that from them, nor would you be able to, but you werenât even sure how to approach the subject.Â
Hey, by the way, Iâm pretending to date that guy I hate. For the revenge plot of course.
âThereâs actually something else that happened last night,â you begin, studying their reactions. They wait expectantly, eyes wide with curiosity. âChan heard us arguing and weâŠtalked a little.â
âYeah, well, that sounds like Chan. He basically feeds off of Jaehyunâs misery,â Jihyo chuckles.
Mina catches onto the end of your sentence, the words you had said just a little too quickly and quietly. Intentionally so. âWhat do you mean you talked? You canât stand him.â
Now, both girls are staring at you, disbelief etched on their faces. You and Chan had never talked. You insulted, glared, and mocked. Talking? They werenât even sure you two were capable of holding a conversation without spitting names at each other.
âItâs stupidâŠâ you trail. âHe had this idea, andâŠI donât know, I guess I just agreed to it because I was so angry and emotional.â
Youâre stalling, obviously, and theyâre growing more impatient with each delayed sentence.
âHe suggested we pretend to be together to get back at Jaehyun.â
Itâs quiet for a few seconds, and then Jihyo laughs, a full-body laugh that has tears pooling at the corners of her eyes. Mina just blinks at you, unamused. âY/N! You canât make me laugh like that while Iâm eating, you know,â Jihyo scolds, still releasing occasional giggles.
âYouâre not joking,â Mina says flatly. âAre you?â
Realization strikes both their faces when you donât answer, swirling your straw around absentmindedly. Next comes their looks of disapproval.Â
âDonât look at me like that,â you groan. But what did you expect? You had just thrown into question a fact they knew more concretely than grass being green or the sky being blue: you hate Chan. So did your need for revenge trump your hatred, or was your hatred truly never that deep after all? They suspected the latter â they always did, especially when you would go on about how insufferable he was while eyeing him from across a room.
âLike what? Like youâre crazy? Because clearly, youâre crazy,â Jihyo whisper-shouts.
âAnd with Chan of all people, seriously?â Mina adds.Â
Okay, neither of them were wrong, but theyâd also never been cheated on to understand all the complex thoughts and feelings youâre experiencing right now. And yes, with Chan, because the plan simply wouldnât work with anyone else (nor would anyone else be stupid enough to go along with it). It just had to be your ex boyfriendâs worst enemy.
âI know itâs crazy and you know Iâd never agree to something like this, but â âÂ
â â but she just couldnât resist me,â someone interjects from behind you. Then, he throws himself next to you, leaning back against the table on his elbows.
You arenât sure how long heâs been there or how much he heard, though you guess not much since one of them definitely would have warned you. Either way, add his stupidly good timing to the list of things that piss you off about him.Â
He hadnât texted you in the morning â not that he was supposed to, or that you expected him to â and it almost made you wonder if the whole night was a fever dream. Evidently not, seeing as he was sitting a few inches away with a wide grin plastered on his dumb face.
âAre you stalking me across campus?â you ask, raising an eyebrow.
He huffs out a hollow laugh. âYou wish. You guys sit in the same spot almost every day.â
Is he right? Yes. Does it make sense for him to know that? Not really. Unless heâd been paying more attention to you than you thought, which also didnât make sense.Â
âOkay, so youâre not stalking me,â you conclude. âJust watching me.â
âWhy does it have to be you? Thereâs two other lovely ladies here.âÂ
âEw,â Mina says.
âDonât be gross,â Jihyo adds.
Now itâs your turn to laugh, though Chan is unamused. You want to poke him further, to find out why he knows the specific time and place your friends typically eat lunch, but you decide to save it for another time. Especially since those two are sitting right across from you and would hang onto every stupid thing he says, pestering you about it later.Â
Chan spins forward, now facing Jihyo and Mina. âDo you girls mind if I steal Y/N for a bit?â
âI mind,â you scoff, but he ignores you entirely.
The two girls look at each other suspiciously, knowingly. Then, Mina shakes her head, basically sending you off to your demise (another uncomfortable walk with Chan â two in less than twenty-four hours has to be considered cruel and unusual punishment). âSure,â she shrugs. âWe were just finishing up, anyways.â
Were you, though? The conversation hadnât shown any signs of slowing down until he arrived.Â
With the approval of your friends, not yours, he clasps his hand around yours and stands up, trying to bring you with him. You canât move, you canât function at all with his hand holding your own, and once it hits you, you yank it away from him.Â
And then you stand anyway, as if your body was betraying you and doing everything your brain said not to.Â
âI hope you donât plan on hurting her, too,â Jihyo cautions, an unspoken threat behind her words.Â
Her intentions are sweet, but you canât help but feel the need to chide her for making it seem like you two are actually together.
âIâm not going to cheat on her, if thatâs what youâre implying,â he jeers, picking up your bag and slinging it over his shoulder. âDonât worry, princess, youâre the only fake girlfriend in my life.âÂ
He must think heâs so funny, putting on a show in front of your friends, but youâre not laughing. However, Mina and Jihyo are. Snickering under their breath, actually, and probably going to gush all about this odd interaction after you leave.Â
The three of you exchange goodbyes, Chan already walking away from the table. You have to take larger strides to catch up to him, and when you do, you reach for your bag, trying to pry it from his arm.Â
âIs it going to kill you if you let me be nice and carry your stuff?â he huffs, readjusting the strap.Â
âIt might,â you glare, but you can tell heâs not budging, so you resign. You wait for him to speak, to offer an explanation. Instead, he scans your face like heâs looking for something beneath the surface. âIs there a reason you took me from my friends just now?âÂ
âAre you okay?â he asks, answering your question withâŠa question? So. Annoying.Â
But it sounds sincere coming from him, unlike how everyone else had asked you since last night. You can tell the difference now between girls who asked because they wanted to know if they had a chance with Jaehyun, guys who asked because they wanted to know if they had a chance with you, the complete randoms who asked just to be in the know, and nowâŠthis. Someone who genuinely wanted to know if you were okay, nothing more, nothing less, no underlying motives.Â
âIâm alright,â you shrug, âjust numb, I think.â
He swallows hard, then nods. And suddenly the Chan you recognize is back. âWell, you look good for someone who just got cheated on.â
Maybe the compliment would have felt good if he hadnât tacked on the last part. You had enough reminders throughout the day, so much so that your phone had been on DND for hours. And the reminders came in other forms, too, like your lonely walk to your first class in the morning, the one Jaehyun would always accompany you on. Or the song that came on shuffle that you two had once added to a shared playlist (which you now had sole custody of).Â
âDo you know how to give an actual compliment?â you snap, already knowing the answer. Chan would probably drop dead before he complimented you.Â
âSo youâd rather I just say you look good?â he questions.
Yes, yes you most certainly would. But there was no way in hell you would tell him that and make him think his words actually mean something to you. You can just picture his smug look of satisfaction already.Â
So you lie through your teeth.
âNo.â
He chews the inside of his cheek, carefully mulling over what he says next. âYou do though. Look good, I mean,â he states matter-of-factly. And to your surprise, he doesnât drop dead afterwards.Â
What should you say in return? Thank you? No, that implies youâre appreciative, grateful he complimented you, which you arenât. You look good too? Absolutely not, unless you want to have him use that against you for the foreseeable future. Ew, donât say those things? Youâre not even sure you can feign disgust like that.Â
You end up not saying anything at all, but your face says a lot. Too much. It heats up and your cheeks dust with red, a far worse response than any of the others youâd contemplated.Â
âAw, youâre blushing,â Chan teases, bumping against your shoulder lightly. âGetting all shy on me, whereâs that smart mouth?âÂ
âShut up,â you grumble, and then you realize youâve been following him blindly for the past minutes. You see that heâs led you to the heart of campus, the vast field of green where couples, friends, and classmates alike all congregate. He heads straight for a bench, pulling you down next to him like itâs the most natural thing in the world.
âWhenâs your next class?âÂ
You donât answer.
âYou took me away from my friends to bring me here?â And then you look around, convincing yourself everyoneâs eyes are on you. âPeople are staring.âÂ
He looks over at you, your bag now acting as a barrier between your bodies, and quirks an eyebrow. âIs that a problem?â
âI just donât want anyone to get the wrong idea.â
âYeah, well, newsflash, princess. Weâre doing this so they do get the wrong idea,â he reminds, tucking your bag by his side. With the new space, he hooks his arms around your thighs and shifts you towards him, pulling your legs onto the bench and draping them over his lap.
âChan!â you hiss, trying to move, but he holds you there.Â
If you thought people were staring before, they must be drilling holes through you now. Realistically, youâre just being dramatic â everyone is too entrenched in their own problems, their own conversations, their own world to really notice you. But you know people will talk, because thatâs what people do, especially when it involves two individuals who are quite well-known on campus.Â
âRelax. The more obvious we make this, the quicker people will see, the quicker Jaehyun will see. And then it can all be over, right?â he explains, and you huff in response. You sit there like that long enough that it becomes comfortable, his fingers tapping idly on your leg while he scrolls on his phone. At the same time, you trace mindless shapes onto the bench, pretending you werenât melting into him slowly.Â
No.
Being like this with Chan shouldnât feel this normal, and you refuse to accept that it does. So, naturally, you have to say something to ruin it. Almost like an innate reflex.
âI shouldâve just stepped out in a revenge dress, but nooo, I had to agree to your stupidity,â you mumble. He laughs, and then his face contorts to something more serious.
âYou have a revenge dress?â
He says it hopefully, a glimmer of interest in his eyes.Â
âIf I do,â you begin, leaning in to whisper in his ear, âyouâll never get to see it.â
His entire body deflates, and you take the opportunity to pull yourself off of him. You had a class across campus to get to and also needed a serious mental debrief to process the last twenty minutes. He hands over your bag, lifting off the bench as well. âDo you want me to like, walk you to your classes and stuff?âÂ
âNope,â you decline easily. âUnless youâre willing to walk me to my 8:30 on Tuesdays.âÂ
Itâs supposed to be a joke, and he must know it because he scoffs, shaking his head like youâd just said the most egregious thing ever. You laugh and start in the direction of your class, the feeling of his body so close to yours still lingering.
The weekend comes and goes quickly, with you swearing off any more parties for the time being despite Mina and Jihyoâs pleas. They both mention something about alcohol and loud music being the perfect remedy for a break up. But you already only really went to parties to appease your friends (and Jaehyun, previously), who dubbed them an âessential part of the college experience.â Now, you had the perfect excuse not to. Even Chan texts you to ask if youâll be going out, though he doesnât have nearly the same level of disappointment as your friends when you say no.
Instead, you spend your days clearing your camera roll of pictures of your cheating ex boyfriend and boxing up all the things of his you no longer wanted to have in your possession. Maybe you could get Chan to burn it all for you (except for the teddy bear, of course).Â
And then Tuesday morning rolls around and thereâs an incessant knocking on your door, which is not only irritating but unusual, given the time. Youâre in the middle of getting dressed when you answer, top half still in a tank top, bottom half in jeans.Â
This person is about to feel all your morning wrath, until you blink a few times and register that itâs Chan of all people.
âWhat the hell?âÂ
â8:30, right?â he confirms, leaning against the doorframe.Â
You fold your arms across your chest, resisting his charm as best as you can. âThat was a joke,â you groan, opening the door wider. âIâm not done getting ready and itâs gonna look weird if youâre waiting outside.â
He steps inside happily, immediately noticing the now barren space on your dresser. You had gotten rid of the pictures, good. He also recognizes his jacket draped along the back of your chair in a way he knows youâve worn it, or at least moved it recently. It hangs off a little unevenly, one of the sleeves wrinkled in on itself.Â
âYeah, because itâll look so much better if we come out of your dorm together at eight in the morning,â he chuckles while you walk into the bathroom to change shirts in peace.
âDonât even think like that,â you shout. Then, you walk out, throwing the tank top at him (which he catches, unfortunately), feeling emboldened. âEveryone knows I wouldnât fuck you.â
The smirk on your face is wiped away immediately when he grabs your wrist as you bend down to reach your bag. âYeah? Do you know that?â he whispers. His whole demeanor shifts, gaze intense, grip strong but not painful. You attempt to force out a stammered reply, but admittedly, youâre flustered. Your own body is a traitor, clearly.Â
Thankfully, he releases your wrist and breaks the tension with a devilish laugh. âYouâre so easy to fuck with,â he says, sounding completely like his usual irksome self.Â
Now that you had a glimpse of a different, enticing side of Chan, you craved more and hated yourself for it. After all, you had just said you would never fuck him. And you wouldnât.Â
But canât a girl just think about it?
You grabbed your bag successfully this time and slipped on a pair of shoes, heading out the door with him right behind.Â
âSo why did you do this, exactly?â you question, still fighting off sleep yourself.Â
âWhen I commit to something, I go hard,â he explains, though it sounds like a double entendre. âSo if weâre going to fake date, Iâm gonna be the best damn fake boyfriend you ever had.â
How wonderful. You thought you were agreeing to get revenge against Jaehyun, not to fuel Chanâs ego. Maybe youâd need another fake boyfriend down the line just to knock him from the top spot.
âWell, good thing we probably wonât need to keep this up for very long. Iâve already had people text me asking whatâs going on between us,â you click your tongue. âNo Jaehyun though.â
âPoor guyâs probably losing his mind thinking his fuck-up made you realize you had repressed feelings for me all along.â
âOh, I had feelings for you?â
âWell, yeah,â he shrugs. âThatâs how my story goes, anyways.â
When you make it outside, he wraps his arm around your shoulder, pulling you just a little bit closer. And now that you understand thereâs no reasoning with him, you let him. Itâs too early to argue, anyways, but you still roll your eyes where he canât see.Â
âGod, youâre insufferable. Canât even give me some dignity in our fake love story,â you sneer.Â
âOkay, fine, I had feelings for you,â he relents, and for a second, it sounds like a fact, not a fabrication. âThat sound better?â
You hum in approval, satisfied with the change. Whether he would actually follow through with it, you werenât sure.Â
âSo, are you gonna stay cooped up in your dorm this weekend, or are you going out?â Chan wonders, seemingly forgetting why you didnât want to go to another party in the first place. They were kind of ruined for you at the moment, especially when you never really enjoyed them to begin with.Â
âIâm put off of parties for a while,â you wave your hands. âAnd I need to study, anyway.âÂ
He squeezes your shoulder, displeased with your answer. âCâmon, Y/N, donât let him ruin your fun,â he urges.
It was too late for that, though; all âfunâ had been sucked out the moment you caught your boyfriend sucking face, and you knew he would probably be there, too. Just because he was playing the regretful, devastated ex in your texts didnât mean he was depriving himself of his favorite pastime. You wouldnât even be surprised if one of his âplease forgive me, Iâm so sorry, I miss you so muchâ texts had come while he was balls-deep in another woman.
âIâll have plenty of fun in the library, thank you,â you shoot back.
âOh? In public? Wow, princess, I didnât know you were into stuff like that,â he grins, and you shove his arm off of you, staring at him in disgust.
âOh my god, youâre a fucking freak!â
âIâm the freak? Youâre the one thatâs going to â â
âChan. Stop talking.â
âOkay, okay,â he throws his hands up defensively. âBut just so you know, I donât judge, and if you want some companyâŠâ
Fuck this smug bastard, and more importantly, fuck the way he was starting to get into your head.Â
The rest of the walk is relatively normal, at least in the sense thereâs no more talk about public sex, and you reach your class promptly at 8:28.Â
âWell, have a good day,â he says a little awkwardly. âLet me know when youâre planning on grabbing lunch?â
âUnlikely,â you scoff, leaving him open-mouthed as you head inside.
So how you end up with Mina, Jihyo, and Chan at your usual lunch spot, youâre not sure.Â
âYou guys missed it. Then she goes âfuck you, Jaehyun!â and he looked terrified,â Chan laughs, and your friends join in, loving the cheater lashings.Â
âHe did not look terrified,â you correct.Â
âSheâs being modest. Even I felt a little intimidated,â he draws in a sharp breath, âbut it was kinda hot, too.â
Youâre not sure where that came from, and you kick his foot under the table where Mina and Jihyo canât see. In return, he places his hand on your thigh, squeezing.Â
âYou guys sure youâre faking this?â Jihyo questions, her chin resting on her hand while her eyes flicker between the two of you. Like she would be able to figure you out if she just looked hard enough. Impossible, considering you couldnât even figure out what was going on at this point. He was still annoying, painfully so, but he was also alluring, and the heat between your legs was starting to do most of the thinking.
âYes,â you and Chan say simultaneously, almost rehearsed.Â
âRight,â Mina nods, drawing out the word. âAs long as you believe that.â
His hand moves now, rubbing along your thigh softly, and you have to grit your teeth to not snap at him. âI do believe it, because itâs true,â you say harshly (but not convincingly). âIâd rather drink a jean jacket through a fucking straw than actually date him.â
Unfortunately, that doesnât stop his wandering hand; in fact, it only pushes him further, now sliding lower until his fingertips brush along the inside of your thigh. You shift awkwardly, keeping your eyes locked on your friends. You wouldnât let him see that he was undoing you.Â
âIâm not particularly fond of you either, but a jean jacket through a straw is insane,â he smirks, finding enjoyment in your fidgeting.Â
âThen I guess it does a good job of conveying how much I canât stand you.â
This time, you do snap your head towards him, eyes shooting daggers into him. They gave a silent warning, a threat he didnât quite think you truly meant. After all, your body had a different message with the way your thighs clenched and shoulders stiffened.Â
âSo sweet, isnât she?â Chan smiles sarcastically, drawing his hand back. And youâre grateful â at least, thatâs what you tell yourself, ignoring the small voice that said you wanted more. He reads something on his phone before typing quickly and rising from his seat.Â
âAnyway, thanks for the invite Y/N, but Minhoâs locked himself out of the apartment, so Iâve gotta swing by before class,â he sighs dramatically.
âI absolutely didnât invite you.â
âSure you didnât,â he winks, already gone before you can argue.Â
Once heâs out of earshot, Jihyo groans, covering her face with her hands. âGod, I think if Iâm subjected to that level of sexual tension again, Iâll actually pass away,â she huffs, muffled.Â
Bad time to take a sip of your drink.Â
âSexual tension?!â you repeat, nearly choking, completely stunned by her words.Â
âWe werenât sure of it when you were with Jaehyun, but now it practically radiates through the air whenever youâre around each other. Itâs suffocating,â Mina agrees, only adding to your embarrassment. Your face is heating up quickly, and it makes it hard to deny their accusations.Â
âCan you just hate-fuck and get it over with? Maybe youâll find out you actually do get along in some ways,â Jihyo adds, exasperated.Â
You laugh dryly. âOh my god, do you guys hear yourselves? Iâm not having sex with Chan, thatâs disgusting.â
âWell then can you two at least not make lunch feel like the build-up of a porno?â
Needless to say you would be informing him he could not join you and your friends for lunch anymore, lest you get lectured again on your âradiatingâ sexual tension.Â
By the time Friday comes, things have quieted. Chan listens when you tell him Mina and Jihyo requested your lunches stay reserved for the three of you (itâs not quite true, but the best excuse you could come up with without mentioning that your friends think you two want to fuck each other). So, you donât see him much, aside from the couple of times he shows up outside your classes.
His texts, however, are frequent. Theyâve developed into something expected, a normal part of your days. You talk about mundane things like grades and annoying lab partners. You talk about personal things like favorite songs and future goals. Each conversation is still filled with sarcastic quips and quick insults, but they donât hold the same edge they once did. It felt more like comfort â like if you kept up the hatred act, you could protect yourself from what it was becoming.
And at the same time, the texts from Jaehyun had resumed because, although he hadnât seen it with his own eyes, he had heard that you and Chan were seen together. On multiple occasions. He had even shown up at your dorm finally (the week of freedom youâd had was far longer than youâd expected), and you had slammed the door in his face, telling him it wasnât any of his business who you hung out with anymore.Â
After that encounter, you were grateful for some peace â which was becoming rare in your life â throwing yourself nose-deep in your notebook. With your headphones on and such intense focus, you donât notice anyone elseâs presence.
Until someone makes their presence impossible to ignore.Â
âHey, princess,â Chan greets, a cup of coffee in hand. He slips into the seat in front of you, placing the cup down and sliding it over. You have to pull your headphones back to hear him, eyebrows knitted in confusion.
âWhat are you doing here?â you ask.Â
He shrugs. âYou said you were studying, I thought I would bring you some coffee to help your brain.â
He says it so calmly, and you have to fight against the way your heart swells at the simple act of service. Though really, it wasnât so simple, because this was Chan showing up to the library unannounced on a Friday night, when he would usually be far away from anything academic. For you.
âWell, thanks, because I feel like my brain has basically disintegrated,â you complain, taking a sip. It was your favorite, too â he mustâve asked Mina or Jihyo for your order. âDid you skip out on the party?â
âYeah, I wasnât feeling it. Kinda just wanted to chill tonight. I thought a library date might be fun,â he muses.
You scoff, watching his lips curl into a satisfied smile. âDate?âÂ
Chan blinks at you like youâve wounded him, although you know itâs all part of his (perfected) act to get into your head.Â
âYou wouldnât call it that?â he says, disappointedly, leaning his head against the palm of his hand.Â
âNo, Iâd call it me studying for hours and losing my mind and you showing up uninvited.â
He points behind him with his thumb, turning halfway in his seat, an empty threat. âSo, should I leave then?â he challenges.
This is probably the part where you should say yes. You should demand it, actually. But he had brought you coffee, liquid gold for your overloaded brain, and the chances of him listening to your request were slim to none regardless.Â
âItâs fine,â you concede, hoping it sounded indifferent. You even shift your focus back to your laptop to play up the act, writing down ânotesâ that donât quite make sense. Chan accepts this, tapping his fingers on the table obnoxiously, purposely so. After a few minutes, he straightens in his chair, leaning forward against the table.
âI must say,â he whispers, âIâm a little disappointed to find you actually studying. You had my hopes up the other day.â
It takes you a moment to recall that conversation, and once you do, the realization spreads across your face in red hues. âThere is something seriously wrong with you,â you frown.
And there may have been something seriously wrong with you for enjoying it.
âMaybe. But I think you like it. You were basically writhing when I touched you at lunch.â
Now you know you definitely should have told him to leave. He pokes his tongue in his cheek, in that way that could drive you crazy if you let it (which you werenât).Â
âNo, I wasnât,â you argue weakly.
He finds your denial cute, truly, since he remembers your bodyâs responsiveness so vividly. It was essentially engrained in his mind, spinning it in circles. He could elicit that reaction from just touching your clothed thigh, and it made him feel powerful. And curious.
âOh, you werenât?â he chuckles. âSo if I come sit next to you now, thatâd be fine? And if I touch you like that again, you wouldnât start to melt under my fingers?â
âI did not melt under your fingers.â
âBut you would have,â he says confidently. He drops his voice to a whisper again. âIf your friends werenât there, and I kept going, you would have.â
Youâre staring at each other now, wondering who will break first, though his eyes shine with excitement and yours narrow with annoyance. Or rather, desire that you try to disguise as annoyance.Â
âYou think too highly of yourself,â you snort, scribbling gibberish into the margin of your notebook.Â
He releases a small, humorless laugh. âI donât need to think it,â he corrects. âYouâve shown me.â
You snap now, slamming your laptop shut a little too aggressively. Because you refused to allow him to continue talking with so much confidence, like he knew what you were thinking better than you did.
âIâm sorry, did you forget the part where none of this is real? All of your little touches and stupid remarks have nothing to do with what we agreed on.â
But your boldness only encourages him, biting his lip subconsciously. âNo, they donât. Thatâs just for my enjoyment. Like I said, youâre easy to fuck with.â
âThat's why you decided to come see me in the library on a Friday night instead of going out? To âfuck with me?ââ you say pointedly, to emphasize how unreasonable it sounded.Â
âWell, you didnât tell me to leave.â
âI asked a question.â
Chan drags his hand along his face, suddenly far less arrogant. For once, he looked like he was struggling to conjure up a smart response. And he was. But you were refusing to back down, finally having a sense of control.Â
âI donât know,â he finally says, and you glare at him. âReally, I donât. I just wanted to see you.â
You scoff, shaking your head in disbelief. âDonât be dumb.â
Because there was no way he meant it. Or maybe you had misheard him entirely. But his whole demeanor had changed, and you no longer recognized the Chan that sat before you without his smugness.
âRight. If I tease you, Iâm âinsufferable,ââ he recites, âif Iâm honest with you, Iâm dumb. Tell me, princess, what can I do then?â
You swallow harshly, trying to ignore what his words entailed. Honest. He said that he wanted to see you and he meant it. The air around you had shifted now, thicker, heavier, falling on your chest in a way that almost made your voice get caught in your throat.
âAre you fucking with me again?â you grimace, waiting for him to laugh in your face. To snap back into the version of him youâre familiar with.
But he doesnât laugh. âYou tell me. Am I?â
âYou canât do that!â you groan, exasperated. âYou canât say these things and then act all cryptic after.â
You cross your arms across your chest, and he relents. âOkay. Yes, I wanted to see you. Is that bad?â
âYes.â
Yes, it was bad. Very bad, actually. Because you were supposed to hate him, and you thought he hated you. Because none of this was supposed to be real, and once youâd gotten vengeance against your shitty ex boyfriend (however dramatic it may be), things would go on like nothing had ever happened.
But is that what you wanted? It should be. It had to be.Â
âHuh. I guess I donât care,â he breathes. âDo you?â
He awaits your answer, though he already knows what it will be. You had become easy for him to read now; he had studied you like you were his favorite subject. The unsolved puzzle he had finally pieced together.Â
And though you try to force yourself to lie and say yes, you simply cannot. All your resolve has vanished since he made such an unexpected confession, leaving you dazed.
âNo,â you mumble, and your breath hitches.Â
His smirk returns, though itâs different now. Less of an attempt to get under your skin, more of an acknowledgement that one day heâll get to touch every inch of it.Â
âDidnât think so,â he reaches across the table, trailing his fingers along your hand. You snatch it back, ignoring his snickers.Â
He would be the death of you, you were certain. And for some reason, you find yourself thinking that it may not be such a terrible way to go out.
Neither of you are sure how to proceed after that night in the library, an obvious tension lingering between the two of you. You knew you werenât going to be the one to address it, but you were growing exhausted with pretending that it had never happened.Â
It seemed like Chan was perfectly content with that, however. He hadnât even mentioned it once, continuing to text you and show up outside your dorm and classes like it was all still part of a plan. And maybe it was. Maybe he was a great liar, but that didnât explain the rift that had settled between you two. If he had lied that night, why could he hardly meet your eyes now?
You didnât ask, because you feared the answer â both possibilities. Though when you turned to Mina and Jihyo for advice, they were adamant. They were convinced they were right all along, that there was a budding romance beneath the hatred. So, it was quite hard to get any sort of unbiased guidance from them. This was something youâd have to navigate on your own.
And by navigate, you meant continuing to avoid it. Hopefully Chan would crack before you did.
After almost two weeks of letting the unspoken words nearly suffocate you, you had begun to believe you really would have to forget it had ever happened. If he wanted to speak on it, he would. Nevermind that he could say the same thing about you; it was him that had started it, so he had to be the one to acknowledge it. It was only fair.
Your phone rings in the middle of the afternoon, during your thirty minute interval between classes. Itâs Chan, which isnât the surprising part (he had learned your entire schedule by now).Â
âLet me take you to dinner tonight,â he says only a few seconds after you pick up.Â
You roll your eyes, hardly registering his proposal. âA âhelloâ might be nice.â
âHi,â he utters. âLet me take you to dinner.â
If you agree too easily, heâll know you had been waiting for him to say something like this. And with how straightforwardly he had asked (or stated, rather), he clearly expected your agreement. You could make him grovel just a little bit.Â
âYou wanna see me again?â you quip, the most youâd allude to the library incident.Â
But Chan could match your attitude ten times over, so he has a quick retort. âI just figured if we go to dinner you could post a picture on your story, really commit to the bit,â he explains flatly, and then laughs when youâre silent. âWhat? You wanted me to say I want to see you?â
âFuck you.â
âYou said you wouldnât,â he reminds. âRemember?â
If he could see you, he would undoubtedly point out how flustered you were, then follow it up with a dumb joke about how the offer was always open. And you would have to hold back from taking him up on it.Â
âReally doing a good job of making me want to say yes,â you chide.
âPlease let me take you to dinner. Iâve been thinking about our library date, and I wanna take you on a real one.â
You huff loud enough for him to hear over the phone. âThat wasnât a date,â you correct. âAnd Iâm busy tonight.â
A lie, but he didnât need to know that yet. Thereâs shuffling on his end, and then his voice comes out sharply.Â
âBusy with what?â
âThatâs really none of your concern,â you canât help but grin at your own mischief. âBut if you must know, Iâm seeing someone tonight.â
âY/N,â he growls, and itâs hot. You try to imagine the look on his face (why couldnât he have FaceTimed you?), and it makes you weak.Â
âSo, what time are you picking me up?â you ask, voice syrupy sweet despite your antics. Like honey masking poison.Â
He exhales loudly, and you can hear all the unease release from his body. If he was going to be so wound up about you even potentially seeing someone else, why had he taken so long to address your ever-present tension?
Maybe he was just as confused as you.Â
âYou donât know what you do to me,â he groans. âIâll be there at seven.â
He hangs up before you can hound him about the first half, not even sparing a second to confirm the time. No, you donât know what you do to him, but it was inevitable that you would find out. And he would make sure that you understood to the fullest extent.Â
Itâs difficult for you to decide on an outfit for dinner with Chan, one, because youâre still tossing with the idea internally and two, because you arenât sure whatâs an âappropriateâ amount of dressed-up. If you look too good, heâll think youâre trying too hard to impress him, and youâll never hear the end of that.
Though, you had already agreed to going to dinner with him, so you probably wouldnât hear the end of that, either.
Mina and Jihyo choose an outfit over FaceTime (and so kindly remind you to âat least make him wear a condomâ), one that teeters right in the middle of simple and dressy, and youâve fixed your hair at least a dozen times by the time heâs knocking on your door.
When you open it, he stares at you, and then tears his eyes away to roam all over your body. He draws in a sharp breath, shaking his head in disbelief.Â
âWow,â he rasps. âYouâre beautiful.â
The compliment comes with no snarky follow-up, and he doesnât even tease you when you feel your face heating up. He takes your hand and holds it the whole way to his car, only letting go to open the door for you; you would have never taken him for such a gentleman.
He doesnât tell you which restaurant heâs picked, but the drive isnât long before you arrive and are seated, his hand finding its way back to yours while you walk through the aisles.
As you sit there scanning the menu, you canât help but realize youâre at fucking dinner with Bang Christopher Chan. And heâs staring at you like you wouldnât notice.
âWhat?â you question, and he drops his head, chuckling.
âNothing,â he says. âJust canât believe how much things have changed.â
âYouâre still annoying, donât get it twisted.â
âYeah, well, you still agreed to get dinner with me,â he shrugs.
He thinks heâs won with that, turning his attention to the menu. But even if heâs right, you arenât letting him shame you so easily. âYou wouldâve begged me if I didnât,â you smirk.
His eyes snap back to yours, the mischievous glint forcing him to fight back the more impure thoughts. âYou know, that mouth is going to get you in trouble one day.â
âYeah? By who?â
âCareful, Y/N,â he warns, words coming out through clenched teeth.Â
You flash him an exaggerated smile, thanking the waitress when she returns with your drinks, and Chan curses himself for being turned on by how quickly you switch from a temptress to the sweetest angel. He stumbles over his words while giving his order, and you giggle softly without even knowing youâre the cause of it.Â
Considering Chan had brought you to dinner, you felt confident enough to bring up the subject of what the hell was going on between you two. Specifically the Friday night youâd left unaddressed. âSo, is it finally time we talk about it?â
âTalk about what?â
âThis,â you motion between the two of you.
He doesnât even pause to think about it. âWeâre having dinner,â he replies coyly.
You figure admonishing him for his feigned ignorance wonât bring you closer to an answer, so instead you push further.Â
âBut why?â
âI told you, you can post it on your story or whatever. Iâm sure Jaehyun still stalks your socials.â
Youâd seen quite a few random spam names in your story viewers, so you knew it to be true, but you also knew that couldnât be his reasoning.Â
âYou also told me you wanted to take me on a âreal date,ââ you mention, and he throws his head back against the booth.
âJesus, Y/N,â he sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. âCan we just have a nice dinner and worry about the semantics later?â
Obviously, the answer was a resounding no, which he should have expected since he understood your stubbornness better than anyone. âOh, for you to pretend it never happened and leave me wondering for weeks? Sure thing, Chan,â you sneer.
You probably should have excluded the part where you admitted youâd still been thinking about that night, because he latches onto it and uses it to evade answering any more questions.
âI really get in that pretty little head of yours, huh?â he grins.
âOr maybe I get in yours,â you shoot back. âWhat did you say? Something about âI donât know what I do to youâ?â
He rubs his jaw, exhaling through his nose loudly. Because you really didnât know what you do to him.
