Kitten

The living room was too warm.

You weren’t sure if it was the late summer air drifting through the balcony doors, the lazy stew simmering in the kitchen, or the way Jungwon’s socked foot kept inching over yours under the couch blanket, rubbing deliberately slow along your ankle like he was trying to annoy you.

He was lounging in his old hoodie — the one with the sleeves stretched from too many nights of you yanking it off of him — head tipped back against the couch cushion, phone in one hand, and a lazy smile on his lips.

“You’re distracting me,” you mumbled, trying to keep your eyes on the open laptop in your lap.

“From your very important crime show fanfiction research?” he murmured, teasing. “Should I call the FBI now or later?”You nudged his thigh with your knee, but you didn’t stop smiling.

It was always like this. Safe. Soft. Comfortable.

Three years together. Two of them in this apartment. Hundreds of hours of ramen and takeout and late-night baths and forehead kisses and stupid arguments over dish soap and blankets and what color the hallway rug should be.

And sex, yeah — good sex, even great sometimes. You’d tried new things, you’d laughed through the awkwardness. But you hadn’t talked about the stuff that lived a little deeper. Not yet.

Not the thing neither of you really had words for. Not the stuff that lived between the jokes, under the skin. You weren’t sure if he felt it, too. That flicker of something darker that sometimes sparked just below the surface of your sweet domestic bliss.

But it started tonight.

It started because of the fucking door.

⸻

The knock was sharp. Abrupt.

You both stiffened.

It was 10:42 p.m.

Jungwon sat up first, phone lowering. “Are we expecting someone?”You shook your head. “Maybe a package—”But another knock came. Firmer. No voice. No footsteps. Just a heavy thud-thud that didn’t match any delivery guy you’d ever heard.

Jungwon looked at you and then rose. Quiet, measured. He padded toward the door barefoot, shoulders tense. You followed behind, slower, the kind of nervous you couldn’t quite explain. He glanced at the peephole, exhaled slowly.

“There’s no one there.”He opened the door — no chain, no hesitation — and stepped into the hallway.

Empty.

Your throat tightened. “Are you sure—”“I swear I heard someone,” he muttered. “There’s—”He turned.

And something in his expression changed.

Just for a second.

Just for a second, his face slipped into something blank and unrecognizable, something cold and sharp and—He shut the door.

Locked it.

Turned back to you slowly.

And smiled.

Not soft. Not warm.

But dark. Amused.

Like he was testing something.

You blinked. “What?”

He tilted his head. “You looked scared just now.”“I wasn’t.”

“You were. You stepped back.”“So?”

“So,” he said, voice low, “that was kind of hot.”You stared at him.

And then, for reasons you wouldn’t understand until later, you whispered:“Do it again.”

⸻

The air changed.

He blinked once, expression neutral, then stepped forward.

And for the first time in your three-year relationship, Jungwon crowded you.

Not romantically. Not tenderly.

But like he was someone else.

Like he wanted to see what you’d do if he did.

Like he was testing a boundary you hadn’t named yet.

You gasped and backed up — just an inch.

His pupils dilated.

You could feel your heartbeat in your throat. Your stomach.

Something between your legs fluttered. Heat. Panic. Want.

You didn’t say stop. You didn’t say anything.

You just froze.

And he watched you.

Watched every breath, every twitch, the flush on your chest.

And then—he blinked. Backed off. Just like that.

“…Shit,” he whispered.

You touched the wall behind you, still not breathing.

He stepped back, hands up, like you were the one who needed calming down.

“I didn’t mean—I just—it was a joke—”“No,” you said softly.

He froze.

You looked up at him.

“You’re right,” you whispered. “That… that was kind of hot.”⸻

You didn’t have sex that night.

You didn’t even kiss.

You lay in bed next to each other, silent, staring at the ceiling.

His fingers found yours under the sheets.

“I think,” you said slowly, “we should talk about this.”He nodded.

“…Tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow,” he whispered.

But neither of you slept.

Not really.

Not with that moment replaying on a loop.

That tiny thrill of fear. That dark, glinting shift in power.

That feeling of being hunted — just for a moment — by someone who would never actually hurt you.

_______________

You were the first one awake.

Not because the sun was warm or the birds were loud or your body ached in a good way — you hadn’t even touched each other.

But your brain had been stuck replaying last night on a loop since 5:24 AM.

The way he moved toward you. The way he looked at you. The way your breath caught in your throat — not just from fear, but something heavier, deeper. Something primal.

And most terrifying of all: the part of you that wanted him to do it again.

You stared at the ceiling for a long time, your thoughts twisted and wet and wrong and so real. And when he finally stirred beside you, blinking slowly, sleepy and soft and yawning with his hair a mess — you felt guilty.

And aroused.

And terrified.

“Good morning,” Jungwon whispered, voice hoarse from sleep.

You nodded.

He rubbed his eyes, glanced sideways at you.

Then paused.

Because he knew.

He knew you were still thinking about it.

⸻

He didn’t ask anything right away.

Instead, he kissed your temple, pulled you into his chest, and stayed there for a long time. Just holding you. Letting you feel his warmth. His heartbeat.

It was his way of saying: You’re safe. No matter what.

And you loved him for that.

⸻

You both ate breakfast quietly. Toast, eggs, tea. He squeezed too much honey into your mug again and you didn’t even tease him for it this time.

You were both too aware of what needed to be said.

Finally, you sat cross-legged on the couch with your tea pressed to your lips and your heartbeat too loud in your ears.

“Can we talk about it?” you said quietly.

He looked up from his phone.

“Yeah.”

A long beat.

You set the cup down.

“…Did it scare you?”

Jungwon shook his head slowly. “Not in the bad way.”

You blinked. “There’s a good way?”

He hesitated, then nodded.

“It scared me like—like when you’re on a roller coaster. And you feel that drop. And it’s like you’re going to die for a second. But then you don’t. And everything just…” he exhaled, voice quieter, “feels sharper. More real.”

You stared at him.

He glanced at you. Then smiled, embarrassed. “That sounded stupid.”

“No,” you whispered. “It didn’t.”

⸻

You talked.

For hours.

About the feeling. The adrenaline. The stillness. The flush in your body. The pulse in your throat. The look in his eyes.

And eventually…

“…I liked pretending I didn’t want it,” you admitted, barely above a whisper.

Jungwon didn’t flinch.

He just looked at you, calm and gentle and… understanding.

“Yeah,” he said. “I liked pretending you didn’t want it too.”

⸻

You broke the silence first.

“I think,” you said slowly, “what we’re describing… is consensual non-consent.”

He nodded. “CNC. Yeah. I’ve read about it.”

You blinked. “You have?”

He flushed a little, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah. Not a lot. But I got curious. Months ago. I didn’t even know what it was called. I just wanted to… see if other people felt like that.”

“Did they?”

“Yeah,” he said softly. “A lot.”

You looked down at your hands. “That makes me feel less crazy.”

“You’re not crazy.”

A pause.

He licked his lips.

“I’d never do it unless you begged me for it.”

Your head snapped up.

He met your eyes, firm now.

“I would never hurt you for real. Ever. Not even close. You’d have to ask me. Plan it. Agree to it. You’d have to give me everything I needed to know — what you want, what you don’t, how far, what words are okay, what I should never say, what we’ll do before, and after. I won’t touch this unless you’re completely, 100% sure.”

You stared at him, stunned.

And turned on.

“…Okay,” you whispered.

“Okay?”

“Let’s talk about it.”

⸻

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐂𝐄𝐍𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐎

You both sat with your legs tangled on the couch, scribbling on the back of junk mail envelopes like it was a school project.

“What’s the setting?” he asked.

You blinked. “Like… at home?”

“No, like what’s the fantasy? What are we pretending?”

“…Oh.”

You hesitated.

Then said it.

Quiet. Embarrassed.

“…You break in.”

Jungwon exhaled. Low and slow.

You couldn’t look at him.

“I’m not home at first,” you said. “You’re already inside. Watching me. You trap me in the bedroom. I try to run. I say no.”

He was staring now.

You continued. “You overpower me. Grab me. Throw me down. Hold me there.”

His pupils were dilated.

You whispered: “You ignore me when I say no.”

He let out a shaky breath.

Then: “You want me to call you names?”

You paused.

“…Like what?”

“Things like… fucking slut. dumb bitch. filthy little toy. helpless whore. Stuff like that.”

You swallowed.

Your thighs clenched.

“…Yes,” you whispered.

“You want me to chase you?”

“…Yes.”

“You want me to be scary?”

You nodded.

He looked at you for a long time.

Then said:

“Give me your hard no’s.”

⸻

. “No real choking. No hitting me for real.”

“No spit in the mouth?” he asked.

You hesitated.

“…Spit’s okay. But only on me. Not kissing with it.”

He nodded.

“What about—” his voice dropped lower— “forced oral?”

Your breath caught.

You nodded slowly. “If it’s clearly part of the scene.”

He reached for the pen. Wrote it down.

“No real tears,” you added quickly. “Or if I cry, you stop. Immediately.”

“Same safe word?”

You nodded. “Apple.”

“And what if you say ‘no’ or ‘stop’ during it?”

You looked him in the eye.

“Ignore it.”

Jungwon visibly shuddered.

“I want to scream,” you whispered. “And for it to mean nothing. I want you to grab me and use me like I’m just… there.”

“You’re going to act like you hate it?”

“Yes.”

“You’re going to fight?”

“Yes.”

He exhaled.

“You’re going to say things like don’t touch me and get off me and I’ll still—?”

“Yes,” you whispered. “Because I want you to.”

⸻

You were flushed by the end of it.

He was too.

You hadn’t even touched each other, and you were soaked.

And Jungwon?

He was hard through his sweats. Fully. Painfully.

But he didn’t make a move.

He just looked at you.

“Are you sure?” he whispered.

You nodded.

“I’m yours,” you said softly. “Do whatever you want.”

He exhaled.

But then — he smiled.

“You better be ready to fucking beg.”

_________

It started with the locks.

Three days before.

He got home early from work, kissed your cheek like usual, whispered “Don’t look in the bedroom” — and disappeared with a duffel bag.

He didn’t explain.

Didn’t let you follow.

Just turned the music up and shut the door.

You heard the zip of canvas. The snap of leather.

The slow slide of something heavy being dragged across the carpet.

When you cracked the door open hours later, the bedposts had black straps coiled around them — the industrial kind, like the ones used to tie freight.

And you didn’t say a word.

⸻

He installed a second deadbolt.

Didn’t give you the key.

And you liked that.

You liked it a lot.

He added a smart lock to the bedroom with a remote switch on his phone. You wouldn’t be able to open it from inside without his permission. He demonstrated it once, then never again.

