nel

mark has been your best friend since freshman year. he had the pleasure of walking up to you and offering a hand to help when you were putting up posters for a bake sale your sorority was hosting. you tried to argue and say you were fine on your part, but mark wouldn’t leave you alone. he was eager to help you.

you shared laughs together with mark inviting you out to lunch once in a while. your friendship started to blossom soon later, being on late night calls with mark at ungodly hours while later dreading it as you had early classes and mark having ice hockey practice.

there were times you’d come over to mark’s dorm when johnny and haechan weren’t there and it just so happens you came over to the dorm to get ready by mark since his fart house was throwing a party. you were adjusting your bra in the mirror when you heard the door open, snapping your head in the direction of the door. a surprise mark greeted you which later turned into a flustered and apologizing mess, telling you he was sorry for not knocking. something along the lines of ‘didn’t know you were still in the room.’

you could tell after this incident that things somewhat became weird between you and mark. leaving a heavy tension in the air anytime you two were near each other.

“you wanna come over and hang out with me in the dorms? johnny and haechan are here” your best friend said on the other side of the phone

“yea, i have nothing to do right now. i’ll see you there.”

“be safe beautiful.” mark voiced his concerns, ending the call

“be safe beautiful” haechan mocked mark. “when are you actually going to stop being a pussy and ask her out? it doesn’t take rocket science to know you like her.”

he was right. it was very obvious that mark has a crush on you. you just couldn’t see it for yourself. mark would leave signs like giving you more intimate hugs, cuddling with you anytime you came over to the dorm, and the constant pet names he’d call you almost everyday. these signs flew over your head because well.. it’s mark! he’s known to be friendly.

“I’m not being a ‘pussy’ it’s just I don’t know how to ask her out. we’re best friends, but she might turn me away if she knew I had feelings for her.”

“I feel like you’re just doing a horrible job to show that you like her or maybe she’s not catching on.” johnny said while texting you on his phone to find out how far away you are and what you want to eat for dinner.

“buy her flowers, take her on a date, have a picnic with her. show her that you actually like her mark lee!” haechan pointed his fingers in mark’s face.

they were right. leaving signs wasn’t enough. maybe it’s time he’d step it up and make sure you notice.

“i’m here!” you announced to the 3 boys after busting into their room. johnny and haechan ran towards you, almost toppling you onto the floor from their added weight.

the 2 boys let go of you announcing that they’d be getting the food, drinks, and make some popcorn for the movie, leaving you and mark in the room alone.

“hey mark.” you wrapped your arms around his torso.

“hey sweetheart.” he hugged you back, playfully biting the side of your neck causing you to yelp out in a surprised.

“come sit down on the bed with me. I wanna talk to you.”

“what’s this about now mr lee?” you quirked your brows. “don’t tell me you wanna confess your undying love for me.” you slightly laughed.

“no.” mark’s ears started to turn red. “but I want to take you out on a picnic soon. how does that sound? hmm, pretty girl?” mark caressed your cheek while looking into your eyes.

“sounds good mark.” a smile making a way onto your face from his sudden touch. “can’t wait!” you glanced back into mark’s eyes.

“you spoil me too much.”

“there’s no such thing as spoiling you too much beautiful.” mark fingers still continuing to caress your cheek.

mark’s eyes were burning into your face. taking in every ounce of your features and your beautiful lips that were poking out begging for him to kiss them. he subconsciously leaned in closer to your face while keeping his eyes set on your lips. you could feel his breath fanning your face while you also subconsciously leaned in, just an inch away from each other's face.

mark leaned in, pressing his lips on your lips and giving it a few pecks to travel down towards your neck to leave open mouthed kisses on your neck. mark trailed back up to your lips, dipping his tongue into your mouth tasting every crevice. you moaned into the kiss as mark rubbed his hands up and down on your thighs inching closer to your heat. the kiss was desperate. it was as if mark was showing you how much he longed for you. pulling back from the kiss, mark bit your bottom lip, causing you to whine.

“you’re so pretty.” mark continually pecked your lips with his hands resting on your thighs. “my pretty girl.” possessiveness lacing his voice.

you could only hum in response, engrossed in the new wetness that’s formed between your thighs and the kisses from mark not even realizing that you’re about to cross a line with your best friend.

the doorknob to the room twisted making you push off of mark causing you to fall onto the floor with a loud thud as the room door opened.

“woah, what the hell happened?” johnny asked, seeing you with a pained expression on the floor.

“i just fell off the bed.” you gave a reassuring smile to johnny.