âPrincess, you donât get into my head. Youâve never fucking left it.â
Your food is brought over moments later, right on cue, leaving you sitting idly, stunned. Chan pretends not to notice, already moving past his previous admission.Â
âGod, I am starving,â he groans. He takes a bite of his meal, and then blinks at you when you havenât even slightly shifted. âWhatâs wrong? You wanna take that picture for your story now?âÂ
If you heard the word âstoryâ one more time, you were convinced youâd actually implode. And youâd take him with you, just to annoy him in the afterlife.Â
âDonât do that,â you hiss. âDonât act clueless.â
âWell sorry for trying to be a believable fake boyfriend.â
Nothing about this felt fake anymore, and when he says it, it feels like a harsh reminder. That vicious awakening from the middle of a good dream, pulled to the surface of reality when youâre in such a deep slumber.Â
âThatâs all you are, right? My fake boyfriend? So why do you say and do all these things that make it feel so real?â you demand.Â
Your meals are all but forgotten now, and the booths around you are probably getting more of your argument than any of you would like. You swear you can see the lady in the booth to your right staring at you and then leaning over to whisper in her daughterâs ear. Hopefully sheâd give her some advice to never get involved with idiotic men like Chan.Â
He rubs his temples, growing more exhausted by the minute. âIâm trying to figure that out. I came up with a stupid plan, and somewhere along the way the lines got blurred.â
âYou blurred them!â you whisper-shout, eyes widening in disbelief.
âYou let me,â he says simply, and you canât deny it. Though heâs still far more culpable for your current situation. âListen, we can talk about it more on the way home, yeah?â
Itâs his cop-out, and you should know this, yet you relent anyway. You arenât surprised when he refuses to discuss it further in the car, either, and when he tries to put his hand on your thigh, you push it away.Â
He deserves that, but it still makes him sulk internally. If he couldnât offer you answers, you wouldnât offer him any more of yourself. At least, youâd try your best not to (easy to say, harder to do).Â
When he drops you off, you hardly give him a goodbye, so he knows heâs fucked up. His chest tightens at the thought of not being able to make it right. Of letting you go without telling you everything heâs been thinking for the last month.Â
He isnât even sure youâll give him another chance, but he figures he needs to sort his mind out before he faces you again, for both of your sakes.Â
The texts slow and then stop altogether, and you donât see him at all for another week. Maybe you had pushed him enough that he had been scared off (still, he could at least fake break up with you). Though you had never taken Chan for someone who could be scared of anything, especially with his constant arrogance.Â
âThatâs just how men are. They run when shit gets too real,â Jihyo says, fixing her top.Â
The three of you were currently getting ready in your dorm, because the minute you had texted the groupchat stating that you were desperate for a night out, they were basically busting your door down. And you couldnât blame them, because you were never the one to initiate, but right now, it seems like the only distraction you have left.Â
âI think heâs just a little confused,â Mina adds with more eloquence. âI mean, do you even know what you want?â
âYes,â you grin. âI want to go out, have a good time, and forget about all of this.â
Mina rolls her eyes at your avoidance, and Jihyo clutches her heart dramatically. âMy Y/N is so back, I could cry right now.â
You know very well that a party is not the magical cure for all your problems â in fact, itâs the indirect cause of nearly all of them â but your other option was to spend another weekend in your dorm preparing an internal monologue about Chanâs cowardice. So, yes, you were going to a party.Â
âYou know theyâre both probably going to be there, right?â Mina advises. Both of the banes of your existence, though for drastically different reasons.Â
âItâs fine,â you wave her off. âI wonât even notice that theyâre thereâ
Between the three of you, thereâs not a soul that believes your lie, but nobody questions it.Â
Though perhaps they should have, because maybe it would have made you reconsider before you ended up in your current situation. Which was searching through a sea of bodies for one particular person, even if you werenât sure what you would do if you found him.Â
Mina notices, too, watching as your eyes sweep all along the room while nodding every once in a while, pretending to be engaged in the conversation. You really hadnât caught a single word sheâd said for the past three minutes.Â
And although there were plenty of people there, you were confident youâd be able to spot Chan out of a crowd. But so far, there was no sign of him, and you couldnât decide if you were relieved or disappointed.Â
Unfortunately, however, you had spotted Jaehyun. In the back of the room, looking completely untouched, sipping on a drink with his friends on one side and a girl on the other. But he looked disinterested, not paying her any mind, nodding along indifferently. He looked like you, searching for someone amidst the chaos.
âY/N!â Mina barks, and you turn to her immediately. âAre you even listening at all?â
âUh, yeah,â you lie.Â
She throws her hands on her hips, eyebrows raised. âReally? So what do you think, should I go over there and talk to him?â
She points to the left of you, but thereâs at least five guys in the general vicinity she could be referring to. Of course, youâd know who she meant if you hadnât been so checked out while looking for Chan.
âUm, who?â you ask carefully, and she groans, frustrated. âIâm sorry! I think I need another drink. To clear my head.â
You take off for the kitchen before she can argue, the counters covered in discarded solo cups and half-empty bottles of alcohol. Tempting. Instead, you open the fridge, pulling out one of the remaining unopened cans.Â
When you turn around, youâre stuck in place, a firm chest blocking you from walking away. Youâre about to complain, to remind whoever it is that thereâs a thing called personal space, but one look up has the words refusing to come out. Itâs Jaehyun, of course.Â
âY/N,â he falters, studying your face as if heâd forgotten your features.Â
Your heart races, not from anything other than the discomfort of confronting someone who you once thought the world of.
âLeave me alone, Jaehyun,â you spit, and he steps back, granting you some space and the freedom to walk away if you so choose. But you donât, not yet.Â
He takes note of your stillness, encouraging him to speak again. âI will,â he nods. âBut you havenât given me a chance to explain, and I need you to know how much I regret what I did.â
âYeah, well, good for you.â
He sighs, and a quiet moment passes between you, one that makes you picture him kissing that girl all over again.Â
âAre you with him?â he asks, under his breath. You stare at him with feigned confusion, lips pressed in a taut line. This time, he speaks louder, intentionally. âDonât play dumb, Y/N, please. Are you with Chan?â
âI donât owe you anything.â
âYou donât. But I owe you an explanation, and if youâre with ChanâŠâ he trails, and it sends you over the edge. You tell yourself your anger rises up solely because of Jaehyun, but itâs undeniable that half of it comes from all youâd bottled up during the days without Chan around.
âThen what? Then it doesnât matter? You cheating on me just gets justified because Iâm with Chan?â you snap, voice increasing in volume with each word. âGuess what, Jaehyun, your fuck-up is to blame for all of it.â
Even with the thumping music, your voice carries throughout the room, and a few people glance over, intrigued. Someone pushes through the crowd, entering the kitchen right as Jaehyun opens his mouth to argue back.
âIs everything okay over here?â
Both of you look over, though you donât need to to recognize the voice. It had become your favorite, even when it was teasing you or whispering innuendos just to unnerve you.Â
âChan,â you whisper, and he heads straight for you, ignoring Jaehyunâs unwavering glare.Â
In a few quick steps, heâs beside you, wrapping his arm around your shoulder and pulling you into him like he hadnât ignored you for a week. âHey, baby. Are you alright?â he asks, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear.Â
Baby. That was a new one. He had called you princess more times than you could count, but it had started as a taunt and never really felt like anything more than that. Baby, however, had your heart pounding and mind racing.Â
âYeah, Iâm fine,â you swallow, finding more interest in the ground now. For a second, you forget all about Jaehyun in front of you, and it reminds you that Chanâs actions are probably directly correlated. After all, the original plan was to get back at Jaehyun, and what better moment than right now? The final act to your months-long play.
âSo you two are together,â Jaehyun concludes, frowning.
âDonât look so upset,â Chan grins wickedly. âIâll treat her better than you ever could.â
Try not to take his words seriously, you remind yourself. He doesnât mean it. This is all for show. But as always, he makes them sound real, adding a layer of intensity you canât ignore.Â
âYouâre not good enough for her.â
Youâre about to chime in, to remind him he has no say in what or who is good enough for you, and that it was rich hearing that from him of all people. Â
âAnd you were?â Chan laughs humorlessly. âCâmon, baby, letâs get out of here, yeah?â
He squeezes your shoulder, looking down at you, waiting for your agreement. And as you glance between him and Jaehyun, something takes over you entirely. You pull his face towards yours, hesitating briefly to gauge his reaction. When he closes the final inches, your eyes flutter closed, his lips crashing onto yours.
Itâs quick, soft, restrained, and not at all like what you expected (or wanted) kissing Chan to be, but it serves its purpose.Â
Jaehyun stands there, wordlessly, the most satisfying look of outrage plastered on his face. Chan sees it, too, a small chuckle leaving his parted lips. Heâll probably burn the image in his mind to remember it whenever he needs a pick-me-up.Â
And while youâre a blend of emotions between the kiss, facing Jaehyun, and Chanâs declaration, you keep yourself together for now, yanking Chanâs hand to lead him away. âYeah, letâs go.â
You maneuver through bodies, making it to a noticeably more empty section of the house before you finally release his hand. If youâre lucky, heâll go back to ignoring you, and you wonât have to discuss whatever just unfolded.
Unfortunately, you havenât had much luck recently.
âBold move there, baby,â he quips.
There it was again. Only this time, Jaehyunâs not around, so thereâs no explaining away the pet name. Does that make it better or worse? You arenât sure.
âShut up,â you mumble, âI really donât want to be here anymore.â
Your night out had been ruined, and you swore youâd be done with parties for good. At least in your dorm you could save yourself from running face to face with anyone who either cheated on you or refused to share their feelings.Â
âIâll take you home,â Chan states, not offers.Â
âIâm not getting in a car with you. Youâve been drinking.âÂ
It was an assumption, but a reasonable one. Though clearly incorrect, because he quirks an eyebrow and shakes his head immediately. âI havenât had a drop of alcohol, actually,â he refutes, now pulling his keys out of his pocket and swinging them around his finger.Â
So much for that excuse.Â
âWhatever.â
He takes this as your reluctant surrender, now grabbing your hand and leading you to his car which was only a little ways down the street. And despite the kiss, you still had nothing to say to him â or rather, way too much to say to him, and no desire to say it if he wouldnât talk first. So a thick silence falls between you, leaving you with just the lingering feeling of his lips on yours.
âQuiet today,â he comments, stealing a glance you donât return. You keep your head pressed against the window, a dull headache already forming from the nightâs events and the alcohol.Â
âIâm still mad at you,â you grumble.Â
His hands grip the steering wheel a little tighter, tongue swiping across his teeth. âI know,â he mutters.Â
âAnd I think I hate you again.â
âWell, the âagainâ gives me some hope,â the corners of his lips tug upwards. âMeans I had you on my side for a little, at least.â
âYou did. Until you wouldnât talk to me and ran like a coward,â you insult, watching his shoulders drop and smile fade as fast as it had come. You almost regret saying it. Because all your insults before had been quick, meaningless jabs that he could brush off. This one came with intent, a bitterness that wouldnât be forgotten seconds later.Â
âYeah, I deserve that,â he sighs. âWeâll talk soon, okay? When youâre not tipsy and overwhelmed.â
âI donât believe you,â you say flatly, still not lifting your head from the glass.Â
He reaches across the console for your hand, rubbing his thumb against your skin. âI mean it this time. Because Iâve been going crazy without you. And that kiss just sealed the deal.â
âPlease,â you scoff, forced. âIt was hardly a kiss.â Hardly. Your minimization of it wasnât wrong in a literal sense; it was short-lived, lacking the passion you knew you both had within. But regardless, it had completely hijacked your brain, so clearly it wasnât hardly anything.Â
âI know. Thatâs the problem. I need more.â
Now, you turn towards him, trying to decipher his expression. Itâs unreadable for once, devoid of that familiar smirk. You want to tell him if he needs more to take it, that he can have everything he wants if he just says the words. But those words donât come, not tonight, and you close your eyes against the window once more.
Before you leave for your dorm, he reaches for your hand again, pulling it to his lips.Â
âSoon, I promise.â
You nod, trying to believe him, though you wonder if it would hurt less if you donât.Â
You didnât particularly like loose ends.
Thatâs why after weeks of dangling a fake relationship in Jaehyunâs face and the culmination of it all at the party the night prior, you decided to confront him fully and at least hear what he had to say before you closed the chapter for good. You didnât owe that to him, certainly not, but you felt like you owed it to yourself. An explanation for why he did it to quell the thoughts that had never completely gone away. Which he also said he owed you, anyways.Â
And perhaps this was all amplified by the fact that most of the day had passed and there was no text, no call, no anything from Chan. He had only said âsoon,â not âtomorrow,â but still. Some form of acknowledgement would be enough to placate you, but he hadnât even spared you that.
So, with a final layer of lipgloss, you considered your makeup complete and mentally prepared yourself for the impending doom. You looked irresistible at least, everything Jaehyun could never have again.Â
But nothing could ever go to plan (once again, luck hadnât exactly been on your side), so you arenât shocked when a knock on your door disrupts your evening.Â
âHi, princess,â Chan grins when you swing it open. Then, his eyes trail down your body, tugging his lip between his teeth subconsciously. âYou look good.â
Well fuck. Why did he have to show up now? A text in advance might have saved you from unintentionally double-booking yourself, or maybe youâre at fault for assuming Chan was ghosting you again today.
âThanks,â you smile half-heartedly, heading back to your mirror to look yourself over once more. Itâs far too awkward to face Chan knowing youâre about to go see your ex, especially when you and Chan had almost establishedâŠsomething. Something real, beyond the pseudo-relationship.Â
He senses that youâre withholding something, watching you suspiciously. âGoing out?â he questions, and you curse under your breath. Bracing for the storm.
âSomething like that.â
âWhatâs that supposed to mean?â
His tone is already accusatory and you hadnât even dropped the bomb yet, so you really had to prepare yourself for his reaction. At best, he would storm out and you could deal with it later, after you had dealt with Jaehyun. At worst, youâd have a full-blown argument in your dorm right before the other inevitable argument youâd have with Jaehyun.Â
âIâm going over to Jaehyunâs,â you say softly, guilt washing over you when his face drops instantly. But you didnât need to feel guilty â you were allowed to seek closure, especially when Chan hadnât yet granted you transparency. Still, you canât help but wonder if you were making the right choice.
Chanâs blood runs cold, and he waits for you to laugh in his face, to tell him how dumb he looks when heâs angry. Something snarky, something annoying. Something. Anything. He doesnât care, as long as it means you arenât currently getting dolled up to go see your cheating fuck of an ex boyfriend.
Instead, you say nothing, shifting on your feet uncomfortably.
âY/N, you canât be serious.â
âIâm just hearing him out,â you say flatly. âI donât think thatâs a crime.â
âNo, itâs not a crime, but Jesus fucking Christ, youâre looking like that to go âhear him out?ââ
You look down at yourself, a lacy bodysuit and skirt adorning your body â not to appeal to him, not at all, but to remind him what he had lost. Was it a little melodramatic? Maybe. Were you allowed to be melodramatic when confronting someone who had made you question if you werenât enough? Definitely.
âYes! Whatâs wrong with that?!âÂ
âEverything is wrong with that!â
âOh my god, Chan, you got what you wanted,â you throw your hands up in frustration, âIâm sure youâll never forget the look on his face when he saw us kiss last night.â
âYou think his face is what I was thinking about after we kissed, Y/N?â he asks incredulously. âI was thinking about you, only you, and how right it felt.â
Was this his confession? It was beginning to feel like it. If only it hadnât come at such a horrible time and in such a horrible way, maybe you would be happier. Now, the words sucked the air out of your lungs, leaving you speechless and uncertain.Â
âSo fuck what I wanted back then. What I want right now is for you to realize you deserve better than someone who broke your heart and your trust in the worst way possible,â he finishes, holding himself back from pulling you into his arms and screaming that itâs him. Heâs the one who will give you everything you deserve; heâll make it his lifeâs purpose to do so.
âIâm just hearing him out,â you repeat again, emphatically, though no matter how true it was or how believable you made it sound, Chan refuses to accept it.Â
âRight,â he scoffs, running his hand through his hair. âCanât wait to see you two all over each other in the corner of every party again.â
You open your mouth to argue, but heâs already heading for the door, unable to take another second of seeing your face and knowing you wonât be his.Â
âHope it works out, Y/N.â
The door rattles as he slams it shut, and the room feels colder, emptier. And not just because of Chanâs physical absence, but because of what it entails. The same man who you hated - and who you swore hated you - had made you feel more seen and valued in not even two months than Jaehyun had in nine. He had put more effort into a fake relationship than Jaehyun had put in a real one. You were letting that go for some semblance of closure from someone who broke you.
Previously, you had tried to convince yourself your feelings had never become real. That of course your heart would beat a little faster when Chan would remember things about you, that of course you would like the way pet names fell from his lips, that of course you couldnât stop thinking about him in every single way possible, from pure to downright filthy. This all made sense, of course, because he was the hot guy you were faking a relationship with. It had nothing to do with Chan, and everything to do with your body and mind being too receptive of what youâd been deprived of before.
But you simply couldnât lie to yourself any longer. And thatâs why, for once, you knew what you needed to do. You type out another message to Jaehyun, deliberating each word carefully. It would be the last youâd ever give him, at least in this capacity, where he still felt like he had a small chance at getting you back.
actually, iâm not coming over. i thought about it, and nothing you say can make me forget what you didâŠi didnât deserve that, jaehyun.
i know what i deserve now.
i hope you learn from this and treat the next girl better.Â
His texts come in quick succession, frantic pleas and apologies and then the angry ones regarding Chan. You donât answer him or even give him the solace of knowing youâd read them. Instead, you turn your phone on DND and throw it behind you, hoping itâll get lost in your bed sheets.Â
And though youâve done the right thing, thereâs still the unavoidable grief over something that once was. The only person you want comfort from right now is Chan, but you know you should give yourself the space to reflect and process properly. He probably wants some time away from you, anyways.Â
So you donât call or text him. You avoid all the spots you know he frequents. You make yourself as nonexistent to him as possible. And worst of all, he doesnât even come searching.Â
Thereâs no way for you to know how badly he wants to see your name pop up at the top of his screen, or how he waits for you outside the library on days he knows you usually study. You donât know that he stayed up late that first night, hoping youâd call him. Each notification made his heart jump, and after the eighth one that wasnât from you, he finally turned his phone off completely.Â
He didnât want space, nor time. He wanted you. And beyond that, he wanted you to know you deserved more - that he would give you more. But he canât fault you for any of this; he can only blame himself for not telling you sooner.Â
When a week goes by and itâs still silence on your end, he figures youâd forgiven Jaehyun and taken him back. And thatâs just something heâd have to live with.Â
The days pass by slowly, monotonously, and though you argue with Mina and Jihyo that itâs healing, they complain that youâre just wallowing in needless despair (âGirl, get your man,â had been the phrase of the week).Â
And you wanted to, but you werenât sure how to face him after the way youâd left things. There was a gnawing worry that he wouldnât answer your calls or texts, so you donât even try. No, you decide youâll just have to show up at his apartment, and yes at nine oâclock at night, because you couldnât put it off any longer. The yearning was almost consuming you.Â
Though Chan had been to your dorm multiple times, you had never been to his apartment; it was way less convenient to go off-campus where he lived. You had to get Chanâs address from his roommate, Minho, who you had already known from a shared class last semester. And he had also texted you a few times begging you to do something about Chanâs moping, because it was âmaking his life miserable.âÂ
While it was off-campus, it wasnât far, and your determination was enough to ward off the apprehension of walking alone at night (though Chan would definitely not be pleased). Still, you kept Jihyo on the phone for the whole fifteen minutes, slight reassurance for both of you.Â
You can barely bring yourself to knock when you arrive, feeling much less composed now that you were actually there, separated from Chan by only a door and thin walls. Your fist meets the wood without you fully realizing it, and it swings open with ferocity moments later.Â
âHi,â you choke out, all of your composure gone when heâs standing before you.
âY/N?â he asks, blinking in awe to confirm that youâre real. Heâd started to accept that your presence in his life was a thing of the past, a treasured memory heâd hold onto. âWhat are you â Jesus, itâs so dark out. Come on, get inside.â
He reaches for your arm and drags you inside, leading you all the way to his room; Minhoâs home, and Chan doesnât quite want him to hear the moment the girl heâs been losing his mind over ends things for good. Is âend thingsâ even the right term, since there had never been a defined âthingâ in the first place?Â
His room is not much different from any other college studentâs room, with books and papers sprawled on the desk and empty energy drink cans filling the trashcan. But itâs his, and that makes your heart swell a little.Â
âI canât believe you walked all the way here this late,â he scolds. He gestures for you to take a seat on his bed, and when he sits in his chair across from you, you deflate a little at the distance.
âI had to see you,â you whisper.
He clicks his tongue, trying not to melt at your words. Because to him, youâre with Jaehyun, and thereâs probably some other rational explanation for why youâd shown up at his apartment at nine oâclock. He doesnât know what it could be, but it exists, surely. âYou know if you had texted me I wouldâve been there in minutes,â he asserts.
âActually, I didnât know that,â you correct, folding your arms over your chest, âconsidering the way you stormed out last time we saw each other.â Which may have been justified, but still.Â
âCan you blame me? You told me you were going to see your ex boyfriend who cheated on you, by the way. And then you didnât even bother to call or text, so what was I supposed to think?â
âYou couldâve called or texted me!âÂ
âI thought you went back to him!âÂ
He stands, chest rising and falling heavily, and he looks so distraught your anger fades. âI didnât,â you say, softer now. âI didnât even see him that night. We havenât even spoken since. Or I guess thatâs not totally true, heâs spammed me and Iâve ignored him.â
His eyes soften, and he crosses those few feet to sit beside you, mattress dipping under the added weight. âWhy?â
Thereâs a million ways to answer that question, and you arenât sure which is the right one. So you go with what flows naturally, not giving it a second thought.
âBecause I realized I need more too,â you confess. âNo more pretending, no more lies.â
Though your chest feels lighter with the confession, the room feels smaller and your throat tighter because Chan doesnât speak, or move, you donât even think he blinks. He doesnât mean to stare at you like this, but youâve left him stunned with words heâd only ever heard in his dreams, and he worries if he speaks heâll wake up and youâll be gone again.Â
You start to rise from the bed, fighting back tears of rejection and humiliation. âIâm sorry, I shouldnât have come â âÂ
His hand latches around your wrist, gently yet firmly, and you fall back to the bed with a quiet gasp.
âI havenât been pretending. Not for a while now,â he breathes, and now youâre the silent one. âYouâre right, I was a coward. Iâve wanted you so badly and I didnât know how to say it.â He cups your cheek, thumb brushing along the skin faintly, confirmation that you and this moment are very real. âI shouldâve told you everything. How much I think about you, how much I hate it when youâre not here.â
Thereâs hardly any space between you now, foreheads nearly touching, breaths intertwining.Â
âHow I canât get that kiss out of my head,â he exhales. âHow selfish I feel for wanting more.âÂ
You shake your head. âYouâre not selfish,â you whisper, and the corners of his lips twitch into a smile.Â
âI am, because I want you all to myself.â
âThen you have me,â you say simply, as though such a claim wouldnât change everything. Youâve had me without even knowing.Â
He canât hold back anymore â heâs done enough of that over the past month â because those words are his absolute undoing.Â
âCan I kiss you right this time?â His eyes drop to your lips, awaiting, begging for your permission.Â
You nod eagerly, and thatâs all it takes for him to place his hand along your jaw and draw your face towards his. His lips melt into your own, this time with all the passion youâd both held back before.Â
And while the kiss starts soft, tender, moving against each other with the carefulness of a blooming love, it quickly plunges into desperate desire. Your fingers thread through his hair, delicately at first, until you tug at the roots and he groans into your mouth.
That sound. That devilish, sinful sound. It causes the heat within your core to grow tenfold, and you kiss him more fervently now, tongues swirling together. He sucks your bottom lip between his teeth, tugging gently, then drops his head to your neck.
And when your head tilts instinctively, offering him more skin to mark as his, he canât help but smirk because he loves having this effect on you. Heâd realized it that day at lunch, when he couldnât do anything but skim your thigh under the table. But you were offering, so who was he not to take? He nips at the skin and runs his tongue along each spot afterwards, soothing, claiming.Â
âMine,â he mumbles against your neck, and then he kisses his way back up to your lips, mouth hovering over your own.
âChan,â you rasp, âI want you.â
His lips crash against yours once more, because he canât help himself when youâve just said you want him so desperately. âYeah? You want me, baby?â he asks, breathless.
You shiver when his fingers slip under the hem of your shirt, tracing circles along your waist. âYes,â you sigh, and then louder, âyes, God, I want you.â
He grips your waist, only sheer will keeping him from ripping off your clothes and fucking you right then and there. Because he wants to savor every last moment of this, but some small part of him is going feral â not a devil on his shoulder, but his throbbing cock trying to push through the seams of his boxers. So actually not a small part, because heâs big, you can see the imprint in his sweatpants.
 âAre you sure?â he questions. âBecause if you want me, thatâs it. Thereâs no more Jaehyun, no more anyone else.âÂ
Was he genuinely asking, or just trying to make you fall apart? You canât tell, but youâre so needy, you answer regardless.Â
âI donât want anyone else.â
His hands hook under your shirt while he guides you onto his lap, and you raise your arms for him to pull it off while you settle against him. He pauses, drinking in the sight â you havenât even taken your bra off yet â and then his palms find your breasts, massaging through the fabric.
âYouâre so beautiful,â he says, thumbs flicking over your covered nipples. The moan it elicits is so delicious that he does it again, and then again, cock twitching in his sweatpants.
âYou only think that âcause Iâm shirtless,â you quip, toying with the hem of his like you needed to make things even.
âNo,â he says firmly. âAlways thought you were the prettiest fucking girl ever.â He reaches behind his neck, yanking his tank top up and over his head, and you swear your breathing stops momentarily. This is what heâd hidden behind t-shirts and hoodies (and that jacket you still hadnât given back to him), and honestly, how dare he?
But you canât focus on that a moment longer, because he dips his head down to press his lips against the tops of your breasts hungrily, dragging wet kisses all the way to your sternum. âSo fucking pretty,â he repeats, fingers unclasping your bra and tugging the straps down.Â
His mouth is on you again before it even hits the ground, like heâll keel over and die if he isnât tasting you, and right now, he really thinks he might. So, for survival, he wraps his lips around your perked nipple, tongue swirling around it, then flicking.Â
Each careful movement of his tongue causes your breath to hitch, hips rutting against him for any sort of friction, and he moans against you. His hands grip your waist, stilling your movements, and as a punishment â if you could call it that â he bites gently and tugs the sensitive bud between his teeth.
âChan,â you moan, and when you feel the curl of that signature smirk, you become emboldened. âWho knew your mouth could actually be useful?â
Because although you definitely didnât hate him now, you could at least reflect on that history, if not just to drive him a little wild. And hopefully heâd fuck you just a little bit harder.Â
He growls then, his hand sweeping along your side to squeeze your other breast, kneading the soft skin in his palm. And when you least expect it, his hand comes down, slapping your breast with enough force to make you gasp.
âFuck, Iâm gonna miss that smart mouth of yours. Always thought it was so hot the way youâd act like you actually hated me,â he chuckles, now massaging the skin.
âI did hate you,â you rasp. You arenât even sure if thatâs true anymore, because you canât think. His cock pressing into you has your mind in a frenzy. One where your only thoughts are of having him inside you, stretching you open, filling you up.Â
When he lifts his head from your breasts, his eyes are dark, lidded, and boring right through you. Daring you to say it again. To lie and see where it gets you.
âYou sure?â he whispers, tauntingly. âBecause I always saw that look in your eyes.â His fingers dip lower, slipping into your panties, and he laughs when you shudder. âDeep down, you wanted to know all the filthy things I could do to this gorgeous body.â
Maybe you did. It matters little what you wanted back then, because you could only think of what you wanted right now, and his fingers were drifting dangerously close to it. But he was playing with you, not bringing them any further, waiting for your admission.Â
âYou flatter yourself,â you whisper. The wrong answer, clearly, because he pulls his fingers away, gripping your chin now. Forcing you to look at him, because he knows you wonât be able to keep up the act if heâs staring at you so intensely.Â
âSay itâs not true then,â he orders.
You should be able to say it. You should be able to look him in the eyes and tell him he was once everything you wanted no part of. But he starts peppering open-mouthed kisses along your neck again, unfairly, and your voice betrays you. âItâs not true,â you mumble weakly.
Your fingers fly to his hair and tangle at the strands, but he wonât let you off that easily. Of course not. He grabs your face, squeezing your cheeks between his fingers.Â
âNo,â he growls. âSay it like you mean it.âÂ
His commands only add to the ache between your legs, and you accept that you canât win. Your silence tells him everything, and he releases, hand patting your cheek like he pitied you. âThatâs what I thought,â he hums, satisfied.
Your breathing becomes ragged when his hand trails down again, and this time youâre sure that heâll relent and give you what your body was craving. Or maybe that was just you trying to convince yourself.Â
âYou never hated me. You hated that you knew I was better than your boyfriend,â he smirks, slipping his fingers into your jeans. They drag down, slowly, finally stopping right at your core. âYou hated that you wanted to know what it would feel like if I touched you here,â he taunts, rubbing your pussy through the soaked fabric of your panties.Â
âShit, youâre this wet for me?â he groans, fingers gliding up and down, pressing harder when they pause at your clit. âI guess I was right, then.â
Any other time you would have been able to throw something sarcastic right back at him, but not now, not when he was teasing you like this. It was the closest heâd gotten to touching you where you so desperately needed him, and your hips buck unwittingly again. âPlease, Chan. Need you,â you moan.
âYeah, I know baby,â he coos. âDonât worry. Iâll show you everything Iâve been dreaming about doing to you.â
And then youâre pushed off of him and onto the bed, hitting the sheets with a quiet squeal. The same fingers that had been rubbing your clothed pussy now hurriedly unbutton your jeans, and you lift off the bed slightly to help him drag them down along with your panties.
Once youâre completely naked before him, his movements lull, now taking in every inch of exposed skin.Â
You feel like youâre drowning under his eyes, because the last person to see you like this had betrayed you, had touched someone that wasnât you. This was the reality of infidelity â the insecurity, the nagging, cruel insecurity that seeped into places it shouldnât. Because Chan would never.
And he sees it, too. The way you begin to falter and drift elsewhere. Your head turning against the pillow, refusing to face him.
âHey,â he whispers, cupping your jaw, pulling your face back towards him. âWhereâd you go, baby? Donât hide from me, please.â
You swallow harshly, forcing a smile that doesnât quite reach your eyes. âNot hiding. JustâŠworried Iâm not enough,â you mumble, and the words break him. He hated Jaehyun before, but he despises him now, because he made you â who he considered the most beautiful girl to ever grace the earth, even when you were calling him an idiot â feel less than. And thatâs something Chan would spend the rest of his life undoing if he had to.
His thumb strokes your skin now, trying to wipe away the remnants of anyoneâs touch that wasnât his. âNo, stop that. Youâre more than enough. Youâre perfect,â he says.Â
Your cheeks heat up from the affirmations, and he kisses you to cement them. But it's short, subdued, as he moves further down, lips grazing your neck, your chest, then your navel. He sinks lower, hovering right above your cunt, spreading your legs apart.Â
âSo perfect for me,â he breathes, and you can feel the air hitting against you. âYouâre mine now. You wonât have to worry about anyone else ever again.âÂ
The words can barely sink in before his tongue is on you, licking a slow, tantalizing stripe between your folds. Itâs so sudden that your hips lift off the bed, and his hands come quick, wrapping around your thigh and pinning you down. He swipes his tongue again, and then he takes as much of your pussy into his mouth as he can, devouring what had been kept from him for too long.
âFuck, Chan, please,â you moan, grabbing at his hair for something to ground you. He groans into you, both from your fingers tugging and the sound of you moaning his name like that.Â
âYou taste so fucking good,â he rasps. His lips wrap around your clit, sucking the sensitive nub hard, tugging, releasing. Then, he swirls his tongue, creating a pattern that has your back arching, threatening to come undone.Â
Youâd thought about this. Lonely nights in your dorm, touching yourself at the thought of how he would look between your legs, about how his tongue would feel against you. But there was no way to anticipate this. He lapped at your pussy like he was starved and you were the only meal heâd get again. Heâd like that, truthfully.
Your body is trembling by the time he draws his head back, and the lack of his warm tongue causes you to whine. âPatience, princess,â he coos.Â
Before you can beg him to touch you again, he spits directly onto your cunt, letting his fingers spread it as if your slick wasnât enough. And the action is so erotic, so filthy that your thighs clench involuntarily and he has to hold them open.
Two fingers push inside you, and his tongue is back, flicking your clit with urgency. He pumps them languidly, curling them against your g-spot and then pulling back until youâre almost empty. His name leaves your mouth through choked cries and it only drives him further, because he needs you to unravel just like this. His tongue circles your clit in rhythm with his fingers, hitting your sweet spot with each pump, and his pace quickens when he can tell youâre close.Â
âChan, please donât stop!â you pant. âFuck, Iâm so close.âÂ
Itâs all too much - his fingers, his tongue, the lewd noises of them bringing you to the edge. âGo on, baby, give it to me,â he coaxes. âCome on my tongue for me, just like that.â
With his permission (which was much more of a plea), you let go, throwing your head back against the pillow. Your whole body comes alive with the intensity of your orgasm, ripping through you in currents while he continues lapping at your pussy lazily. Itâs only when he pulls his fingers out for the final time and sucks them clean that you come down, chest heaving.Â
âMy mouth sure is useful, huh?â he teases, laughing when you roll your eyes.Â
His laughter is cut short when you sit up on your knees and tug at the waistband of his sweatpants, head lowering. Your intentions are clear, but he grips your shoulder, halting your movements.Â
âNo, no, princess, itâs okay,â he huffs, using his last bit of self-restraint. He canât believe heâs turning down head from you, but right now, being buried inside you is his priority.Â
You canât believe it either, blinking up at him sweetly, eyes wide with confusion. âBut I wanna return the favor,â you pout.