“This isn’t for real,” he told you, tone even. “You can break out anytime. You can scream. I’ll always stop.”

You nodded.

“I want to forget that I can,” you whispered. “That’s the point.”

His eyes darkened.

⸻

He asked you to send him updates.

Not about work. Not about your day.

But about your routine.

Where you were. When you’d be alone. When you’d be vulnerable.

You started using code.

“Alone from 6–11 PM tonight. No plans. TV too loud.”

“Shower time. Curtains drawn. Front door unlocked by accident.”

“Lights off. Bedroom door closed. Scared I heard something.”

He never responded.

But you knew he was reading.

Because sometimes, minutes after you sent them, your hallway light would flicker once.

Just once.

Then go out.

⸻

You started to clean like you were going on a date.

You changed the sheets. Shaved everything. Scrubbed your skin until it smelled like vanilla and soap. Rearranged your vanity. Set out candles. Left a pair of your lace panties on the edge of the bed on purpose.

You didn’t tell him.

But the next morning, they were gone.

⸻

On day two, you received your first real message.

An unmarked envelope, slid under the door.

Inside was a polaroid. Just your silhouette in the shower. Steamy. Blurry.

On the back, in sharp black ink:

You looked scared when the shampoo hit your eyes. Good. Stay like that.

—J

You didn’t know when he took it.

You didn’t hear the door open.

You didn’t feel him watching.

And that made you ache.

⸻

That night, you tried to touch yourself.

But every time your fingers moved lower, you thought about his breath in your ear. The slap of his palm. The hand pinning your wrists. The mockery. The name-calling.

You came too fast. Too hard. Too shamefully.

And you cried.

Because you’d never been this turned on in your entire life.

And he hadn’t even laid a hand on you yet.

⸻

Day three.

No text. No call. Nothing.

You started pacing the house. Checking the blinds. Jumping at shadows.

You even texted him once — a soft little “Hey? All okay?” just to ease the dread building in your chest.

He left you on read.

And when the lights flickered again at 11:48 PM, you swore your heart stopped.

Because this time…

The balcony door was unlocked.

And you never left it that way.

⸻

You slept with the lights on. He never came. But that wasn’t the point. Because you woke up wet. And desperate. And ready to be ruined.

_______

It started with the silence.

You’d been pacing the apartment barefoot for thirty minutes. No TV. No music. No lights.

Just waiting.

Naked under your oversized shirt.

The clock read 12:19 AM.

He should have come by now.

You checked your phone again. No messages. No calls. You were almost ready to believe he wasn’t coming. That this was all some twisted mind game, and he was just going to leave you there soaked, aching, and humiliated.

But then.

A whisper of wind.

The curtains shifted.

And the front door slowly creaked open.

Your body locked up.

It was happening.

You backed up—one step, two—until the backs of your thighs hit the coffee table.

No sound. No voice.

Just the click of the door closing.

You stared into the hallway.

And then—

A shadow moved.

Low. Fast.

Your heart thundered.

“Who’s there?” you called out. Your voice was shaking.

Nothing.

You took one step toward the hallway, hand trembling as it reached for your phone.

But your phone wasn’t there.

It was gone.

No.

It had been taken.

And that’s when you realized—this wasn’t going to be like the others. The messages. The teasing. The shadows and the flickering lights.

This was real.

He was inside.

⸻

You ran.

Barefoot, shirt fluttering around your thighs.

Down the hallway. Into the bedroom. You slammed the door shut and threw your weight against it, chest heaving.

Click.

Locked.

But not the new lock. Not the one you didn’t have the code to.

The smart lock.

The one he controlled.

The one you’d begged him to install.

Your hands shook.

“Please,” you whispered. “Please don’t—”

Click.

The door unlocked itself.

Your stomach dropped.

You stumbled backward, heartbeat exploding.

The handle turned.

Slow. Deliberate.

The door creaked open.

And there he was.

Jungwon was gone.

This was him now — whoever he was supposed to be.

A stranger in your home.

In a black hoodie. Hair wet. Hands gloved.

Eyes unreadable.

“Don’t come closer,” you gasped, backing up. “I—I’ll scream.”

He didn’t blink.

“Go ahead,” he said, voice low. Cruel. “No one’s listening.”

⸻

You turned and bolted.

Toward the window. Toward anything.

But he was faster.

You shrieked when his hand caught your shirt. You hit the floor hard, palms scraping against the carpet, and screamed—louder now.

He grabbed your ankles and dragged you back like you were nothing.

“No—stop—please—let me go!”

“Shut the fuck up.”

He yanked you onto your back and pinned your wrists to the floor, straddling you.

You thrashed. He just watched. Like you were a thing.

A toy.

His voice dropped to a whisper.

“Didn’t you say the door was locked?”

You choked on your breath.

He leaned closer, breath hot on your cheek.

“Liar.”

“Please—get off me—”

Slap.

His hand cracked across your cheek.

Not too hard. But enough. Your head snapped sideways. Your eyes flooded with tears. Not from pain. From how wet you suddenly were. From how deeply you wanted him to ruin you.

“You like pretending,” he hissed in your ear. “But you know you fucking want this.”

“No—please—don’t—”

Another slap. Firmer. Left cheek this time.

He grabbed your jaw. Forced you to look at him.

“Say it again. Say you don’t want it.”

Your bottom lip trembled.

“…I don’t.”

His grin turned feral.

“Liar,” he said again.

And then he pulled your shirt up over your chest, slow and brutal and final.

“You shouldn’t have worn this,” he murmured. “Fucking asking for it.”

You sobbed.

He let go of your wrists and you didn’t even move.

Because you knew. It was already too late.

_______

He didn’t speak when your shirt came off.

Just stared at your chest, lips parting.

You were panting beneath him, flushed, humiliated, your skin hot and your legs trembling, but he didn’t soften.

He didn’t hesitate.

He reached down, grabbed the center of your bra, and ripped it.

You gasped, hands flying up to shield yourself, but he was faster—slapping them away, forcing your wrists down with one hand and backhanding your thigh with the other.

“Fucking stay still.”

You shook your head desperately, legs kicking uselessly beneath him.

“Please, please, don’t—don’t touch me—”

“You mean like this?” he whispered, dragging his hand between your legs, palm hard against your clothed core. “This is what you don’t want?”

You moaned.

Loud.

You couldn’t help it.

And that was the worst part.

“Fucking slut,” he growled. “Already soaking wet for the man breaking into your house. You get off on this? You like being scared?”

You thrashed, but he didn’t let go.

He slapped your pussy through your panties — once, twice — enough to make your hips jerk.

Your shirt was still bunched around your neck, arms tangled, your chest completely exposed. Your panties were soaked.

He moved off you just long enough to flip you onto your stomach, dragging your hips up so your ass arched and your face was crushed into the carpet.

“No, no—stop, please—”

“Shut the fuck up.”

He grabbed your panties and tore them down, dragging them to your knees.

You weren’t fighting anymore.

Your fists were clenched. Your eyes were wet. Your pussy was leaking.

And you were shaking.

Because he was fully hard against you now.

And you knew what was coming.

You wanted it.

But in this scene, in this dark world you’d built together, you weren’t allowed to want it.

So you cried.

And he mocked you for it.

“Look at you,” he sneered. “Crying like a fucking baby, but your pussy’s dripping all over the fucking floor. Can’t wait to ruin it, huh?”

You whimpered.

“I said look at me.”

He grabbed your hair and yanked your head back.

You gasped.

“Say it,” he hissed. “Say you don’t want it.”

“…I don’t.”

He laughed.

“You’re such a fucking liar.”

He spat on your cunt.

He spat on your pussy again.

Hot. Wet. Mocking.

Then pressed his thumb between your folds like he owned you.

“Fucking soaked,” he muttered. “Pathetic.”

You squirmed, trying to clench your thighs, but he slapped the inside of your leg hard enough to leave a print.

“Open them. Now.”

“I—I can’t—”

Crack.

His palm landed across your ass.

You yelped, writhing. “Please—please don’t—”

“Liar,” he hissed again. “Fucking liar.”

He dropped to his knees behind you, unzipped himself, and dragged the thick head of his cock through your mess, slow and heavy and deliberate.

You choked on your breath.

“No—please—it won’t fit—”

“Oh, it’ll fucking fit,” he whispered. “You’re drooling for it.”

You tried to crawl away—clumsy, shaking—but he caught your hips, hauled you back, and slammed you into the floor like a ragdoll.

“You’re mine now.”

“No—!”

He grabbed your hair.

And shoved himself in.

⸻

You screamed.

It was too much—too full—too rough—

You kicked. Fought. Sobbed.

And he just kept going.

No mercy.

No pause.

Not even a second to breathe.

“Fucking tight little hole,” he growled. “Acting like you don’t want this dick but look at you. Sucking me in like a fucking whore.”

You whimpered, fists clenched.

He snapped his hips into you hard.

“You like getting raped, don’t you?”

You cried out.

One of your legs gave out completely, collapsing under him.

But he didn’t stop.

He fucked you into the floor — holding your hips up, slapping your ass between thrusts, snarling filth in your ear like he hated you.

Like he owned you.

“Fucking take it.”

“Don’t—don’t do this—”

He slapped your face again, not even looking.

“Say you hate it.”

“…I hate it.”

“Say you don’t want me.”

“I—I don’t—”

“You fucking liar.”

He drove in deeper.

And you screamed.

⸻

Your body betrayed you.

You were trembling.

Soaked.

Clenching around him like your cunt didn’t believe your own cries.

And he felt it.

He mocked it.

“Look at this pussy,” he growled, fingers spreading you open. “Dripping like a whore and you’ve barely taken half my cock.”

“I can’t—I can’t—please—”

He grabbed your wrists and pinned them behind your back in one brutal yank.

You screamed again.

He leaned down, lips at your ear, and whispered:

“You wanted to be ruined, baby. So fucking cry for it.”

And then he shoved all the way in.

You broke.

____________

You were broken.

Face pressed into the floor. Wrists twisted behind you. His cock pounding deep, deeper, until your breath came in wet sobs.

You’d been saying no for ten minutes straight.

Begging him to stop. To pull out. To let you go.

And he hadn’t listened once.

Because that’s what you wanted.

You wanted to be ruined.

You wanted to be taken.

And Jungwon — your boyfriend, your anchor, your safe place — was giving it to you with such filthy precision that you forgot who you were.

Your body was raw. Shaking. Slick with sweat and spit and tears and cum.

And still he didn’t stop.

“Fucking crying on my cock,” he growled, voice hoarse, hips slamming against your ass. “You’re disgusting.”