“aww, does my baby need me to make it feel all better? come here.” haechan said, walking towards you. before you could even reject his offer you were already wrapped in his embrace with weight on top of you, keeping your body on the floor.

“hyuck get off.” you tried pushing his head away from your face as he was trying to nearly kiss you.

“she said get off dude.” mark grabbed haechan by the collar of his shirt, dragging him away from you. if anything mark thought it wasn’t fair that haechan was able to hug and kiss you very easily and it took him a while to even kiss you just a couple of seconds ago.

“you’ve gotta control your lips hyuck. we don’t know where they’ve been.” johnny said, laughing at haechan’s hurt expression while setting down the pizza, alcohol, juices, and popcorn.

“yea hyuck, keep your lips to yourself. just yesterday you were telling us how you took a shot out some girls ass.” mark made a disgusted face.

“eww gross dude. I can’t believe you were gonna kiss me!” you said scrunching up your face in disgust.

with haechan off of you, you sit next to johnny on the floor with haechan and mark following along, mark taking his seat next to you and haechan sitting on the other side of johnny.

“what do you guys wanna watch?” johnny asked, picking up the remote.

“let’s binge watch all the conjuring movies!” you practically shouted.

both haechan and johnny agreed with no objections.

“absolutely not. i hate horror movies” mark commented.

“it’s 3 vs 1 mark. you lost this one.” johnny said, putting on the movie.

while the movie played you indulged in the food and drinks that johnny and haechan brought. eventually you all made your way into each other's bed due to the floor being uncomfortable to sit on, with you laying down in mark’s bed with your back pressed up on his chest as he’s cuddling you. you didn’t know if it was the alcohol in your system or you were just horny because you were aching for mark to slide his hands down your pants.

johnny and haechan were fast asleep, snoring as the movie still played. your eyes still trained on the movie in front of you, but you felt the same wetness form between your thighs from mark rubbing your stomach under your shirt. you were rubbing your legs together and slightly gripping the blanket, mark taking a noticing in your movements.

mark tapped your shoulder from behind to get your attention.

“hmm?”

“you okay? you’re moving around a lot.” concern lacing his voice.

“yea i’m..” you sat up on the bed facing mark. “i’m fine.”

“you do such a horrible job at lying.” mark deadpanned at you. “c'mon. tell me.”

“if i tell you…” you slightly hesitated, your voice barely above a whisper “promise not to make a big deal out of it and we’ll forget about it afterwards?”

“i promise.” mark said, staring at you intensely. he wanted to know what you could be hiding and why you would want him to forget about it.

you stared back still unsure. “pinky promise?”

“yes pinky promise” mark sighed interlocking his pinky with yours.

“when you were rubbing on my stomach… you uhh you know..”

“i what?” the grin that painted his face told you he knew exactly where this was going.

“nothing forget it” you said clearly embarrassed.

“you already pinky promised. you can’t break it. that means you have to tell me.”

you groaned covering your face in your hands. “it felt good.” you said lowly. “when you did that… it felt good.”

silence settled in.

“yeah?” his voice dropped low, laced with something darker. “ it feel good?”you could already hear him smirking.

he saw that you weren’t answering him with your face still in your hands.

mark brought his face closer to your ears. “did it feel sweetheart?” you felt the mattress shift. his hand rubbing up and down on your thighs to draw your attention back to him. I can make you feel really good if that’s what you want if you would like that.”

your breath caught in your throat. silently nodding.

“i need words beautiful.”

“yes” you breathed. “i want it.”

“good.” mark planted kisses on your neck. “be a good girl and keep your pretty moans down unless you want the other to know how good i make you feel.”

pushing you onto your back, mark peels off your shorts and panties in one go, situating himself between your legs with them over his shoulders. he plants kisses on your inner thighs, watching how you squirm and buck your hips wanting to feel his tongue on your sopping wet pussy.

you bucked your hips slightly. “mark….” you whined, your voice trembling from anxiousness.

“hmm?” Mark hummed against your skin.

“please…” You trailed off breathless

“please what?” make teased you. “c’mon baby, use your words.”

“i want it so bad.” you gasped. “please…i’ll be a good girl. i’ll keep quiet”

mark paused, grinning at how desperate you were for him. “that’s what i like to hear.”

he then lowered his head, licking a long stripe of your pussy. “you taste incredible, baby.” mark murmured, lowly.

you were left feeling vulnerable. legs folded tightly to your chest while you tried to quiet your moans, overwhelmed with the stimulation of mark licking from your hole to your clit and sucking on it. “mark!” you squeaked out, threading your fingers in his thick hair while he relentlessly sucked on your clit.