Jesus, were you an angel from above or a succubus from the depths of hell, he wonders?
âFuck, I know, baby,â he groans. âBut I need to be inside you, right now.â
He sounds so desperate that you feel like youâre in control now, and you reach for his cock through his sweatpants. Wrapping your fingers around it, stroking softly. âYou wanna fuck me, Channie?â you purr.Â
âYes,â he growls, grabbing your wrist â all your control, gone. âYou want it too, donât you baby?â He stands, ridding himself of his sweats and boxers at once. His cock springs free, precum beading on the tip, and he cages you against the bed. âOr can you not take it? Hm? Is one all this pretty pussy can give me?â
The flip switches in you instantly, arms slithering around his neck, yanking him to you. His lips crash onto yours, all teeth and tongue, both of you at your neediest. When your hand slips down to stroke him, thumb spreading precum along his length, he lets out a low guttural sound into your mouth.Â
âBaby, shit, youâre killing me,â he rasps.
âCan you die inside me, at least?âÂ
That he could do. Happily. Willingly. He reaches over you, pulling open a drawer and rummaging inside. And though you shouldnât, you bring your hand to his wrist, stopping him.Â
âIâm on the pill, if that helps,â you whisper. âI need to feel you, nothing else.â Your words are sinful but your eyes are so sweet, looking up at him like youâd break if he denied you.Â
âFuck, princess, youâre trouble,â he groans, shoving the drawer closed and bringing his hand to your cheek instead. He swipes away a few strands of hair that had fallen, trying to soak in every inch of your perfect face.Â
âYou love it,â you giggle.
âGod, yes I do.â
He grasps his cock and fists it a few short times, then guides it along your pussy. Your slick coats his shaft immediately, slow drags making your head spin. And when he slaps the tip against your clit, you know heâs doing it just for that. To drive you crazy, to hear your whines, to see you writhing for it. For him. Would it be appropriate to call him a smug bastard again?
âStop teasing,â you beg, your voice a strained whisper.
âBut youâre so cute like this,â he says. âWhatâd you say again? âEveryone knows I wouldnât fuck you?ââ
You buck your hips against him, a poor retaliation, and he laughs, positioning himself at your entrance. âWell look at you now, princess.â
He presses into you just the smallest bit, enough for the tip to slip inside, still teasing when all you wanted was for him to plunge inside you and fuck you senseless. That small amount of pressure is gone in an instant, leaving you empty once more.Â
âChan,â you whimper. âPlease just fuck me, I canât take it.â
You might cry if he keeps this up, still sensitive from your last orgasm but so desperate for another. And while he wouldnât mind driving you to that point, his cock is painfully hard. Even heâs at his limit.Â
âOh, baby, youâre gonna take it,â he taunts, thrusting forward in one swift motion. He bottoms out and stays there, immobile, reveling in your cunt stretching around him. âFuck. Jesus Christ, you feel amazing.â
âWould feel more amazing if you would move,â you hiss, and he actually listens. His hips snap against you with a purpose, slow and deep, watching every inch sink further.Â
Each thrust reaches that sweet spot that has your back arching and nails digging into him. You can already feel the fire building inside you again, clenching around him in a way that has him wondering if youâre a dream. âFuck, your pussy was made for me,â he groans, hips bucking faster now. Less restraining and savoring, more adhering to his primal urge to fill you up entirely.
âFunny. Jaehyun said the same thing,â you pant. You arenât sure where the confidence comes from, especially when heâs the one pounding into you; maybe heâs fucking the attitude back into you. But you know itâll get you into trouble, the good kind of trouble, the kind where Chan wrecks you mercilessly.Â
And oh, he does. He thrusts wilder, rougher, almost carelessly, the sound of skin slapping skin echoing throughout the room.Â
âYeah? Well he fucking lied, baby,â he growls. âBecause you feel that?â His hand presses down on your stomach. âThatâs all me. My cock youâre squeezing like a fucking vice.â
His hand slides down, thumb rubbing tight circles against your clit. The added sensation brings you closer to the edge, and heâs nearly there as well. âChan, oh my god,â you moan, nails dragging along his bicep.Â
âYouâre so tight,â he grunts. âDid he ever fuck you right?â He wonât even say the name, because it holds no meaning now. Youâre his, and heâll fuck you enough times that you wonât remember anyone else.Â
Your walls clench harder around him, his thumb circling relentlessly. âNo,â you cry. âNot like you. Not like this.â That answer satisfies him, and he pulls back all the way just to slam into you harder.
âI didnât think so,â he muses. He leans down, nipping at your neck. âForget about him. All you need to remember is me and my cock ruining you like this.âÂ
Youâd already forgotten, only able to think about how Chan was the one currently fucking into you like he had something to prove. Youâre so close to release, strangled cries of his name escaping your lips while your thighs clench around him. âAh, Chan, Iâm gonna come!â you whimper.
âFuck, me too, baby,â he grunts. âYou want me to fill you up? Leave your pussy leaking with my cum?â
His words are your final propulsion, and he emphasizes them with each rut of his hips. Your back arches off the bed, face contorting in pure euphoria, and Chan commits the image to memory. It matters little that he knows heâll see it many, many more times; he wants to watch you ride every single high until the end of time.Â
Your orgasm washes over you, setting every inch of your body aflame, and you want more. More of him. All of him. âYes! Please fill me up, please,â you beg, voice breaking from the overstimulation.Â
He canât deny you, doesnât want to deny you, and he couldnât anyways. Youâve basically sucked him in, legs keeping him held in place. He thrusts into you one final time, a low groan emitting from someplace deep within, hips jerking erratically as thick, white strings of cum spurt inside of you.
When youâve milked every last drop from him, he pulls out from your spent heat and falls to the bed dramatically, limbs flopping as if heâs dead. And maybe he is, because that was definitely heaven.Â
You lay there side by side, chests rising and falling in sync, staring at the ceiling like it might offer an explanation for what just happened. How you ended up like this, his cum dripping from you, your scratches welting along his back, when just months ago you couldnât stand each other. Supposedly.Â
Then comes a knock on the door, and you both are struck with the realization that youâd forgotten Minho was home, in another room, hearing everything. Or rather, Chan had forgotten, and youâd never known. Never even considered it.Â
âAre you two done in there?â he calls from outside. You lift your head and look at Chan with wide eyes, and he shrugs like heâs just as clueless.
âUh, yeah,â Chan shouts back. You bury yourself under the sheets, expecting the door to swing open. Thankfully, it doesnât. But the alternative might be worse.
âY/N, when I asked you for help, I didnât mean by moaning loud enough to wake the neighbors in my apartment.â
Minhoâs footsteps pad away from the door, and you pull back the sheets, horrified. âWas I really that loud?!â you exclaim. He hadnât said anything about your volume or even tried to quiet you, and you were far too consumed to notice.Â
âA littleâŠâ Chan rubs his neck sheepishly.
You wish you could melt into the bed and disappear forever, because how would you ever face Minho again? And their poor neighbors, no less. The walk of shame was going to be unbearable. âOh my god, thatâs so embarrassing!â you groan.Â
He shakes his head vehemently and kisses your forehead, a small reassurance. âNo! No, baby, it was so hot,â he coos. And then it hits him. âWait. Minho asked you for help?â
âI guess you were going crazy without me,â you smirk. This time he groans, and you laugh, nuzzling into his neck. âDonât worry. Youâre not getting rid of me now.â
âLike Iâd ever want to,â he whispers.Â
His lips press into your hair, and you canât help but sigh against him. Because any remnants of hatred, if they even truly existed, are gone, and youâre left only with the peaceful acceptance that this was a glimpse of countless days to come.
TAGS slowburn enemies to lovers ă childhood friends to strangers ălove triangle w/jake ăslice of life ăchaebol sunghoon + reader ăfound family ăcollege au ăfratboy sunghoon ăangst angst angst ăsmau elements ăđŠ ăăabuse, toxic dynamics, heavy smut MDNI sunghoon is mean and an overall asshole, reader is not the bigger person, theyâre both freaks and obsessive, sunghoon is massively hung, super rich kids with unresolved trauma & high libido, heeseung as hoonâs babygirl best friend, misogyny (not from hoon), power play, denial, unhealthy coping mechanisms (smoking, alcohol), emotional manipulation, high society elitism, nobody communicates like a normal person, concerning levels of sexual activity
READ HERE total parts ‷ 15 â đ jan 2026 status: ongoing
PROLOGUE
ă Ą PART ONE No profit
ă Ą PART TWO Chessboard
ă Ą PART THREE Endless
ă Ą PART FOUR Iâm sick of games 5.4k
ă Ą PART FIVE Too easy
ă Ą PART SIX Fill the thirst 1.1k
ă Ą PART SEVEN Sink my teeth in 8.7k
ă Ą PART EIGHT An empty mirage 8.5k
ă Ą PART NINE Because I see everything 13.7k ă Ą PART TEN I know youâre enjoying it 17.7k ă Ą PART ELEVEN The more you hide it 16.8k ă Ą PART TWELVE The more it appears 18.6k ăŒ PART THIRTEEN Feel the bite 001 002 35k ăŒ PART FOURTEEN Letâs play together 26k â PART FIFTEEN Itâs no use 27.3k
faq: do you have an update schedule? when will the story end?
i donât have a set update schedule, and thereâs no official end date in sight, i tend to let the story guide me wherever the next chapter wants to go when i sit down with my google doc. that said, i do have the entire plot mapped out! since iâm juggling life and studies alongside writing, i canât always promise speed, but thank you so much for your patience & for being here with me through every chapter âĄ
â ASKS/REBLOGS/COMMENTS ALWAYS APPRECIATED â
đđż đđđ đŸđđđđđŸđœ, đŸđđŸđ đđđŸ đđđșđ đ đŸđđ đ»đđ đđż đ đđđŸ đđŸđșđđ đđ đđđŒđ to me and genuinely motivates me as a writer especially since đđđđ đđ đđ đżđđđđ đŸđđŸđ published đżđđŒ! â°(*Ž`*)âŻâĄ
ă âžâž.áâ S in which nothing cuts deeper than your hatred for park sunghoon, except the desire that waits underneath it. ămasterpost
đŠ ăá MDNI ⚟ SPOILERS INCLUDEDă angst, alcohol, unhealthy coping mechanisms, dissociation, jealousy, possessiveness, ungodly amount of smut (17k words), dom!sunghoon, angry rough sex (with hoon) (finally)(he breaks the bed), big dick hoon, p in v (wrap it), dry humping, oral (f rec), boobplay (reader has a rack), theyâre both freaks with very high sex drives, brat tamer!sunghoon, a very normal obsession with hoons biceps, diabolical amount of biting, power play, spit, fingering, size kink, mutual masturbation, overstimulation, orgasm denial, degradation, hair pulling, lots of dirty talk, edging, spanking, window sex (itâs a one way window), praise kink, multiple orgasms/rounds, cum play đđđđđ đđđđđ [â§] ê§đ prev đ next đê§ ăWC 25000
read part one of this chapter here.
FRIDAY MORNINGÂ Â You werenât planning on speaking to him at all.
And you hadnâtâunless, obviously, you had to. For the sake of the public or whatever.
Because thereâs only so much you can say to someone youâre legally bound to pretend to love when you canât even look at him without wanting to punch him or throw up or cry or maybe do all three and then some more, and you havenât decided which one would feel better yet. If at all.
Youâd barely even gotten any sleep last night because you couldnât shake a terrible feeling you hadâthough it wasnât anything related to what youâd texted Sunoo about. No, your mind was quite made up on that matter.
Youâd called Riki yesterdayâjust to make sureâand heâd said yeah, he was the one who took you home that night. So that shouldâve been that. Except⊠it didnât feel like that. But whatever. You had bigger things to worry about this morning.
When you got to the airport this morning, you did what youâve always done; you schooled your face the way youâve known your whole lifeâchin up, smile that doesnât reach your eyes, turn towards the best lighting angle, and give them something pretty to photograph. Youâd actually thought to yourself for a second that this might be easy if you just do the thing where you step outside of yourself and pretend youâre also watching it happen from somewhere in the crowd.Â
And then heâd touched you.
He slid his hand around your waistâhis palm flat and warm against the dip of your waist, and for one stupid second, your whole body had gone absolutely rigid.Â
Smile. Just fucking smileâyouâd thought to yourself.
And then you leaned into him like youâd done it a hundred times beforeâbecause you had, in another lifetime. Because pretending is the only thing youâve ever been good at your whole life.
Someone had yelled both your names, and he must have noticed how tense youâd physically been because at one point heâd dipped his head close enough that his mouth almost brushed your ear, and he whispered, âRelax, darling.â Just to taunt you.
You wanted to elbow him in the ribs. You wanted to grind your heel into his stupid, polished shoe and to keep walking and let the whole world watch him flinch like an idiot.
Instead, youâd breathed through your teeth and kept smiling until you were finally through the sliding doors and the noise of the crowd had faded behind the glass.
And then you went back to keeping your distanceâbecause the hardest part was done. You hovered near him just enough for it to seem believable, and after a while, once you were inside the gate, he slid his hand around your waist again, ever so casually.
You stopped dead. âDonât.â
He didnât even glance at you. âDonât be a fucking brat.â
You blinked. âThe hell did you just say?â
âPeople talk.â He smiled simply and jerked his chin forward, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. âBehave.â
You stared at him for a long second, then looked around. âThereâs no one here, you dick.â
âThereâs always someone here, sweetheart,â he said with that mocking kind of smile of his that made your blood boil, and then tilted his head toward the corner where two assistants were whispering behind their tablets, pretending they werenât watching.Â
You had dug your nails into your palms so hard that the crescents stayed there for several minutes afterward.
By the time you got on the plane, you were seconds away from fully losing it. Maybe it was the fact that you were heavily sleep deprived, or how your head still had a faint ache to it, or maybe, just maybeâcrazyâthe fact that this⊠this is actually your life now. But anyway, you didnât wait for him to say a wordâjust immediately slid into the window seat and turned your face away like the sight of him would physically burn you if you stared at him a second longer.
He sat down beside you, of course. Because of course he did. Because where else would he sit?
âDonât start,â you said under your breath without even looking at him.
âI didnât say anything.â
âYeah, well, donât.â
He leaned back in his seat, and his voice was low. âYou always this pleasant in the mornings?â
You turned your head just enough to glare at him. âYou wanna die?â
He didnât say anything back this time. Not even a smirk. Just looked at you for a second too long, the muscle in his jaw ticking once before he clicked his tongue and turned his head toward the aisle.
You furrowed your brows a little at thatânot that you cared, obviously, but it was weird. He usually always had something smug to say back, some shitty comeback waiting on his tongue.Â
But you donât see the way he looks back at you then and almost opens his mouth to say something, not reallyâyouâre too busy pretending the windowâs the most fascinating thing youâve ever looked at in your life.Â
The thing is, Sunghoon remembers that night enough for the two of you.Â
He remembers it in a way that makes him want to claw it out of his own head. The way your voice had gone small, how your fingers had curled weakly around his arm, how youâd leaned into him like you used to before everything went to hell, and how youâd whispered that you miss him into the crook of his neck like youâd been holding it on the tip of your tongue this whole time.
And it had gutted him, sure, but not in the way youâd think. It wasnât tender, it wasnât sadâit was anger tearing through him. Because even drunk, even out of your mind, you still managed to sink your teeth into the one part of him heâd killed off years ago. He wanted to say a million cruel thingsâto throw it all back at you, to make you feel the same sick heat that had been rotting in his chest since that night.Â
But you didnât seem to remember.
So he let it go and told himself it was better this way. That it would be easier for you to hate him if you never remembered, and easier for him to hate you even more if you did.
But anyway, you shoved your earbuds in and continued to stare hard out the window as the engines started rumbling. You felt him glance your way onceâmaybe twiceâbut you donât give him the satisfaction of knowing you noticed. You shift against the window, fold your arms, and will yourself to sleep.
When you finally drift off, your head tips slightly toward him.
He doesnât move.
Not for a long time.
FRIDAY NOON
The hard part, for most of it, was over.
Well. Not really. But at least youâd somehow already gotten through the ribbon cuttingâthe cameras, the press, and all the polite laughter and smiling that made your cheeks ache.Â
The two of you had barely spoken after the plane ride, and the car ride from the airport to the hotel had been so painfully silent youâd felt bad that Ningning had to sit through it. You almost considered talking to him just so the poor girl wouldnât have to suffer in there.Â
Almost.
You walked beside Sunghoon while the hotel directorâwho was practically bowing every time Sunghoon opened his mouthâshowed you around. He went on about where the guests would come in for the event later tonight, how the dinner would be set up, where the photographers would stand, and a bunch of other things you didnât really wanna know. Honestly, youâd stopped pretending to pay attention halfway through.Â
The stale politeness of everyone trying too hard to impress Sunghoon, seeing as he is here in his fatherâs stead, makes you want to crack your head against the nearest wall just to feel something real. Thatâs the whole reason you were sent here in the first place. Mr. fucking Park couldnât oversee the grand opening of his own godforsaken hotel because of some last-minute business elsewhere, and that left Sunghoon and, of course, you.
The tour he was giving you had gone down toward the main lounge to a wide open space just off the lobby where a handful of investors and partners had already gathered for drinks and light refreshments. So thatâs where you are right now.
Youâd already had to talk to so many men that youâd lost count, and every single one of them somehow managed to make you feel worse than the last. All you wanted was to sit down somewhere quiet and take these goddamn heels off somewhereâanywhere but hereâanywhere that didnât make you feel like a fucking display piece beside him.
You were already at your limit, and the day hasnât even properly started.
Fan-fucking-tastic.
Sunghoon, on the other hand, was doing just fine. Too fine. To the point where it actually pissed you off (like every other thing he did.) Seeing him all polished and well-spoken like this, youâd almost forget the filth and cruelty that could come out of his mouth when it was just the two of you.Â
For just a second there, your mind almost drifted somewhere else⊠back to a time where you hadnât even thought he was capable of ever being cruel entirely, but you shook your head and stopped yourself before it went too far.
Anyway, point being, you were about one more bit of small talk over a champagne flute away from losing your fucking mind.
âYour father must be proud,â says one of the international partnersâwho looks like heâs in his mid-fiftiesâloud enough to pull you out of your thoughts. His wedding ring looks like it hasnât been worn with love in years, and you already hate him. But heâs important, which means you have to be nice, even if the sight of his hungry eyes lingering on you longer than necessary makes you want to hurl your guts out. âYouâre so young and already carry yourself with such poise and intellect, and Iâm sure youâll make a fine successor soon enough. Especially with a beautiful wife like that by your side.â
Beautiful. Thatâs all you get. Â
Meanwhile, youâd think Sunghoon built the whole goddamn hotel with his bare hands with how theyâve been praising him ever since you set foot into this building. Itâs actually getting ridiculous.
You can feel yourself being made smaller and smaller with every passing minuteâand the main part of you worth acknowledging in this room is the fact that youâre here with him.Â
And fucking hell, the way these men look at you is so fucking invasive to the point where you want to crawl out of your own skin just to escape itâor better yet, shove your half-empty champagne glass into the eye of the next man old enough to be your father who looks at you like youâre some kind of toy or something.
You come from a family that built entire industries, and your father alone could buy out half the men in this room and still sleep just fine at night. They all know it, too. They just choose to forget the second they look at you. And itâs fucking driving you insane⊠because youâve spent your whole life trying to be taken seriously, learning and doing things most people your age wouldnât even know how to ask about, let alone think ofâto prove that you actually belong in the world youâve been born into. But it doesnât actually matter, does it? Not when all they see is a neckline and a pretty face standing next to a better suit and tie.
âAnd Mrs. Park,â the man turns to you with a creepy grin that makes your stomach actually twist in disgust, âYou are quite the vision, such a fine accessory for such a fine gentleman.â
Well.
If youâve learned anything this past week, itâs that it can, in fact, always get worse.Â
The fact that he called you an accessory is surprisingly not even the worst part about the filth that just left his mouthâitâs the Mrs. Park attached to it ever so casuallyâand itâs about⊠exactly the fifth time that has happened ever since you landed in Japan⊠You two werenât even fucking married whatsoever. No, seriously, what the fuck is everyoneâs problem? You truly only exist in relation to him in this fucking building. Do they know who you are?
You consider going off script and actually responding to himâmaybe to ask if he plans on actually addressing you directly or just through your proximity to the stupid, putrid asshole beside you, maybe to even tell him to go to fucking hell and stop eyeing you in a way that is making your skin prickle with anger and humiliationâbut you donât get the chance.
Because suddenly, heâs speaking.
âAh, Mr. NakamuraâSheâs not Mrs. Park,â Sunghoon says, all too easily and politely, as he lifts his champagne to his lips and takes a slow sip, then, after a moment, he adds, âNot yet, anyway.â
Your mouth mightâve dropped open a little bit, but you catch it. Sort of. You try to recover and force a small, polite smile that feels like it doesnât belong on your face.Â
He goes on, âMy apologies, I seem to have forgotten to properly introduce her. This is Y/N Y/L/N. Daughter of Chairman Y/L/N of Han Empireâsurely youâre familiar?â
That gets him. The man blinks and his smile falters nervously, and you can almost taste the awkwardness in the air. Â
Sunghoonâs mouth curls into a practiced smile as the man in front of him eyes him with surprise, and a clear apologetic look. âShe actually laid the foundation of the entire PR direction for this launch herself and balances a full course load at university on top of that,â he adds and sets his champagne down. âIf you knew half the things sheâs capable of, youâd know Iâm the accessory here.â
Huh?
For a second, it almost hit something soft in youâsomething that makes you think of your father, the way heâd always step in for your mother when men like this used to do the same thing. The quiet, dignified way heâd shield her without making her feel small.
But you know better than to mistake what Sunghoon just did for that.
Itâs not about you. It will never be about you. And you donât want it to be.
Itâs only ever about optics for him. Heâs made sure to remind you of that time and time again.
And you really, really hate that you needed someone else to speak for you at allâespecially himâwhen youâve never once felt small in rooms like this before.
The man nods and laughs a little too loudly, and then he does the whole âOh, of course! Your father is such a blah blah blah; your family is blah blah routine," as he finally reaches out to shake your hand properly. But you barely register it. All you can see is Sunghoon and his infuriating smug face, and the way he lifts his champagne toward you with that faint smirk tugging at his mouth. Then the man in front of you excuses himself a moment later, muttering something you couldnât quite understand before slipping back into the crowd.Â
And just like that, itâs only you and Sunghoon again for the first time since the airplane.
You look at him again, and heâs still looking at you with the same smirk plastered on his stupid face. You consider slapping it off for a secondâjust to do something with all this pent-up anger bubbling in your chest. But instead, you take a smooth step closer, your arm brushing his as you lean inâclose enough that anyone walking past would think you were whispering something sweet to your boyfriend.
âAre you fucking enjoying this?â you say through your teeth.Â
Sunghoonâs smile doesnât even falter. âWho said Iâm enjoying this, sweetheart?â he murmurs back, voice low enough that only you can hear.
âStop thatâitâs written all over your face,â you say flatly, still smiling as you watch people pass you by. âYou look like youâre having the fucking time of your life.â
He doesnât respond right away and only studies you with that unreadable look of his before saying, âTsk. You think I like standing here listening to them talk like that? To speak to them about you?â
Fucking prick.
âThen donât fucking speak. I donât need you to speak for me,â you murmur after a moment, still keeping your face pleasant. âAnd you can keep your stupid compliments to yourself. Iâm capable of introducing myself just fine.â
You barely register the movement until you feel the light pressure of his hand sliding around your waist againâhis touch is warm. Too warm. It settles at your hip like it belongs there, pulling you in just enough that from across the room, you probably look like youâre in love.
You feel sick.
âYou sure?â he murmurs, leaning in just enough that his breath brushes your ear. âBecause the last five times they called you Mrs. Park, you just stood there and smiled like a good little wife.â
Your fingers tighten around your champagne glass as you turn to face him, and youâre so close itâs almost ridiculousâto the point where you can see the media training assistants in your head with their eyes going wideâclose enough to feel his breath when he speaks. You consider shoving him off, but there are entirely too many people around for that.
âOkay,â you say, too sweetly, and give him a very ridiculous mocking smile. âNext time they say it, Iâll just shove this fucking champagne glass up their asses, then. Noâseriously, what the fuck did you want me to do? Ridicule your name in front of your fatherâs precious investors? Hey! Maybe I should even tell them that weâre not even aââyou mouth the word couple.ââLike a real good little wife.âÂ
He smiles at a couple walking past and lifts his hand to gently adjust a strand of hair falling over your shoulder.Â
You stay frozen.
Then he dips his head even lower until his lips brush the shell of your ear. âMaybe just try growing a spine instead,â he murmurs. âYou talk big when itâs me, but the second someone else speaks over you, you just stand there and take it.â
This fucking asshole. You were actually at your limit.
âYouâre one to talk about spines, Sunghoon,â you snap, though still composed. âYou donât even have a fucking backboneââ
You stop yourself immediately.
Because what youâd almost absentmindedly said was you ran away from me for three years. You avoided me like I was nothing. Like I hadnât meant anything. Like we neverâyou clench your jaw, swallowing it all down so hard it makes your throat burn. You hate your brain; you truly, truly, do.
He brushes his fingers just slightly over your waist and leans in again with that same smug fucking smirk. âDonât get shy,â he murmurs. âWhat is it you wanted to say about me and my backbone? Hmm?â
âFuck off,â you whisper, your voice still sugarcoated in a smile, as if youâre teasing. Like youâre flirting. Like youâre normal. âAnd get your fucking hands off me.â
But he doesnât move. He just looks right at you.
It feels like the entire room has shrunk down to just the space between you.
âYouâre annoying, you know that?â he mutters under his breath after a beat and catches you off guard. âYou turn everything into a fucking moral standpoint and take it personally. Itâs fucking exhausting.â
You clench your jaw. âYouâre such a fuckingââ
âCareful,â he interrupts and squeezes your waist enough to make you hiss for a momentâheâs smiling wider now and whispering right into your ear. âWeâre in public.â
You step aside a bit, and then your hand moves down to where his hand is on your waist, and you try to brush it off subtly, but he tightens his grip and keeps it there.Â
You just stare at him.
âThe whole point of us being here is to sell the image that weâre a strong couple,â he goes on smoothly. âThat just now? I didnât do it to defend you. I couldn't care less what they call you.â
âRight,â you scoff. âGod forbid I ever forget what a gentleman you are.â
But he doesnât stop. He goes on.Â
âI wouldnât even waste a breath if the circumstances were different,â he says, and pausesâjust for a secondâwhen a waiter steps in between you to quietly take his empty champagne glass. Heâs smiling like his jaw aches from holding something worse back when he whispers to you, âBut unfortunately, as long as they think weâre a coupleââ he tilts his head just a fraction, âyouâre my responsibility. So shut up and take it.â
Like fucking hell he could talk to you like that.Â
You shake your head and laugh lowly. âGet right with God today, because Iâm going to kill youââ
âTsk,â he interrupts, smiling wider now, whispering right into your ear. âAgain, people are watching. Be a good girl, Hmm?â
Youâre about to open your mouth and tell him not to ever call you that again if he wants to live to see another dayâ
âSunghoon?â
A soft voice comes from in front of the two of you, and for a second before your mind even registers it, a decayed pit reopens in your stomach.Â
And then you look up, and itâs her.
âSooha,â Sunghoon greets her, and you feel the way his hand loosens around your waist. The sound of her name still makes something in you go tight, just like it used to when you were seventeen. âDidnât expect to see you here.â
âNeither did I,â Sooha smiles at Sunghoon as she walks towards the two of you and ignores you entirely. âI heard Mr. Park couldnât make it, so I thoughtâwell, it had to be you filling in. Itâs been so long⊠well, a few months. But still!â
Right. This is the part where you go back in your head. Well⊠Youâve been in here the whole day. Anyways, did she just say I thought itâd be you filling in? Pfft. Liar. Your joint appearance was all over the news.
Wait. A few months?Â
Your teeth catch the inside of your cheek. You donât know why that small addition makes something inside you burn. Maybe itâs the tone⊠how she said it like she wants you to know something you donât. Or that she knows something she shouldnât.
Sunghoon smiles softly, and your nails absentmindedly dig into your palms again. âYeah. It really has been a while.â
You donât miss the way sheâs still pretending you donât exist. You can see it written all over herâthe pointed glances, the deliberate tone, and the small tilt of her head when she speaks only to him. The fuck? Are we seventeen again? As if you have time for this fucking bullshit right now.Â
Doesnât matter if she ignored you or not, because you and Sooha have always been on opposite ends of the room, even when you werenâtâGod, you really thought you were over this. All this ancient, dried-up, pathetic bullshit that makes your stomach turn inside out, all because of some night when you were seventeen and stupid and too young to know that there are some memories that stick in your ribs forever.
Not that you care. You donât care. It was forever ago. It was before anythingâbefore everything, actually. Just a party, a door left half-open, someone moaning, and then you, standing dumb and frozen, watching Soohaâs leg slide over Sunghoonâs hip while he kissed her neck like he meant it. You remember thinking you should leave, or maybe just set yourself on fire in front of them to burn their eyes the same way. Instead, you frantically apologized and stormed out like an idiot, and Sunghoon chased you down the hallâtripping over his own shoes, saying your name like he owed you something when he didnât really, like he even had anything to explain in the first place.
You had your first proper ugly fight that night. The first of way too many. He was red-faced and breathless, and you were crying so hard you couldnât breathe, and you swore youâd never think about it again. And you hadnât until now.
(You are, obviously, an adult. It does not matter. You are not mad. You do not care.)
And the worst part? Even before that night, even before any of it, Sooha always had a way of making you feel⊠small. This wasnât even really about him. She never had to say much (though, God help you, she did)âjust the way sheâd look at you, the tilt of her chin, the mocking laughter at anything you said like youâd said something weird, and all the sly little digs youâd pretend not to hear because you like to think youâre above passive-aggressive childish shit. All in all, Sheâd been making you feel out of place since the day you met her, always so amused at your expense.Â
ThenâSunghoonâs hand tightens again at your waist, just slightly, but itâs enough to pull you a little closer to him and out of your thoughts, and you immediately see Soohaâs gaze drop to where his hand rests against you and then back up to your face. You also donât miss the way her smile twitches for a moment.
She lets out a breathy laugh. âAh, Sunghoon-ah⊠you were always one for public displays of affection.â Sooha shakes her head a little as if sheâs recalling a memory fondly. âOh, sorryâwhere are my manners?â (Have you ever had any? You think.) âI guess congratulations are finally in order for you two.â Then she actually turns to you with amusement and a wide smile, like youâve only just materialized beside him. âY/N, itâs so nice to see you again. I almost didnât recognize you without your glassesâyou look so different.â
Here we goâŠÂ
You didnât even wear your glasses that often for her to be saying that. Like you actually canât remember the last time youâd worn them publicly yourself.Â
You bite down on a scoff. âYou too, Sooha. You look exactly the same,â you say, smiling ever so politely. âLovely as always.âÂ
Her eyes dart between the two of you, and you can tell she has a million things she wants to say. She settles for, âYou two seem⊠happy,â and you can practically hear the mocking punctuation on it.
Sunghoon holds you just a little tighter, and he looks at you for a brief moment. âWe are,â he says, and caresses the side of your waist gently. Then he turns back to Sooha and clears his throat. âHowâs your father doing?â
Sooha turns back to him, and her expression immediately softens in a way only you could ever tell. âOh, heâs good. Busy, as always. Iâm mostly here on his behalfâhe still insists on doing everything himself, but heâs finally realizing heâs not thirty anymore.â She laughs softly, brushing her hair back. âHe was just telling me about the last time you came to Tokyo with him. That mustâve been, what⊠two years ago now?â
âThree,â Sunghoon corrects, and heâs still smiling, and you hate the way that smile of his hits you like a punch. Itâs easy. Soft. Effortless. Familiar. Too familiar and not familiar all at once.
Sooha laughs again. âGod, I remember that trip too,â she touches his arm lightly as she says it, her fingers just barely grazing the fabric of his sleeve, like she has every right to. âYou and my brother got into that ridiculous argument over dinnerâwhat was it even about again?â
Sunghoon didnât pull away from her touch.
âI just remember getting very drunk, to be honest,â he says, a small grin tugging at his mouth as he shakes his head. âYour brother wouldnât let it go for days.â
âAnd he still refuses to tell me what youâd rambled about that night!â she laughs again, and you almost scrunch your face to mock her.Â
What the hell do you look like just standing here? It just pisses you off even moreâobviously because youâre exhaustedâand you keep your chin up and let them talk or catch up or whatever⊠this was.Â
Youâre just tired. Thatâs all.
Sooha glances at his hand on your waist again before looking back up at him. âNo, but seriously, Sunghoon, Iâm so happy for the two of you,â she smirks, and you can tell sheâs about to say something diabolically passive-aggressive by the look on her face. âDidnât actually think you had it in you to settle down.â
There it is.Â
You canât help itâyour fingers curl around his sleeve and you tug him even closer. You donât even give a fuck, really. Itâs the principle of itâthe way she thinks she can talk like that, like sheâs the one standing on higher ground. Especially after the day youâve had.