You gasped, teeth clenched.

His hand fisted in your hair. Yanked your head back hard.

“Say it again.”

“I—I don’t want it—”

“Fucking liar. Say you hate it.”

“I hate it—”

“You love it,” he snarled. “You love being used. You love being hurt.”

You cried out, legs spasming beneath him.

His breath stuttered.

“You love it when I break you.”

You sobbed.

And he—

He snapped.

“Fuck,” he gasped, voice cracking. “I love you.”

Silence.

Your entire body froze.

So did his.

His hands. His hips. His mouth. All of it — still.

Your breath caught in your throat.

He didn’t mean to say it.

Not now. Not like this.

But it had slipped.

And it shattered everything.

You blinked slowly, chest heaving, tears still fresh on your cheeks.

“…What did you just say?” you whispered.

He didn’t answer.

His cock was still buried deep inside you.

You turned your head, eyes glassy, lips swollen. Your voice came out soft. Wrecked.

“I love you too.”

His jaw clenched.

The air in the room shifted.

You lifted your hips again, just barely.

He grabbed them without thinking. Still rough. Still possessive.

But not cruel anymore.

And when he moved again — slow, deep — it felt like making love in the wreckage.

Still filthy.

Still raw.

But this time…

You weren’t resisting.

You were meeting every thrust.

You were clinging to him like you couldn’t survive the next breath without him inside you.

And he whispered again.

Not as the intruder.

But as your boyfriend.

“Fuck, I love you,” he panted, voice wrecked. “You’re mine. You’re so fucking perfect.”

You cried for real then — not out of fear or play — but from the way his hands shook when they held your waist.

From the way his cock still ruined you, even as his lips brushed your shoulder like an apology.

From how much he wanted you.

And how completely you gave yourself to him.

“I’m yours,” you whispered, trembling. “Only yours.”

————

He gripped your hips like he was trying to crawl into your skin.

Still rough. Still holding you open for him.

But the violence had melted into something deeper.

He was still fucking you — hard, deep, obscene — but it wasn’t a stranger anymore.

It was him.

It was Jungwon.

Your boyfriend. The man who knew how to break you apart and build you back up in the same breath.

“Look at you,” he rasped, cock buried to the hilt inside your soaked cunt. “Taking my dick so good now. Like you were made for it.”

You moaned, low and broken, your body jerking forward each time he slammed his hips into you, slick skin slapping loud against your ass.

Your pussy was wrecked — stretched wide around his cock, lips puffy and dripping, a mess of spit and cum and need.

He pulled back, almost all the way out — and then snapped his hips forward, punching a scream from your throat.

“Fuck—yes—baby—”

“You fucking love it,” he growled. “You say no, but this greedy little pussy’s been swallowing my cock since the first thrust.”

He leaned forward, pressing your spine into the floor, hips grinding deeper — grinding now, like he wanted to fuck the shape of his cock into your womb.

You sobbed.

His hand slipped under your belly, dragging you back onto his cock every time your legs gave out.

“I can feel you clenching,” he muttered. “Fucking wet little hole won’t let go.”

You tried to answer — to beg — but all that came out were moans, soaked and high and broken.

Your face was tear-streaked, drool pooling at the corner of your lips, body bouncing with every rough thrust. Your tits dragged against the carpet, nipples raw, ass high in the air and spread for him.

And he looked down at you like he wanted to fuck you into the floor forever.

“Say it again,” he hissed. “Say you’re mine.”

“I’m yours,” you gasped. “Yours—yours—yours—”

“You belong to this cock.”

“Yes—!”

“You were fucking made to take it.”

He grabbed your hair and yanked you upright, one hand choking the base of your throat, the other gripping your waist as he fucked up into you from behind, brutal, fast, soaking wet.

Skin slapped. Your ass bounced. His cock slammed in again and again until your vision went white.

“You wanna cum on my cock, baby?” he panted, filthy and breathless. “Wanna soak me while I fuck it out of you like a little cumdump slut?”

“Please—please—Wan—Jungwon—”

He snarled into your ear.

“Then fucking do it.”

And with one more thrust—deep, mean, all the way to your cervix—

You broke.

Your scream tore through the room.

Your cunt spasmed around him, milking his cock like it couldn’t let go, clenching and pulsing in endless waves of orgasm.

You didn’t stop shaking.

And neither did he.

Because three thrusts later, he groaned your name, wrapped his arms tight around your waist — and filled you.

Hot.

Heavy.

So much cum.

You felt it spill down your thighs even while he was still inside.

And he stayed there.

Inside you.

Breathing hard.

Whispering.

“I love you. I love you. I love you.”

_________

You were both breathing like you’d run a marathon through a fever dream.

The carpet was a mess. Your legs wouldn’t stop twitching. Your face was sticky with dried tears and spit, and your pussy… dear god.

It was still fluttering. Still leaking. Still twitching around nothing.

Jungwon hadn’t moved.

Still inside you. Still wrapped around your waist, face tucked into your shoulder.

And then—

He laughed.

A soft, breathless, I-can’t-do-this kind of laugh, pressed right into your back.

You blinked.

“…What?” you croaked.

He pulled out slowly — carefully — and you both groaned at the same time. Too sensitive.

Your cunt clenched on empty air and immediately gushed.

He whined.

Then fell over sideways with a dramatic oof and flopped onto his back next to you.

“That was…” he began, chest heaving, “so hot.”

You blinked at the ceiling, dazed. “And also the most humiliating, degrading, disgusting thing I’ve ever let you do to me.”

“I told you I was gonna ruin you.”

“You did.”

A beat.

And then—

He leaned over. Kissed your temple. Whispered, “You okay?”

You nodded instantly. “Better than okay.”

“Any pain? You good-good?”

“My pussy’s gonna file a complaint in the morning, but emotionally I’m like… soaring.”

He laughed again — a full one this time, boyish and beautiful.

Then he got up — naked, covered in sweat and cum and bruises — and gently scooped you into his arms bridal-style like you were his entire universe.

You squeaked.

“Put me down—”

“Shut up, you’re leaking,” he muttered. “We’re not staining the floor more than we already have.”

He carried you to the bed like it was instinct.

Laid you down. Pulled the blanket over you. Climbed in next to you like it was home.

And you curled into him, bare skin to bare skin, sticky and glowing and loved.

⸻

“I don’t think we’re cut out for the hardcore dark kink villain fantasy stuff,” he said after a while, rubbing circles into your back. “You kept sniffling like a baby and I kept wanting to kiss you every time I slapped you.”

You giggled into his chest. “Yeah. I was supposed to be like noooo please stop, and instead my brain was like wow he’s so hot when he’s mean.”

“You were wet before I even touched you.”

“You stole my panties.”

“You left them out for me!”

“That’s beside the point.”

Another silence.

This one longer.

And then, voice soft:

“I love you,” he whispered.

You smiled into his skin. “I love you too.”

He pulled you tighter.

And you both just stayed there.

Legs tangled. Bodies wrecked. Hearts stupidly full.

Because no matter how dark the fantasy got—

You never once forgot who you were to each other.

Home.

________

THANK YOU FOR READING!!!

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He sighs as the exhaustion of the day begins to weigh heavily on him, not having a moment's rest. He walks past the living room without a glance, ignoring the evidence of life the otherwise still house lacked. 

As quietly as possible, he climbs the stairs to his shared bedroom. Part of him wishes she were up, greeting him at the door. He had missed her today but he knew she would be sleeping, snoring softly on his bed. 

Pushing the door open, Jongseong smiles softly as his eyes land on her still body, her arms wrapped around his pillow. He stands at the doorway for a moment, just watching her. She looks soft, peaceful as she lies there. 

What he doesn’t notice are the dried tear stains on her cheeks, eyes puffy and throat parched. As he changes and uses the bathroom, Y/n opens her eyes and stares at the bathroom door, eyes burning bright with anger and grief. 

Quietly, she unwraps her arms around his pillow and places it beside hers, pushing it towards the other end of the bed. With a heavy heart, she turns to her other side, facing the wall. She shuts her eyes, praying that sleep comes to her kindly, needing it now more than ever. 

Drying his hands, Jongseong walks back into the bedroom and slides into bed. She’s turned away from him but his mind is preoccupied with all the work he would have to complete in the morning. His mind races with game plans and strategies as he stares at the ceiling, wishing his mind would grant him one night of rest. He does not think about her because his mind is full of other, adamant thoughts. 

Y/n stares at the wall, unblinking, as he thinks. She can feel them, all his racing thoughts suffocating the air in the room. She almost turns to face him, her desire to touch him stronger than the pain in her heart. He leans over and presses a kiss to her shoulder before he turns his back to her, falling asleep. She lets the warmth of his lips spread throughout her body, the ice from her joints slightly melting. 

She makes no noise as tears stream down her face, wetting her soaked pillow. She has perfected the art of silent suffering, having been her only true companion in the last weeks. 

She listens to him as his breath evens out and his quiet snores fill the silent room. Once his slumber deepens, she turns back to him, hands under her cheek as she stares at his back. Broad shoulders she hasn’t touched in days, hair she forgot the softness of, the slim of his waist she hasn’t held in a while. 

This was the only time she had with him; in the quiet depths of the night, when he came home, she got to see him. She didn’t trace his back or breathe too close, just stared. She could have thrown her arm over his waist or moved closer, hoping his body heat warmed her, but she lay still. 

Y/n was angry; no, she was livid. Anger coursed through her veins, and she dug her nails into her pillow. After a few seconds, her hands went limp. Running deeper than anger was misery, a feeling so distinct and yet so achingly familiar, she could almost taste it. It had consumed her, coated her skin, as it had become a reluctant friend.

The only emotion she could rely on these past three weeks; knowing that regardless of everything, it would greet her in bed and keep her company until she could no longer feel anything but.

After a while, her eyes soon began to flutter, tired and exhausted. She pursed her lips before turning back to the wall, refusing to indulge her initial urges. She gripped her pillow tighter as she squeezed her eyes close, knowing the morning would be quiet, as all mornings had been for a while. 

She felt herself drift off, submitting to well needed rest. Her eyes welcomed the darkness, having been abused all day. Her breathing turned soft and she rested her left hand on her heart, her ring on her heart. 

Jongseong groans as he blinks, stretching the sleepiness out of his body. The early morning sun shone on his face and he grimaced, turning towards the other side of the bed, hand reaching out. His hand met with empty space; nothing but the cold mattress beside him. He opens one eye and frowns at the sight of being woken alone. 

Rubbing his eyes, he shuffles out of bed and into the bathroom, readying himself mentally for the day. He showers and shaves, spending extra time on his hair before his towel clad body wanders into the closet. He has an important meeting today and must look his best. Blinking away his tiredness, he chooses his best suit. 