“you’re doing good sweetheart.” he teased, sending shivers down your spine. You looked so beautiful to him—desperately crying out for more as he effortlessly circled your clit. He slipped two fingers inside you, feeling your walls pulse and tighten around him. The only thing that could be heard in the rooms was your quited moans and the sounds of your arousal. “m-mark, i’m gonna cum. I’m gonna cum!” you desperately said in a low voice not to wake up haechan and johnny.

mark curled his fingers just right inside you. “if you want to cum, you have to beg.” mark watched your face contour in pleasure, taking joy in watching you desperately want to cum.

“ooh! pl-please mark. i want to cum so bad.” you cried out, the pleasure becoming too much. your hips bucked uncontrollably against his fingers, a strangled cry tearing from your throat. “go ahead , beautiful.” mark watched through hooded eyes.

“m-mark, I’m gonna—fuck—I’m coming!” The overwhelming pleasure surged through you, your walls clenching down on his fingers as your orgasm shattered through you. mark removed his fingers and flattened his tongue, against your aching hole, drawing out every last shudder, cry and last drop of your essence until you finally slumped back into the bed, utterly wrecked and trembling beneath his touch.

“we’re gonna be late, let’s go!” one of your sorority sisters shouted, tugging your arm as she rushed to the door.

you stumbled down the stairs trying to put on your shoes while also having a red solo cup filled with alcohol in your other hand. “i’m coming. i’m coming!”

ever since what happened with mark, you’ve been avoiding him. even going so far as to not answer any of his texts. it was easier to stay distant than admit the truth: you had feelings for mark. acting on them felt like you would be crossing a line and you didn't want that.

sure mark could get any girl he wants. throughout your whole friendship you’ve seen girls throw themselves at him but he would always politely decline. it never bothered you but when you saw it earlier today after you left class, it left a sour taste in your mouth.

mark was having a conversation with a girl on your way to your next class. she was laughing and so was he. something like this shouldn’t have bothered you, but it did. it felt like swallowing fire.

he caught a glimpse of you mid-laugh, but already saw you walking off.

the frat house wasn’t far. the moment you stepped in it was muggy and thick. the scent of sweat mixed with cheap perfume gave you a headache. music blared in the house as you saw people dancing and grinding on each other.

grabbing one of your sister’s by the hands, you pulled her into the middle of the room to dance. you took a few sips from your cup, but winced grime the burn and realized that you couldn’t just drink straight alcohol.

yelling at your sorority sister over the music. “i’ll be back. i need some juice.” you shook your cup in your hand and pointed behind you in case she couldn’t hear you.

you pushed past many people and made your way into the kitchen and rummaged the fridge for some sort of sugary drink. mostly finding expired or moldy food. “how the hell do they live like this?”

your eyes lit up when you found a bottle of unopened pink lemonade that “perfect!”

before you could unscrew the cap, a voice behind you surprised you.

“came here by yourself?” a guy asked stepping closer to you.

“no.” you didn’t turn around.

“got a boyfriend or anything?”

you continued to pour the juice in your cup without looking up and acknowledging the person in behind you. “no”

“that's such a shame, i couldn’t see how someone as beautiful as you is by yourself.”

“uh huh.” you slowly drank from your cup, already being done with the conversation.

“are you-”

“can’t you take a hint?” a familiar voice rang in your ears.

you froze.

mark.

mark grabbed your wrist, the heat of his skin burned against yours, and dragged you out the kitchen. His grip was firm and tight. “mark slow the hell down.” you pleaded, stumbling behind him but it fell on deaf ears.

mark shoved open his shared dorm room, slamming it behind him and locking it. the sound of the lock clicking left a major silence.

“what’s your problem?” yanking your wrists back from mark’s grasp. the burning sensation leaving your skin. “you can’t drag me to your room and not say anything.”

“you’ve been avoiding me for 2 weeks. no calls, no texts— nothing. what the hell did you expect me to do?”

you folded your arm against your chest to guard yourself. “if that’s all you dragged me in here for then I’m leaving”

turning towards the door and scoffing, mark’s words froze you in place.

“no, why the hell have you been avoiding me? is this about what happened that night?”

the air in the room changed. it was thick and intense. you couldn’t say anything or even how to say it. your throat filled with a burning sensation and the memory you tried to forget came flooding back.

your silence spoke louder.