You smile sweetly at her. âHeâs full of surprises,â you say.
Youâre fucking tired, you think again. Thatâs what this was about. No fucking way are you taking this from her, too. Though honestly, maybe you should. Poor girl. Maybe you should let her have it. Let her hold onto whatever scraps sheâs grasping for. Because thatâs all this is, isnât it? A sad little reach for something that doesnât exist anymore. You all left that behind a long time ago.
âNot that surprising, honestly,â Sooha murmurs almost to herself, swirling the champagne in her glass.
Just about why was she still here, exactly?Â
Itâs hard to tell if she meant that as a compliment or a dig, but at this point you donât care enough to figure it out. Your head is pounding, your toeâs throbbing in your heel, and youâve been so good all fucking day.Â
Youâre allowed one slip.
âAhâwe have a busy night ahead,â you coo softly, turning to Sunghoon. âWe should get going. Havenât even had the chance to freshen up upstairs yet, right, Hoonie?â
The nickname drips from your tongue like venom dressed as sugar, and it takes everything in you not to burst out in laughter at the way Soohaâs expression twistsâand just how silly you actually feltâand you feel Sunghoon tense beside you.
You turn to look at him and heâs already looking at you like heâs trying to figure something out.
He licks his lips. âRight,â he says and smiles mockingly at youâwhich, to Sooha might seem genuine, but you know it too well to mistake it for anything sweetâthen his eyes flick over to Sooha and he tips his head towards you, âShe gets cranky if I keep her waiting too long,â then he looks back at you. âWouldnât want that, would we, sweetheart?â
Piece of shit. (To be fairâagainâyou started it.)
You turn back to see Soohaâs smile gone entirely as her eyes flicker between the two of you. A win is a win.
âOf course,â she says, stepping back. âDonât let me keep you. It was⊠nice seeing you both.â
You hum, lips curving into a tight smile. âOh, it was so nice seeing you.â
Sunghoon nods once, gaze flicking between the two of you. âIâm sure Iâll see him laterâbut send your father my regards,â he says. âIt was good seeing you.â
Sooha reaches out again, resting her hand on his armâslower this time. âYou too. Really.â Then her eyes cut back to you and her smile is syrupy-sweet and all too fake. âEnjoy the rest of your night, Y/N.â
This time, Sunghoon shifts away from her touch.
You mirror her smile and take a sip from your champagne. âOh, we will.â
The second Sooha turns her back and disappears into the crowd, you move without thinking. You grab Sunghoonâs hand where itâs still resting at your waistâand this time, you donât care whoâs watchingâand shove it off.
He barely flinches, but when you look up at him, his expression is⊠unpleasant. His nostrils flare once, and you can tell heâs pissed.Â
Good. That makes two of you.
Though pissed doesnât even begin to cover how youâre feeling right now.
âDonât ever,â you start, voice just low enough for only him to hear, âfucking touch me again.â
You donât wait for a response. You just turn on your heel and start walking. You can hear him follow almost immediately, his shoes clicking against the marble floor just behind yours.
âY/N,â he says roughly.
You donât turn around. You donât even slow down. You just keep walking.
âY/N.â
This time it comes out even sharper, and youâre just about to turn and tell him to fuck off when a voice distracts you againâthough this time itâs the hotel director, and heâs coming toward you.
âAh! There you two are! Mr. Park, Miss Y/L/Nâeverythingâs been arranged upstairs,â the hotel director says as he steps forward, bowing politely with a nervous smile. Ningning is right beside him, tablet in hand, eyes darting between you and Sunghoon. âThe staff will begin closing preparations here soon, so youâre welcome to head up and rest before the event. Weâll notify you once the final checks are complete and preparations startâwe will be on standby should you need any assistance in the meantime.â
Ningning smiles and adds quickly. âThe event starts in five hours, so youâll have some time to rest before then and before the photographers arrive.â
You force a small smile that doesnât touch your eyes. âPerfect,â you say. âThank you.â
âOf course,â The director bows slightly, then gestures toward the elevators. âPleaseâthis way.â
HOTEL ROOM
The suite is bright and cold and perfect.
Of course it was. Everything under the Park name always was.Â
Floor-to-ceiling windows looked out over the city, the skyline glinting beneath the faint layer of rain that had started to fall. There was a long couch by the window, beige and perfectly arranged. A tray on the desk held a bottle of champagne in ice, with two glasses neatly and beautifully placed next to it like it was waiting for someone to celebrate something worth celebrating, and a folded card with Park Groupâs crest embossed in gold.
And then there was the bed.
It looks like a goddamn honeymoon spread. Ridiculous rose petals are carefully scattered â though still elegant and simple â across the blanket, and there are two perfectly folded robes waiting on the armchair.
You can almost hear the universe laughing at you.
You stood still for a second. âThereâs one fucking bed,â you huff to no one in particular.
Sunghoon barely glances at you. âYeah?â He sounds bored. âSo?â
What the hell does he mean by that? So? So?
You glance at the couch by the window. Itâs long, sure, but not long enough for a man his size. A part of you almost wants to tell him to enjoy breaking his neck trying to fit on it.
You scoff. âSo, youâre sleeping on the couch.â
He follows your gaze. He seems to have come to the same conclusion as you, because he lets out a short, humorless laugh. âNo, Iâm not.â
âYou are,â you snap.
âIâm not.â
You ignore him and walk over to the bed, staring at the stupid petals lined up on it. âActually, no, forget it. Iâm getting another room.â You turn toward the door again, because thereâs no way in hell youâre sleeping on that bed in the same fucking room as him. âYou can enjoy your loverâs suite or whatever the hell this isââ
âAnd how the fuck do you think thatâs gonna look?â he cuts you off.Â
You turn around with your brows furrowed. âLike I want another fucking room!â
He leans against the desk and rolls his sleeves up. âYou really think you can walk up to the front desk and ask for another room when half the staff already thinks weâre married, Mrs. Park?â He tilts his head, voice low, and you flinch at the way he called you that. âYou want that story getting around before theyâve even finished setting up the ballroom downstairs for tonight? Huh?â
âI donât care how it looks,â you sneer. âAnd donât call me that.â
He huffs a small laugh. âYeah. You say that now.â
See, the thing is, you wanted to argue. You really did. But you couldnât. Because you knew he was right. And you obviously werenât going to get another room⊠you justâ you just⊠you donât know anything anymore.
You swallow back the first response that comes to mind. But then you remember you donât have to pretend anymore.Â
âYouâre such a dick,â you mutter.
He hums. âYouâve said that before.â
âYeah, well,â you shoot back, "I'll say it again. And again. And again. Youâre a dick.â you glance at the bed again and then point to the left side of it. âYouâre a fucking dick, and youâre staying on your side of the fucking room.â
He lifts a brow. âWasnât planning otherwise.â
âGood,â you bite.
âGreat,â he huffs back.
Then he shrugs off his jacket, and the mattress dips under his weight as he sits down on the bedâthe petals shifting slightly where he leans back on his hands.
You stand there for another few seconds, watching him, and then you raise a brow.
The hell is he playing at?
âGet the fuck out,â you hiss.
Sunghoon groans and drags a hand down his face. âJesus fucking Christ, will you just shut up for one second?â
âIâm serious,â you say, âGet the fuck out of this room.â
He looks up at you slowly, like youâre being ridiculous. âIâm not getting out.â
Your nostrils flare. âIâm not joking, Sunghoon.â
He clicks his tongue. âThink Iâm joking?â
âUnbelievable,â you mutter under your breath, pacing a few steps away just so you donât throw something at him. You stop by the window, breathing hard, trying to remember the last time you didnât feel like you were about to explode. Then you turn back to him. âI want to shower.â
He finally looks up properly, an eyebrow raised. âSo?â
âSo?â you mock him. âSo! stop saying so, you bitch! so get the fuck out, thatâs what! Youâve lost your damn mind if you think Iâm showering with you in here.â
He grins faintly. Itâs nothing short of twisted. âNothing I havenât seen before.â
You let out a sharp laugh that doesnât sound like one at all. âOh, go fuck yourself. Do you think this is funny?â
He finally looks at you properly thenâreally looks. His head tilts, eyes narrowing a fraction, voice calm in that infuriating way of his. âI think youâre losing your shit over a hotel room.â
Oh, okay.
You feel something in you start to snap â that thin thread youâd been holding onto all day, through the flight, through the car ride over here, through Sooha and her smug little smile, the exhaustion, the demeaning conversations, the pretending, and the way he gets under your skin so easily. The whole fucking day. The whole fucking year.Â
It all spills out at once.Â
âOver a hotel room?â you repeat, disbelief twisting your mouth into something thatâs not quite a smile. âYouââ you take a step closer, jabbing a finger toward him, ââdonât get to tell me what Iâm losing my shit over, do you fucking understand? you have no idea how Iâm fucking feelingâyouâre justââ You stop, breath catching halfway through, hands trembling at your sides. âYouâre justââ
He rises slowly from the bed, and that stupid, unreadable expression drops from his face. Heâs looking at you now, properly looking, and itâs infuriatingâbecause heâs looking over your shoulder like heâs bored.
âGo on,â he says quietly, and the calm in his voice is the kind that makes your teeth grind. âFinish it.â
âForget it.â
He takes a step closer. âNo. Say it.â
Your pulse thuds in your throat. âI said forget it.â
Another step. He is close enough that you can see the faint line where he pins his tongue to the roof of his mouth when he thinks. âYou donât get to start and not finish,â he says.
His face is so blank, so infuriatingly composed. That smug, patronizing calm of his. That same look he wears when he thinks heâs right. You feel heat rush up your neck. You want to scream. You want to slap it off his fucking face.
âYou think Iâm losing my shit over a hotel room?â you say, voice rising. âYou think this is about a fucking bed?â you shove him very hard then, and the contact jolts through your arm. âYou want me to fucking finish it?â you spit. âFine. Iâll fucking finish it.â
You donât even give him time to react.
âI donât want to be here. I donât want to be in this room with you. I donât want to be doing this fakeâwhatever the fuck this is. I donât want any of it. I donât want to keep pretending like everythingâs fine when I feel like Iâm losing my mind every time you so much as look at me!â
He shakes his head and clicks his tongue, and for a second he looks almost bored.
Then he gestures with the faintest lift of his chin at the bed, at the ridiculous petals, at the robes folded like an invitation. âYou think I wanted to do this?â he snaps, and the vein in his neck ticks. âYou think I signed up for this bullshit so I could spend a weekend in a honeymoon suite getting bitched at every ten seconds?â
âI donât give a fuck what you want and donât want,â you bite back, and your throat burns. You donât even know if youâre making sense anymore, but the words keep coming, tumbling out before you can stop them, then you jab a finger at him, âAnd you shut the fuck up. Iâm talking.â
He clenches his jaw. âDonât fucking tell me to shut up.â
âI just did,â you scowl. âShut. Up.â
âY/N,â he warns.
You step forward, jabbing a finger into his chest. âShut up.â Another jab. âShut up.â One more, harder this time. âShut. Up.â
âStop itââ
âNo, you stop it!â you snap, and itâs even louder. âIâm so tired of pretending! And itâs only⊠This is our first fucking bullshit trip together! I donât want to sit next to you and smile and act like everythingâs fine when itâs not. I donât want to do it anymore. Today was⊠Do you have any idea what itâs like to walk into a room and feel people sizing you up like youâre not even a person?â
You press your palms flat to your thighs because you cannot keep your hands still. âI donât want to step inside a room where I feel so fucking uncomfortable I canât even breathe. Where people look at me like Iâm just a body to stand beside you. Like Iâm notââ Your voice shakes, and you force the last word out. âLike Iâm not me.â
For a second, all you can hear is the sound of your own heartbeat.
He closes his eyes for a fraction of a second, and when he opens them there is an expression you have only seen a few times beforeâan unimpressed amusement that looks exactly like someone watching a child have a tantrum. It makes something ugly crawl under your skin all the more.
âDone?â
You stare at him, shaking. You canât tell if you want to laugh or scream. You let out a sound thatâs somewhere in between, shaking your head becauseâreally? Thatâs still all he has to say?
You shove him again without thinking. This time you put everything into it and he actually really stumbles back and his foot catches on the edge of the rug. He blinksâlooks surprisedâthen annoyed, then the annoyance melts into something small and close to a smile that he poorly tries to hide.
âYouâre such a fucking dick,â you spit, chest heaving.Â
His voice drops to a whisper so low you almost miss it. âYouâre so angry you donât even know what youâre angry at anymore.â
You glare at him.
âYou.â
A beat passes.
âYou. Always you,â you huff.
âThen get it out of your system,â he says.Â
You scoff. âWhat?â
âAll of it,â he shrugs, tone maddeningly calm. âSay everything else. Go on. Thereâs more.âÂ
For a moment you wonder if heâs fucking serious, and anger floods you again, hotter and more preciseâand your hands ball into fists so hard your knuckles whiten. Your nails dig into your palms and the sting grounds you for a moment.Â
âYouâre not worth the fucking breath anymore,â you snap, because if you keep going, youâre going to spiral, and you know it, and if you spiral, youâre going to do something very fucking stupid, and you canâtâ
âOh, really?â he cuts in quietly. âThat why you played house so well downstairs? Acting like some clingy little girlfriend in front ofââ
âActing!â You cut in before he can finish. âYes! Acting!â You shove himâhard, all over againâbecause you canât stand his face for another second. He barely stumbles this time, and it pisses you off even more. âBecause I have to act! You said it yourselfâwe have to keep up appearances. We have to sell the fucking story.â
You can hear yourself getting louder, but you canât stop. âBut the second itâs not some old man eyeing me like he wants to fuck meââ you jab a shaking finger into his chest, ââthe second your dick gets wet, Iâm wrong? Thatâs where you draw the line? Why the fuck are you angry?â
âMaybe I am angry,â he spits. âMaybe Iâm fucking furious. Maybe I want to shake you until you get it through your thick skull that none of this matters. That none of them matter. That youââ He stops, veins ticking in his neck. âGod, you make me so fucking mad.â
Before you can shove him again, he grabs your wristsâboth hands locking around them tight. The sound that leaves you isnât quite a gasp, not quite a curse, just something raw that dies halfway in your throat. You look down at his hands around your wrists, then up at him.Â
And itâs stupid how close you are.Â
And itâs even more stupid how the room instantly shrinks down to the two of you and the rain and the stupid spread of rose petals on a bed neither of you will sleep on, and a simmering heat pooling in your chest since God knows when.
You can feel his breath. You can feel your pulse in your throat and in your wrists and under your skin, pounding loud and fast. And for one dizzy second, you canât tell if you want to hit him or justâ
You want to. God, you want toâ
You wrench your hands out of his grip and reach for his shirt. He startles, glancing down at your fingers fumbling at the first button, then back at you with his brows knit together.
His eyes drop to your hand, then back up to your face. âWhat the fuck are you doing? Stopââ
âShut up,â you hiss, still pulling at the button. âDonât tell me what to do.â
âY/Nââ
âShut up.â
He grabs your wrist again, tighter this time, like heâs trying to get control of the situation before it slips entirely out of his hands, but youâre done playing this game by halves, and you donât stop. You yank back, teeth clenched, and the button snaps clean off and hits the floor somewhere between you.
âYou donât want this,â he says.
You donât think. You just try to move.Â
You twist out of his hold completely. âDonât fucking tell me what I want.â
And before he can say anything, before he can do that thing he always does where he looks at you with that goddamn expression like youâre a child losing control, your hands move again and you grab at the rest of the buttons and RIIIIIIIPPPPâthe fabric splits under your hands, buttons flying across the carpet. His shirt hangs open, his chest rising hard under the mess of it, and your hands are still trembling where they hover between you.
You grab the shirt again, this time just to hold on to something, but he moves faster and grabs you back â both hands wrapping around your arms and holding you in place.
And then he pushes you.
Not gently, not playfully, not like heâs teasingâno. He drives you back with force, and your shoulders hit the wall behind you, a thud echoing through the room as you suck in a breath and gasp from the impactâand you just stare at him, and the way heâs looking at you now with his gaze so dark and unreadable feeds into something simmering low and hungry in your chest.Â
His eyes drag down once, taking in his shirt and your furious expression, and then back up to your face.Â
He clicks his tongue and his voice drops just enough to make your skin crawl. âFucking brat.âÂ
His breath fans hot across your skin. âGo shower,â he mutters after a beat, and his grip loosens on you. âWeâre done here.â
Done? Right.
You breathe out a bitter, humorless laugh, because you just canât help it. Your whole body feels like itâs about to snap in half from the tension. âWhat?â you push, and his own words tumble out of your mouth before you can think better of it. âAfraid to blow off some fucking steam? Think it might mean something?â
He exhales hard and finally lets go of you, and his jaw is clenched, and it looks like heâs trying not to say something heâll regret. You can hardly breathe anymore, but you laugh again â lower this time, and you shake your head.
âYouâre so fucking soft and pathetic.â you huff, âGo then. Get the fuck out.â
Thatâs when it happens.Â
His whole face stills. His expression doesnât change right away, not completely â just a flicker of something in his eyes, something dark and dangerous, and then everything in him shifts.Â
His gaze drops to your lips again, but this time slower. Then to your throat. And then his own bare chest where his ruined shirt still hangs open.
He looks back up at you and you donât even give him a second to think about it (like everything else that has happened in the last few minutes); (you donât even think of it yourself, really.)Â
You just want somewhere to put all of this angerâyou just needâ
You grab a full fistful of his hair roughly and yank him closer, dragging his mouth down toward yours like youâre daring him to do something, anything, just react, just stop pretending he doesnât want to tear this entire room down.
But he doesnât kiss you.
He grabs your face and keeps you from moving another inch.
He cups your cheeks, fingers splayed wide, firm but carefulâcareful like heâs trying not to hurt you or something and it only makes you angrier, more desperate, because he always does this, always pulls back right when you need him to break.
He holds you there and keeps you still, staring at you, and your breathing is uneven while his chest is also rising fastâhis hand tightening a little where it cradles your jaw.Â
Your lips are so close theyâre practically touching.Â
You could lean in the smallest bit and close the distance.Â
You could ruin everything.
So you do.
You lean in â youâre right there, so close you can feel his hot breath â but before you can actually close the distance, his grip on your jaw tightens even further, and he stops you with nothing more than that â his fingers pressing into your cheeks, his thumb under your chin, forcing you to look at him. You can feel the tremor in his hand as his gaze burns into you, and for a second neither of you move.
Thenâ
You donât even know who moves first. Maybe itâs him. Maybe itâs you. Maybe it was both of you at the same time⊠But suddenlyâ
Youâre kissing.
Itâs not sweet. Itâs not soft. No, itâs anything but soft. Itâs not the kind of kiss you ease into slowly. It crashes into you like a fucking truck, all teeth and breath and heat and hands. His mouth slants over yours like heâs trying to prove something, and you kiss him back like itâs the last goddamn thing youâll ever do. Your hands go to his shoulders, his neck, his arm, and his chestâclawing, grabbing, grounding. His hands drop to your waist and he pulls you closer, his fingers twitching and splaying out across you like he doesnât know what to hold onto first.
You gasp into him and he groans against your mouthâa filthy sound that vibrates through your whole body, and it only makes you want more. His teeth graze your bottom lip, and then you nip back at hisâharder, and he just groans again and pushes you harder into the wall.
Itâs too much.
And not even close to being enough.
You tug at his hair and drag his head back with your grip so heâs forced to look at you, and his eyes are heavy-lidded and hungry. His chest heaves once, twice, and for a split second, neither of you move as you look at each other through your heavy breathing⊠Itâs all so⊠The way he looks⊠His mouth is parted, his breath is hot, and heâs staring at you like heâs about to do something stupid.
So he kisses you again, and somehow, itâs messier than the first.
Itâs even rougher, more desperate, and youâre barely holding yourself upright with how fast itâs all happening, hands roughly clawing at his shoulders to stay grounded again, to keep him close, pull him in closer until youâre practically one, and then suddenly heâs also properly grabbing you. His hands slide down your waist â rough and very fast â until he grips the backs of your thighs, then your ass, and he hoists you up like you weigh absolutely nothing. Your back hits the wall againâharder this time, and you wrap your legs around him to lock him in place.
Youâre not thinking.
You moan into his mouth before you can stop yourself, the sound sharp and high and embarrassingly fucking loudâand he responds with a groan so deep in his chest it rumbles through both of you.
âFucking slut,â he groans against your mouth, âCouldnât even hold this in, huh?â His hand shifts lower and grips tighter at your thighâhard enough to make you hiss out of painâand his lips brush messily along your jaw, right up to your ear. âWe just got into the fucking room. This what all that was about? The screaming, the shoving, the bullshit? Youâre needy?â
âShut the fuck up,â you pant, and drag his hair again and pulling him in until his mouth is on yours again. âStop talking.â
You bite down on his bottom lip hard enough to make him grunt, and you feel the sound vibrate through his chest and into your mouthâso rough and low and so fucking good you want to do it again and again and again. Then he pulls back just a few inches and his lip is still caught in between your teethâand you drag it out slowly until he shoves you back and slips it free.
âNo. You stop talking. Youâre fucking done with your cute little attempts of telling me what to do,â he growls. âYou listen to me now.â
Youâre not proud of it, but you actually almost moan at the sound of his voice when he says it and how he says it. Itâs like⊠you almost feel giddy? What the fuck is happening?
And fuck⊠he looks infuriatingly fucking good like this. Face flushed. Hair absolutely ruined from your hands. Muscular chest rising hard beneath the wreck of his open shirt. His lips are so, so red and wet.
You manage to slide (well, not exactly slide⊠really, you shoved it off very hard) his shirt off before he can stop you, your hands rough and clumsy, pulling it down his shoulders until the fabric slips off completely and lands somewhere on the floor. His skin is hot under your palmsâchest muscular and bareâand you barely have a second to breathe before youâre reaching (or trying) for his belt even quicker, angry fingers.
But before you can properly even touch it, he drops you and you yelp.
His fingers wrap around your wrists and he shoves them up above your head, pressing them flat against the wall.
âYou really think you get to do that?â he practically growls. His grip tightens when you try to wiggle free. âThink you can touch me whenever you want?â
You whineâterribly frustrated because your body is lit up and aching and you donât know what to do with all of it. âJust take your fucking clothes off,â you snap, and it comes out almost like a plea, but you refuse to let it sound like one, so you quickly add, âDonât be fucking boring. You know what I want.â
He laughs under his breath. âAsk nicely,â he whispers, slow and taunting. âAnd Iâll think about it. Think.â
Oh, for fuckâs sake. You just want to get fucked.
âDonât fucking start this bullshit with me again.â You try to yank your wrists down, but heâs stronger and you know it and that only makes you angrier and hornier. âI swear to god, Sunghoon, if you turn this into some stupid power tripââ
He cuts in with a low laugh. âPower trip?â His breath brushes your mouth just enough to make you chase his lips without meaning to. âYou think youâve had a single second of control since you walked in here? Since anything?â
You donât say anything. Canât, really.Â
He leans even closerâlips hovering just shy of yoursâeyes half-lidded. âGo on then,â he murmurs. âKeep talking. You like running that mouth? Use it properly. Letâs see if you can still talk when Iâm done with you.â
Itâs kind of embarrassing how close you are to whimpering, how your whole body is already leaning toward him like youâve forgotten how to stand on your own. Every inch of you feels wired, hot, and restlessâyour pulse loud in your earsâand the thought of him finally touching you just makes it worse.
âYouâre all talk,â you finally bite out and click your tongue. âYouâre gonna bore me to death before you even manage to make me come or something.â
His jaw twitches. âSay that again.â
You roll your eyes, tilt your chin up, and let your head fall back against the wall just enough to look up at him through your lashes, so careless and cocky you can see the way it sets him off even before you open your mouth. âOh my god,â you scoff. âSee? All talk again. You actually are gonna bore me to death before youââ
It happens so fast you donât even finish the sentence.
He releases your wrists and grabs your face with both hands in one fluid, rough movement â fingers digging into your jaw, forcing your head to tilt the way he wants it, and then heâs on you â mouth dragging down, and then lower â finding the curve of your neck with his lips parted and breath ragged. And then he bites your fucking neck hard enough to make your knees buckle, and everything inside you short-circuits like someone pulled a plug.Â
âYou assholeââ your moan punches right out of your throat before you can stop it and your body arches into him; then he bites you again and you rake your nails down across his back hard enough to make him hissâshitâagainst your throat. âFuck!â
His mouth is all over your neck now, sucking and biting and mouthing wet and sloppy trails with his tongue so slowly and messily. And you⊠youâre not thinking. Youâre dizzy with how much you want to feel somethingâwith how hot your skin feels where he just bit you (and how good it felt, and how you want him to keep doing it; but youâd never tell him that.) Most of all youâre dizzy with the ache thatâs been clawing at your chest and your stomach and between your legs since the second you stepped into this roomâor maybe even longer than youâd want to admit.
You grind up against him without thinking just to feel him. And heâs so fucking hard against your centerâthick and once again, unmistakably large through both your clothes. You just want to feel it. Anything. Him. You move again, slower this time, dragging your hip against his cock in his pants just enough to make him groan low in his chest.
But then he stops and pushes you back, and he places his hand flat against your stomach and holds you right there against the wall.
He leans inâmouth brushing your collarboneâand his tongue flicks over the mark he just made. Then he licks slower, up the side of your throat, and murmurs against your skin.
âThe more you try to rush this, the longer Iâm going to make you wait.â
His tongue drags higher, tracing your jaw, and you actually have to fight the urge not to moan (when he hasnât even touched you) â because you donât want to give him the satisfaction â then his lips hover just beneath your ear. âYou want it?â He nips at your ear. âThen fucking beg for it. Otherwise, Iâm going to spend this whole trip making you wish you had.â
Is he out of his fucking mind? Cause you definitely are. Your thighs clench around nothing and itâs almost humiliating how fast you try to move again and chase the feeling, but he presses you firmer against the wall like he already knew youâd try.
âTsk,â he groans. His hand is still gripping your jaw, the other sliding down your side to your hip, holding you still. âKeep doing that and youâre gonna regret it.â
âMaybe I donât care.â
His thumb digs into your hip. âYeah?â he huffs. âYou donât care?â
You shake your head and shrug. âNo.â
You can feel the smile in his voice, feel it when he licks a slow stripe up your neck and hums against your skin. âFine. You wanna grind like a needy little bitch? Go ahead. Just know every second you do, Iâm keeping score.â
He adds, âSo be a good girl and answer me, hmm? What do you want?â
Thenâyou huff a laugh and manage to shove him back a step, just enough to get a sliver of space.Â
He doesnât even get to blink before youâre yanking your top off over your head and letting it drop to the floor, standing there in your bra and skirt, flushed and breathless and entirely too horny to back down. âIs this an answer for you?â
His eyes drop to your chestâto the curve of your breasts spilling over the black lace bra youâre wearingâand you donât miss the way his jaw clenches. Then you start sliding one strap off your shoulder slowly, just to see how far you can push him. (Apparently, not far, because he immediately steps in and grabs your wrist hard enough you feel it to your bones.)
You grin at him. âEither fuck me right now, or Iâll go lock myself in that shower and make you listen while I finger myself.âÂ
His nostrils flare. âYou think Iâd let you?â
You shrug and bring your other hand up to pull the other strap off just as slowly. âGuess you better stop me, then.â
Thatâs all it takes.
He grabs your ass and lifts you up so fast you gasp and wrap your legs around his waistâand you dig your nails right into his muscular bicep. Heâs so fucking strong, every muscle in his arms straining as he holds you up and presses you into him, and for a second you canât even think about anything except how stupidly massive his arm isâhow you want to lick a line down it bite, suck, leave bruises just to see if it actually leaves a mark on himâbut you wouldnât tell him that, not ever.
You squeeze tighter with your thighs, your hands clutching his bicep just to feel the way it bulges beneath your fingers, and you actually feel insane. You roll your hips right against the head of his cock from where heâs holding you up, and then he laughs lowly under his breath and mutters. âThatâs three,â then he slaps your ass so hard you jolt.
âFucking bitch!â you yelp in pain, and then with one handâwhile still holding you upâhe finds your bra clasp, flicks it open with ease, and throws you onto the bed. You land hardâso hard your breath gets knocked out of youâand then he crawls up onto the mattress slowly, the way a predator stalks prey.Â
He stops and kneels between your thighs, then he slides the bra down your arms slowly, and just watches your breasts spill outâheavy and so flushedâand you catch his gaze right as his lips part and he flicks his tongue out to wet them, hungry and desperate like heâs actually losing his mind or something. Good. You were too.
He just stares for a second, and you swear you see his cock twitch against his pants.
âFuck,â he breathes, almost to himself â then he licks his lips again as he takes you in longer. âCould just fuck your tits alone.â
Your mouth waters at the thought, and a shiver may or may not have just rolled down your spine. You donât want to admit that.
You keep your chin up and try to act like youâre not picturing having his cock between your tits right now. âAnd what do I get out of that exactly? You get to get off, but I donât. Whatâs in it for me?â
Youâre still catching your breath when he smirks and bends his head down. Thenâbefore you can even process itâhe opens his mouth and spits. It lands right between your tits, and you donât have time to say a word before his tongue is there, licking it up and spreading itâwet and messy and oh so loud, tongue circling your nipples until you whine. âYou get to be my whiny little fucktoy; thatâs what you get,â he says around your nipple.
Then he lifts his head and grabs both of your tits in his hands, pushes them together and stares at them for a moment, before he leans down again andâ
He bites the swell of your breast so fucking hard you donât recognize the sound of your own voice when you scream.
âAhhâSHIT!â you cry out despite how badly you donât want to react, and you arch your back and shove your chest deeper into his mouth. The feeling of his teeth on your breasts while he circles your nipples with his fingers is so sharp and dizzying and so new you almost get mad all over again, because itâs him making you feel this goodâand because you never want him to stop.Â
But he stops.
He looks up at you, and his other hand comes up just to slap your tits, one after the other. âYou like that? Huh?â
Well, obviously you did. But were you gonna make it easy for him? No.
So you donât say anythingâinstead, you reach down to grip his wrist, or somethingâgrinding your hips up into him like youâre about to lose your mind.Â
He clicks his tongue and presses into you to still you, but you feel his cock against the fabric of his pants, and you moan. âThatâs four,â he mutters.
Then heâs on your tits again â He takes one nipple in his mouth and sucks on it harshly and lets go with a wet pop â then he trails his mouth lower, and starts licking a filthy path down your stomach. His tongue drags over your belly button, lower and lower, never breaking eye contact. When he reaches the waistband of your skirt, he pauses, glances up with that stupid cocky smirk of his, and then hooks his fingers in the fabric and pulls it down excruciatingly slowly.Â
When he finally gets it off, he tosses it aside, and now youâre left in nothing but your tiny black lace panties.Â
For one blinking second â just one â you realize what youâre doing. And who youâre doing it with. But just as fast, you shove the thought down, and for the first time you actually succeed in doing so.
You get to feel good. Thatâs all.Â
None of this means anything.
âNow,â His thumb brushes teasingly along the waistband of your panties, and his voice drops low and filthy. âBe a good girl and tell me what you want.â
You think of a hundred different snarky things to say, maybe even get up and spit in his face, but instead you just stare at him and bite your lip.Â
He arches a brow, and his fingers drag lazy little circles over the damp lace of your panties. âCome on, say it. Youâve got such a big fucking mouth; use it for something useful.â
You weigh it in your mind for a second. It being your pride versus the ache to be fucked. Unfortunately for your dignity, the latter wins.
You almost choke on the words. âI want your dick, asshole,â you breathe out.
He grins. âThat wasnât so hard, was it?â
Youâre about to tell him to just shut up and take it out, but then he hooks his fingers under the edge of your panties â nails roughly grazing your skin when he does it â right where your thigh meets the lace, and he doesnât break eye contact when he leans down, and thenâfucking hellâhe takes the panties in his teeth and pulls them down, slowly, making sure you see every filthy second of it.
You truly canât help the way your mouth falls open, and you just stare as he drags them all the way off with his fangs and tosses them away onto the floor.
He sits back for half a second, and for once, he doesnât say a word. He just looks and lets his gaze devour every slick inch of youâtongue darting out to wet his bottom lip again like he can already taste you. Thereâs something almost exciting to you in the way he staresâhis fists balling in the sheets like heâs holding himself back from just wrecking you right there.Â
Then his gaze flicks up to meet yours again, and his mouth twitches into the ghost of a smirk. âShit.â He almost sounds awed, though his voice is rough and low. âSpread your legs for me. Let me see you.â
âJust take your fucking pants off,â you demand (it was kind of a whine, to be honest with yourself), even as you slowly spread your legs for him.
He raises a brow again. âTsk. Just because you finally said what you want doesnât mean Iâll give it to you,â he cocks his head. âI just wanted to hear you beg. Youâre still not doing a good job.â
Before you can say anything, he leans forward and spits right onto your pussyâthe wet heat landing right on your clitâand you canât do anything but watch as he slowly slides a finger between your folds and spreads you open, just to feel how fucking wet you are. âFuck, youâre soaked,â he mutters, staring between your legs as he drags his own spit up and spreads it lower and into your folds, âI havenât even touched you properly and youâre already dripping. What, you like running your mouth that much? Huh?