He quietly hums as he clothes himself, mind busy with different strategies he would have to play in order to make his unofficial client official. For a month, his team has been trying to convince a wealthy investor to invest in their company. Having more than forty years in the business, the client is not an easy one. But, if he agrees, he could bring in millions.

This was the most important moment in Jongseong’s career. If he did this, as the lead, he would be promoted to Chief Operating Officer (COO). 

If he did this, everything would have been worth it. All the schooling and rough hours, the days spent in the office on coffee and tangerines. He’d finally have everything he needed. Happiness was so close that he could taste it, an acquaintance on the verge of becoming a friend. 

Fixing his tie, he made his way downstairs. The house was quiet, but it had been for a while. Only the birds wanted to sing so early in the morning and waking up at the brink of sunrise tampered with his mood; wanting nothing but silence until he reached his bustling office. 

As he stepped off the last step, his eyes glanced over the living room; widening as he paused midstep, taking in the scattered balloons and gifts. He hadn’t seen any of this last night, and as far as he was concerned, it wasn’t his birthday. 

He heard quiet shuffling in the kitchen and walked towards it, eyes still on the littered table and room. His gaze fell on her back, standing on the counter. The corners of his lips lifted into a brief smile before he walked to the sink, grabbing a glass. 

“Morning, sweetheart.” 

Her back went rigid as her hold on the knife loosened. Y/n didn’t turn to look at him or lift her head. She didn’t trust herself, not with the knife in her hand or the words pressing down on her tongue. 

It wouldn’t matter, she decided. He would not notice. His eyes would meet hers briefly and even then, he wouldn’t see her. He wouldn’t kiss her, and he wouldn’t apologize. She knew all of this, having become accustomed to this new routine he had slowly forced her into. 

“Morning,” she replied, making sure to keep her voice even. Any louder, and it would go hoarse, dry and cracking. She had stopped using it, conversing only when needed. The last time she tried using it, tried to make him understand, she was ignored. That was almost two weeks ago. 

Jongseong leaned against the opposite counter as he sipped on his coffee, warm and ready for him. He scrolled through his emails and notifications before he glanced at the time. He would have to leave soon. 

“Almost done?” 

She pursed her lips and her nostrils flared. Instead of answering him, she put the lid on the container and put it in his lunch bag, zipping it up. She couldn’t feel his eyes on her, hating how she knew what that felt like. 

She slides the bag across the counter, still refusing to look at him. She turns towards the fridge, using the large door as a shield. She slowly puts everything away, hoping he would leave as he normally did; quietly and quickly. 

Instead, he pocketed his phone and picked up his lunch bag. “Whose birthday did you celebrate yesterday? A friend?”

She froze, her entire body stilling at his words. They floated around her head, burning her. She could feel the weight of them on her heart, a sudden wave of agony crashing down on her. Part of her knew. She knew that he had forgotten; that it had slipped his mind and he didn’t mean to forget. Y/n knew he wasn’t that cruel. But it didn’t make her feel better. Instead, all the anguish erupted and poured over her body. 

As humanly as she could, she stood straighter and shut the fridge. She kept her back to him, knowing that if she did manage to get a glance at his brown eyes, she would crumble. She was barely holding on as it was. 

“Mine.” 

The word hung in the air, sucking out all the oxygen in the room. It cast a dark shadow over them, the sun hiding in its ignorance. She squeezes her eyes shut, gripping onto the marble counter for dear life. She would collapse, she knew it. Her legs shook and her heart beat too rapidly. 

Jongseong stared at her back, his eyes widening by the second. At first, he hadn’t heard her. Then, when the word slipped into his mind, past the racing thoughts and outlines and emails, it rang in his ears. It jumped around in his mind, slamming against the walls of his skull as it grew heavier and heavier. 

Blinking, he wet his suddenly dry lips. He didn’t move, not quite trusting himself. “No.” He said. “Your birthday is on the fifteenth.” Despite his strong voice, everything in him felt quiet. 

“It’s the sixteenth today.” 

This was the most she had said to him in days, finding it uncomfortably easy and incredibly difficult. Her voice was quiet, monotone. Not a single hint of emotion, not a twinge of personality. 

No, he thought. I couldn’t have. 

Jongseong shook his head, taking out his phone. He glanced at the date once, then twice. Then, he unlocked his phone and checked the calendar. His thumb hovered over her name, written on the date before. There were hearts beside her name, a note written beneath it; one that listed all the details he had prepared, the restaurant and gifts. 

He could only stare at his phone in despair as he stopped breathing. It was strange, such a slow process that allowed no resistance. His palms began to sweat and his heart felt like it had been squeezed, as if it would burst out of his chest and stomped on. 

“Go,” Y/n whispers. She could feel him unraveling behind her and as much as she wanted to dwell in it, she couldn’t find the energy to. She had dreamed about this day for the last couple of days, hoping he would come to his senses. But it didn’t feel as fulfilling as it did in her head. 

“What?” Jongseong whispered, her voice piercing through his heart, tangling with his nerves. He didn’t realize how little of it he had heard recently. How could he have missed her birthday? The one day he was excited about every year; the one day he was extremely thankful for and planned months in advance for. 

She swallowed, her grip on the counter loosening. Using all her strength, she slowly turned around and Jongseog held his breath, eyes wide. His eyes trailed her body, still rigid. His gaze landed on her face and he felt his heart stop beating. Her eyes were red, swollen and permanent tear stains painted on her cheeks. 

She sighed before lifting her eyes, meeting his unnerving stare. She didn’t smile, and she didn’t frown. She simply stared at him, eyes almost hollow. Jongseong was almost sure that if he poked her, she would crumble right before her. 

“You have a meeting. You’re late.” Her words pierced his skin, his insides bleeding. “Go.” 

Without realizing it, he began to shake his head. He couldn’t breathe. His hands were shaking and the only thing on his mind was her as he tried to recall any recent memories he had; there were none. 

“You mean…” He swallowed, shame pooling in his lungs as the dots in his mind connect. “I missed your birthday?” He stared at her, eyes begging. “I missed your birthday.” 

Please, please don’t let it be true.

She nodded once, confirming his worst fears. “Yes.” Tears pricked her eyes and she bit the inside of her lip, hating that she still had tears to cry. She watched him, watched as her words sank in his bones, crawling between his joints and settling. 

A tiny, miniscule part of her felt pleased; pleased that he was in pain, glad that his mind had cleared and discovered how horrible he had been. All she had wanted from him was time, some attention. And now, after her birthday had passed, she had gotten both.

“Y/n.” Jongseong swallowed, body shaking. His heart was breaking, it was shattering within him and he could only let it happen. Staring at her, he realized her heart had broken long ago. 

He had done this, he reminded himself. He had done this. 

She simply shook her head and pointed at the clock behind him. “If you leave now, you’ll make it to the meeting.” 

“Will you stop talking about the meeting?” He raised his voice, needing to channel his emotions. His entire body shook as the reality of what he had done settled in. He hated the way she looked at him, indifferent and disappointed. Had he truly been so lost within himself? He couldn’t remember the last time he looked at her like this; all at once. 

She simply stood there, back against the counter. Watching him fall apart gave her some strength, knowing she was finally being heard. It had taken two weeks, but she had done it. She had gotten through to him. He was listening. 

“No,” she answered, voice stronger. “No. There is nothing else to talk about.” Her voice was sharper, angry. 

Jongseong shook his head, trying to clear away her words and the haze in his head. “What are you–”

“For almost three weeks,” Y/n interrupted, “you have spoken of nothing but meetings and work. You’re never here, and when you are, you don’t speak of anything else.” She stood tall, eyes shining as she crossed her arms. 

Jongseong stared at her, lips parted. His own eyes shined and his body wouldn’t stop shaking. A small part of him wanted to be angry too; he was working so hard, barely sleeping, slaving away at his job and there was no sympathy for him. But the better part of his heart, the part that she held, told him that it was no excuse; he had still missed her birthday. 

Burning with anger, she steps forward. She has held back for days but no more. If Jongseong was going to stand there, then he would listen. She would stand her ground. Y/n couldn’t go on like this, she hated it. 

“For weeks,” she began. “You have been coming home late. You don’t speak to me, you don’t touch me, you don’t acknowledge me. Everything has been about this client, everything has been about you; your job, your promotion, you, you, you.” She spat, rushing out her words. 

“Do you know that I stay up for you every night?” Her eyes are burning now, and she lets the tears slip down her cheek. He watches it in torment, her words ripping his heart open. “And I get it,” she sighs. “I know. I know how hard you’re working and how important this is to you, but I’m important too. You come home exhausted and ignore me because I’m not a priority to you anymore.” 

Jongseong is shaking his head, his words caught in his throat as his hands shake. He can’t breathe. He can’t see her properly, the tears in his eyes making everything blurry. This was his worst nightmare; something that used to keep him up at night, a constant fear in his head. 

Her lips tremble and her persona breaks; weeks of neglect making her ache. She stares at him with the most heartbreaking look; red eyes brimmed with tears and wobbly lips, her shoulders shaking as all the pain she kept locked away resurfaced. He couldn’t handle it, couldn’t stand it.

His knees buckle and he grips the counter, holding on with his life. He still can’t breathe. Part of him thinks it’s his body’s way of punishing him, forbidding him from breathing the air she had grieved in. 

Slowly, Jongseong swallows the lump in his throat and blinks. “Y/n,” he says. Her name is all he can say, all he wants to say. He only realizes now that her name tasted a bit foreign on his tongue. 

“I’m so–” A familiar ringtone interrupts him, making him blink. He watches as her expression falls apart even further and she glances at his pocket, knowing she had lost. Reluctantly, he pulls out his phone and stares at his associate’s name. His thumb hovers over the bright red button but her words stop him from pressing it. 

“Answer it,” she says. There is nothing but defeat in her tone, knowing she was competing in a losing game. Time had not stopped in the kitchen; even though it had for her. Y/n doesn’t wipe the tears off her face and it feels liberating, crying in front of him like this. 

“Hello,” his voice cracks as he answers the phone. He barely listens to his associate’s rushed words, begging him to come to the office. All he can focus on is her. It’s a bit ironic, he thinks. 

Jongseong ends the call without responding, having heard enough. He knows how important this meeting is, it’s all he’s been thinking about. That was the problem. He was the problem. 

Jongseong parts his lips, needing to get his words out but she raises her hand and silences him, standing tall. She wants him to miss the meeting, to smash his work phone on the floor and look at her, pay attention to her, but she loves him too much to ask that of him. Looking at him now, she knew he would. He was finally looking at her the way she needed him too but she couldn’t have him sacrifice this. 