“can we just forget this?” mark desperately asked. “i miss you, and if forgetting what happened that night is to keep you in my life then I’m willing to do that. i’ll pretend like it didn’t mean anything.”

you pivoted on your heels as anger flowed in your chest. “best friends don’t have heated kisses and explore each other's bodies” you shouted not intending to but, you need him to hear you as much as you needed to admit it.

disappointment arose on mark’s face. “and best friends don’t fantasize about each other, but i do. I have. can’t you tell i like you?”

“you’re right” your voice trembled in nervousness and fear. “maybe we should forget it”

silence hung in the room again.

mark scoffed. “what are you so afraid of?” further pushing you to find out the real reason for distancing yourself from him.

swallowing the thickness in your throat, “i’m afraid of losing what we had. i do feel the same way and i’ve been denying it because… because if everything goes wrong, I don’t know how and what to do to come back from that.”

mark stared at you with glossy eyes for a long time, his chest falling and rising like he was trying to calm himself down. “what if it doesn’t go wrong?” he said quietly. “that night meant something to me. i replay it every single day. not just what we did but how it felt — how you felt.”

“mark…” your voice cracked as you took a breath, still feeling like your lungs were too tight. “I didn’t indeed for that night to happen, but when it did i just wanted to be close to you, even if it was for that moment. but after that… it felt too delicate.”

“and it doesn’t have to be,” he said, inching closer to you. “we’re allowed to want more.”

a laugh surpassed your lips. “wanting more means risking everything.”

“i’m ready to take the risk. i don’t want to keep pretending that I don’t love you.”

you didn’t say anything. eyes burning into mark’s and your chest pounding loudly that you believe mark can surely hear it.

“tell me that you don’t feel the same way and we can push everything under the rug.” mark stared back into your eyes with his thumb rubbing your collar bone.

instead of pulling away, you rested your forehead on his. “i’m not going anywhere, mark lee.”

you closed your eyes and ran your hand on the side of mark’s neck and planted your lips on his. you sighed into the kiss. you missed mark. you missed your best friend. you missed this. for the first time in 2 weeks, the silence didn’t feel like distance.

the kiss deepen, filled with hunger and the ache of not seeing each other for weeks. mark didn’t even need to tell you how desperate he was and how much he missed you, his kisses showed you otherwise.

your finger curled into the band of his sweatpants, while his hands wandered under your shirt. mapping the cure of your spine. every touch sent a spark across your skin.

mark walked you backward towards his bed, lips never leaving yours. as you fell back into the sheets, mark rid himself of his clothes, you also followed and doing the same.

“i missed you so much,” mark said in between kisses, lining himself at the entrance of your pussy. pushing in, mark couldn’t help but whimper at feeling your soft velvet walls. it’s like your pussy didn’t want to let him go and was sucking him in further.

“f-fuck.”you moaned out from feeling very inch, and vein dragged along your sensitive walls. “just like that mark.” mark pushed himself further into you, soon his hips being flushed against yours. the feeling of being stretched made you whine.

the first thrust made you moan out in undeniable pleasure as your toes curled. you sunk your nails into mark’s arms to anchor yourself as he fucked you. it felt amazing. the pleasure you’ve been denying yourself from for so long felt amazing.

mark bit down on his bottom lips, looking at you high in ecstasy as your fucked yourself back on him. mark rubbed your clit while continuing to fuck you. your walls throbbed around him, moans growing louder.

“you’re taking me so well baby.” mark tells you, making your insides flutter. your release was coming near and mark was not letting up on his attack on your clit and fucking you.

“i love you,” you whimpered. “i love you too beautiful.” mark connected his lips back to yours, fucking you thought your orgasm as he felt your your walls tighten around him. causing you to draw mark closer to his release.

keeping the same pace, moments later your legs shake, releasing around him. mark follows after, releasing in you with a groan followed after. your pussy milking him of every last drop, feeling his cum fill you up and coating your walls. you both ride out your orgams. only then until mark pulls out of you, making you whine.

mark pulled you to sit up. “c’mon, let’s go take a shower and get you cleaned up.” planting a soft kiss on your temple and carrying you to the shower.