At this point, youâve stopped trying to hold your moans back. You jerk your hips up, but he presses his other hand down and keeps you still.Â
âDidnât I tell you?â his voice is so low itâs almost a snarl. âThe more you grind, the more you try to rush me, the longer youâre gonna wait. You remember the count?â
You try to glare at him. You try. âFuck off, Sunghoon, just touch me alreadyââ
He slides two fingers over your clit, and then in one quick, ruthless thrust, he pushes one finger deep inside your pussy. Your back arches off the mattress and a strangled scream punches right out of you. âSunghoonâFUCK.â
âThat was five,â he growls, and you donât even get a second longer to feel it before he pulls his finger right back out, leaving you empty and throbbing. âYou just donât fucking learn, do you?â
He smirks and licks your wetness off his fingers slowly, his tongue dragging along his knuckle in such a cruel wayâlike he wants you to watch. And you doâGod, you do. Your eyes are locked on his mouth as he sucks his own fingers clean and finally lets go with a filthy little pop. Your body actually burns at the sight, so close to the edge that you almost bring your hand down to touch your own clit just to get some relief.
He hovers over you again, his palm sinking deep into the mattress by your head, his body caging yours in completely. You can feel the heat of him, the weight of him, and the way his bicep bulges right by your face, and your mouth waters all over again at the sight. âIf you want it that bad, you'd better learn to be patient, sweetheart. Or maybe Iâll just keep counting and see how many times I can get you to fuck yourself on nothing.â
He actually talks too much, you think. You almost miss when men did not even care enough and immediately got to the point.
You scoff, though itâs weaker than you wanted it to be. âShut up,â you jerk your hips up again and reach up with both hands, grabbing at his shouldersânails raking down his bicep, trying to pull him in. But he just laughs, pulling back so your fingers catch uselessly in the air.
âSix.â
âYouâre a fucking asshole,â you spit, voice shaking from how wound up you are.
âKeep going, brat. I can do this all night,â he tongues his cheek and grins.
All night? Oh, you need it now.Â
You push yourself up, and this time, you actually get a good grip on him. You grab his jaw hard and yank his face down to yours, and you kiss him hard.
You bite at his lips just to hear that sharp groan that ripped out of his throat again before â and he tries to pin you down but youâre faster â you slide your hand into his hair and yank it back so you can lick a filthy, wet line down his jaw, your lips finding his throat and sucking hard enough to leave a mark. He groans again, this time even deeper, and you can feel the sound vibrate against your tongue. You moan right back because youâre too fucking needy and frustrated, and you grind yourself against the bulge in his pants one more time.Â
You want to make him snap, want to make him lose it, and just fuck you already.Â
Thereâs just no way he can drag this out any longer, right?
He snaps just for a second.Â
His grip on your hips tightens, and he presses down, grinding his cock against you, rolling his hips into yours until you both gasp into each otherâs mouths, and the friction of his cock pressing up against you feels so fucking good you whimper right into his mouth again. You can feel just how hard he is, and you want more, want all of himâjust to feel good, you thinkâand you dig your nails into his back, dragging them down hard to the point where you think one of your nails may have snapped off.
âFuck, look at you,â he grits through his teeth, hands digging into your waist as he rolls into you, his cock rubbing against your bare cunt from his pants. âSo desperate youâre grinding on my cock like a bitch in heat. Canât even behave for five fucking seconds. You want to come so bad, youâre going to embarrass yourself like this?â
Your face burns at his words, but you snap back at him because heâs the fucking one being ridiculous. âMaybe if youâd stop being a little bitch and fuck me, I wouldnât have to embarrass myself. Iâm naked and in front of you, and youâre not fucking me, who is the pathetic one?â
He laughs and presses you down even harder. âYou want to act like a brat, you get treated like one. I told you, Iâm counting. Every time you act up, youâre waiting even longer to get what you want.â
âGod, youâre such a fucking teaseââ
He pulls your face to his and kisses you messily and deeply, sucking on your tongue until you moan into his mouth. Then he shifts, spreading your thighs and sliding one of his own between them, so youâre straddling him now, his thigh pressed hard against your bare cunt. Then he growls, âKeep grinding, sweetheart. Rub yourself all over meâIâll let you make a mess on my thigh if you want to be a needy little slut so bad. But thatâs all youâll be getting.â
You ignore him. âIâm saying this one last fucking time. Either fuck me or get the fuck off,â you sneer, barely above a breath. âWe donât have time to be doing all this shit.â
âTime?â he repeats, voice dripping with disbelief. âTime? You think I give a fuck about time?â
His hand slides up your thigh, fingers pressing into your skin, âI could keep you here all fucking night if I wanted. No oneâs gonna bother us, cause I could tell them not to. Youâre not going anywhere until I decide you can, so you better start behaving, or Iâll drag this out for the next three days if I have to.â
He grinds his thigh up, testing you, eyes dark and daring. âBut go on. Tell me again how we donât have time.â
The way heâs looking at you now, you know he could keep you here under him, pressed into this bed for hoursâŠ. And for all your bravado, for all your threatsâ Yeah. No, actually. What the hell. You like this back and forth. Plus, youâre not about to give him the satisfaction of seeing you break that easily. This is⊠Sunghoon, after all.Â
You shake that thought away again.
So you lean in and run your hand up his chest slowly, fingers dragging across the muscle on his chest until youâre right at his ear. âYou wanna know what I think?â you whisper, letting your voice curl into something wicked, just to rile him up, then you go on before he can speak. âI think youâre scared you canât satisfy me. Maybe youâre stalling because you know youâre all talk.â You pout at himâslide your palm over his chest and pinch his nipple for good measure. âAll that control, and for what? You're scared youâll come before I do?Â
The muscle in his jaw tenses so hard, and you almost flinch at the way his gaze darkens, but you keep going because you fucking love seeing him angry. âYâknow, if you ever even get me there.â
That does it.
Finally.
âHave it your fucking way then,â he bites out, and before you can even think of smirking, his hands are on your waist and heâs shoving you back down into the mattress so hard your breath stutters.Â
He spreads your thighs wide, pushing your knees up until youâre completely open for him, and then heâs right thereâkneeling between your legs.
He drags his hands up your thighs, all the way to your hips, thumbs pressing in so hard it almost hurts, and you whimper and arch up for more.Â
âYou want to be a brat? Fine. But youâre going to fucking take it. Donât cry about it,â he growls, then he grabs your thighs, spreads you wider than you thought was possible, and settles lower right between them. His palms slide up, thumbs digging into the soft inside of your thighs until heâs got your legs high up on his shoulders, pressing you flat against the mattress, and when he squeezes the flesh thereâso fucking hard you actually screamâhe grins.
Then he bites the inside of your thighâfuck, itâs turning you on so muchâand you think thatâll surely be leaving a bruise.Â
You want to snapârile him up even more, some half-formed curse already spilling from your lipsâbut his head drops and you feel the first hot breath against your cunt. Then he licks up so close to your pussy you almost buck right off the bed.
âHold still,â he growls, and you feel his fingers flex, pinning your thighs wider, spreading you even more, just so he can stare. âLook at this. All wet and needy, and all for me.â
âFuck youââ your voice gets lost in a gasp as he suddenly, finally, sucks your clit into his mouth. Heâs rough and messyâhis grip on your thighs tightening as he alternates between sucking and flicking your clit with his tongue.
The sound that rips out of you is so fucking raw, so insanely filthy and loud, you clap a hand over your own mouth to muffle your moan.
But Sunghoon, of course, isnât having any of that.Â
He stops instantly and lifts his head. âHands where I can see them,â he snarls, then he catches your wrist with one hand and pins it to the mattress. âDonât hide those fucking noises from me. I want to hear you fall apart.â
Then he dips his head back down.Â
He starts slower this time, licking a thick wet stripe up your slit, teasing at your clit just with the tip of his tongue, breathing hard against your skin. âI could do this all night, keep you right here, legs open, crying on my tongue until you learn how to fucking behave.â
Then he goes faster. Your legs tremble on his shoulders as he licks and sucks and flicks his tongue over your clit until youâre babbling his name over and over againâyouâre too high on the feeling of how fucking good it feels to care anymore.Â
âFuckâDonât stop, you bastardâSUNGHOONââÂ
His tongue is swirling and flicking in filthy circles that make you see white behind your eyes, and you feel his nose rub against you every time he movesâand the wetness and the sound of his sucking are so absolutely pornographic they bring you even closer to the edge.
Thenâwithout warningâhe pushes two thick fingers inside you all at once, and you clench so tight around him it actually hurtsâyour body is practically trying to force him out. âFuck. My fingers barely fucking fit,â he grits out, âSuch a tight fucking slut.âÂ
The stretch is so overwhelming it burns, and you choke on a moan, then try to arch your back off the mattress to try and give yourself some way to adjust â or move away â but he pins you down with one heavy arm thrown over your stomach, holding you in place so you canât do anything but take it. âDonât run, brat. Thought you wanted me to touch you?â
God. You canât be bothered to speak anymore.Â
He curls his fingers inside and pumps slowly, then faster, filling you so good it makes your eyes roll back. Itâs so fucking thick, Honestlyâhis two fingers alone are thicker than everything youâve had in your entire life. Youâre not sure if youâre angry about thatâbut you moan all the same. and his mouth never lets up on your clit, sucking and licking, tongue flicking until your whole body shakes.
You reach down frantically and grab a fistful of his hair very hardly to have something to hold ontoâand he groans into your pussy again in response, and the vibration nearly rips you apart.Â
Youâre so gone, shaking so hard you can barely keep your eyes open. âSunghoon, shitââ You babble his name because itâs the only thing you can manage despite how badly you donât want to be saying it, and he licks even harder somehow when he hears the way you moan his name â sucking your clit between his lips and sending vibrations up through your whole body as he hums into it.
âThatâs it. Louder. Whoâs making you feel this good, huh? Tell me. Say my name.â
You whine, head thrown back, voice breaking, âShut upâfuck, Sunghoon, itâs you, you fucking bitchââ
Youâre clenching around his fingers and soaking his hand, and when he moans into you after you scream his nameâitâs so filthy, so hungryâyou know youâre about to break apart right there on his tongue.
Youâre already too close, and some part of you, the petty stubborn part, thinks for half a second about not giving in, about not letting yourself come just to spite himâbut he senses it, the way you try to squirm away from the edge, and he snaps his teeth lightly at your clit in warning. âYou try to hold back, and Iâll keep you like this all night.â
You watch as he slips his fingers out and spits on your clit againâmaking everything slicker and dirtier, and suddenly his mouth is everywhereâtongue pressing flat against your dripping slit. He licks into you, tongue fucking you deep as he groans, the sound low and hungry like heâs the one fucking getting off on it.
He pulls back just enough to breathe, mouth shiny and swollen as he grins and licks his lips. A tiny part of you twists at how devastatingly beautiful he looks like thisâhair messy, jaw sharp, face wrecked and flushed, and all of it just from being between your thighs. It almost makes you ache even more, and youâre not sure in which wayâand then his thumb finds your clit, rubbing rough, furious circles over it, so aggressive you jolt under the touch.
Then he plunges his fingers back inside you, and your hips buck out at how deep they are and how badly they stretch you. You can barely even fucking take two of his fingers.Â
âAssholeâfuck, slow down, Iâm gonnaââ You can barely even speak.Â
He hums, low and taunting, not stopping for a second. âYouâre gonna what? Come all over my mouth? Yeah, thatâs the fucking point.â
Youâre so close, so fucking close so fast, and he only just started; itâd be embarrassing if you werenât so fucked out right now. You just grind up onto his face and scream, and he keeps pumping his fingers, faster, harder, mouth never letting up, tongue punishing your clit while his nose brushes right into it too, until you finally snap.Â
You shut your eyes so hard it genuinely hurtsâand you scream so loud you think that the whole world could hear youâlet alone the entire fucking hotel. Your body spasms and your cunt clenches tightly around his fingers, soaking his hand and mouth completely.
But he doesnât stop. He doesnât even say anything.
He just keeps sucking, keeps fucking you with his fingers, lapping up everything you give him, and groaning into you obscenely.
You manage to shove at his head; you feel so fucking sensitive it hurts, even though it feels so good. âAre you crazyâstop, fuck, I canâtââ
He lifts his head just for a second, and the asshole fucking grins, lips and chin shiny with your slick, while his fingers rub aggressively over your overstimulated clit. Youâre not sure how youâre looking at him right now.
âYou can take it. You can take all of it. You wanted to come, No? Youâre gonna come again and again until I say youâre done.â His mouth latches to your clit again, even rougherâwhile his fingers go so deep it makes your vision go black at the edges.Â
The stretch, the heat, the filth pouring from his mouth, the way he keeps fucking his fingers into you, the way he just made you fucking come in under a minuteâyour head spins, and somewhere inside you, despite the fact that you can barely even think, you still manage to wonder, where the fuck did he learn to do this?
You canât even get words out anymoreâjust broken, desperate moans and halfway curses as he pumps his fingers in and out. You feel your body seize, your legs shaking so bad your calf cramps up, but you canât stop, canât breathe, and youâreâfuck, fuckâyouâre fucking coming againâÂ
âLook at me. Look at me when you come.â
You shake your head, eyes squeezed shut, half sobbing. âI canât, fuck, I canâtâSunghoon, I fucking hate youââ
âYeah? Good,â he huffs and shoves his fingers even deeper, curling them up so you scream. âSay it again.â
You gasp for breath, the pleasure burning through you so hard you feel like you might break apart right there. âI hate youââ it rips out of your throat, high and ragged, your whole body trembling as his fingers curl deep and hit that perfect spot so hard your back arches right off the bed, making you see white. You can barely hold on; youâre clenching around him so tight your muscles ache.
âAgain. Louder. Scream it for me.â
Your back arches off the bed, hands fisting aggressively in the sheets, and you scream it so loud youâre past the point of caring who hears, âI fucking hate you, SunghoonâfuuuuuckkkkâI HATE YOU.â The words stutter out, twisted in a sob as you come again, cunt spasming around his fingers.
You barely know where you are, your vision still flickering at the edges, and every inch of your skin burning under his touch. Your thighs are trembling, slick and sticky and bitten and bruised, and his hand is still between your legsâthumb rubbing lazy circles over your clit.Â
It makes you twitch, makes your hips jerk away, too muchâyouâre so fucking sensitive you feel like youâre about to die. And you love it.
Thenâ
Sunghoon leans in and grabs your jaw hard enoughâand you have to force yourself to look at himâeven while your gaze is all glassy and unfocused.
âSatisfied?â he purrs.
Asshole.
You try to smirk, try to sass him, but your voice is ruined, so raw and thin itâs barely there when you speak. âYou wish. Could barely even feel itââ
He cuts you off by shoving his slick fingers into your mouth, filling it until you have to choke around them. âTsk. You never were a good liar,â he hisses. âOpen wider,â he commands, and you immediately obey because you canât even think straight with him hovering over you like thisâyou slightly choke, but you suck on his fingers anyway and glare up at him while he watches, eyes dark as sin. You taste yourself and you moan around his fingers, and his mouth drops slightly open at the sight, and he pants and forces them deeper. âGood fucking girl.â
He finally lets go of your face and sits back on his heels.
Then he looks at you.
âShow me how you touch yourself,â he says. âNow.â
You blink, still dazed, a little defiantâbecause fuck him, youâre not some performing dollâand he notices the hesitation and grabs your wrist and presses your hand down right on your clit.
He raised a brow. âDonât make me wait. You were so eager before, bragging about how youâd finger yourself and make me listen. Do it now. I want to see.â
You want to laugh in his face.
Instead, your fingers ghost over your clit, and everything is so sensitive it almost hurts. You try to pull away to spite him, but he grabs your hand and makes you rub slow, torturous circles.
âGo on. Just like thatâIf you stop, Iâll leave,â he mocks, dragging his words out just to taunt you. âIâll go fuck my own fist in the shower, let you listen to me, and youâll have to touch yourself and think about how you canât take my cock anyway.â
âYouâre fucking sick,â you manageâvoice hoarse, but you donât stop. Youâre entirely past the point of feeling any sort of shame or whatever, so you grind down into your palm.
He shrugs. âYou want me to fuck you? Then you do what I say. Itâs not that hard.â
And thenâfinallyâhe reaches down, the leather of his belt hissing as he unbuckles it. He takes his pants off slowly, and you canât help but stare. The outline of his cock is straining so hard against the fabric of his boxers that it looks painful, the head leaking throughâyour mouth waters at the sight.
He shoves his boxers down just enough to free himself, and when he pulls it out, you genuinely forget how to breathe for a moment.Â
Godâyouâve felt him before, you knew he was big, but actually seeing it⊠Itâs ridiculous, really.
Itâs angry red at the tip, flushed all the way up, with big veins throbbing up the shaft, the head slick with precum to the point where itâs actually dripping and swollen; and it hurts your clit to look at. Your pussy clenches just at the sight, and you rub faster circles into your clit unashamedly as you watch the way he adjusts himself in his hand.
And shitâhis hand⊠his hands have always been bigâcartoonishly big, stupidly strong, the kind of hands that make you feel small just by being near them. Youâve seen his hands look ridiculously large while wrapped around a steering wheel, a beer bottle, or even your wrists. But now, for the first time, his hand actually looksâŠnormal while itâs wrapped around his cock. Almost small. That ridiculous length and girth⊠You almost canât believe it.
For a second, youâre genuinely worried it wonât even fit. Itâs so long, so fucking thick, you can barely wrap your head around it. You could barely take his fingers, how the fuckâthen, you see the half smirk on his face as heâs eyeing you through his half-lidded eyes.
Youâre not about to give him the satisfaction.Â
âIâve had bigger,â you sneer, though with the way youâre clenching around nothing and how desperately youâre touching your sensitive self⊠yeah. Obviously, youâre fucking lying.
He just laughs lowly and spreads his precum all over the head of his cock with his thumb.Â
It angers you that he doesnât even bother responding to that taunt. God. Your fingers keep moving, even as you glare at him, and youâre so fucking wet itâs⊠You donât know if youâve ever been this wet before.
âStop justâtouch yourself too, asshole.â you snap, voice hoarse as hell, âOr are you just gonna sit there and watch like a pervert?â
He smirks and shakes his head. âNo. Thatâs not how this works.â He strokes himself, but slow and lazyâjust enough to tease you, not to actually chase his own release.
You rub circles even faster, spreading yourself with your other hand. âIâm starting to believeâmmpphhâyouâre actually scared youâll finish before you even get inside.â
He huffs a laugh and clicks his tongue.
Then he finally lets his hand tighten around the base of his cock. âYou want this?â he strokes himself slowlyâmore properly nowâclearly showing off, and his precum is dripping onto his thigh and onto the sheets. His eyes are glued to your cunt, watching every shaky circle of your fingers. âIf you stop for a second, I put it away. You keep going, maybe Iâll fuck you. If youâre good. Otherwise Iâll just make you come on my tongue again and again.â
Your mind is finally starting to clear, just enough to feel the anger and want bubble back up under your skin. Youâre so sensitive your thighs are shaking, but the sight of his cock has your mouth watering⊠so without thinkingâfingers still rubbing messy, desperate circles on your own clitâyou push up off the bed on shaky elbows and practically throw yourself at him.Â
You straddle his lap, his cock standing thick and slick right between your thighsâyour lips catching his jawâand you grind down on his thigh because you just canât take another second without feeling him.
He grabs your hips and tries to shove you back. âI said, donât fucking stop, brat.â But you only smirk and meet him eye to eyeâthen you drag your hand up into his hair, fist a handful, and make him look at you.
âI heard you,â you pant, lips almost brushing his. âYou said if I stop touching myself, youâll put your dick away or whatever.â You squeeze your thighs around him, feeling the heat of his cock and the way it throbs against your inner leg. Then you donât look away from him as your other hand drifts further down between your legs, and you push a finger into your own pussy right there as he watches. His jaw clenches. âYou never said I couldnât move.â
Your lips part, and you moan low and shameless, hips rocking against your hand. âYou gonna punish me for that, too?â
He pumps his cock faster, precum smeared everywhere. âFuck, youâre asking for it,â he growls.
Adrenaline is the only thing keeping you upright at this pointâyouâre also so high on wanting him itâs like youâve left your own body. You pull your wet finger out of your cunt and bring it up to his mouth.
âSpit,â you orderâfilthy and sweet and bossy all at once.
He scoffs, looking at you like heâs about to bite your hand off. âThink you can tell me what to do?â
You let out a little whine and rock against his thigh. âMmhmm, just wanna fuck myself properly, isnât that what you want, Sunghoon? Mâbeing good.â
Youâre so wet, you donât even need his spit. But you need his spit. You also like it when heâs angry. So you add, âOr are you scared Iâll do it better?â
His gaze flickers for a second before he leans forward and spitsâhot, wet, filthyâright into your palm. âTsk. Show me how desperate you are for it. Go on.â
You hum, satisfied, and press your finger back into yourself, moaning as you rock onto it. You bite down on his shoulder and start fucking yourself on your own fingersâhard and loud, body arching, hips grinding shamelessly.
You watch the way heâs pumping himself, and you clench around your own finger at the sight. âWish this was your cock, donât you?â you breathe, then you let your head fall against his shoulder, lips brushing the curve of his neck as you moan, your own fingers moving faster. And then you drag your tongue up the side of his throat, licking a slow stripe from his collarbone all the way up to his jaw. You taste the saltiness of his sweat, hot and wet and so him it almost makes your head spin. He shudders under your mouth, his cock jerking in his hand.
To be honest, you did that out of pure self-fulfillment cause you were enjoying this a little too much, butâ
Sunghoonâs control actually slips, because he grips your hips and shoves you back down flat onto the bed, manhandling you so roughly you gasp.
âDonât fucking move,â he snarls, voice ragged. âDonât you dare touch yourself again.â
âOr what? You gonna keep standing there and jerk yourself off like a pussy?â you huff, frustrated, trying to reach for him, but he just pins your wrists over your head with one big hand and sits up, his cock hanging heavy and wet.Â
It looks like itâs going to fucking explode.
âDonât move.â he warns.
He moves over to the desk, muscles rippling, sweat slick on his skin, and grabs his wallet. He pulls out a condom and then turns back to face you, and then he tears the wrapper open carefully with his teeth. You watch the way he rolls it down, the veins on his massive cock so prominent itâs actually insane.Â
Your stomach twists. Youâre on the pillâyouâd never let him fuck you raw, not in a million yearsâbut thereâs this tiny, traitorous voice in your head, sick with want, whispering to fill yourself up with him, take every fucking drop he has â and you snap at yourself. Get a fucking grip. (though, at this point, what grip?)
Then heâs crawling back over you with his cock heavy in his hand and for a moment, he just looks at you. And you look at him.
And it hits you all at once. This is happening.Â
The only boy whoâs ever made you feel anything real at all, the one youâve liked, hated, and wanted in every possible way. The first boy you ever loved. The onlyâ
You donât let yourself finish the thought before youâre moving.
You grab him, wrap your arms around his neck, and drag him down until your mouths meet in a brutal, teeth-clashing kiss. Your thighs fall open, and you can feel his cock pressing up against your soaked cunt, briefly grinding up into your folds, and you gasp right into his mouth.
He moansâactually moans into your mouth. âYou want it so fucking bad, donât you?â he snarls against your lips. âFilthy little brat.â
You bite back, teeth dragging down his bottom lip, pulling again until he hisses. âYouâre the one moaning like a dog, Sunghoon. Maybe you should be begging me to let you fuck me.â
He leans in and drags his tongue up the side of your neck and stops at your ear, âWhy would I beg for something thatâs already mine?â he whispers.
Your breath stutters at the way he says it.
You dig your nails into his backâhard enough to make it stingâbut he just grins against your skin and bites down on your shoulder. Then his hand is everywhereâpalming your tit, squeezing, rolling your nipple between his fingers, then sliding down until heâs rubbing the head of his cock against your clit, smearing your wetness everywhere. âLook at you,â he grits out, eyes glued to how youâre spreading your legs for him. âSo fucking greedy. I can barely get my fingers in you, and you want me to stretch your pussy out with this?â he leans in, tongue dragging up the side of your neck, biting your jaw, âMaybe I should just jerk off on your tits and leave you crying for it. Maybe youâd finally learn how to ask nicely.â
Was he still on about that?Â
Before you can think of something to bite back with, he presses his cock harder against your slitâbut he doesnât push in. He just slides the head up and down, catching on your clit, making your back arch and your voice break into a filthy, desperate moan.
You buck up and try to force him in, but heâs relentlessâhe drags it out, dragging the tip up and down your slit again. âThatâs seven, you needy whore.â
âCome on, are you scared?â you tease, voice breaking on a moan. âWhat, you worried you really, truly wonât last long and live up to the talk?â
He huffs a laughâthen he shoves the tip in just a little more, making your whole body arch off the bed. âTsk. You think you can handle it?â he says, and youâre not entirely sure if you canâyouâre actually almost certain you canât, but you donât give him the satisfaction of saying it.Â
Instead, you bite his shoulder hard.
âShut the fuck up and fuck me already, Sunghoon.â
He growls, and presses his forehead against yours as he properly pushes inâand fuck.
The first inch feels like itâs actually fucking tearing you apart, a thick, burning stretch that makes your mouth fall open in a silent gasp because your scream dies in your throat. You grip his shoulders harder, nails digging into his skin, trying to breathe, trying not to let him see how much it hurts, how much youâre actually struggling to take him.
You try to squeeze your eyes shut against the sting, but he grabs your jaw. âLook at me,â he breathes. âKeep your fucking eyes on me. I want to see you take it.â
So you open your eyes, even though theyâre already welling. You moan the second you meet his gaze, breath tangled with his as he inches in deeper, filling you in ways youâve never felt, stretching you so wide you swear youâre going to split.
âFuck, youâre tightâshitââ Sunghoon hisses between his teeth, his grip so punishing on your waist you feel it sting. For just a second, his brows furrow when his eyes flick over your face as you wince, but youâre too focused on the feeling of being stretched out so roughly to say anythingâhis grip eases just a little, and his thumb rubs a rough circle over your hip. âRelax. Breathe. I know you can take it. You want to, donât you?â
You gasp and cling to his shoulders. See, thereâs sex, and then thereâs this. The pain was entirely too fucking much.Â
Itâs too much and still not entirely even close to being enough to satisfy you.Â
Your cunt flutters, trying to accommodate the thick head of his cock, and every inch he pushes in feels like your bodyâs actually being forced open and reshaped to fit him. âWaitâWAITâfuck, justâSâHooââ
He cuts you off with a roll of his hips and goes a bit deeper. âYou want to stop now? After all that talk?â He bites at your jaw again, lips hot against your skin. âNo. You can take it. I know you can. Be a good fucking slut and take my cock.â
Youâre barely holding on, and you can hardly breatheâbut it pisses you off how much it hurts and how slowly youâre taking him and how heâs actually dragging it out.
He needs to get to the fucking point.
So you snap, âSo fucking slowâWhat, you going soft now?â
He scoffs.
And before you can even take another breath, he slams all the way in, burying his cock to the hilt in one brutal thrust.Â
The stretch is just painful, so much you canât even thinkâyour scream rips right out of your chest, nothing but pain and shock and your nails clawing desperately and maddeningly at his back. Youâre so full itâs terrifying, so full it feels like heâs punched the air from your lungs.
He barely gives you a second to breathe.Â
Sunghoon draws back just enough for you to feel him again, then slams right back in, rough and brutal, and sets a punishing pace. Itâs like heâs trying to fuck you through the mattress, like heâs trying to fuck you until you canât walk or think or do anything except scream for him.Â
âWhat?â he whispers after a beat, the tip of his cock grinding deep and slow and filling you to the brim. âPussy too full to talk back now?â
âYouâre not even that big,â you lie through your teeth.
He laughs again, the sound shredded by a groan as he fucks harder into you. âGodâfuckâyou were clenching around me so fucking tight when I put the tip in. Like a virginââ his voice breaks on a moan, hips rolling harder, ââcouldnât stand not having my cock, could you? Had to start a fight just to get fucked, huh?â
You try to say something back â really, you do â but he thrusts again and it knocks the sound right out of your throat.
Youâve stopped trying to dignify anything in your mind at this point â you arch up and drag your nails down his back again violently âand he hisses â then your legs wrap tight around his waist, locking him in place as if you never want to stop him from fucking you like this. He says something against your mouth and his voice is a ruined raspâsomething you can barely make out over the filthy, wet sound of skin slapping against each other and your own desperate cries.
âFuckâFUCKKKK, Sunghoon, oh my GODââ Itâs half a sob, half a moan⊠you donât even know.
âThatâs it, say my name,â he growls into your ear, one hand pinning your thigh up so he can fuck you even deeper, âShitâso tightâcan barely fucking move.â
Heâs too fucking big. You can feel everythingâthe head of his cock dragging over every spot inside you, the stretch at your entrance, the way your pussy tries to clamp down and push him out, but he just holds you there and keeps fucking you harder.
Youâre shaking. The pain is blurring into pleasure until youâre not sure which is which. âHarder. Donât fucking stop, I can take itâneed youâ, fuck, justââ
The bed creaks violently under you two. âYeah? You want harder? Want me to fuck you so deep you feel me in your fucking throat?
You nod frantically. âSunghoonâoh, fuck, fuck, donât stopâpleaseââ Youâre so gone you donât care about begging anymore, you just need him to keep fucking you, need him to make you come, need him to never, ever stop. âFUCKââ
Then he slows, and his hand presses down onto your lower stomach. The pressure is so much it makes you gasp, but he presses down harder, eyes fixed where his cock is splitting you open, âFeel that? Iâm so deep you can feel me hereâfuckk. Youâll never take anyone else after this. Iâm gonna ruin you.â His free hand grabs your chin and forces your gaze down. âLook. Look at how fucking full you are.â
You blink and actually lookâand fuck, itâs⊠itâs insane. Youâve never been this full in your life, not even close.Â
âShut. upâGODââ you lose your grip on the sheets and reach for his face and drag his mouth down to yours. Then you kiss him like youâre trying to swallow every moan out of his mouth, and he meets you with the same messy and filthy desperation, tongues tangling, teeth knocking, both of you moaning so loud it vibrates right into your bones.Â
His hips slam out and then slam back in with one harsh thrust that knocks the wind out of you.Â
âFuck, you sound so good when youâre like this,â he groans into your mouth, âToo stupid to âfuckkâto run your mouth. Justâclenching around my cock like youâre trying to milk me.â
You just scream.
âListen to you,â he snarls. âAll that mouth earlier just to end up whimpering under me. You gonna cum again? Huh? Wanna soak my cock like a fuckinâ slut?â
Yeah. Youâre so close youâre almost delirious, hands clutching at his hair now, your legs trembling as you grind up to meet every thrust. âIâmâfuck you, Yes! YesâIâm gonna comeâdonât you fucking stopââ
He pounds into you, unrelenting, and then his thumb starts rubbing furious circles on your clitâand you know youâre fucked.Â
His cock is hitting so deep you see stars, and all you can do is scream his name as you break apart for him. Your orgasm rips through you so hard your vision whites out and your voice breaks on a ragged, guttural scream that barely even sounds like youâyour cunt clenching so hard around him you nearly push him outâso full, so fucking full.Â
But Sunghoon doesnât let up. If anything, he starts fucking you even harder somehow, his grip bruising your hips as he pounds into you, making the whole bed shake. You barely got a second to breatheâyour body is still trembling, and the aftershocks are almost violent, really.
âSunghoonâAre you insaneââ Your voice is just a gasp, but youâre not even sure if youâre begging him to stop or begging him for more.Â
He snarls, âNo. Youâll take it. Youâre gonna take every fucking thing I give you.â His thumb keeps circling your clit relentlessly, and you try to push his hand away but he just grabs your wrist and places it right above your head. âI know you can take it.â
Then he lets your wrist go, only to reach up and grab the top rail of that heavy, wooden headboardâhis knuckles going white, muscles flexing, his cock somehow driving even deeperâand he looks so focused. His brows knit together, and his mouth is parted with shaky groans and pants escaping it. God, he looks soâŠÂ
You feel another orgasm building up so quicklyâif you even came down from your last oneâand your vision blurs out, then Sunghoon growls into your ear, hand moving from your clit to grab under your thigh, shoving your leg up higher so he can fuck you even deeper. âCome again. Nowâfucking come on my cock, let me feelâshit.â
Stars explode behind your eyes as another orgasm rips through you like an out-of-body experience.Â
You can barely breathe, let alone form words, but you manage to spit out, âFuckingâgod, fuck you, Sunghoonâshitâdonât stopâfuckingâassholeââ but they just dissolve into raw moans, and your body spasms so violently it feels like you might actually break.
âThatâs it, take itâgood fucking girl. Thatâs my good girl.â
âNot yourânot your fucking girlââ you pant, and rake your nails down his back again and again for the hundredth time, and he groansâactually, he moansâand his hips stutter for a second, so out of control you almost want to laugh.
âFuck, keep doing that,â he moans, and you do it again, âGod, youâre so fucking tightâShiiiiit.âÂ
The whole bedframe rocks, the headboard groaning under his gripâuntil suddenlyâCRAAAACKKK.
The wood gives awayâhe rips the whole headboard right off the frame. But he doesnât stop⊠the bastard barely even glances at the wreck, just tightens his hold on your hips and keeps fucking you like nothing happened.
But the splintered wood is nothing compared to the way your bodyâs splitting open on him.Â
Thenâhe grabs you beneath your thighs and yanks you up as he gets up, still buried deep inside you. He palms your ass then brings his hand down in a hard slap that makes you whineâmoanâgaspâscream, you donât even know anymoreâyouâre just nearly sobbing, at the sharp sting and the overstimulationâand then he moves.