“You need to go to this meeting, Jongseong.” He winces at the use of his full name. “There will be no point to any of this if you skip this meeting. What will it all be for, then?” She raises her eyebrow at him. “You tossed me aside for two weeks, what’s another day?.” 

She walks towards him and picks up his lunch bag, shoving it into his chest. Surprised, he latches on to it, hoping his fingers would graze her skin but they don’t. She pulls away, afraid that if he touched her, she would forgive him in a heartbeat. 

He stares at her, eyes wide and scared. She looks at him for a second, one quick second; and it’s enough to have her turning her head. She faces the sink as new, fresh tears pool in her eyes. She has never seen pain shine in anyone’s eyes the way it shined in his, not even her own. 

“Y/n,” he whispers. “I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry.” His voice cracks and she knows he’s crying. She can feel it, the weight of his guilt making the room heavier. He steps towards her and his hand reaches out to her. She holds her breath as it hovers over her shoulder, knowing he had never once hesitated to touch her before this. 

Jongseong retreats his hand in shame, unable to touch her. The fear of being pushed away is too strong. He knew he didn’t deserve to touch her, not after he had deprived her of it for so long. He bites his bottom lip. “Will you look at me?” 

She nearly audibly sobs at his words; the heartbreak so intense it almost knocks her off her feet. She had repeated the same sentence to herself hundreds of times over the past few days, hoping that just once he would hear it in her eyes. 

Heavily, she turns to face him. Even after anything, she can’t refuse him. She looks up at him, her heart feeling heavier than it ever had. 

He looks at her, eyes glistening as he almost drops to his knees in forgiveness. He nods to himself, knowing he didn’t deserve her kindness. “I’m sorry.” The words hang between them. “I’ll be home right after the meeting. We’re going to talk. I’m going to apologize.” He squeezes his hands together, trying to prevent the shaking. 

She stares at him, taking him all in. His hair is a bit longer than it usually is and his eyebags are darker than they should be. His shoulders are still broad but he looks weaker. The nights of takeout had taken a toll on him, she concludes. His suit is perfectly pressed and his tie is– 

Without thinking, Y/n reaches for his tie. He can only watch with wide eyes as she straightens it for him. She doesn’t pay attention to the way her fingers tingle or the way her hands shake. She simply stares at the tie, knowing he had done his best but they were never perfect. Memories and emotions crash within her and she knows. 

She knows she’ll wait for him, for his apology. She will hear him out because she loves him, because despite everything, she knows him better than she knows herself. And she knows she shouldn’t, that she should leave him and curse at him but she can’t. Because beneath her fingers, she can feel his body shaking. Y/n can hear his lagged breath, see the sorrow and distress in his eyes. 

The one promise they had made the night of their wedding was that they would communicate. That they would listen to each other and work against the problem, never with the problem. The issue was that Jongseong wasn’t listening and he was the problem. But he was listening now, and she valued him and their marriage too much to pull away now. Y/n would have to be the bigger person but someone had to be. 

She had dreamed about this; about his tears and his apology and her initial triumph dies, slowly leaking out her veins. All she wants is her husband back. She wants to be seen again, held tightly until all she could think about was his skin against hers and his heartbeat in tune with hers. 

She releases his tie and looks up at him. He watches her, knowing that he deserved her refusal. He knew that if she shook her head, told him to not bother, he would have deserved it. He would fight it, fight for her, but he would understand. 

“Okay.”

It’s a single word. Whispered so quietly that he barely heard it, but it was enough. A tear falls down his cheek and he nods, lips pursed. “Okay,” he repeats. Okay, okay, okay. 

They stare at each other before she glances at the clock. She lightly shoves his shoulder and he tumbles back, eyes wide. His entire body is sensitive to her touch, keeling to bask in it. 

“Go,” she says. “You’ll be late.”

He’s shaking his head before he can think. “It doesn’t matter.”

“It does.” Y/n emphasizes. “It matters to me.” 

At her words, he can only nod. He looks back at her once before he slips on his shoes. He looks back again as he shuts the front door. His eyes are still glossy but she can only focus on the attention she held, having had to beg for it before.

“I love you.” 

She doesn’t have enough time to respond because he hurriedly closes the door, afraid of her response. She stands in the kitchen, staring at the door with wide eyes, a warmth spreading through her for the first time in days. 

“I love you too,” she mumbles into the air. 

Jongseong is not paying attention to the meeting. His eyes are on his file, the thick, massive file that he had compiled over the weeks, but his mind isn’t comprehending anything. He’s barely contributed to the meeting and when asked questions, his answers are short and precise. 

He ignores the looks of his associates, his team. He’s done enough–sacrificed enough– for this. The rest is up to them. All his effort over the past month should make up for his lack of effort now. All they have to do is make sure the client signs the agreement. He’s sure they can do it. They have to. Because he can’t. All he can think about is her. 

Her words. Her feelings. Her pain. Her suffering. 

All those days his mind hadn’t spared her a single thought were catching up to him now. He couldn’t filter her out, his heart aching in his chest. He almost asked someone to reach into his chest to lift it for him, unable to carry the weight of it himself. 

“Alright,” the client clapped his hands together. He smiles at everyone at the table, eyes lingering on Jongseong. “You’ve all convinced me. I like the numbers and I like the company.” The older man turns to Jongseong, speaking to him. “I appreciate the work ethic of the company.”

Jongseong smiles at the client as the words sink into his scattered mind until everything freezes. Jongseong’s eyes widened and he gaped at the older man, not willing to believe what he had heard. He has been in and out of the conversation, only catching the clients last words. 

“You want to sign with us?” His words felt foreign on his tongue, a child-like hope in his eyes. His frown turns upwards into a wide smile when the client nods, pulling out a pen. The associates stare in astonishment, wondering if all the hard work they put in was finally paying off. 

Hastily, Jongseong grabs the agreement from his pile and slides it to the client. He watches with curious, greedy eyes. His eyes don’t stray from the smooth movement of the pen, watching as the ink dried and his unofficial client became official. 

The client stands up and the rest of the room stands with him, under a trance. He puts his hand out towards Jongseong and smiles softly, years of wisdom and knowing resting in the crinkles by his eyes. Jongseong shakes his hand, genuinely smiling for the first time since entering the building. 

“You did good, kid.” The older man says. He squeezes Jongseong’s shoulder once. “Take a break.” 

Jongseong can only swallow the lump in his throat and nod, fearing that his emotions from earlier would make an appearance. Before he could feel the wetness of his eyes, he grins at the man and straightens. “Thank you for choosing us. You’ve made a good choice and we will not let you down. Welcome to the family.” 

The older man smiles and nods, waving to the rest of the associates before he walks out of the meeting room, fully aware that he just changed all their lives. Silence falls upon them as they stare at the singular contract in the middle of the table. 

Jongseong can feel his heart constrict in his chest as he sighs out a miniscule breath of relief. Part of him knew that he should have been more excited, that everything he had been working towards had worked out. 

But he wasn’t over the moon. All he wanted was to go home to her, to get on his knees and beg for forgiveness. He couldn’t have done any of this himself; couldn’t have done it without her lunches or her warm body next to his. 

He couldn’t have done this alone. He didn’t want to do anything alone. He needs her, wants her so badly it almost drowns his lungs as he sits silently, ignoring all the ruckus around him. He drops his head into his hands, squeezing his eyes shut. The idea of coming home to an empty home, a house without her, makes him feel sick. 

“Jongseong,” a familiar voice calls out to him. Jongseong raises his head and finds all the associates staring at him, some in amazement and others in confusion. “Why aren’t you jumping up and down in glee?” Jaeyun smirks before he focuses on the torment in his friend’s eyes, grin faltering. 

Jongseong shakes his head, forcing a smile. He stands up and claps his hands together, making eye contact with everyone in the room. He bows his head and this time, his smile is genuine. 

“Good job, everyone.” He focuses on the contract, unaware of the bashful looks his colleagues throw him. “You all worked so hard and spent so much time on this. Your efforts have been acknowledged.” He smiles at Jaeyun, hoping his friend would drop the concerned look. “You all did amazing and I am so glad and honoured to have worked with you all.”

At his words, someone begins clapping and the room erupts into cheers, a burden lifting off everyone’s chest as they clap each other on the shoulder and laugh. Jongseong smiles at the commotion before he steps away, grabbing the contract. 

He almost slips out of the office but a gentle tug at his wrist stops him. He sighs before turning, making eye contact with Jaehyun. His friend gives him one look and it has his facade crumbling, all his emotions settling in his eyes. 

“What is it, Jay? What’s going on?” 

Jongseong shakes his head, unable to voice his thoughts. If he spoke about it, it would be real. It would re-confirm everything and he already couldn’t handle it. Jongseong wishes he had listened to Jaeyun all those times; when his friend begged him to go home and spend time with her. 

“Nothing. I’m just tired,” he tries. He waves the contract in Jaeyun’s face. “I’m going to give this to Heeseung and then I’m going home.” 

Jaeyun frowns and lets go of Jongseong’s wrist. Before he could say anything, Jongseong shakes his head again, his eyes pleading. “Drop it, okay? Tell the team I’ll take them all out very soon. Just, not tonight.”  

Jaeyun purses his lips and nods, stepping back. He smiles softly at his friend and gives him a thumbs up. “Okay. I’ll tell them.” He nudges his head towards the door. “Get out of here.” 

Jongseong smiles in gratitude before he pulls open the door, practically running out towards the CEO’s office. He smiles and nods as quickly as he can as he passes his fellow colleagues, but he stops for no one. Perhaps it was the look of determination mixed with heartache, but no one tried to strike up a conversation with him. 

Breathing heavily, Jongseong knocks on the wide wooden doors before pulling them open. He steps into the huge room and slightly bows his head in greeting at the man who stood before him. Heeseung smiles widely at Jongseong, pleased and impressed. 

“Jongseong,” he greets. He motions towards the seat in front of him. “Come, sit.” 

Jongseong nods and wipes his free hand on his dress pants, suddenly nervous. He always was when he was in this room, afraid of messing up. He walks towards Heeseung and sits after the CEO makes himself comfortable. 

Quietly, Jongseong slides the contract towards Heeseung. While he respected the man before him, he just wanted to go home. If he kept quiet, he’d be on his way. 

Heeseung grabs the contract and stares at it, a soft permanent smile on his face as he reads it over. He had approved of it, but it was different now. It was signed. He sets the paper down and links his hands together as he stares at Jongseong. 

“Good job,” he starts. “Truly. You’ve done some amazing work and I’m highly impressed.” 