Youâre so fucked out you hardly notice youâve left the bed until your back slams into something cold and hardâthe desk.Â
The bottle of champagne, the glasses, whatever is on thereâhe swipes them all to the floor with a harsh sweep of his arm, and it barely registers over the sound of your moans.Â
And this fucking angleâŠ
His arms are under your knees, spreading you wide right there on the desk, your body shaking with the aftershocks.Â
The thick drag of his cock as he stands and sinks in deeperâhis mouth parting on filthy moansâgoing deeper than you ever thought possible, filling you in a way he never could on the bed.Â
He thrusts up into you, the force of it making your head fall backâthen he leans down and his mouth latches onto your tits, biting and sucking so hard your whole body arches up again when his teeth graze your sensitive nippleâ and your hands shoot out to tangle in his hair.
âCanâtâcanâtâoh my godââ you sob, but your hips are meeting his every fucking thrust, because youâre greedy and ruined. âToo muchââ
âNo such thing.â He finally lifts his head and grabs your jaw and forces you to look at him. âKeep those eyes on me. Wanna see you when I comeââ
Youâre barely there, fucked out and shaking, and youâre not sure if your orgasm ever even stopped. âSUNGHOONââÂ
âFuck, thatâs right,â he snarls, rutting harder. âSay my nameâlook at me and fucking say itââ
You purse your lips together violently and try to hold back, but a moan slips out. âFuck youââÂ
He grinsâthen pulls all the way out and slams back into you, making the desk rattle as he tightens his grip on your jaw. âSay itânow.â
You cry out, the sound torn from your throat before you can even stop it, âSunghoonâfuckâSunghoonââ
He growls. âThatâs itâgood fucking girlâfuckfuckshitââ
And then you feel him come, cock pulsing so deep inside as he spills his hot load right into the condom, his whole body shuddering as he keeps thrusting into you, drawing every last bit out.
You press your forehead against hisâyouâre both shaking, flushed, panting, and soaked, and you barely feel anything other than how his cock still feels inside you, and youâre clenching so hard, shaking through another aftershock, that you donât even realize whatâs happening until he pulls back a bit.
He hisses, âFuckâwait. The condomâshit, hold still.â
Your heart skips, and it jolts you out of your haze. âWhat? What do you meanââÂ
You try to sit up, but he grabs your hips and pushes you back down, then he pulls out a little, just enough for both of you to look down.Â
And⊠The condomâwell, thereâs no easy way to put this.Â
Itâs not there.
Thereâs a sudden rush of fear rushing through your body at the thought of it being stuck inside you. âGet it outâfuck, get it out, Park Sunghoonââ
He leans over you, still panting. âShut up. Relax.â Then he slides out slowly, and you feel the condom still inside you, the ring barely at your entrance. âIâll get it.â
Did he just⊠say⊠Relax? Relax?Â
You swat at his chest. âDonât tell me to relax, that shit could get stuck, andââ
He interrupts. âYou on the pill?â
You glare up at him breathlessly. âAre you stupid? Yes, Iâm on the pillâBut itâsââ you go to reach for it, but he catches your wrist and pins it to your side.
âI said Iâll do it,â he growls, and then he slides his fingers between your thighs. âSpread.â
You hesitate, and he arches a brow. âI said spread your legs.â
So you do. You spread wider for him, and then he reaches down, and you feel his finger curl inside you, hooking the rim of the condom.Â
Except he doesnât pull it outâhe pushes it in deeper with his finger.Â
You whine, back arching off the desk as your head tips back at how he curls his finger inside you, âAssholeâwhat are youââ
Sunghoon groans. âLook at me. Donât even think about looking away,â he says, and you find yourself doing it, meeting his gaze through half-lidded, fucked-out eyes.
âYour pussy is so fucking tight. Shit,â his words come out in little pants and moans as he keeps fingering you, working you open even more. âSqueezed the condom right off my cockâpractically milked it offâso fucking greedy, arenât you?â
Your body is so sensitive, youâre twitching and gasping at every single push of his finger. âYouâre sick,â you manage, but your voice is barely a breath.
âYeah?â He curls his fingers up just right. âYouâre even sicker. Look at you, letting me finger you with my cum inside you.â
Then the fucking asshole moves his thumb down and starts pressing small, relentless circles against your insanely sensitive clit, making your hips buck.Â
âFuckâSunghoon, I canâtâyou dick, Slow downââ
But you still arch into his touch, and you pull him even closerâdigging your nails into his biceps and feeling him up.
He smirks when he feels your nails drag down his arm, and he flexes his bicep under your touch like heâs showing off on purpose. âLook at you, canât keep your hands off me even when youâre falling apart. What, you gotta thing for âem? You gonna start begging to be choked next?â
You glare up at him, breathless and pissed and still rolling your hips helplessly against his hand. âShut the fuck upâcocky bitchââ you spat, but⊠God. The thought of his biceps around your throat⊠You clench around his finger at the thought.
He leans in, mouth right by your ear, âThatâs it, squeeze my fingers, slut. You wanna come like this? Just from this?â
You donât even bother trying to cuss him out, not when you can feel how close you are again â the filled condom inside you only adding onto the sensation. You donât care, you donât fucking care, you just need to come again, need him to ruin you all over, needâ
He doesnât take his eyes off you for a moment. âShitâHow are youâYouâre so fucking cock-drunk you canât even talk, huh?â he taunts. âFucking perfect. Thatâs how I want you.â
He pushes another thick finger in and the sensation burns all the more.Â
âSunghoonâfuck, thatâsâshitââ your voice breaks, and he clamps his big palm around your throat.Â
âYouâre really gonna come all over my fucking hand again, arenât you?â he rasps, and you nod, just desperate, the pressure so much you can barely stand it. âWith my cum inside you? Filthy girl.â
Then he leans in and trails his mouth down your neck â sucking harsh marks into your collarbone and tits, all the way down.Â
Then he drops onto his knees in front of you, and itâs the most cruel sight youâve ever seen, and you canât look away.
He spreads you open wider, and then his mouth is on your clit, sucking it between his lips, while his fingers continue pumping in and out of you. You buck up so hard you nearly throw yourself off the desk, and he just growls, holding you still, staring up at you the entire time.
âCome,â he snarls. âIâve been fucking nice to you all dayâlet you run that bratty mouth, let you come as many times as you wantedâso come on, show me how grateful you are. Make a mess all over my mouth. Know you got one more in you.âÂ
Youâre losing track of your own words, your hands scrambling uselessly on the desk for something to grab that isnât his hair, which youâre already clinging to for dear life. âIâm gonna die. Iâm literally going to dieâyou idiotâoh my god, Sunghoon, donât stopâtoo muchââ and your legs are actually shaking, your hands trying to push him away even as youâre grinding your hips up into his mouth, because your body doesnât know what the fuck it wants.
Your orgasm hits you so violently itâs almost unfair to the previous ones youâve had.Â
Heâs still licking you, still sucking your clit, still drawing out every last twitch of pleasureâhonestly, what more does he want from you? âSunghoonâstopâstop it, oh my god, you freak!â
You grab a fistful of his hair and tug on it harshly, and he actually finally pulls away, mouth wet and shiny. âSince you were so good for meâŠâ he says, licking his lips.
Then he dips his head back down and sinks his teeth into the rim of the condom hanging barely inside youâand you watch, half in disbelief, as he pulls it out with his mouth, and he presses his tongue right against your swollen, fucked-out cuntâand you immediately gasp, legs jerking, and he grins up at you with the condom clenched between his teethâso filthy, so fucking cocky, your body betrays you and you clench around nothing. GodâHonestly, woman, what more do you want?
He spits the condom out onto the floor, wipes his mouth with the back of his wrist, and smirks at you. âDidnât think you actually had it in you to be such a good little slut.âÂ
You glare down at him, and even though youâre breathless as hell, you manage a shrug. âDidnât think you actually had it in you to fuck me good⊠enough.âÂ
He tongues his cheek â then suddenly brings his palm down in a loud slap right over your pussy, making you jolt and hiss, the sting shooting straight up your spine. âFUCKâAre you stupid in the head?â you bite.
Then your breath stutters as you watch how he leans in and presses a slow kiss right against your swollen, ruined cunt. He flicks his tongue out, tasting you one last timeâhumming low in his throat before he gets up again.Â
AndâSunghoon stands over you, fingers glistening, then he brings his fingers up, holding them just in front of your lips. âOpen,â he commands.
You glare at him, lips parted from how youâre still panting, but your mouth still kind of twists into somewhat of a smirk because you have an idea.Â
âNo.â
His brow lifts. âNo?â He looks genuinely thrown, just for a second, but his cock twitches, hard and heavy between youâChrist.
You shrug even as your heartâs pounding. âNo. You wanna see me suck your fingers?â you weakly jerk your chin at the floor, âPick up the the condom.â
For a second, he just looks at you like youâre insane. But you watch his throat bob, and you watch the way his cock jerks at the idea. God, heâs so fucking easy, itâs honestly embarrassing for both of you.
âGo on,â you coo, âBe a good boy. Collect your mess and bring it here. Iâll suck you clean. Isnât that what you want?â
His jaw clenches. âNasty fucking girl,â he mutters, thenâwhile still holding your gazeâhe briefly bends down to grab the spent condom from where he spat it on the floor, tying it off and squeezing until the milky fluid gathers in the tip.Â
His jaw is so insanely clenched you think he might shatter a tooth, but he does it anyway, and you watch eagerly â biting back a mean little smile, maybe even a whimper â as he still holds your gaze and works his thumb along the slippery latex, gathering his own cum on his thick fingers and thereâs so much of it, more than there should be, you think, but it just makes you giddier.
Then he towers over you again, fingers gleaming with his own mess, and you donât even wait for him to speak this time. You just part your lips and pull his hand to your mouth, tongue flicking out to taste, and the look on his face is pure disbelief and dark, like he canât believe youâre actually doing it â or maybe even how easily heâd just listened to you. You suck, slowly at first, and you let your tongue swirl around his fingers â tasting him and you and the mess youâve both made, and you hear the way his breath catches, and you see the way his big cock twitches against his stomach when you hollow your cheeks, moan around his fingers and swallow him down.
He looks nearly pained.
His free hand goes to your jaw, and he digs his thumb into your cheek to keep your mouth wide open for him. âJesus fuck, youâre insane,â he practically growls. You donât break eye contact, just hum around his fingersâletting his cum slide down your throat, eyes fluttering just a little because itâs so much, salty and hot and his, showing him your tongue as you let him go with a wet pop.
You try to reach down to wrap your hand around his dickâGod, heâs so hard, and youâre kind of baffled at how you still havenât felt him properlyâbut he immediately clicks his tongue, and his hand darts out to swat your wrist away. âNo,â he snaps. âDid I say you could touch? Fuck, youâre never satisfied, are you?â
You actually whine. Your hips lift off the deft and your cunt clenches uselessly around nothing â like it wasnât just stretched to its limits â clit throbbing, and you glare up at him, spit and cum smeared all over your lips and so, so empty.
You pout. âYouâre no fun.â
âFuck. Filthy, dirty girl,â he rasps, but it comes out as a whine. âYou really want it all, huh?â
You barely register the broken glass on the floor or the champagne bottle rolling under the desk.Â
No, the only thing you register is the throbbing ache between your legs, the taste of his mouth still lingering on your skin, and especially how Sunghoon is so hard.Â
Like extremely fucking hard. His cock is heavy and hanging like he didnât just fuck you stupid. And then he glances up at you, and the look on his face is so fucking smug you want to claw his face off.
Then you watch as he looks around the room, and you do the same.
The sheets are in absolute ruins, the headboard is snapped in half, there are broken shards of glass on the floor, water is pooling under the desk, and petals are⊠clinging to your skin?
You almost throw up at the thought of the staff or literally anyone seeing this mess⊠you donât think you can live down the humiliation of asking for a new room because you and your⊠your?Â
You shake your head.Â
Before your mind can catch up â before you can think about what the fuck you just did, before the idea of it all can hit you, before you can even blink â youâre off the desk and lunging for him, shaking legs be damned.
You grab him by the jaw and crush your mouth to his, not caring if youâre too desperate or too fucking obvious. He groans into your mouth, and he tastes like you, like sweat, like salt, and he kisses you back just as rough. âYouâreâfuckââ he hisses as you bite his lip and drag it out, âShitâfucking needy whoreââ
His hands fumble on the floor for his wallet, never breaking the kiss, and when he finds it, he pulls out another condomâdoesnât even look at you, just rips it open and rolls it down, his cock so hard itâs almost angry, the tip swollen and flushed.
You lean against his chest to stay upright, and then you glare at him and scoff. âHow many condoms do you even have in that thing?â
He doesnât answer. Just meets your eyes and jerks his chin at the window. âBend over,â he growls.
You blink, taken aback, and your whole body buzzes with something like adrenaline and giddy panic. âHuh?â
He grabs your hips and spins you around, pushing you toward the window, his palm flat and rough on your lower back. âI said bend over. Now.â
You shiver, but God, you fucking love it. You brace your hands on the cold glass and arch your backâwiggling your ass out towards him. You can see both your reflections in the windowâhim behind you, hair a mess, scratched and marked and sweaty, and it only turns you on even more.
He presses up behind you, crowding you into the glass, and you barely have time to think before the thick head of his cock is nudging your entrance, and he leans down, voice right at your ear. âStill want it?â he grits through his teeth with a tone, âTell me how much you want it, sweetheart. Or Iâll stop right now.â
You roll your eyes, grinding your ass back against him, and spit, âJust shut the fuck up and put it in.â
His hand comes down on your ass, hard, and you gasp, the sting blooming through your skin. âWrong answer,â he growls. âThink you can touch me and kiss me like that and get away with it? Tsk. I should just walk away right now.âÂ
You try to grind your ass back into him again, desperate for any friction even after everything, but Sunghoon just pushes you harder into the window, pressing your chest and cheek to the cold glass.Â
He brings his hand down on your ass againâSMACKâharder this time, and you hiss a curse under your breath. âYou really donât fucking listen, do you?â he says. âThat was seven. Keep wiggling like that, and Iâm just going to have to spank you until you beg me to stop. That what you want?â
Your lip almost curls at the thought. Why is he threatening you with a good time? âOh no⊠Iâm falling asleep,â you pretend to yawn instead, though it kind of comes out as a whimper, âIâm soooo bored.â
He laughsâand you can hear how wrecked he is, how much itâs taking for him not to just slam into you right then and there. âYouâre lucky I like it when youâre mouthy,â he says, gripping your hips even tighter, keeping you right where he wants you. He leans inâGodâbiting at your shoulder, his cock pressed between your thighs, but not giving you anything. âSay please,â he whispers, his voice nothing but hot filth right at your ear.
You scoff, and your voice is mocking, but it comes out as a whine when he rubs his tip against your clit. âPlease, Sunghoon, fuck me. Is that what you want to hear?â
His grip tightens on your hip as he lines himself up better and drags the thick head of his cock through your slick folds, teasing you with it. âWeâre getting there. Thatâs more like it,â he murmurs, and thenâfinallyâhe pushes the tip in.
Sunghoon groans from behindâand you moan at the sound and also at the feeling of being stretched to oblivion againâyour breath fogs up the window as he starts to push in deeper, filling you up so slowly itâs torture.Â
âFuck, youâre still so tight. Howââ he groans, and his hand slides up to grab a fistful of your hair, forcing you to arch your back even more for him. âLook at yourself,â he says, eyes flicking to your reflection in the window. âLook how desperate you are. City out there has no fucking clue what a needy slut you are for my cock, do they?â
âShut up, youâre just as needyâJESUSââ
He slams in the rest of the way, bottoming out with one brutal thrust, and you screamâso fucking loudâyour body clenching around him so hard you both have to stop and breathe for a second. But itâs not long before heâs fucking you hard, his hips snapping into your ass, making the whole window rattle in its frame.
You barely recognize your own voice when you moan out, âHarderâharder, fuckâshow me you can actually fuck me properly.â
He laughs and yanks your hair so your back is flush to his chest as he fucks you harder, and then his other hand slides up and grabs your tits, kneading them roughly, pinching your nipples until you arch and whimper and burn under his touch, nipples already too sensitive and tender from before.
He bites down on your shoulder and then licks the mark. âBet the whole fucking city would pay to see you like this, Mrs. Park,â he taunts with a shaky moan, âSo desperate and too drunk on cock toâfuckkâto speak.â
Bastard.
You snarl, head lolling back against his shoulder as he rolls your nipple between his fingers. âDonât call me that. Iâll jump out t..this window.â
He just ruts into you deeper and harsher, his fangs scraping up your neck. âYeah? You donât want everyone knowing youâre mine now? Gonna have to get used to it, sweetheart.â his mouth finds the soft skin beneath your jaw and he sucks hard and wet â leaving another angry, blooming mark. âYou sound so pretty when you whine. Say it again. Tell me not to call you that while I stretch you out.â
Well. You try. Or maybe you donât, youâre not entirely sure with the way heâs fucking youâItâs gotten to that point again where your only answer is a breathless moan as his thumb circles your nipple and his cock hits so deep you see white.Â
You shake your head frantically, but you canât stop the moans that spill out of you. Not when the bastard is so deep you can feel him in your guts. Not when you can feel yourself close again alreadyâGod, how is he fucking doing this?
His hand slides back down, fingers rubbing your clit rough and fast. âOh, and if you come without me telling you to, Iâll fuck you against every window in this fucking hotel. You got that, Mrs. Park?â
Well⊠too bad, you think. Or maybe too good.
Your thighs start to shake, your stomach tightens, all your muscles lock up around his cock and his hand, and you knowâfuckâyou know youâre going to come if he keeps it up for another second. You open your mouth and moan, âSunghoon, Iâmââ
But suddenly, he fucking stops. Everything.Â
His hips go still, cock buried as deep as he can get, and his hand leaves your clitâand the only sound in the room is both of you panting. You whineâhips pushing back, trying to get anythingâbut he tightens his grip, holding you in place so you canât even rub yourself against him.
He scoffs, and it comes out as a growl. âWhat did I say? Did I say you could come?â He draws his hips back, just enough to tease, and you feel furious and so fucking close you could sob. Maybe you were sobbing.
You whine. âAre you fucking serious? Donât play. Sunghoon, I needââ
He slaps your ass. âNo. Not until you ask me like you mean it,â he growls, âBeg.â
Your pride flares up, but your body is shaking, aching for him, for anything. You choke out, âIâm not begging. Just fuck me. Finish what yâŠyou started, asshole.â
Another slap. âNot begging? Tsk. Guess you donât want it, then.â then he pulls out halfway, making you feel every single inch leave your bodyâleaving you so empty you gasp and clench down on nothing.Â
God, the things you do for pleasure. Youâd rather die than begâseriously, you would rather throw yourself out this fucking windowâbut some sick, twisted part of you also realizes youâve never had dick this big in your entire life, and then suddenly your body is betraying youâwilling to say anything just to feel full again. You're so, so close youâd say almost anything. And so you do.
âJustâfuck, just give it to me, pleaseââ It slips out, more of a sob than a plea.
He clicks his tongue again. âHmmm⊠I donât know⊠wasnât very convincing.â He drags the head of his cock over your clit, rubbing circles, making you jerk and moan. âYou gonna do better, or do I have to teach you how to beg?â
Thank God youâre too fucked-out to think better of this right now. âPlease, Sunghoon. Pleaseâfuck me. Need you to make me come, pleaseââÂ
He doesnât even let you finish. He slams back into you so hard you nearly hit your head on the glass, but his hand catches you by the throat and he yanks you back into him. His mouth finds yours, practically swallowing your scream, and he kisses you and moans right into your mouth. âThatâs it. Good fucking girlâfinally learned how to ask for it,â and then he pulls away just enough to watch your face.
âCome for me,â he hisses. âFucking come all over my cock.â
Youâre gone againâcompletely, totally gone. All you can do is sob his name (unfortunately), claw your nails at his hand on your throat, and lose every shred of control and strength as your orgasm crashes through you.Â
Then he grabs your hips and spins you aroundâand he barely gives you a second before heâs in you and fucking you stupid again, chasing his own release while youâre still shaking.
Sunghoon is saying something, growling and all, but your vision actually blurs and your legs buckle and nearly give out â but he holds you up â you swear you blackout for a second â but he still doesnât stop, not for a second, driving you through it, over and over. Youâre still spasming around him, and you feel him chase his own end, hips snapping harder, faster, sloppier, and messier nowâuntil he finally buries himself to the hilt and you feel him throb inside you and fill the condom.
For a second, itâs just the sound of both of you breathing again, and nothing else.
Your vision is⊠well, not quite good. Donât have rough sex with contacts on, maybe? Your brain is a fried livewireâand then you look at Sunghoon.
God. His forehead is slick with sweat, his hair is a complete disaster, and for some reason, heâs never ever looked better. It actually makes you angry somehow. He leans his head back with his chest heaving, mouth dropped open because of how hard heâs pantingâand he is still inside you. He doesnât even bother to move.
You just⊠look at him.Â
You bring your hand up to his chest and drag your nails downâlike youâre marking him up for fun, or just to make sure heâs thereânot even thinking about it. He hisses, but it comes out all fucked up and like a whine.
Then he glances down between the two of you.
And he gives you a lazy, evil thrust, rolling his hips ever so slowly (Somehow, impossibly, heâs still half-hard inside you, which should be physically impossible, but apparently, not for him)âmaking your mouth let out a noise you hope to God you never hear come out of you again. And you watch with your mouth dropped open as he spits between your bodies and then drags his thumb through it, rubbing it right into your clitâyou twitch violently, but you both just moan as he slowly starts thrusting again.
You want to tell him to stop. You really do. You want to say, âThatâs enough, I canât, I canât,â because youâre âsoreâ all over and everything hurts, but the truth is you donât want him to stop, not at all, not everâand itâs always been like this for youâwith your stupid, embarrassing, insatiable sex drive, always the one with the higher sex drive, always left off after one, maybe two average rounds at best, forced to fake it, pretending youâre satisfied, laughing it off and saying, âNo, Iâm fine, Iâm good, Iâm tired,â when really you were just wired and frustrated and thinking about getting yourself off in the bathroom ten minutes later.
And now itâs himâof all fucking people, itâs himâItâs infuriating, actually. Completely humiliating. Why does he get to be the best youâve ever had? No. You refuse to admit that. Even in your own head. Youâre not giving him the satisfaction.Â
âInsatiable,â he mutters, mostly to himselfâand itâs mean, but his hands are soft when he slides them down your waist. âYou just donât know when to quit, do you? Greedy fucking thing,â he drags his thumb back to your clit, rubbing slow circles, watching the way you arch for it, watching your mouth drop open. âLook at youâstill want more? You want me to keep going, pretty girl? I can do this all night.â
You grit your teeth. You do. You really fucking do. But you still moan all the same.
And then, because the world is sick and youâre in hell, the doorbell goes off.
RIIIIIIIINGGGGGG.
For a second, neither of you moves. You shut your eyes tightly and actually start praying.
Then another second.Â
Thenâknock knock knockâfollowed by a voice, high and nervous and guttingly familiar, through the heavy hotel door.
âUm⊠hello? Y/N? Sunghoon?â Itâs Ningning. Why? God? Why? Must you make this poor girl suffer? âYou guys in there? They need you for photosâlike, now. Like, actually now. The stylists areâumâfreaking out. Are you decent?â
No, Ningning. Oh, dear sweet girl. Youâre not decent. Oh⊠youâve never been less decent in your life.
Then you stare at Sunghoonâand he just stares at you, breathing hard, like youâre both waiting for the other person to say something, but nothing comes out.
âDonât answer,â he mutters. âLet them wait.â
Another knock. More urgent. âHello? Please? Youâre not answering your phonesâthe staff are panicking, the event is in two hoursâplease donât make me open this door. Are you in there?â
Sunghoon thrusts once, and you bite down on his shoulder not to moan.
âStop it,â you hiss and try to glare at him, but your face is all wrecked, and his mouth just quirks up in this infuriating, smug, absolutely smiteable smile.
Sunghoon raises his brows at youâhe has the most annoying glint in his eye, and you could kill him, honestly; you could murder him right here and now and feel absolutely nothing except justified.
You groan, flop your head against his shoulder, and try to shove him away (he does not budge, obviously, because heâs a fucking mountain), and then you slap your palm weakly against his chest, nails dragging down the sweat-slick muscle just to make him flinch. He does not. Instead, the sick freakâs cock twitches inside you, and you both feel it, and then he rolls his hipsâand you both whine, and itâs almost funny, really.
Outside, Ningningâs voice climbs another octave, and she sounds so sweet and oh so oblivious to whatâs going on, it makes your insides twist. âY/N? Sunghoon? Pleaseâif you guys donât come out in the next two minutes Iâmâumâsupposed to use the master key andâoh my god, please donât make me do that.â
Your eyes widen.
The fucking room⊠if anyone sees thisâŠ
You pinch his bicep and manage to gasp out, âYou better pray she doesnât walk in, Park Sunghoon, or I swear to God Iâll kill you, and then myself, and then you again somehow for good measure.â
âSheâll go away,â he shrugs, then he fucking thrusts again. âOr maybe not.â
âYouâre actually insane. Sheâs right there. Iâmâoh my godâget out, get outââ but your voice is all basically half a whine and not convincing at all.
Sunghoon leans in and bites your jaw, right under your ear, and you hiss and swat at his chest again, but he grins against your skin. âLet her wait. You think I give a fuck about some stupid event? They could set this whole fucking hotel on fire and Iâd still keep you here. Iâll fuck you all year if I have to.â
And for some fucked-up reason, you almost whimper at that, which is the final, humiliating straw, you think.
âY/N? SUNGHOON?â Ningning just sounds like sheâs about to lose it. âPlease, are youâare you okay? Please just answer meâsay somethingâIâm coming inââ
Oh hell no.
You quickly manage to choke out, âWeâre fine! Weâreâjustââ and you can hear your own voice, breathless, weird, totally suspicious. And whatâs worse is you donât even finish your sentence.
You hear Ningning sigh and say something in relief outside, but Sunghoon⊠actually laughs. And you hate him so much you might actually kill him.Â
âYou think this is funny?â you hiss, jabbing a finger at his chest, âGet out of meââ
âYouâre pathetic. Itâs a little funny,â he shakes his head â the bastard â still buried inside you, still so fucking hard itâs actually criminal. âCome on, say please.â
Not this shit again.Â
You stare at him, and consider actual, legitimate murder. âI will bite your fucking nose off, Sunghoon, Iâm not jokingââ you muffle your voice before you can moan, because he rocks into you again, so slow, so goddamn deep, and you can feel your brain short-circuiting with every inch.
âYouâre done! Youâre done! MOVEâoh my god, if she comes in here and seesââ you start to laugh, but it sounds a little too close to a sob.
He finally, finally pulls outâslow, way too slow, and you almost sag to the floor with relief and frustration and God knows what else. Then you carefully step around the glass on the floor and try to stumble for your robe (where even is that robe? Did you ever even put it on?) but Sunghoon yanks you back inâthen he grabs your jaw and kisses you filthyânothing gentle, nothing sweet, just tongue and the taste of both your ruined pride. He groans into your mouth, palm sliding between your legs one last timeâjust to feel how wet, how fucked-out heâs left you.Â
âThisââ he mutters against your lips between kisses, âdidnâtââ kiss ââmean anything.â kiss âYou get that?â
You huff a laugh against his mouth and grip his cheeks. âI just wanted a good fuck,â you shrugâand then you bite his lower lip hard enough to make him grunt (one last time.) âAnd you barely managed that.â You lie.
His hand comes down across your ass in one last, stinging SMACKâand you hissâbut you shove him away and grab whatever clothes are closest (you honestly hope itâs not his shirt, but you literally canât tell anymore) and throw yourself into the bathroom without another thought.
You slam the door behind you and lean against it for a beatâheart pounding, body wrecked, legs shaking and barely holding you upâand try to remember how to breathe. Or walk. Or exist. Or, god forbid, face a camera after this. Uh⊠Maybe you could fake your death?
Outside, you hear Sunghoonâs voiceâcalm, almost infuriatingly bored, as if he wasnât just trying to fuck you through the glass two seconds ago, âWeâre coming, Ningning. Chill.â he pauses. Then he adds, âAnd let the front desk know this room is⊠just tell them we need a new suite.â
Then you finally catch sight of yourself in the bathroom mirrorâand for the first time in a long, long time, you recognize the girl staring back at you.
đ âą legend says they wouldâve fucked forever if they hadnât been interrupted đ„±đ„± this might actually be the most Insane chapter (TUMBLR YOU WILL NOT SILENCE ME) iâve ever released and itâs not just because thereâs 17k words of absolute filth (address me đ đ đ ) but because this is genuinely the chapter where theyâve both been themselves the most mamasâŠ. and AGAIN, I KNOW i say this at the end of every chapter BUT!!!! i mean it a thousand times over this time. i really mean it. i blacked out writing this. and WHEW i went all out with the smut LOL. Theyâre too freaked out donât look at me like thatâŠ. thank you so much for reading AAAAA i would genuinely pay to hear every single one of your thoughts and all your favorite parts and opinions . i love you. i love you. i love you. âĄ:(ïŒïŸïŸ'ÏïŸ'): đ·
You donât expect Intak to be the one youâd be sharing your assigned bed with. But there he is scrolling through his phone, splayed out on the bed with his arm tucked behind his head and shirt riding above his jeans exposing a sliver of tanned skin.
You stop short at the door, a set of borrowed pajamas clutched in your hands. âOh.â
Intak blinks up from his phone and stares at you for a short moment. âOh.â He sits up quickly, the motion ruffling up his dark, floppy hair. âWas this supposed to be your room?â
âNo,â you say, then quickly shake your head. âNo, I mean yes. Well, all the rooms are full so they told me Iâd have to share but I didnât know who was going to be here.â
âAh!â Intak quickly scampers to the side of the bed to make room for you. âFine with me, come here.â
This wouldnât be the first time youâve fallen asleep with him. Granted, usually it would be curled up on the couch whether it be because you were too tired to drag yourselves home after a late party or falling asleep from watching a movie. But youâre grateful itâs him youâre sharing with. Heâs been your friend for years now so sharing a bed with him wouldnât be as awkward as it would be with anyone else at this party.
âItâs kind of a small bed,â he says, looking at the empty space he left for you, which really wasnât much. The bedâs smaller than a double.Â
You just shrug, making your way into the room after locking the door shut behind you. âI donât mind, really.â You say, dropping the tank top and shorts on the bed. âDo you?â
He quickly shakes his head with a dorky little smile. âNah. Can we cuddle?â
The direct question gets a snort out of you. âWow, youâre so single youâre fishing for cuddles from me?â
His lips turn down into an adorable little pout. âLow blow. Itâs not like youâre any better than me.â
You scrunch your nose in distaste. âWell you didnât have to bring it up, asshole.â
âYou did it first!â
You groan. âLogic. Whatever,â you huff before reaching for the hem of the shirt youâre wearing.
You slip it off of your body and pick up the tank top you left on the bed. You see Intak quickly turn his head from the corner of your eye but you canât really find it in yourself to care; heâs respectful enough that you know he wonât leer like a creep.
Though you can feel the weight of his attention on you as you change into the shorts. The clothes are a little small on you, exposing more of you than youâre used to, but theyâll do for the night.
When you look back at Intak, heâs got his head leaned back against the headboard with his eyes lasered on the ceiling. You also see the brushes of red on his cheeks and neck.
You laugh under your breath as you climb onto the bed, mirroring his position. The bed doesnât allow any space between you; your shoulder presses right against his where you settle down in your spot.
âDonât tell me that got you all bothered.â You canât help but tease him; youâre always looking to get a reaction out of him. He makes it too easy sometimes.
He turns to you with a glare that has all the intimidation factor of a baby duck. âHey, itâs been a long time, alright?â He states defensively. âAnd you know what you look like.â
Your lips pull into a wide grin at that and you see it clearly on his face when he immediately realizes his mistake. âOh?â You ask, leaning into him. âWhat do I look like?â
He groans dramatically. âNo, donât do this again!â He cries, quickly shuffling down the bed and burying himself under the blanket.
You cackle, your hand finding his head over the blanket and patting it affectionately. âYouâre just too easy, Taki.â
Itâs a little cruel to consistently bring up that minuscule crush he had on you in freshman year back when you were dating that good-for-nothing brick-chewer (Intakâs words). But that was years ago and heâs far gotten over it and you know that by now. You just canât help but to bring it up and hold it over his head, though. His reactions are always too cute.
When Intak still doesnât come back out, you grab his head over the blanket with your hand and shake it. âIâm just messing with you. Iâm aware of what I look like, I donât blame you.â
He peeks out from under the blanket, letting just his glaring eyes be visible to you. âDonât get a big head about it.â
âNah.â
He rolls his eyes while you shuffle down to join him under the blankets.
But your mind has latched onto that tidbit of information and you canât help but let your curiosity take reign. âSo how long has it actually been?â
He blinks and pulls the blanket down to his shoulders. âWhat?â
âSex.â
His brows raise at the blunt ask, the light blush returning to his cheeks. He worries his lip between his teeth as he looks up at the ceiling in thought. ââŠSeven months?â
You let out a low whistle. âWorse than me then.â He raises his brow at you questioningly and you answer his silent question with a, âSix.â
His nose scrunches. âYikes.â
You both spend a moment in silent, mournful understanding.