Jongseong smiles. “Thank you.” 

Heeseung quirks his eyebrow before he leans back on his chair, fingers on his chin as he stares at Jongseong. The CEO knew Jongseong; knew how hard-working and dependable he was. He had seen it when they worked alongside each other and heard it when they didn’t.

“I’ll cut to the chase,” Heeseung says. He watches carefully as Jongseong sighs in relief. “I want to promote you. I’ve been watching you since you closed the Claeter deal and I know you’re the right man for the job.” 

Jongseong can only stare at Heeseung. In the back of his mind, he knew. He knew that this was the inevitable next step; but hearing it outloud did not make it easier to accept. He had always been just an associate. And now, he would be more. 

Heeseung smiles. “Jongseong, I want you to be my COO.” He leans forward, trying to gauge Jongseong’s reaction. The reaction always mattered. It would make or break it all. 

Jongseong swallows, squeezing his eyes shut for a quick moment. Then, he simply nods and smiles. “Thank you.” 

Heeseung grins, knowing he has chosen the right person. “We can talk about this tomorrow. I just wanted to make things clear between us. We can go through it all after your daily meetings.” 

Jongseong purses his lips before he sits straighter, knowing he would have to set his priorities straight. He didn’t want a promotion unless he had her to share it with. It wouldn’t matter then. 

“Actually,” he begins. Heseeung nods for him to continue, leaning back. “I was wondering if I could take tomorrow off. I understand that this is short notice, but I have something urgent and important to attend to.” Jongseong prides himself on keeping his voice steady.

Heeseung stares at him before raising an eyebrow. “I assume you’re also not accepting the position immediately, then?” 

Jongseong shakes his head. “I would like to have a couple of days to think about it, if that’s alright. I am incredibly honoured and grateful, but I…”

Heeseung raises his hand, understanding. He, too, was once in Jongseong’s position. He had his own reservations and qualms. He could not fault him for it, in fact, he appreciated the honesty. He nods, already typing away at his laptop. 

“I understand. I’ll have my secretary send you an outline of the position by tomorrow morning. Let me know by the end of the week and we can talk about it then.” He smiled and winked at Jongseong’s surprised look. “Go home early. Take a few days off. You deserve them.”

Jongseong ignores the tears that prick his eyes as he thanks the man before him. He smiles as he leaves the large office and smiles until he reaches his car. Then, his smile falls and the adrenaline and distractions that had consumed him vanishes. Standing in the parking lot, he clutches his chest. 

Quietly, he unlocks his car and sits in the driver seat, gripping the steering wheel as his head falls against it. Now, he was alone with his thoughts. His horrible, sickening thoughts. He stares at his wedding ring as the turmoil in his stomach begins to turn into something vicious. 

He throws his head back, groaning. He squeezes his eyes shut as images of her crying and heartbreaking face flashes through his mind. He had pushed them down before, but now they had pinned themselves to his subconscious. 

He twirled the ring as bile bubbled in his stomach. What had he done? How could he have abandoned her the way he had? How did work of all things become everything to him? He had never been this foolish before; had the idea of a promotion really consumed him? Didn’t he already have everything with her? Didn’t she already bring him the most happiness?

Jongseong hadn’t realized that he had begun crying until he hiccups, tears flowing freely down his cheeks. He doesn’t understand how he could have forgotten her birthday. It was the best day of his life, the happiest moment in time because it was the day she was born. The love of his life. He had planned so much for it, and yet. 

His sobs begin to grow louder as he thinks about her celebrating her birthday without him. He recalls the balloons and presents on the table, how he asked her if it was for a friend. Even if she managed to forgive him, he never would. 

Jongseong wipes his eyes as he starts the car. He drives silently to her favourite bakery, picking up her favourite cake. He knows it won’t make up for anything, but he knows how she craved it every year. Even if she would no longer have him, she should at least have some sweets. 

He drives to his favourite florist and listens in silence as they tell him that he would have to pay extra for not picking up his previous order. Without any argument, he pays the fee and buys her favourite flowers. She always looks forward to these ones specifically, loving the way they brightened their home in comparison to other, regular flowers. 

He grips the steering wheel tightly as he drives home, his heart spilling out of him. He is scared, so utterly terrified. He’s never been more petrified in his life; not when he left his home as a teenager, not even when his mother slipped on the driveway. He had some control during those instances. But here, now, he was completely in the wrong. 

He would be lucky if she was still home, ring on her finger. 

Jongseong pulls into the driveway and sighs in relief when he spots her car, knowing she was still home. Her home. His home. Their home. 

Y/n steps out of the shower, clutching her robe tightly around her. Shaking the water out of her hair, she quietly hums as she dries her body, slipping on one of Jongseong’s old shirts and sweatpants. 

She hangs the robe back in the bathroom, brushing her hair and moisturizing her face. This shower felt different, it felt refreshing. There was some hope bubbling in her chest, knowing that she’d finally have a conversation with her husband. She glanced at the clock and sighed, knowing there was still a few hours before he came home; if he came home. 

Grabbing her phone, she makes her way downstairs to make herself a warm cup of tea, needing something to soothe her throat. She pauses mid step as she eyes the familiar shoes at the entrance, frowning when the briefcase she had seen only a few hours rested on the ottoman by the door. 

Slowly, she steps off the last step and makes her way to the kitchen. Her entire body freezes when her eyes land on his rigid back, facing the living room where balloons and confetti still littered. 

He hadn’t heard her walk down the stairs, his mind was preoccupied by the guilt in his chest. He wanted to destroy everything in front of him; knowing that she deserves something better than filthy old balloons. But he hadn’t even given her that; so he could not complain. 

“Jongie?”

At her voice, her soft, confused voice, Jongseong slowly turned. The use of his nickname, a name only she called him, made his heart flutter in warmth. He looked up at her and almost sighed in relief; she looked so beautiful. 

Y/n raises an eyebrow at him before her gaze falls on the flowers and cake in his hands. Her eyes soften and her frown lifts upwards, unable to stop it. She really did love these flowers, and she had truly missed the cake. At least, she decided, he knows. 

Jongseong swallows the lump in his throat before releasing a quick breath. “Hi, pretty.”

She smiles and looks down, closing her eyes. It had been a while since he called her that, and it never failed to make her blush; even now, while she brimmed with anger. She was still angry, still hurt, but he was looking at her now and it almost made for the days he hadn’t. 

“Hi,” she whispers. “Why are you back so early? What about the meeting?”

Jongseong wanted to shake his head, forbid any talk of work or the meeting. He just wanted to talk to her, about her, about them, but he knew he was in no position to make requests. 

“Heeseung let me go early,” his lips wobbled. “He signed on.” His smile turned genuine for a moment, relief and excitement swirled in his eyes and her heart warmed. “He’s officially a client.” 

Despite all the tension, all the emotions and the negativity, she couldn’t help but smile widely at him, pride swelling in her chest. She clapped her hands in excitement before grinning at him, nothing but delight in her eyes. “Jongie! That’s amazing!” She wrapped her arms around herself, stopping herself from hugging him. “I knew it was going to happen. And the promotion?” Y/n raised her eyebrow. “Did you get it?” Her smile widened when he nodded. 

Jongseong smiled and his heart warmed at the pure glee in her eyes; his heart drowning in turmoil. She was angry at him, hurt by him, and yet she still prided him for his victories. He would never forgive himself; he would never ever let the guilt die. 

“Thank you,” he said softly. He blinked once before he stepped towards her, forgetting all about work and the client. Right now, the only thing that mattered was her. The only thing he wanted to think about; wanted his mind to consume, was her. 

He set the cake on the table and offered her the flowers, a remorseful frown on his lips as shame shined brightly in his eyes. “I’m sorry you’re getting these late.” She grabbed them, holding them tightly to her chest as she smelled them. “But I wanted you to have them. I know how much you like them.” 

Y/n nodded, like she understood; and she did. All of her initial anger had lessened, a low simmer below the surface. She had thought about everything after he had left for work; what she wanted, what it all meant, and she decided that she wanted to get past it. She wanted to talk to him, to explain her feelings and how she felt, and then she wanted him to own up to it. She wanted her husband back, but she wanted him to be better. 

“Thank you,” she replies, a soft smile on her lips. At the sight of it, Jongseong’s mouth goes dry. 

Suddenly, he can’t breathe. Here she is, standing before him, beautiful and broken, and she’s thanking him. He feels sick, like everything inside him has turned green. He shakes his head, his eyes pleading. “Don’t– don’t. Don’t thank me. Not for this.” 

He takes another step towards her and she basks in it. “You deserve this,” he begins, words trying to fall off his lips. “You deserve flowers everyday and your favourite cake and you deserve only the best.” He’s panting now, eyes wide. “I’m sorry I haven’t been that. I’m sorry I’ve been so selfish; so inexplicably horrible.” 

She listens to him, clutching the flowers so hard that the stems bend. She feels the weight of it all in her heart, needing to sit. Quietly, she places the flowers on the table and grabs his hand. He only watches in surprise as she guides him to the living room, sitting on the sofa. He sits beside her, making sure to keep some space between them. 

Jongseong sits there, palms sweaty as he eyes her. She’s sitting up straight, her own hands intertwined in her lap. Biting her bottom lip, she lets his heart slow down before she speaks. 

Beautiful, he thinks. So beautiful. 

She lets out a long breath before she looks up, her eyes watery. “Jongie,” she says. “I want to be honest with you. I want to explain to you how it felt; how useless and neglected I felt.” 

Jongseong nods, his eyes watery as he drops his head in shame. “But,” she pauses. “I don’t want this to continue.” 

At her words, Jongseong snaps his head up, eyes wide as his lips part. “You want a divorce?” 

Y/n reels back, as if she’s been slapped. She stares at him, heart pounding. “What? Who said anything about a divorce?” 

Jongseong blinks. “You… You just said you don’t want to continue this.” He motions between the both of them with his finger. 

She shakes her head in panic, worried that her heart would beat out of her chest. “No! No. No,” she repeats. “That is not what I meant. I meant,” she licks her lips, “that I don’t want this to continue between us; the neglect and silence. I want to talk about it and I want to move past it.”

Jongseong visibly relaxes at her words, sighing as he drops his head into his hands. His entire body is shaking, and he wonders if it will ever get easier; if the guilt will ever subside. 

“Okay.” He lifts his head. “I’m listening. I’m sorry I wasn’t listening before. I am now. From now on, I always will.” 

“Jongie,” she leans forward. “Before we got married, you told me that I would always come before your work. You’ve always worked hard and I know how important your job is to you, but this client, this entire month, you turned into someone I didn’t recognize.” 