âAre you going to sleep in your jeans?â
It takes a second for him to process, and when it does, he looks almost scandalized. âYou donât mind if Iâm in my boxers?â
âNo, itâs fine.â
He stares at you for a moment longer, considering, before you feel him shuffling around under the blanket. He works himself out of his jeans then drops them on the floor beside the bed.Â
You raise a brow at him. âYouâre not even gonna fold it?â
He answers you with a pout. âYou sound like Jiung.â
You groan, rolling onto your side to face away from him. âDonât compare me to him. Iâm no nagger like he is.â
You hear him giggle behind you and ruffle around as he settles in properly. You can feel the heat of him against your back, close enough to know but not enough to feel it. You donât really think twice before you shift back and press your back into his side, seeking out the warmth. âYouâre warm,â you mumble.
You feel him tense against you and youâre about to pull away, but then heâs turning over and slinging his arm around your waist, pulling you further into him. Heâs turned so youâre against his chest now. âYouâre warmer,â he says into the back of your head. âLike a portable furnace.â
âYouâre ridiculous.â
âAnd yet youâre still around.â
You laugh and let your hand cover his cold and shaky one, before you let the heaviness of your eyes pull them shut. It silences after that and youâre lulled towards sleep by his steady breaths.Â
Youâre about to drift off until you feel Intak start shifting behind you. He settles after a few seconds. But then he starts to shuffle about again. Stops. And then again, and you feel the warmth of his body detach from your back.
âIntak?â Your voice sounds drowsy even to yourself.
He freezes up behind you, his arm tense around you. âSorry,â he says, and youâre not sure if youâre too tired but his voice sounds strained. âI thought you were asleep.â
âSomething wrong?â
âNo, nothing,â he says, too quickly.
You take it as it is, too tired to care, and shuffle yourself back into him again. But your eyes snap wide open when your hips press against his and you can feel his predicament against you.Â
He makes a choked noise at the contact, a sound that goes straight to your gut without your permission.
âOh,â you say.
And then heâs quickly pulling away from you, scrambling out apologies. âShit, Iâm sorry, Iâm so sorry,â he says in a panic but youâre quick to turn around and grab his arm before he could accidentally shove himself off the bed.
âHey,â you say, yanking him back towards you. âItâs fine.â
Heâs on his back with his eyes squeezed shut, lips parted as he takes deep breaths to try to ease himself down. âS-Sorry,â he says again. âJust give me a second, Iâll be good in a minute.â
Heâs got the blanket clutched over his lap in a knuckle-white grip. You canât help but giggle.
His eyes snap open to you, looking disjointed and offended. âAre you laughing at me?â
âNo,â you say, a crooked grin on your lips. âYouâre just cute.â
He groans, curling in on himself, pushing his knees up to his chest. âNothing about this is cute! Itâs embarrassing.â
âItâs not embarrassing,â you state as you pat his arm, the skin of his bicep warm against your palm.
Even that small touch gets a full body twitch out of him and youâre left taken aback by just how sensitive he is. He must be really pent up if all it takes is a little cuddle to set him off and a little bit of touch to get any reaction out of him.
But youâre no better. Because the sight of him like this, on his back left panting and flushed because heâs merely in your presence and from minimal contact with you? It fills you with a strange sense of thrill, one that feeds your insatiable curiosity and makes the tips of your fingers itch.
âHey,â you say. His eyes on you again, big and round with shame and a heat that heâs visibly resisting, has you talking before you can think. âLet me help you.â
You can practically see his brain stutter behind his eyes as he blinks rapidly to process. âWhat?â
âLet me help,â you repeat. âYouâre clearly struggling. Maybeââ You pause to actually think this time before you continue. âMaybe we can help each other out? I mean, weâre both struggling.â The words hang unanswered in the air as he continues to stare at you. âActually, you donât have to decide anything just yet but⊠Let me do this for you first?â You push yourself forward, let your hand slide down his arm to grasp the edge of the blanket he has clutched in his hand.Â
You think maybe heâs about to reject it when he still doesnât respond, but then he lets that heat in his eyes pool in black desire along with a pleading eagerness that has the itch in your fingertips prickle stronger. âYeah,â he breathes, moving his hand off of the blanket and uncurling himself, giving you way. âPleaseâŠâ
You have to take a breath to settle the way your heart leaps at the polite plea. You give him a reassuring smile before you grab the blanket and slowly pull it aside.
The audible gasp that leaves your lips would surely get a laugh out of Intak if he wasnât so muddled out by his growing arousal. But you canât even bring yourself to care, because holy shit is he big, even through just the imprint of his dark boxers.
âJesus, Intak,â you mutter, your hand moving towards him. You donât touch him just yet, a little intimidated, but you let your fingers brush teasingly against the waistband. âYou've been hiding all this away from me?â You try to tease but your throat closes around the words.
He whines, whines, as his hips twitch under your feathery touch. âPlease donât tease me,â he begs, keeping those round eyes on you. Eyes that have your resolve cracking quickly. You figure tonightâs not the time to draw things out. Next time, you tell yourself, and youâre shocked to find yourself praying there is a next time.
You've never seen your friend in this state before but itâs scary how quickly youâre getting addicted to the sight of him. The thought reminds you just how horny youâve been these past few months with no helping hand.
âI got you, baby,â you coo softly, then let your hand travel down to grasp him, getting a choked gasp out of Intak.Â
Heâs thick and hot to the touch even through the fabric, and you can feel him twitch under your ministrations as you start to languidly palm at him.
Your eyes are fixed solely on his face that twitches and strains with pleasure. His teeth dig into the plush of his lower lip, his hands clutching the sheets at his sides, his eyes squeezing shut under the pleasure of your warm hand. Heâs already squirming, his hips rolling up to press against your hand.
âFeel good?â You ask him, your voice already a little breathless.
He doesnât speak, just nods eagerly as he blinks his eyes open and looks at you again. âMore?â He asks you in a small voice, with a pointed grind against your palm. âPlease?â
You smile at him despite the way he sends your head spinning with how submissive heâs being. You didnât expect him to be this pliant in bed, but either you were severely wrong about him or heâs just severely horny.
Either way, you give into him. âSince you asked so nicely,â you say in a playful tone. Heâs even more fun to tease like this.
You pull his boxers down to his thighs enough to expose him and the sight of him, long and red at the tip and leaking, has you clamping your thighs together.
You quickly wrap your hand around his tip, collecting the arousal before working your fist down to spread it. The moan Intak lets out at the first stroke is guttural, straight from the base of his ribs. âFuck,â he whispers, his eyes fluttering closed as you start at a slow pace, fist tight around him. âYes,â he gasps, his hips bucking up in mindless little rocks. âJ-Just like that⊠PleaseâŠâ
You can feel yourself throbbing with arousal at the sight, the sound, the feel of him as you stroke him at a steady pace, squeezing around his tip with every upstroke.Â
Itâs not long before the pulsing between your hips gets unbearable as you watch him come undone with just your hand. You slide your free hand between your thighs, over the thin shorts, to press against your aching heat for some relief. It subsides just a little but itâs really not enough.
You catch Intakâs eyes zero in on the hand you have between your legs and you almost donât hear him through the growing fog in your head.
âWhat?â You ask when you see his lips moving but donât hear the words, your pace on his cock faltering.Â
His hand releases the sheets and reaches to brush against your wrist. âLet me,â he says again. His voice, rough with arousal, has another wave of heat pulsing through your core. The words have no better effect on you.
You find yourself nodding before you realize, your own hand falling aside to give him way as you shuffle closer.Â
Heâs not as patient as you are. His hand is quick to pull your shorts down your hips, grumbling something about these fucking shorts before heâs shoving two fingers under the thin cotton and drawing tight, quick circles over your clit.
You gasp as the onslaught of hot pleasure bursting through your core at his frantic place. âFuck, Intak,â you grunt before you pick up the pace on his cock to keep up.
He slides his fingers down to gather the arousal that pools at your entrance before he returns to circle your clit with it. But he seems to get a little distracted, reroutes to slide his fingers down to dip around in your folds just around your entrance after a few quick circles around your clit. He does this a few times, prods at your hole before returning to our swollen bud, a routine that has your hips squirming under his touch and your breaths stuttering. Eventually he slides down and settles to circle around your entrance before his middle finger into you in one smooth push.Â
âShit!â You hiss, your walls clamping down on him. His finger is longer than your own and reaches depths of yourself youâve been struggling to explore on your own.
He glances up at your face, sees the clouded lust there, before he starts to work the finger in and out at a steady pace. Itâs not long before heâs working two fingers, then three fingers pumping into your cunt at a rapid pace to match the one you have on him.Â
You try to keep your focus on working his cock in your hand but the way his thick fingers crook inside of you and strokes your gummy walls has you panting and craving for more.Â
Your eyes are on him in your hand, leaking profusely and throbbing under your palm. Your walls squeeze around his fingers when the thought of having that inside of you flits through your mind. But the lines to all of this are starting to get blurry and youâre still wading through unknown waters.
But you need something.
So you pull your hand off of him and push at his hand inside of you. Intak retreats with a confused look as you pull off your shorts then get on your knees.
âLet me justââ You canât even get yourself to explain so you move to straddle his waist and push your panties aside to expose your cunt, letting yourself hover just over where his thick length lays on his stomach. You catch his wide eyes with your own pleading ones. âI wonât put it in. Can I justââ
You donât get to finish before he has his hands on your hips and he pulls you down, your cunt landing flush on his cock.
You both moan in tandem at the contact. Heâs hot and pulsing and solid between your folds, your arousal coating over him as you move yourself to slide up. The slow drag has a tremble roll through Intakâs body, his hands tightening on your hips.
âKeep going,â he says, nearly demanding as he looks up at you, eyes half lidded and glazed over with lust.
You comply and start at a slow pace, dragging yourself up and down on his cock, your slick coating the way. You let your clit catch against his tip with each drag, and it has both of you twitching and whining each time.
Your eyes stay firmly on his face, on his eyes that are on you but not present. They flutter, threaten to roll back with each over his cock.Â
His hands start to move you at some point, picking up the pace as he gets impatient and gets pushed closer and closer to the edge.
âMânot gonna last,â he says through his breathy moans, frantic as his hips buck up against yours.
You can feel the coil in your gut starting to tighten too. âMe neither,â you mutter through grit teeth as you let him move your body for you, chasing the pleasure for both of you.
When he suddenly stops, youâre met with his dark eyes on the sight of himself prodding between your gushing folds. âWhaââ You yelp when youâre suddenly lifted off. Then youâre on your back and Intak is on top of you, hands gripping your thighs apart as he slots his cock back between your folds as he starts to thrust frantically, as if he were fucking you.Â
The look on his face is tight with desire and desperate as he stares down at you, eyes bearing down with clouded heat. His hips start to stutter, grunts tumbling from his lips. The tip of his cock catches against your entrance and the pressure there has your body jerking. Intak drops his head on your shoulder with a shuddering gasp as he lets himself linger there at your entrance for a moment. You think heâs about to push in and finally sate that ache growing in your core to be stretched and split open on his cock. But then heâs pulling back and letting himself resume just grinding himself between your folds.
The disappointment is almost overbearing but it quickly subsides with the stimulation on your clit driving your attention back to your impending climax.
You hear Intak whisper your name against your ear followed by a whimper. âPlease,â he says before you feel his tip slide down from your clit and prod against your entrance again, purposefully this time.
Your hands grab onto his arms braced on either side of you, your core pulsing with the pressure of him right against your throbbing entrance. âIntakâŠâ You want it, so badly, but youâre just not sure if itâs pushing things too far.
âPlease, justââ He drags himself back up and rubs over your clit, making you whine. âJust for a bit,â he pleads, then slides back down to your hole and pushes, just barely breaching inside, but the pressure is enough for your body to go taut with arousal and your mind go momentarily blank.Â
âFuck,â you hiss, your walls clenching, practically begging to drag him inside. âFuck, do it, Intak, justââ
Youâre cut off with a gasp as he starts to push in. He stops when heâs got in just the tip and youâre about to push him all the way in yourself but then his body crumples on top of you with jerky movements as he lets out a strangled moan. You feel spurts of hot liquid shoot down your walls, pooling inside you and filling you with warmth.
His head lands on your shoulder with another strained moan as he pulses through his orgasm and youâre about to pull away but then heâs pushing all the way inside of you in a thrust so hard it has you bucking up the bed.
âIntak!â You cry in shock, your hands clawing into his back. It feels like heâs tearing you apart from the inside, a pain so sharp that it embers into pleasure.
He doesnât respond, instead just starts fucking you at a pace that scrambles your insides and your head, still hard and throbbing inside of you despite just having some. He fucks his cum back into you, his fingers digging into your thighs to hold your legs down in a mating press.
He lifts his head from your shoulder and presses it against yours, eyes teary and so far gone as he looks down at you. âCanât stop,â he says through whiny pants. âDonâtâ donât want to stop.â He looks overwhelmed and overstimulated, his entire body twitching with every thrust inside of you and trembling, yet he still pushes forward, still fucks into you despite the pain.
You donât have the strength to respond through words, every sense knocked out of your head with each hard thrust. He stops, pulls out some, adjusts his angle, then starts fucking in again at an angle that has his tip abusing that gummy spot inside of you with a terrifying accuracy and has you barreling towards your orgasm.Â
You open your mouth to warn him but he shoves himself all the way in, deep enough that you feel him kiss your cervix, with a thrust so hard it has your orgasm ripping right out of you with a scream of his name.
You spasm and pulse around him as you come, creating a mess around his cock and over your thighs.
And yet, Intak still doesnât stop. He pulls back and starts pounding into you again, tears catching onto his lashes as whimpers and gasps about how heâs still so hard, how you feel so good, how he just canât stop, just needs a little bit longer, begs you to let him cum inside you again as he fucks into you with a vigour that has your soul practically lifting out of your body, asks you please like a broken record right up until he cums inside of you for a second time, just as intense as the first, and has you gushing around him once again with an orgasm that pulses through you unannounced.
All at once you both crumble and itâs like all motion ceases except your heavy breaths weaving into the thick air.
Youâre not sure how long you lay there for with Intak splayed on top of you, still buried inside of you, the mess of you both trickling out and spreading down your thighs. You stare up at the ceiling as you slowly piece yourself back together from being fucked to tatters by your friend.
âFuck,â you mutter as the realization of whatâs just happened settle into the logical part of your brain.
Intak makes an acknowledging hum into your shoulder, still too liquid, still too gone to speak.
âShouldâve just come to you a while ago,â you wonder aloud.
He bristles at that and lifts himself up, the movements shifting him inside of you and leaving you shuddering from sensitivity. He winces as he slowly slides out of you, then drops himself beside you.
âYouâre not mad?â
âI will be if we donât get to do that again,â you answer simply.Â
Thereâs a playful grin playing on his lips as he rolls his head to peer at you, dark eyes twinkling. âThat can be arranged.â
save a horse, ride a cowboy â Ëââ§ê°áâ€ïžà»ê± â§â
what's better than riding a big horse? ride the owner, and his bigger horse!
đë°ì±í x fem readerđ i make a lot of noise 'cause the girls they are so pretty. riding up and down broadway. on my old stud leroy. and the girls say, "save a horse, ride a cowboy!" everybody says, "save a horse, ride a cowboy!" â save a horse ride a cowboy, big & rich ⫶ đmasterlistê±
word count 10k
warning advisory cheating, sexual tension is crazy, light possessive behaviour, lots of flirting, he's so fucking hot, they're so down bad for one another but adult style, innaccurate cowboy jargons, i don't proofread the smut because i'm shy
smut advisory more fucking than plot, making out all the fuckin' time, sunghoon has a big cock sorry, pussy eating/licking, squirting, fellatio, throat fucking, fucking against the countertop, face sitting, cowgirl (duh!), mating press, creampie, lots of dirty talking, profanity, reader orgasms a lot, reader's a lil bratty, dom!hoon, fucking while wearing the cowboy hat yeehaw >.<
âwhat the fuckâŠ?âÂ
the car sputtered one last time before the engine died completely, rolling to a pathetic stop on the empty stretch of highway. dust kicked up around the tires as you gripped the steering wheel tighter.Â
âno, no, noâcome on!â you slammed your palm against the wheel, once, twice, the horn blaring uselessly into the dry air. the dashboard lights flickering like itâs mocking you before going dark.Â
dead.
just completely dead.
you twisted the key in the ignition againânothing. not even a weak cough or a vibrationâjust silence. âbaby, seriously? now?â your voice cracked with frustration as you let your forehead thud against the steering wheelâonce, twiceâhands gripping the wheel.Â
âi just got you out of the workshop!âÂ
you were already running late, even dressed up nicer than usualâyour baby tees that weren't oil stained for once, the one that hugged your curves just right, paired with shorts that fit, and the delicate necklace your boyfriend had given you last month.Â
not to mention, your hair was done, a touch of makeupâwith that fluttery feeling in your tummy because tonight was supposed to be special. weeks of texting, lateânight calls, finally seeing him againâŠ
and now you were stuck on the side of some forgotten highway with a dead car and no signal.Â
you let out a shaky breath. thank god the sun wasnât dipping yetâit was only around 4 p.m. there was plenty of daylight left, hours before the sky would think about turning purple orange. that bought you time to get some help and inform your boyfriend the car was broken.
exceptâŠ
your phone had no signal.
âoh my goshâis this a joke?â you shook your phone again, tapping the surface on your palm in hopes itâd suddenly receive a signal from somewhere. when it didnâtâyou tossed your phone to the side, landing on the passenger seat.Â
âokay⊠okay yn, think,â you muttered to yourself, leaning back and rubbing your temples. pop the hood? you werenât a mechanicâyouâd only do damage to the car. or wait it outâsomeone had to drive by eventually, right?Â
you stared out the windshield at the empty road stretching both ways, the quiet was almost too loud. your eyes trailed up to the little hill. you could walk a little ways to see if you could find higher ground for signal?
but itâs so⊠high and your last meal was a brunch that was almost four hours agoâŠ
sit here and⊠hope?
you reached for the door handle, about to step out and at least look like you were doing something, when a sound caught your earâclearer and closer.
hoofbeats.
steady⊠unhurried⊠like the rider itself had all the time in the world.Â
you froze, hand still on the handle, and watched from the rearview mirror as he emerged fully into view.
a lone rider on a sleek black horse, moving along the edge of the highway. dark jacket opened over a fitted black shirt, sleeves rolled up to his elbows. his black cowboy hat pulled low, shadowing his face just enough to make your stomach flip with curiosity.
the way he sat on the saddleâstraightâbacked, relaxed but controlledâthat quiet confidence dripping off him.Â
the man guided the horse closer, slowing to a stop a respectful distance from your car. the animal snorted softly, tossing its head to the side, and the rider leaned forward to calm it with a gentle pat on the neck.
thenâthose dark eyes lifted to meet yours through the mirror.
sharp. intense.
your breath hitched in your lungsâhe swung down from the saddle effortlessly, boots hitting the ground with a soft thud. tallâtaller than youâd expectedâlong legs, lean build ⊠biceps⊠the kind of presence that made the wideâopen desert space around you feel suddenly smaller.
he adjusted his hat with one hand, the other holding reins loosely, and took a few slow steps toward your opened passenger window.
âhey there,â he said, voice low and smooth like⊠whiskey over ice, a faint tint drawl curling around the edges. he tilted his head just slightly, studying youâand the dead carâwith calm interest.
âcar troublinâ ya?â
your mouth went dry and you swore you forgot how to breathe. up closeâhe was even more fuckinâ striking. high cheekbones, honey skin glowing in the sunlight, lips pressed into a subtle line that hinted at amusement.Â
you⊠you didnât know who this guy wasâbut fuck, heâs fucking hot.Â
you swallowed, managing a small nod. âyâyeah,â you finally said, voice coming out softer than you meant. âit just⊠died. wonât startâand thereâs no signal out here.â
his gaze flicked to your phone on the passenger seat, then back to you. one corner of his mouth lifted.
âmind if i take a look?âÂ
you gave him a small nodâhe knew youâd say yes anyway, what option did you have? he stepped toward the front of the car. you popped the hood from inside, the latch clicking, then pushed the door open and climbed out.
the warm, dry, afternoon air hitting your skin.
sunghoon moved with that same unhurried motion, grace, looping the reins over his horseâs neck so she stayed put. he took off his jacket and rolled off his sleeves a little higher as he approached the engine, revealing his⊠toned forearms and biceps dusted with dust and sunlight.
you tried not to stare.
he leaned over the hood, one had bracing against the metal, the other tracingâhis index and middle fingersâalong the battery cables, checking connections⊠peering at belts and fluids⊠things that a pretty girl like you wouldnât and shouldnât know anyway.Â
those nice⊠slender fingers⊠suited being somewhere⊠better.
your eyes travelled at the way his black shirt stretched across his back and shoulders when he shifted⊠the light caught the sharp line of his jaw.Â
you stood a few feet away, arms loosely crossed against your chest, pretending to care about the carâbut thereâs a better view before you.
âbattery looks fine,â he murmured, almost to himself. he straightened slightly, wiping a smudge of grease onto his jeans without care, then glanced over at you.
his eyes lingered.
not that⊠quick checkâin if you were okay; but that slow⊠deliberate⊠lingering sweepâdown the length of you. sunghoon swallowed in the baby blue baby tee clinging softly to your frame, the way your hair fell across your shoulders, the faint flush rising on your cheeks.
sunghoon tried so hardâso fucking hardâto not let his eyes fall onto the dip of your cleavage.
he failed.
when his gaze came back up to meet yours, he made it so obvious he was checking you out. there was something dark and unreadable flickering behind those orbs. curiousityâinterest, something warmer than⊠the polite stranger act.
you shifted, suddenly hyperâaware of how close he was, how the faint scent of leather and sunâwarmed skin drifted on the breeze.Â
âthereâs a leak,â he said finally, tipping his chin toward your engine. âthatâs why she overheated and shut down.â his tone was matterâofâfact, but he held your eyes longer than necessary made it feel anything but casual.
â...oh,â you managed, stepping closerâto see what he was pointing atâbut honestly, just really drawn into his aura. you were so close to see the faint sheen at his temple, the way his lashes cast shadows. you were so close sunghoon could see the droplets of sweat trailing down the side of your neck, the way your upper teeth caught on your bottom lip.
he didnât move.Â
instead, sunghoon stayed leaned against your car, arms loosely folded, watching youânot the engineâso painfully obvious it made your pulse flutter.Â
wowâyou had no idea whatâs leaking⊠in terms of the car, at least.
âyou headed somewhere importanâ?â he asked, voice dropping a fraction lower. his gaze flicked to your lips, then back up before you caught it. you swallowed. âmmhm. i⊠was supposed to meet⊠someone.â
a beat.Â
sunghoonâs head tilted slightly, the corner of his mouth twitched into the tiniest smirk. âmust be real disappointed right now,â he said, soft and slow, eyes never leaving yours. your breath hitched and the tension coiled tighter, warm and heavy in your chest⊠spreading lower.
âiâitâs okay,â you said quickly, the words tumbling out shy and a little breathless. your laugh soft and nervous as you tucked a strand of hair. âtheyâll understand.â
his eyes stayed on you for a beat, dropping down just a little on your collarboneâbut that faint smirk deepened just enough to make your tummy flip. after what felt like hours, sunghoon pushed off your yellow car, straightening to his full height that just towered over you.
âsunghoon,â he said simply, extending his hand. his voice was low, steady.Â
sunghoon, you rolled his name mindlessly in the back of your mind, tasting his name on your tongue. âmmhm,â you slipped your hand into hisâwarm and rough against your bare, softer skinâhis grip firm but careful, thumb brushing lightly over your knuckles.
the contact lingered, and neither of you pulled away first.Â
âyn,â you answered.Â
âyn,â he repeated, tasting the name like he was trying it out. a small nod, almost approving. sunghoon licked his lips before continuing. âpretty name for a pretty girl stuck on the side of the road.â
heat rushed to your cheeks and you quickly glanced away, pretending to look at the engine, but you could feel his gaze still on you. itâs so unfair, you thought.Â
you broke it first. âwell,â sunghoon sighed, closing the hood with a gentle thud, wiping his hands on his handkerchief he pulled from his back pocket. âcarâs ainât gonna fix themselves out here. leaking like thatâyouâre not drivinâ anywhere tonight without coolant.âÂ
you bit your lip, shaking your head, glancing at the empty hallway. âyeah⊠i figured.â
sunghoon looked at youâpity girlâthen at his horse, then back at youâsomething flashed in his eyes.Â
âlook,â he said, running his fingers through his dark locks. âiâve got tools back at the ranch. spare house, too. itâs only a couple miles down the road.â he tilted his head slightly, making his gaze feel more intense.Â
âyou can ride with me. get it fixed before dark, get your back on your way.â
your heart stuttered. ride with him..? ride him? on the horse? or�
he mustâve seen the question in your eyes because the corner of his mouth lifted again. âmy girl can take us both. or i can lead and walk, and you just sit pretty.âÂ
you swallowed, glancing at the sun still high enough in the sky, the golden light catching on his shirt. then your gaze flicked back to the horseâbig, calm, but still a horseâŠ
what about⊠stranger dangerâŠ?Â
the thought slipped out before you could stop it, soft and uncertain, fingers twisting around the hem of your baby tee.Â
âum⊠what about stranger danger?â you asked, half laughing to cover your nerves, cheeks heating up again. you supposed you could just⊠ask this kind sunghoon stranger to return with a pipe⊠or somethingâŠ
âi mean, i donât know youâyou donât know me⊠and you want me to just⊠hop on your horse and ride off to your ranch?â
sunghoon paused. for a second, his expression didnât really change, but the corner of his mouth curved. heâd find your worry both endearing and adorable.Â
cute.
âfair,â he said, shrugging. there was no defensiveness, or offense in it at all. he let his hand drop to his side, giving you space. âif youâre wonderinâ or scared, i get it. pretty girl alone out hereâiâd be worried too.â
he glanced down the road in the direction heâd come from, then back at you.
âi live just a couple miles that way,â he continued, nodding toward a faint dirt turnoff you hadnât noticed before. âthereâs a diner right off the main road before you even get to my ranchâfolks and ladies there know me.âÂ
a small huff escaped him.Â
âor,â he added, tilting his head slightly, eyes softening. âwe can walk the whole way. iâll lead the way slow. you stay ten feet back if you want, iâll even let you hold the reins.â
he said it completely serious too⊠like your comfort truly mattered more than getting back quickly. the sincerity in his voice, the way he didnât push or be weird about itâjust offeringâmade something in your chest loosen.
you looked at him againâyou supposed⊠there was no point in waiting for other help to come byâand your heart gave a traitorous little thud.Â
âmm⊠okay. lead me the way.â
you slipped your hand outâand his fingers closed around yours and he guided you toward his horse. the animal watched you with dark eyesâmuch like the ownerâears flicking as you approached.Â
âeasy now,â sunghoon murmured, more to the horse than you, running his hand down her neck. âsnowâs gentle, she wonât throw you.â
he turned to you, smiling. âyou ever been on a horse before?â
you shook your head, laughing nervously. ânever⊠not even onceânever had a reason to.â
a soft huff escaped himâalmost a chuckle. âfirst time for everything.â
sunghoon moved to the side, cupping his hands together in a boost. âleft foot here, grab the saddle horn and swing your right leg over it when i lift.âÂ
your heart pounded, but you did as he said. sunghoonâs hands settled on your waist as he hoisted you up, strong and sure, and then you were in the saddleâlegs dangling awkwardly, gripping the horn.
âeekâ!â
he chuckled, swung behind you in a motion heâd done a billion times, settling in closeâreally close. his chest brushed your back as he reached around you for the reins, thighs framing yours, the heat of him immediately and overwhelming.Â
âyou good?â sunghoon asked, voice low near your ear. you swallowed the lump in your throat, his warm breath hitting the shell of your ear. âmâmmhm,â you managed, hyper aware of every little shift and contact.Â
sunghoonâs arm circled loosely around your waist just to steady you on the horseâand you felt the subtle shift of his body as he nudged the horse forward with his heels.Â
snow started walking and rollingâmaking you sway instinctively. you tensed, gripping the horn harder.
ârelax,â he said quietly, breathing now against the side of your neck. âlean back a little, i got you.â
you eased against him just slightly. his arm tightened the tiniest bit in responseâreassured. the horse settled into a rhythm along the edge of the highway, hooves clopping against the dirt. the sun was still bright, golden, warm breeze carrying the scent of dry grass and⊠him.
for a minute, neither of you spoke.Â
until sunghoon broke it.
âso⊠where were you headed, dressed up like that?â
you laughed softly, glancing down at your baby tee and your nice jeans. âjust⊠meeting someone.â sunghoon hummed, a deep sound that vibrated against your back from how close he was. âpoor lad, waitinâ somewhere wonderinâ where you are right now.âÂ
âprobably,â you bit your lip, suppressing back a smile.Â
another beat.Â
his thumb brushed idly against the rein near your hip. âmust be somethinâ special between you two,â he murmured, humming. âto get you out here lookinâ this pretty.â
your cheeks burned. you turned your head just enough to catch himâsharp line of his jaw⊠the brim of his hat shadowing his eyes.
âmayhaps,â you said softly. âcould be i just like dressing up sometimes.â
sunghoon let out a quiet breath of laughter. âfair enough.â
snow kept walking, carrying you both on her strong body. you shifted slightly, getting used to the rhythm, and you slowly realised you werenât as scared anymore.Â
actually⊠it felt kind of nice. the warmth of sunghoon, the strength of his arms, the quiet that didnât feel awkward at all.Â
âsoâŠâ you said after a moment, corner of your lips twitched into a teasing smirk. âyou do this often? rescue stranded girls on horseback?âÂ
his lips curvedâjust a little. âfirst time of everything.â
you smiled despite yourself. âlucky me, then.â
he didnât answer right away, just tightened his arm a fraction, guiding snow off the highway and onto the dirt path leading to the ranch. âyeah,â he said finally, voice warm against your ear.Â
âlucky me.â
ââ
sunghoon reached up for you, hands settling on your waist againâfirm and steadyâlifting you down like you weighed a feather. your boots hit the ground, but his hands lingered a second longer than necessary before he let go.
âwelcome to the house,â he said dryly, gesturing at the perfect tidy yard. a faint smile tugged at his lips as he tied the reins. âcome on in, iâll grab you something while i check the garage.â
he led you up the porch steps and pushed open the front foorâno lock, you noticed. must be safe around here, you thought, humming. the cool air inside hit youâthe faint smell of coffee and wood floors.
âmake yourself at home,â sunghoon said, tipping off his hat and hanging it on a hook. his dark hair fell slightly messier without it, a few strands brushing his forehead. âwater, iced tea, lemonâfridge it through there.â he nodded toward the open kitchen.
âiâll be in the garage. shouldnât take long.â
his space was simple and tidyâleather couch facing a fireplace, shelves lined with books and framed photos of ⊠sunghoon and his friends. his six other friends. equally as fine. a worn acoustic guitar leaned in one corner, blankets folded neatly over the couch arm.
no clutter, nothing sterile either.Â
just him.
you wandered through the big picture window overlooking the fields, the lateâafternoon light pouring in soft. a few horses grazed in the distance.Â
everything was peaceful in a way the city never was.Â
the glass of lemonade cold in your hand as you turned slowly. your eyes landed on a small cluster of framed photos near the front doorâone of sunghoon on horseback, younger; another him with an older man who shared the same features. mustâve been his father.Â
you didnât realise youâd drifted closer, drawn in by that smile on his face. you were standing right in front of it, lemonade tilted slightly in your gripâcompletely lost in the photo,
when the door swung open.
sunghoon stepped inside, grease smudged rag in one hand, the other pushing the door wideâand you startled hard.
the glass jerked in your fingersâcold lemonade sloshed over the rim, splashing down the front of your baby tee in a sticky streak that soaked straight through the thin fabric.Â
âohâgoshââ you gasped, jumping back a step, holding the glass out. sunghoonâs eyes widened half a second before he was moving, closing the door behind him with his boot and crossing to you.
âfuck, sorryâdidnât mean to scare yaâ,â he said, voice rushed, already reaching for the rag in his hand. but it was dirty, so he stopped. âgosh, you okay?â
you laughed, breathless, embarrassed heat flooding your face. the lemonade left a cold, clinging patch right⊠across your front. âitâs fine, i wasnât paying attention,â you mumbled, dabbing at the stain with your fingers instead.Â
âwas looking at your pictures.â
he didnât move back, didnât look away. the air between you felt suddenly too small and cold again⊠despite everything burning.Â
âiâve got spare shirts in the laundry room,â he said after a beat, eyes dropping to the stainâpervertâonce more before meeting yours again. âclean ones, if you want to change.â
you nodded slowly, heart thudding in against your ribs.Â
âmm.. yeah, sure,â you said softly, glancing up to him from underneath your lashes. âthat⊠might be good.âÂ
ââ
you peeled off your soaked baby tee, the sticky lemonade making it cling uncomfortably. youâre only grateful your bra was there to soak the rest before the liquid reached your skin.Â
his⊠white shirt was hugeâfalling halfway down your thighs and completely covering your shorts, sleeves past your elbows, the collar loose enough to slip off one shoulder if you werenât careful.Â
it smelled like sunghoonâclean cotton and traces of wood musk.