Jongseong wants to drop his head. He wants to stare at the floor, but he refuses to be weak. He deserves to hear this, deserves to stare into her bright, shiny eyes as she tells him how she’s been feeling. 

“In the last two weeks,” she continues, “you came home incredibly late and when you did, you didn’t spare me a single conversation. You barely ate any of the food I made and when I tried talking to you, you could only bring up work.” She wipes her eyes, tired of crying. 

“I felt like shit,” Y/n whispers. “You were always tired and you stopped talking to me, always lost in your mind.” She squeezes her hands together, trying to find strength in herself. “I felt like for a while, nothing else was important to you. That I… I wasn’t important to you. That I wasn’t a priority.” 

She blinked before she shuffled a bit closer to him, needing his warmth now that she could reach it. “I kept wondering if I was easy to discard,” she whispers. “Then, when you didn’t say anything to me on my birthday, didn’t surprise me or come home, I figured that I had truly lost to your client; to your job.” 

She smiled at him softly, hating the wrinkles around his pursed lips and tense muscles. “I know work will always be important. You spent your entire life studying and working so hard to get where you are, and I am so proud of you; but you can’t just throw me aside when things get hectic at work. You can’t just ignore me and push me away when things get tense. You can’t pretend like I am some roommate you are barely tolerating because I am your wife. I will be treated as such.” 

Jongseong was nodding along to her words, agreeing with every single one. He was such a fool, such an idiot. How could he have made someone as perfect and beautiful as her feel like this? He had promised her the day of the wedding that he would always treat her right; keep her happy, and he had failed. 

“You’re right,” he started. “You’re my wife; the love of my life, and I should have treated you better. I honestly don’t even understand what came over me.” He reached for her hands and she joined him halfway, tangling their fingers together. “Work was and is really tough, but it’s no excuse to neglect you. I should have been better, kept my work life and private life separate.” 

He squeezed her hands, staring into her eyes. “You are so important to me, Y/n. Everything I do is for you. I am so sorry that I let work take over everything. You are, and always will be my number one priority. I’m sorry that I made you doubt that.” 

Y/n looks at him as her heart warms, feeling lighter than it had in days. She rubs her thumb over the skin of his wrist, lost in the feeling of touching his skin after so long. 

“As the lead, there was a lot of pressure on me. There was also the promotion lingering in the back of my mind and I let it all consume my thoughts.” He swallowed. “I suppose I got so caught up with everything else that I let the one person I love most in this world down.”

He brings their joined hands to his chest, pulling her closer. “I am so sorry I forgot about your birthday. I promise you that I had so much planned but it completely slipped my mind. You deserve much better, but I am begging you to forgive me.” 

He kisses her fingers, hoping it would not be the last time he would taste her skin. “You mean everything to me. You are everything to me. I promise I’ll be better. You are not easy to discard, my love.” He presses another soft kiss to her fingers. “You are so important to me and I love you so much. I was being an idiot; I am an idiot. I promise you,” he shuts his eyes, “I will never make you feel unloved and neglected again. I love you so much that sometimes it’s too much for me.” 

She says nothing as she stares at him; at his eyes that are squeezed shut as he clutches their hands close to his heart. She sees her husband for the man he is; tender, loving, and so perfect. Y/n smiles before she leans forward and kisses his cheek, her lips lingering on his soft skin before she pulls away. 

Jongseong’s eyes fly open and he stares at her. His lips part in surprise as his cheek tingles, a warmth he hadn’t felt all day spread through him, hope flickering in his chest like an old lightbulb.

“Okay. I understand,” she says. “I forgive you. I know this is not who you are, and that this client was truly important. I’ll have more birthdays.” She smiles at him, moving closer. “It won’t happen again.”

Still in awe, Jongseong nods. “Never again.” His heart is beating quickly and his eyes begin to water.

“Good,” she mumbles. “Then you’re forgiven.” 

She grins at him as all the anger and pain dissipates; it lifts off her chest and wafts out of the room, leaving nothing but soft awkwardness in the air. Her heart feels fuller and lighter and she feels like she could cry, in happiness this time. 

Jongseong is staring at her, hands trembling. Her words float around his head, and even when they settle, branding themselves in his skull, he still can’t believe them. Abruptly, he untangles their hands and drops his head into his hands, shoulders shaking as silent sobs pour out of him. 

He didn’t deserve it, and yet she forgives him. His heart rattled in his chest and it felt lighter, the darkness seeping out of it. 

Y/n freezes as she watches him cry, nothing but tenderness in her chest as she presses herself against him and wraps her around his shaking body. She rubs his back and holds him tight, knowing that her own tears are falling. 

That’s how they stay for a bit; one of them crying uncontrollably and the other comforting, both interchanging as the sky darkens and all the emotions, all the negative and anxious emotions washed away. 

Finally, their tears come to an end and she wipes Jongseong’s face as he wipes hers, a gentleness in their touch. She drops her hands as Jongseong cups her face, his thumbs brushing the skin under her eyes. 

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispers, transfixed by her. Her grip on his loosened tie tightens and she smiles at him. “Can I kiss you?” 

She nods, weeks of neglect resurfacing as she shuffles onto his lap, wanting to be as close to him as she can be. With her legs on either side of him, she looks down at his glazed eyes and thinks she might pass away at the sheer intensity of his gaze. 

Slowly, he cups her face again and pulls her face closer to his. They breathe the same air as her lips hover his and she almost begs him before he softly connects their lips. Their plush lips press against each other and it’s enough for her to sink into him. 

One of his hands drops to her waist and one of her hands travels into his hair as the kiss deepens, their lips moving passionately against each other, tongues pressed together. The sound of their kissing echoes through the living room, a sound that the walls had missed and begun to crave. 

Y/n pulls at his hair, tiling his face upwards as she kisses him messily, her tongue tracing his bottom lip. She grins as his eyes flutter shut and the warmth in her body travels to her core, the one part of her body that craved him.

Unable to help himself, Jongseong kisses her neck, sucking and biting. He had missed the taste of her skin and he sucks, needing her taste all over him. She throws her head back in pleasure, slowly grinding down on his lap. This was almost too much for her, but she would never ask to stop. 

When his clothed bulge brushes against her clothed pussy, they both hiss and press their foreheads against each other, relishing in the arousal around them. His thumb rubs soft circles on her cheeks as she scratches the nape of his neck. 

“We don’t have to do anything,” he whispers. “We can wait. Both of our emotions are high right now and I don’t want to make you uncomfortable later. We can wait.” 

She smiles at him, her heart warm and content. She presses a soft kiss to the corner of his lips and his lips lift into a smile. 

“I don’t want to wait, Jongie.” Y/n brushes her nose against his. “I want you right now.” 

Jongseong looks up at her and squeezes her waist. “You’re sure?” 

She nods and presses herself down on him, biting her bottom lip at the friction. “You have a lot of making up to do. I suggest you get started.” 

Jongseong smiles, the corners of his lips lifting into a wider smirk. He couldn’t believe how he went so long without this; without her. He loved everything about her, missed everything about her. And she didn’t know it, but he would spend the rest of his life making it up to her. 

He kisses her before he brings his other hand under her thigh and lifts her as he stands up. Surprised, she wraps his legs and arms around him, laughing when he grins at her. Holding her securely under her thighs, he slowly makes his way upstairs. 

She presses soft kisses to his neck as he walks up the stairs, biting every time he squeezed the skin of her thighs. “I want it slow,” she whispers against his ear. She grins when he stills right in front of their door before kicking it open. “And raw.” 

Jongseong chuckles at her words but he doesn’t find them funny. A warmth spread through him, a primal need washing over him. It had been too long, and even the thought of her walls around him was too much. 

But tonight was not about him. It was about her. And he would give her everything he had. 

Gently, he sits her down on their large bed, looking down at her with heated eyes. She stares up at him, ignoring the way his cock pressed against his dress pants. She was more focused on his eyes; beautiful and brown and ablaze. 

Jongseong cups her chin and simply stares down at her, love swelling in his chest. He rubs her chin and leans down, pressing his lips on her forehead. At the softness of the gesture, her eyes shut and she releases a quick breath. 

“Tonight is about you,” he says. “Tell me what you want, and it’s yours.” He pulls off his tie and starts to unbutton his shirt, staring directly into her eyes. 

Her throat dries at his words, not used to having so much control. It made her clench her thighs together as she realized that Jongseong truly meant it; tonight was about her, only her. 

Y/n watches with hungry eyes as he slips off his collar shirt, leaving his abs exposed as he slowly unbuttons his pants, still staring at her. Feeling mesmerized, she tugs off her shirt and smiles as his warm gaze immediately falls on her bare chest, forgetting to put on a bra after the shower. 

She watches him carefully as he slowly pulls down his pants and kicks them off. He stands there in his boxers, bulge pressing against the fabric as he stares at her. She’s only focused on the lower half of him, her mind racing. 

“Want me to help you, darling?” 

He steps closer and raises his eyebrow in question. She simply nods, unable to speak. Her heart skips a beat as he links his thumb over the waistband of her sweatpants and panties and pulls them down. Unconsciously, she raises her hips and hisses as the cold air hits her pussy. 

Jongseong pulls her pants off and lays them on the floor next to his dress pants. He lifts his gaze to hers before it travels down her body, starting at her neck to her chest and then to her pussy. He can only stare, mouth watering at the sight. 

She reaches out to him and he steps closer. Y/n hooks her thumb on the waistband of his boxers and looks up at him. He smiles at her and pats her cheek. “Whatever you want, love.” 

She pulls down slowly, enjoying the way his eyes flutter shut as the elastic rubs against his shaft. She drops his boxers and his cock springs free, almost hitting her nose. She stares at it, eyes wide. It had been a while and she had forgotten the size of it. 

Hypnotized, she leans forward and presses a soft kiss to its pink head. Jongseong hisses and throws his head back, his hands resting on her shoulders. “Fuck,” he whispers. 

She wraps her hand around it and he squeezes her shoulder, eyes alight as he stares down at her, biting his bottom lip. She squeezes once before she moves her hand up and down, using his precum to wet his dick. It becomes harder in her hand and she squeezes her thighs together. 

Jongseong wraps his hand around her wrist and shakes his head. “Not today, darling.” He hisses when she squeezes him. “Tonight is about you. Don’t you want my tongue in you?”

She did, she really, really did. But she wanted this too. She had missed his cock, missed the way it tasted and the way he fell apart on her tongue. 

“You said whatever I wanted. What if I want this?” 

Jongseong smiled at her. “Don’t you want me to make you feel good? My cum in your pussy?” 