â... nice,â you caught your reflection in the small mirror above your dryer and laughed quietly to yourself. you looked swallowed whole by it.
just then, your eyes landed on something else through the reflectionâhis brown cowboy hat, hanging on a hook just inside the door. the different one from what he wore earlier. you bit your lip, glancing toward the door.
no signs of him.
just for fun, you never wore a cowboy hat before.
you reached up on your tippy toes and plucked it off the hook, settling in your head. it was too big, obviouslyâsliding down over your eyebrows until you had to tip it back with a finger.Â
to be honest, you looked kinda⊠hot. yeahâseductive, almost.Â
you smoothed his shirt down, adjusted the hat, and pushed the door open.Â
sunghoon was leaning just against the kitchen counter, arms loosely crossed, looking down at his bootsâbut the second you stepped out, his head lifted.
and he froze.Â
his gaze swept over youâdeliberately. theâhisâoversized shirt hanging loose on your smaller frame, the hem brushing your thighs (only the little ripped strands of your shorts were showing up), the way the fabric draped over your shoulders.
that⊠hat tilting playfully on your head.
everything about him stilled. even the air felt heavier. his pants got tighter.
âeverythingâs⊠big,â you giggled, laughing to break the sudden tension, tugging at the sleeve that swallowed your hand. you gave a small spin, the shirt flaring slightlyâyou held the hat by the brim.Â
âlike, really big.â
he didnât laugh. didnât even smile at first.
sunghoon just stared, his eyes darker than before, jaw tight, lips⊠wet.Â
then he pushed off the counter, closing the distance in one slow step.Â
âyeah?â he murmured, voice rougher, dropping an octave lower⊠low enough that you swore it vibrated in your chest. sunghoon reached out, fingers brushing the brim of theâhisâhat, adjusting it slightly so it sat better.
so he could see your pretty face clearer.
his thumb grazed your temple as he did.Â
âlooks better on you.âÂ
your breath caught. he was close againâtoo closeâhand lingering near your face. you could feel the heat radiating off him, the faint scent of his musk and sweat filling every inch of space between you.
he didnât step back.
he took a slow step forwardâthen another.
until your back met the wall with a soft thud, the cool wood at your spine contrasting to whatâs warming you up in front of you. the hat tilted slightly on your head as you tipped it back to look up at him, and his eyesâheavy liddedâlocked onto yours.
ârâreally?âÂ
his hand dropped from the brim, trailing down the side of your neck, over the loose collar of his shirt on you, until his palm settled at your waist. fingers splayed wideâpossessiveâpuling you in just a fraction closer.
then his hand went lower, skimming the curve of your hip, thumb pressing lightly into the dip above your shorts.Â
you didnât want to move.
your hands came up instantly, fingers curling into the front of his black shirt, feeling his heart thumping under your palms.Â
âmmhm,â sunghoon leaned in, forehead almost touching yours, breath warm against your lips. âyouâve been driving me crazy since i saw you in that car,â he said, voice low. ânow youâre in my shirt, my hatâlookinâ like you belong here or somethinâ.â
your lips parted, but no words cameâjust a soft, shaky exhale.
his gaze dropped to your mouth.Â
âyou do this often?â sunghoon murmured, his fingers drumming your skin. âwreck your car hopinâ some strangerâll come along and fix it?â
you felt the words more than heard them⊠the teasing edge softened by the way his thumb traced your hip.Â
âonly cowboys like you,â you whispered, the words barely out beforeâ
sunghoon closed that tiny gap.
he slammed his lips against yoursâevoking a soft, surprised gasp out of youâhis hand slid from your hip to the small of your back, pressing you flush against him and positioning his knee in between your legs.Â
you melted almost instantly into his mouth, hands sliding up his chest to wrap around his neck, pulling him down as sunghoon angled his head to kiss you harder and deeper. his tongue traced your bottom lip, teasing, then slipped inside when you gasped for himâslow, hot, unhurried.Â
it made your knees buckle and weak.Â
sunghoon groaned quietly when you tagged at his hair, the sound rumbling through his chest into yours. ânghâhnghââ you moaned into his mouth, tugging him down. the hat titled precariously; but he caught it with one hand, readjusting it on top of your head without breaking the kiss.Â
both of his hands were back on youâone splayed across your lower back, the other cupping your jaw, thumb stroking your cheek, lifting your head up. sunghoon glided his tongue along your row of teeth, tasting you slow and thorough.Â
a low hum rumbled in his chest when you parted for him, your own tongue meeting his in a slick curl that made you tighten your grip around his shirt. âhahâsâsunghoon,â you breathed out. your salivas mixed, messy and hot, a thin strand connecting your lips when he pulled back just enough to breatheâ
only to dive back in harder, swallowing every little whimper and moan.Â
sunghoon kissed like he worked for it⊠having complete control like he would with snowâangling your head to take it deeper how he wanted it to be. your back arched against the wall as his hand on your lower back slid lower, palm running along the globe of your ass before it spread over the curve of your hip.
âahâ,â you gasped as he pressed forward. you felt the head line of his cock beneath his jeans against your stomachâhe was just as wrecked as you were.
sunghoon broke the kiss only to drag his mouth along your jaw, teeth scraping at the sensitive spot under your ear before coming back to your lips, no less filthy than beforeâlong and wet and deep that left you dizzy.
your pussy was growing crazily wet and warmâheat pooling your tummy as you began grinding and rubbing yourself on his knee.Â
âstill wanna get that car fixed?â he whispered, teasing against your swollen mouth, lips brushing but not quite kissing.
you panted, looking up at him through half lidded eyes, before answering by pulling him back in, kissing him openâmouthed and desperate, fingers threading through his hair to keep him there. he groaned into you, low and raw, and kissed you back just as deep.
sunghoonâs hands roamedâdown your sides, slipping into the loose fabric of his shirt on youâuntil he suddenly spun you around in a smooth motionâyour palms hitting the kitchen counter with a slap.Â
âhnghâ?â you gasped as he pressed in behind you, chest to your back, hips slotting against you. sunghoon didnât stop kissing youâhis strong⊠bigger hand came up to your jaw, fingers curled around your soft jaw as he turned your head sideways so he could claim your mouth from this new angle.
deep.. messy, relentlessâthe other hand splayed across your tummy, pulling you flush.
âfuck,â he murmured, grinding slow and deliberate against the curve of your ass through your shorts, the friction sending sparks down your cunt. a low rumble vibrated from his chest as he rolled his hips again, his hard on pressing hard between your asscheeks.Â
sunghoonâs lips broke from yours to drag wet kisses along your exposed side of your neck, teeth grazing the skin as he left angry lovebites before he turned your face toward him again, capturing your mouth in another horny kiss.Â
all while his hips kept that rhythmârubbing against you, clothed but undeniably fucking horny. âyou feel what youâre doinâ to me?âÂ
you could only whimper in response, arching your back and pushing against himâeliciting a groan out him, deeper, his hips snapping forwardâso fucking hardâbefore he slowed.
you pulled back to catch your breath, knees weakening as you braced yourself on your forearms. the words slipped out before you could stop themâhalf plea, half teasing.
âare you going to keep humpinâ me, or are you going to let me ride you, cowboy?âÂ
the air went still for a beat.
the corner of his lips twitchedâand so did his eyeâsunghoon scoffed dryly. you barely had time to register the shift in his energy and demeanour before his palm cracked against your ass through the denim.Â
not gentle.
a firm, stinging smack echoed in the kitchen made you gasp, jolting forward against the corner.Â
âwatch that mouth,â he hummed low against your ear, body still pinned, his hand caressing the globe of your ass where heâd just smacked them. âyou donât get to call the shots just yet.âÂ
you breath hitched at the first rush of the sting, at the command of his voice. you bit your lip to keep another bratty remark to yourselfâbut failed to hide the way your hips rolled back against him.Â
he huffed before he movedâhands gripping your thighs to keep you steady, turning you just enough to guide you back against the counter before he sank down.Â
slowly.
until sunghoon was on his knees behind you, eye level with the curve of your ass, one palm smoothing over the spot heâd just smacked. âiâll tell you what to do,â he murmured, thumbs hooking into the waistband of your jeans. he didnât ask; just straight up unbuttoned them with a quick flick of his slender fingers and tugged everything down in one dragâ
jeans and panties togetherâuntil they pooled at your knees.Â
âmmmh,â cool air hit your skin, but only for a second before his warm hands were back on your asscheeks, spreading them apart from behind. âhold still, pretty girl,â he mutteredâand just like thatâ
his mouth was on your cunt.Â
no teasing and no hesitationâjust confidence dripping down like your juices down your thighs. sunghoon licked a long, flat stripe up your centre, groaning low at the taste that heâd been starving for. âunghâoh gosh,â you gasped, knees buckling on his face as you gripped the counter harder, shaky moans slipping out.
sunghoonâs tongue circled your clit from behindâonce, twiceâsucking the little pea in pressure that made your hips jerk back against his face. âfuckinâ hell, so sweet,â he rasped. his strong arm banded across your lower tummy, locking you in placeâon his handsome face, sharp nose digging between your ass.
he didnât let you move or shift as much as he slipped his tongue inside your cuntâsliding back up, in and out, flicking, and swirling around inside. âsâsunghoon, sunghoon,â you moaned softly, eyes fluttering.Â
wet sounds filled up his kitchen, filthy and so fucking obscenely loudâhis mouth working you open, lips sealing like heâs making out with your pussy lips now before it moved around your clit again and again, sucking until your thighs trembled.
he sucked and tugged the pea towards him.Â
itâs something youâve never, not in the years of your life, ever experienced. every time you tried to push back down for more, sunghoon only tightened his hold and slowed down like heâs telling you that youâre not in charge here.Â
then, he dragged his tongue in lazy, torturous strokes until you whined, before speeding up suddenlyâfast with relentless flicks that had you gasping his name. âyour tongue feels sâgood, oh fuck,âÂ
his free hand came up between your legs, two fingers sliding into you without warning, stretching you tight cunt and curling deep and stroking in time with his tongue. the combo wrecked you badlyâyour head dropped forward, forehead pressing to the cool counter as your toe curled inwards on itself.
âwâwhatâ?! oh, fuck, sunghoonââÂ
he hummed against you, the vibration sending sparks in your tummy, and doubled down. âgotta stretch you out before i give you the real thing,â he murmured against your wet cunt, sucking hard, fingers thrusting faster, pressing on that spongy spot inside.Â
your legs shook as you began subtly riding on his two fingers as he flicked your clit with the tip of his tongue. ââm cumming, wanna cum, cumâ,â you whined adorably, chest heaving as pleasure swelled up in your gut.
âmmhmâ?â sunghoon hummed teasingly, you felt the corner of his lips twitched. you tightened around his fingersâwalls spasming around his digits. sunghoon curled his fingers inside and traced his name against your walls.Â
heâs so fucking filthy, itâs disgustingly hot.
an ecstasy tidal wave quickly rushed over youâand before you knew it, your walls pulsated before you came right on his fingers and tongue, against his face. âoh fuckâ!â you cried out sharply, curling your hands into fists as you hung your head low.
every limbs of yours felt like jelly, your body twitchedâclenching around him as he licked you through every pulse, gulping down your juices and squirt that trailed down your inner thighs.Â
âfuck, youâre so sweet, so good,â he moaned, slowly pulling his fingers out that left you empty almost instantly, pussy squeezing the thin air. your thighs trembled in pleasure as sunghoon spread your asscheeks with his wet fingers, pressing one last slow, deliberate long lick from your sensitive clit up to your entrance.Â
âgood girl,â he whispered, hands smoothed up your sides before rising behind you.Â
ânow⊠about that ride you wantedâŠâ
you turned in his arms, still buzzing, still twitching, legs unsteady. sunghoonâs eyes were swimming with lust, lips slick and swollen from you. the hard line of him pressed against your hip through his jeansâimpossible to ignore.Â
a slow, wicked smile tugged at your mouth as you sank down nowâyour turn, mirroring the way heâd just knelt for youâuntil you were on your knees in front of him.Â
sunghoonâs breath hitched, hand automatically coming up to lift the brim of his hat to look at your face. you looked up at him from under your curled lashes, palms sliding up his thighs, feeling his cock tense and twitch under denim.Â
âfairâs fair, cowboy,â
he exhaled a rough laugh, thumb brushing your bottom lip. âyou donât have toââ
but you were already popping the button on his jeans, dragging the zipper down slow enough to make him groanâpreparing himself. âdonât have to what?â you asked innocently, tugging everything down just enough, and hisâ
his cock sprang freeâthick, heavy, flicked dark and already leaking precum at the tip.Â
your eyes widened and your breath hitched, his cock throbbed right in front of your eyesâit casted shadow over your face. your lips parted, a gasp escaped your lips.
sunghoon was fucking bigâno, hugeâthe biggest youâve ever seen before.Â
you could tell it was painful for him from the way his cock twitched in neediness, a low hiss escaped from his lips. âshit⊠surprised?âÂ
you wet your lips before swallowing the lump in your throat. there was⊠almost no way itâd fit in your mouth, much less your pussy. but you wrapped your hands around himâeven with both hands, it still wasnât enough to hold his whole cockâstroking once, twice, feeling him throb in your grip.
sunghoonâs head tipped back slightly, jaw clenched, but his eyes stayed locked on you.Â
you continued jerking him off in your hands, dragging every skin, feeling every veins, milking more of his precum that trailed on the side of your hands. âi thought only horses have big cocksâŠâ you murmured before leaning inâtongue flicking out to taste the bead at the head, salty and warmâbefore taking him into your mouth in one slow slide.
âbut i guess their owners have tooâŠ?âÂ
âfuckââ the curse tore out of him, low and husky, fingers tightening at your hair as his hat tipped to the side a little. he didnât push, just holding as you took him in deeper, lips stretching around him.Â
you only managed to take half of his cock inside your mouth before pulling back almost all the way, tongue swirling around the tip, then took him again, deeper this time, cheeks hollowing. sunghoon tasted manlyâsweaty, but not the nasty kind. just⊠a man.Â
his hips twitched, but he let you set the pace yourself. you worked him slow at firstâwet, messy suckings, hand twisting in strokes at the base at the same time as your mouthâthen faster, taking him in as far as you could until the tip hit your uvula, and your eyes watered.
âyn, fuck,â he groaned your name. your mouth was warm and wet, like entering a slimy, hot pond, cock totally engulfed in your saliva. it felt heavenly. you were disheveled and messyâbut still so hot. glossy and smudged lipstick over your lips, leaving a pink ring mark around his cock with your flushed cheeks.
every time you pulled off to breathe, you looked upâwatching his handsome face, thick brown furrowing, lips parted before his canines dragged the bottom lip, the muscle in his jaw jumping as he fought not to thrust and fuck your mouth.
you hummed around him, the vibration sending sparks up his cock that made it twitch and he cursed again, âjust like that,â he murmured.
you took him inside your mouth again, this time picking up your speed and pace in sucking himâthe tip hitting the back of your throat, causing you to gag and roll your eyes behind.Â
his veins glided along your wet tongue, sunghoon squeezed his eyes shut as wet, clicky sounds filled the space. sunghoon falls into his temptation and thrusts his hips upward, hitch in his breath as you deepthroat him.Â
âshit, âm cummin, fuck,âÂ
his whole body went rigid, hips jerking shallowly before spilling hot down your throat, pulse after pulse. your eyes widened but didnât pull away, taking it all. contrasting from how soft you hummed around him while he shuddered through it, curses and your name tumbling from his lips.
your throat worked in gulps as you swallowed his milk down, hands steadying his thighs. sunghoon sagged back against the counter, chest heaving as you eased off lowâlips sliding along his cock until he slipped free with a pop.
a thin strand of cum and spit connected you before breaking.
âhah⊠hngh,â you looked up at him, wiping the corner of your mouth with your thumb before slipping it inside your mouth to lick it clean, a smug little smile tugging at your messy lips. sunghoon stared down at you, breathing ragged, furrowing.Â
âjesus fuckinâ christ,â he muttered, running his hand down his face before reaching down to haul you up by your arms until you were pressed against him, foreheads touching. âyouâre gânna kill me.â
then he kissed youâdeep, filthyâcombining both the taste of him and you on your tongue and groaning into it. his hands slid down to grip your thighs, turning and lifting you easily onto the counter.Â
âmy turn again,â he murmured, hiking up yourâhisâshirt until it bunched at your waist. you were fully exposed to him from the hips down. âi ainât stoppinâ, so donât tell me to.â
you only whimpered in response as sunghoonâs palm splayed across your lower stomach, holding you while the other hand wrapped around his cock, guiding himself to your entrance. the head of his cock scooped your slickness.
sunghoon teased you by slipping in just the head, stretching you and barely enough to evoke a soft gasp from your lips. from behind, he smirked at your reaction, looking down at how your slick hung down from his cock.Â
âeasy now,â he muttered, hissing as finally pushed in slow. the stretch was immediate though, thick and burning in the best way possible. you gasped aloud, head falling forward, fingers clawing at the granite as he sank deeperâinch by inchâuntil he almost bottomed out with a low, guttural groan against your neck.
âoh my fuckinâ god, sunghoon,â you cried out, feeling him in your stomach. âshit, youâre perfect,â he rasped, pulling back almost all the way before snapping his hips forward, hardâburying all his inches inside you. the slap of skin echoed in the kitchen as your body jolted forward with the force, the hat youâre wearing tipped sideways.
he set a relentless, needy pace from the startâdeep and punishing thrusts that had you moaning and crying with every slam, his hand on your stomach pressed down his bulging cock through your flesh, feeling the skin swelling.
his other hand gripped your hip, steadying you while his fingers dug hard enough to bruise, pulling you back to meet every roll of his hips. âso goddamn tight,â he hissed, teeth grazing your shoulder.Â
âtakinâ me like youâre made for me.â
every thrust only dragged your walls, the head slamming and bullying that soft spot inside you, forming a wave of pleasure that coiled tighter and tighter until youâre left trembling against the counter. your breath hitched, babbling his name.
âmoreâmore, more, more,â you whined. sunghoon didnât let you up, his fingers moved down to work on your clit, rolling and rubbing his middle finger on that little pea as his hips snapped forward without mercy.Â
sunghoonâs so horny itâs fucking crazyâhe fucked into you deep and hard, every thrust punching air from your lungs. sweat beaded along his neck, rolled down his collarbone; dark hair stuck to his foreheadâbarely leashed hunger.Â
he was always like this when he finally snappedâweeks, sometimes months, of nothing but endless ranch work and journey, early mornings, late nights, calloused hands busy with fences and horses and hay to even think about getting laid.Â
thereâs almost no time for bars, patience for games (although he liked to indulge himself in dart games), just pure, pent up need stacking higher and higher.Â
so when you showed upâpretty, stranded, looking at him with those wide, pleading eyes, spilling lemonade down your shirt and ending up in his clothes and hat, space, handsâŠ
 a girl like you, soft and cityâsweet and practically begging to be taught how the town works, walking straight into his worldâhe couldnât have stopped if he tried. he didnât want to stop.Â
a guttural sound tore out of him when you tightened, fingers rubbing your clit harder, pressing down. âfuckâtake it,â he rasped. âtake every fuckinâ inch,âÂ
you gasped, blossoming with excitement and arousal. your pleasure spills out in trembling moans, breathy cries mixing with the echo of your skin slapping together. âfuck, fuck, it feels so good, hoonie,âÂ
his eyes twitched before he delivered a smack against your asscheeck, the flesh jiggling before he quickly smoothed it down with his hand. âgood,â he panted, clamping his teeth down on your shoulder. the sound of his balls slapping against your cunt reverberated through the kitchen.Â
âwanna cum, aâagain, please,â you pleaded, lips parting as you hung your head down. his cock was able to delve deeper from this position of your leg on the countertop, spreading your thighs further. âhmâ? cumminâ again already?â sunghoon chuckled softly, slamming and bucking his hips up that the tip slammed against your cervix.
you nodded eagerly, whimpering. youâre so overstimulatedâcouldnât think straight at the way your pussy spasmed around his throbbing length. âplease, please i wanna cum real bad,â you whined, pleading.Â
sunghoon dragged his nails and held your hips, his cock dragged against your velvety walls. âshow me,â his words broke apart, the rhythm of his hips frantic and desperate. he wasnât as close to cumming, and he wished to keep fucking youâbut he supposed city girls didnât have a lot of stamina.Â
âcum on my fuckinâ cock, baby,â
you cursed out loud as a gush of warm liquid squirted out and down on your thighsâand his cock totally engulfed him warm and wet. he was buried so deep inside you, not moving as much to allow you to steady yourself.Â
the orgasm crashed over you like a tsunamiâoverwhelmingly relentless. your vision whited out at the edges, walls clenching around him in rhythmic pulses, milking him, pulling him deeper like your body refused to let go.Â
heat bloomed low in your tummy and spread in shocks as your body twitched, slumping on the counter. âoh goshâoh my gosh,â you whimpered, thighs trembling, breath sharp, desperate gasps.
âfuckâlook at you,â sunghoon rasped, fingers digging into your hips as he thrust through your climax, chasing his own release in the tight, slick gripâstill not pulling out. âsoakinâ me like thatâŠâÂ
you felt vulnerable and claimedâthere was no fucking way any other men can ever come close to thisâsunghoon, his demeanour, his energy, his cockâever again. not your boyfriend, not any boys anywhere.Â
the wet mess between your legs proof of how thoroughly he done fucked you up.
âhnghâah, iâŠâ your words trailed off as you panted, pussy twitching around his cock⊠you stayed like that for a long momentâbent over his counter, wearing his shirt, his hatâhis chest heaving against your back.Â
sunghoon caressed the globe of your asscheek, spreading to see his wet cock and the way your squirt dripped down on his tiles. âyou what?â
you shook your head, biting your bottom lip to stifle another whimper, then turned your head just enough to meet his gazeâeyes glassy, cheek adorably flushed, with that little bratty smile.
âi still havenât ridden the cowboyâŠâÂ
sunghoonâs eyes widened for a fraction before a grin spread across his face.
âoh darlinâ,â he chuckled softly. âyouâre takinâ the reins.â
ââ
âoh fuckâ!â
the sound tore out of you, high and whimpery as sunghoon licked straight up between your pussy lips one long stroke. no teasing this timeâjust pure filth and hunger. his tongue plunged inside you, swirling and thrusting back and forth inside your cunt, lips sealing around to suck hard.
your hands flew to the wooden headboard for balance, gripping the wood, hips rocking instinctively against his handsome face. the tip of his nose brushed your clit every time you moved.Â
sunghoon groaned into you, the vibration going up your cunt. his hand held your hips from falling, the other wrapped around his throbbing cock, jerking off the taste of your cunt and the sound of your moans.Â
wet sounds filled this room now, his nose brushing your clit as he devoured you from below.Â
âhoonieâfuuuckkkk,â you whimpered, head falling back as you quickly held the hat on your head. sunghoon insistedâbeggedâyou keep it on your head. said itâs fuckinâ hot, said youâreâ
his.
sunghoon answered by clamping his teeth down on your flesh, not hard that itâs painful, but enough for you to feel the pressure and his canines. his one hand left your hip to reach up and palm your tits, thumb flicking the nipple while he sucked your clit relentless.Â
thereâs no way you could last much longer. not like thisânot with him eating and tongueâfucking you like a straved man.Â
and from the way his hips rolled up in his grip, cock leaking against his handâhe was loving every second of it.Â
âhoonie, here it isâ, oh jesus,â your voice broke as you grind harder. the orgasm hit like a bungeeâyour whole body tensed as your thighs trembled and kept his head locked between you as you came hard down on his face.Â
a rush of warmth flooded out of you again, coating his mouth, chin, and sunghoon licked you clean, drinking your liquid down. your legs gave out completely and you sagged forward against the headboard, panting, shaking, the aftershocks rippling through you as he gentled his tongue in soothing licks to ease you.
slowly, sunghoon lifted you off himâguiding you down to straddle on his hips again. his face was slick with you, lips red and swollen, eyes dark and triumphant as he looked at youâhair a mess, tipped hat, chest heaving.Â
your nipples perked up.
âfuck,â he rasped, cupping your tits. âyou taste even better the second time.â
you collapsed forward onto his chest, feeling his cock hard and hot against your stomach.Â
sunghoon wrapped his arms around you, one hand stroking your back, the other tangling in your hair. âready to be a cowgirl, babe?â he murmured against your temple, hips rolling up onceâhis cock glided against your tummy. âor you need another minute?â he teased.
you whimpered and shook your head, already shifting your hips and straightening your spine. you placed your hands on his toned chest, biting your lip.Â
âno more minutes,â you murmured, flicking your thumbs over his nipples. âi want my cowboy now.â
he grinned, rolling his eyes playfully.Â
âthen take him.âÂ
you didnât need to be told twice.
you sank down slowly at firstâteasing the head along your folds, coating, moving your hips and drawing it out until his hands gripped your hips. silent warning to not tease himâhe ainât the strongest soldier here.
you giggled softly before taking him in one smooth drop, all the way to the hilt.
ânghâ!â the stretch burned perfectly, filling and stretching you up that you both groaned at the same time at the pleasure. your head tipped back slightly, his fingers digging into the flesh. sunghoon was thick, hot, throbbing inside and you felt every inch as you adjusted, walls fluttering around him.
you were pretty, tight, warmâwrapping around him nicely.
âfuck,â he hissed, eyes squeezing shut before he opened them again, watching the lewd expression on your face. âjuuust like that⊠ride me, pretty cowgirl,âÂ
you beganârolling your hips in deep, lazy circles, grinding down so he hit every spot inside on every pass. your hands braced on his chest, nails dragging lightly over his skin as you lifted yourself and sank back down.
like a cowgirlâsunghoon let you lead for a while; watching you through half lidded eyes, one hand slipping up to play with your tits, thumb teasing your nipple in the same breath as your movements. the other stayed on your hip, guiding but not controlling.Â
he lets you take what you want.
but that only lasted a while.
you started moving faster, riding, hoping (more like a bunny, than a cowgirl)âtits bouncing so lewdly, pitchy little ah, ah ahâs moans escaping your lips. the slap of skin got louder, his cock disappeared as quick as he saw it.
sunghoon couldnât stay still anymore.
his hips snapped up to meet you halfway, driving deeper, harder, making your cries louder as pleasure spiked suddenly.Â
âthatâs it,â his voice wrecked, sitting up suddenly so you were chest to chest, his hands on your hips as he lifted you up and down on his cock, pulling you down harder onto every thrust.Â
âfuckinâ ride me just like thatâuse me,â
you clung to his shoulders, nails biting into his skin, moving together in a frantic rhythm. your sweat dripped down on his skin as his did too, sunghoonâs mouth found your neck where he sucked marks into your skin as you clenched tighter.Â
âhoonie, hoonie, so good, feels sâgood,â you whimpered, holding his hat on your head with one hand, the other wrapped around his neck.
âcome on,â he chuckled low and filthy against your throat, your head tipped back. one of his hands palmed your tits, pinching your perky bud. âkeep ridinâ me like that. fuckâtakinâ my cock so good. youâre made for this ranchâmade for me,â
you nodded, his balls slapping the curve of your ass as you goâgigglingâjust mind fucked over his cock.Â
âlove it, donât cha?â he kept going with his filthy talks, breath hot against your skin. âlove bouncinâ on a cowboy you just met, creaminâ all over him while your little guyâs waitinâ somewhere,â sunghoon hummed, lips grazing the slope of your shoulder.Â
âbet heâs never fucked you this goodânever made this pussy cream so many times in one evening.â
you moaned louder, clenching at his voice and words. he grinned against your neck, thrusting up harder to meet you.Â
âsay it,â he rasped, rolling your nipple slow and mean between his fingerpads. âtell me how good youâre gettinâ it.â
âhoonieââ you whined, walls fluttering wildly.Â
âsay it,â he coaxed, hands dropping to grip your ass, guiding you faster, deeper. âtell me whose cock youâre gonna be thinkinâ about from now on,â
you were too far gone to careâpleasure coiling tight and how low in your tummy. âyours,â you gasped, hat tilting crooked as you slammed down faster. âonly yoursâhoonie, fuckâonly you, wanna be yours,âÂ
sunghoonâs cock twitched. âthatâs my girl,â he praised, voice dripping sin, hips snapping. âcream this cock again. milk meâlet me feel that pretty pussy.â
and with his mouth on your collarbone, fingers twisting your nipple, his thick cock dragging your velvety wallsâyou came.
your whole body seizedâback arching, a broken cry tearing from your throat. another rush of warmth flooded out of you, soaking where you joined, dripping down his length and onto his thighs. the fourth orgasm rolled through you, thighs shaking.Â
sunghoon groaned as well, holding you tight but he didnât follow you over the edgeânot yet. the night is still young, after all. his cock throbbed inside, impossibly harder, slick with release, but he gritted his teeth, letting you ride the aftershocks while he stayed buried.Â
âhnghâiâhah,â you slumped forward, panting against his chest, hat slipping sideways. sunghoon caught it and settled it back on your head. âcame so pretty for me,â he murmured, pressing a kiss to your temple.
âbut iâm not done with you yet.â
he didnât give you much time to recover before his arms hooked under your knees and he flipped you onto your back. the air left your lungs as your body bounced lightly on his mattress. âhmâ?âÂ
sunghoon folded you in half, knees pushed to your shoulders, hips tilted upâcompletely open, bare, exposed, and pinned beneath him in a deep, filthyâ
mating press.
the hat finally tumbled off your head and onto the pillow. you barely noticed before sunghoon picked it up and wore it himself.
sunghoon loomed over you, dark hair falling into his eyes, cock still rockâhard and wet as he nudged back inside in a slow thrust. the new angle dragged him deeper than beforeâstretching you wide, pressing and making your eyes roll back from pleasure.Â
âfuck⊠look at ya,â he chuckled, hips rolling slow to let you feel every thick inch. âtakinâ me so deep⊠pussy made for me, wasnât it?â
you could only nod and whimper, looking up at him with doe, glassy eyes and swollen lips from clamping down. you looked so fucking feastible like thisâbody filled with his lovebites, nipples perky and red from pinching, your sweaty and glossy skinâ
so perfect.
sunghoon only meant to help a poor stranded girl with her broke down car, he sworeâbut he supposed ending the day with a girl didnât sound so bad.
he began movingâlong, solid hard strokes that punched the air from your lungs each time he pulled up. the position left you no room to move, no escape from the overwhelming fullness, every thrust driving him against your gâspot.Â
sweat dripped down from his brow onto your chestâsunghoon crashed his lips against yours in open mouthed kisses with tongue involved. âtell me again,â he snapped his hips to draw a cry out of you. âwhoâs makinâ you feel this good?â
âyouâhoonie, only youâ,â the words slipped out rushly. sunghoon chuckled, the headboard knocked against the wall from the way your folded body rocked with every thrust, breasts bouncing. sunghoon gripped the backs of your thighs to keep you spread wide and pinned.
âgonna ruin you for anyone else,â he rasped, eyes locked on where you joinedâhis cock disappeared inside you over and over. âeverytime you close your eyes, youâre gânna remember how deep i got, how hard i fucked you, how many times i made this tight pussy come.â
your heart thumped, tummyâs doing cartwheels at his words. âyes! please, please, pleaseââm cumming!â you gasped, back arching as you dragged your nails down his shoulders. sunghoonâs relentless thrusts hitting your soft spot without mercy.Â
the coil snapped againâyou came with a cry of his name, walls clamping down around him in tight, waves, another nth gush of warmth soaking you both as you whole body shook helplessly in his hold.
âfuck,â sunghoon cursed filthy, fucking you turned erratic as he chased his own high. a few more deep, brutal strokes and burying himself to the hiltâsunghoon spilled inside of you, pulsing hot and endless streaks of semen, hips jerking through every wave.Â
he held your hips up, milking himself dry as your pussy spasmed around him, squeezing every last drop. âshit⊠shitâŠâ he panted, staying pressed for a long moment as he lazily thrusted his cum inside.
both of you panted, trembling, sweat slick, and spent. your body twitched in pleasure, eyes fluttering shut as you catch your breath. slowly, carefully, sunghoon eased your legs down, letting them fall open around his hips as he pulled his cock out.
cum dribbled down your puffy, swollen cunt, messyâsliding down your folds and onto his sheets beneath you. more followed as your body slumped down.
sunghoonâs gaze dropped between your legs before back on your faceâhis hand gently stroking your thigh like he couldnât stop touching you. his cowboy hat tilted crookedly on his head, casting a shadow over his eyes as he fixed it.Â
you whimperedâtoo sensitive and overstimulatedâbut didnât pry him off when he pushed his cum lazily inside just to watch you shiver. finally, sunghoon leaned down, lips brushing to exhaustedly kiss youâyour lips, cheeks, and temple.
âyou okay, darlinâ?â he murmured, arms wrapped around you, pulling you into his chest as he rolled to the side. sunghoon tucked you against him, tangling your legs together.Â
you nodded into his neck, fingers tracing idly. âmore than okay.â you murmured, ânever been better.â sunghoon huffed a hum, kissing the top of your head.Â
âgood,â he said simply, voice low in the dim room. ââcause carâs definitely ainât gettinâ fixed anytime soon,â he murmured, pulling the blanket to cover the two of you. âmeans âm keepinâ you here till morninâ. maybe longer.â
the last of the daylight had faded into deep twilight.
oh wellâ
your⊠ex boyfriend waiting somewhere could sit tight and wonder all he wanted; his plans had been bucked off the trail the moment the real cowboy rode in.Â
this filly had found her herd, and she wasnât wandering back to any old pasture soon.
you supposed some breakdowns are just detours to exactly where youâre meant to end up.