His words make her dizzy and she nods, immediately letting his dick go. He grinned at her and she knew that even though she had control, he would always have power over her. She loved it, knowing that he was trying to make it all about her. 

She shuffles backwards onto the bed, stopping only when she reaches the middle. She drops her head on his pillow and looks at him, spreading her legs. He watches her with dark eyes, standing at the foot of the bed. At the sight of her glistening pussy, he crawls onto the bed. 

He rests between her legs and looks down at her, love and affection swelling in his eyes. She almost feels shy at his stare, the sudden urge to cover up became strong. Before she could coverself with her arms, he leans down and captures her lips in a heated gaze. 

His arms are on either side of her head as he kisses her fiercely, his tongue licking at her lips before he sucks on her bottom lip. When he pulls away, she’s breathless and her lips are swollen and her eyes are so glassy. 

“I missed you,” Y/n whispers. He kisses her again, pressing his lips eagerly against hers, trying to convey all his feelings through the kiss. Hoping she knew that she didn’t have to miss him anymore. He was right here, where he belonged. 

“You taste good,” she mumbles, slightly out of breath. 

He kisses her cheek and nose before he begins kissing down her body. He kisses her collar bones before moving to her chest. He kisses both breasts before he captures one nipple in his mouth, hand palming the other. She moans and pushes her head back further into the pillow, eyes shut. He releases that nipple before sucking on the other one, tongue swirling around the bud as he sucked and nipped. 

Her hands travel up his back and into his hair as she pulls, her entire body feels sensitive. Her grip on his hair tightens as he kisses down her body until he reaches her thighs. He moves back, lying down between her spread legs as he kisses her inner thigh. 

True to his nature, he teases her a bit. He lets his lips travel close to her dripping cunt but doesn’t give her the satisfaction. He feels a little bad, but he can’t help. The sight of her cunt dripping is enough to keep him busy. 

“Jongie,” she whines. “Please.” Her breathy voice captivates him, and his eyes soften.

Immediately, Jongseongs stops kissing her inner thigh and shifts his face closer to her cunt, his nose brushing against her folds. She breathes sharply as his tongue gently pokes at her clit before he presses his lips against her cunt, breathing her in. “Taste and smells so good, darling.” 

Her body jerks forward as he licks her slick from her dripping hole up to her clit, moaning as he laps up all her juices. She slides her hands into his hair as he begins to devour her, slurping and sucking on her cunt. 

“Fuck,” Y/n breathes out as he slides his tongue in, pulling at his hair. He buries his face into her cunt, his tongue reaching deep within her. His nose brushes against her swollen folds and he hums into her as she begins grinding down on his face. 

He pushes his nose and tongue as far as they can go, refusing to breathe. The grip she has on his hair is deadly, but he loves it. The pain is enough for him to rut against the mattress, his cock red and rock hard. 

She moans as he pushes his tongue deeper within her, tilting his head. Her hips jerk forward as he sucks loudly. She wraps her legs around his head and he hums in approval, the sound vibrating against the walls of her pussy.

“I’m going to cum, Jongie.” She pants, pulling at his hair even harder. 

Jongseong feels her clench around his tongue and when her body begins to shake, he uses one hand to hold her hips down, tongue pushing deeper. 

She clenches her eyes shut as the build up snaps and she sobs out his name, shaking as her vision blurred with tears. She squeezes her thighs closer together as Jongseong continues to lick up her cum, the bottom half of his face shiny with her slick.

She screamed as his tongue kept pushing into her, lapping up all her juices as she rode out her orgasm on his face. 

“Please, please,” she begged, overstimulated as he sucked her dry. “Jongie. Too much.” 

Jongseong continues to lick from her entrance to her clit, lost in her. She tastes so good on his tongue and he has missed it so much. As she shakes, he begins to slow down his licking, trying to calm her down. 

Her body slowly stops trembling as he presses soft kisses to her bare cunt, spreading her cum all over her thighs as he kisses her bottom half. She stares at him with hooded eyes, another build up right at the edge. 

“You did so good, darling,” he whispers into her thighs. “Cummed so well. You taste amazing.” 

She gasps and hisses, trying to catch her breath. He lifts his head and smiles at the fucked out look on her face, glad that even though it had been a while, no one could do what he could do. 

Her hand is still in his hair and she tightens her grip before pulling him towards her, smashing their lips together. His breath hitches as she licks at his lips, moaning at the taste of herself on him. They kiss harshly, the taste of her cum on both their lips as their chests press together. 

Y/n runs her hands up and down his back, nails lightly grazing his skin and he shudders into her, kissing her neck. He shifts a bit before his dick grazes her swollen folds and they both groan, her nails digging into his back. 

“Fuck me,” she says. “Please, Jongie.” 

“Still want it slow?” He bit her neck, smiling at the slightly discolored patch of skin. 

“No,” she pants. “Fuck me hard. Hard and rough,” she kisses his jaw. “Just need you in me.” He presses a soft kiss to her lips and smiles when she giggles, a softness tearing through all the tension. 

Jongseong lifts his head and presses his forehead against hers as he lines himself with her entrance, his dick wet and covered in her juices. They stare at each other as he pushes the tip in, watching her carefully as her eyes screw shut and her breathing quickens. He keeps the tip in as he presses feather-like kisses to her eyelids and cheeks. 

She opens her eyes and gasps at the intensity in his; the way his eyes shone with love and apologies, his entire being at her disposal. Y/n smiles at him and pushes his chest firmly against hers. “Why are you looking at me like that?” 

“Like what?” His voice is low and breathy as his lips hovers hers. 

“Like you’re seeing me for the first time.” 

Instead of answering, he captures her lips in a passionate kiss, lips moving feverishly as he tries to convey all his feelings in words. As she kisses him, she moves her lower half, trying to feel more. 

Jongseong pulls away and stares at the string of spit that connects them, licking his lips as breaks it. “You’re everything to me,” he says. “Everything.” 

She smiles at him and although his dick was inside her and they were both naked, he blushed. He felt his ears warm as she grins at him, her eyes shiny. “You’re everything to me,” she pressed a kiss to his shoulder. 

They stare at each other as Jongseong rotates his hips once before he slowly pushes himself further into her soaking, tight cunt. He groans at the feeling of her gummy walls sucking him in, welcoming him home. Her breath hitches as she throws her head back. 

“Fuck, darling,” he bites her bottom lip. “So fucking tight.” 

Y/n digs her nails into his back as she squeezes her eyes shut, relishing in the thickness of his cock and how well it filled her up. She mumbled incoherent things as he bottomed out, his cock hitting places inside her she could never reach. 

He rocks his hips against her spread legs, his dick slowly sliding in and out of her soaking cunt. He watches the way his cock disappears completely inside her, his balls hitting against her ass. Jongseong grunts when she squeezes around his cock, quiet mumblings about going faster, harder. 

He smiles before he thrusts harder, his tip pressing against her cervix. Her eyes roll back as she digs her nails deeper into this back, leaving small red marks. 

“So good,” she moans out. “Missed it so much.” Her eyes are watery and her jaw goes slack at the pleasure, his cock brushing against all her sweet spots. She whimpers when one of his hands brushes against her nipples, the feeling of his thumb rubbing against them had her seeing stars. 

Jongseong lowers his head towards her neck and begins to trail soft bites along her shoulders as his hips move harshly against hers. “So good, pretty,” he praises. “Taking me so well.” The pleasure was getting to his head, overtaking his body as her moans mixed with his breathy ones, sweaty bodies rubbing against each other. 

“G–gonna cum,” she stutters, eyes closing as his pace fastens and the bed creaks beneath her. “I’m so close, Jongie.” She sobs as he kisses her forehead. The feeling of pleasure made her dizzy as his building veins rubbed against her walls. 

“Yeah?” His own euphoria bubbled and his vision blurred as he focused on the squelching sounds of his dick pounding into her dripping cunt. He brushed his lips against her forehead. 

“Cum for me, darling. I got you.” He whispered, sweetly. “Let go. Let it all out.” 

He continued to pound into her as she came undone under him, her release washing over her as her body went limp and her legs began to shake. Her vision went white as Jongseong mumbled sweet words, his hips slamming against hers. 

Y/n squeezes her walls around him as she begins to cry, overstimulated as she still cums. At the feeling of her walls tightening, Jongseong releases a long breath as his hips stutter, his own cum pouring out of him.

“I love you,” he pants. “I love you. I love you. I love you so much.” 

His warm cum fills her soaked pussy and he slowly rocks his hips back and forth, pumping his cum back into her. Her hands travel down his back until she pushes his lower back firmly into her, whimpering as his dick pushes the cum deep within her. She keeps her hands there despite crying at the sensitivity. 

Jongseong presses open mouth kisses along her neck and jaw as he still cums, hissing when it all becomes too much for his dick. Her walls are still warm and sticky with their cum but he can’t stop fucking her. Her hands grip his ass as she forces him still, his cock deep within her. 

“Too much,” she mumbles against his neck. “Too much.” When he tries to move, to pull out because of her words, she squeezes his ass tighter and shakes her head, still numb to her senses. “Don’t move,” she bites his neck. 

Jongseong smiles dumbly as he cages her between his arms, letting his body completely cover hers as she keeps him inside her. “Did so amazing for me, love.” He kissed her cheek, his nose wiping a few tears. “Took my cum so well.” 

Y/n simply nods against his neck, eyes still sewn shut as she savours the feeling of his dick inside her. Her pussy squeezes around his cock and she hisses at the feeling of being overstimulated. 

Jongseong closes his eyes and breathes her in, his nose against her neck as he licks the skin under her ear, biting softly. He brings one hand up to face and brushes the hair behind her ear. She brings one hand up to her face and grabs his wrist. He watches her with wide eyes as she presses a soft kiss against his ring. 

“I love you,” she whispers against his fingers. His heart skips a beat and he smiles. 

His dick is still hard in her, pulsing as his cum drips out of her. He tries his best not to move, knowing that all she needed right now was the feeling of being full after having been empty for so long. 

“Pretty,” he mumbles against her neck. “You okay? Want me to run you a bath?” He lifts his head and his heart warms at the fondness in her eyes as she looks at him, a soft smile on her plump lips. 

“Not yet.” She squeezes his ass before she moves him, his dick slowly sliding in and out of her. He hisses at the feeling and looks down at her. “Need you again,” she smiles. 

Jongseong smiles at her before pressing a soft kiss to her lips. He brushes his nose against hers and slowly lifts his body off her, putting his strength back in his legs as he slams into her without warning. 

Y/n whimpers, nails digging further into his back as he slowly rocks his hips. He grins at her and decides that if fucking her silly is what she wants, then it’s what she’ll get. 

“Whatever you want, darling.”