tags:: @scarfac3 @angelsfae @yeagersex @haechansbbg @vampzity @chosoguapo @sprxng-seaxon @gogepilled @ilwonuu @chenlezip @florihaei @puppysuh @yvvnii @lovelyysstuff @whalien52bbgrl @bluedbliss @leonsbodyguard @zhapire @j4eyunn @daryaa8a @babybreadjeongin @lostandlonely231 @wheezy223 @zhongzn @mrkswife @hyukssunflower @abg-city @evergreeneyesx @natttjuless @chitaphrrrr @coralbasketballpandapony @markcityzen99 @dreamheil @dwusfg @119dream @chemicaloey @sanguinehu @remgeolli @rhs2 @babbymochiiii @bastanasahereme @ohestrela @chenlestarz @ivyleagueeeee @pixheu @neopinkz @theycallmesya @cloudmrk @katkittykaat @mariimar @andyespinal011 @pj0ms @seokmingyus @motavator04 @ohsehunsramen @mmarthehell @wilmonyibo7 @markkiatocafe @laziestasitgets @haechansblkgf @markmelody @thegirlinmymemories @theepr1ncess @prettymoles @joyjoyzs @fullearthquakeobject @jensqoi @sxnlhs @velvetstarss @httpsxnox @themomentaccordingtoher @lovesuhng

you’re twenty-nine, and the number feels heavier than you thought it would. not because it’s old—not really—but because thirty is close. and thirty means expectations. by now, you were supposed to have it all figured out. at least, that’s what they say. your friends certainly make it seem that way with their photo-perfect marriages, toddlers learning to walk, houses in peaceful neighborhoods. meanwhile, you still live in a quiet apartment with plants you often forget to water and a fridge that holds more takeout containers than groceries.

you work at an architecture firm—clean lines, big ideas, and even bigger egos. the kind of place where late nights are common and recognition is rare. you’ve built a name for yourself, though. you lead your team well, your ideas consistently get approved, and your work ethic has never been in question. the other women whisper that you’re just trying to impress the boss, that your dedication is nothing but a strategic flirtation. they don't know that your passion isn’t about pleasing anyone but yourself. well, mostly. maybe part of you does want to be seen. to be acknowledged by him.

jeong jaehyun.

your department lead. two years younger than you, but somehow always carrying himself like he’s lived three lives already. he doesn’t talk much. doesn’t engage in the small talk that fills the office kitchen or the empty flattery some of your coworkers throw his way. he’s serious, focused, almost too calm. the kind of man who’s unreadable, and yet somehow always watching. you’re not close, not really, but there’s a quiet understanding between you. he trusts you. you can feel it in the way he gives you space to lead, the way he nods subtly in meetings when you speak, the way his eyes linger sometimes—not in a way that feels invasive, but like he’s... thinking.

you’ve never seen him flirt with anyone. never seen him talk about his personal life. no ring, no photos on his desk, not even vague mentions of a girlfriend or family. and while no one dares to say anything to his face, everyone wonders. he's a man, though—no one criticizes him for being single. no one asks him what he's waiting for.

you, on the other hand, can barely go a week without someone making a comment. still not married? you’re so pretty, what a shame. your mother means well, but every call ends with a variation of you’re not getting any younger, sweetheart.you smile through it. you tell them you're happy. you tell yourself that, too. but deep down, there's a quiet ache. because you’ve always wanted a family. always dreamed of being a mother, of coming home to someone who knows you—not just your schedule or your favorite takeout order, but the way you think, the way you feel things deeply and try to hide it. but love hasn’t knocked in years. not since your last relationship ended at twenty-two, before the world hardened your heart. since then, you’ve been too busy, too careful, too tired.

tonight, you're staying late again. the office is nearly empty, save for a few flickering lights and the buzz of a vending machine down the hall. you're finessing the last pieces of a major project, making sure every detail is just right. you're in the zone when you hear soft footsteps approaching, and then his voice—low, familiar, closer than expected.

“you’re still here, byun?”

you glance up to find jaehyun standing by your desk, hands in his pockets, that usual unreadable expression on his face. there’s no judgment in his voice, just quiet curiosity.

you offer a tired smile, leaning back in your chair. “oh, mr. jeong, i just wanted to polish a few things before the presentation. i figured if i leave anything messy, the senior managers will rip it apart. and then you’ll take the heat for it.”

he raises an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth twitching into something that almost looks like a smile. “you care that much about how i look to the execs?”

you shrug, turning back to your screen. “you’re my boss. if you look bad, i look bad.”

he lets out a soft exhale, a sound that's dangerously close to a chuckle. then he leans against your desk, his body relaxed but his eyes still sharp as ever. “you’re too committed.”

“you say that like it’s a bad thing.”

he shakes his head. “not bad. just... rare.”

a brief silence settles between you, not awkward, but weighted. it feels like he’s about to say something else, and when he does, it’s not what you expect.

“doesn’t your family mind that you stay this late?” his gaze holds yours. “your husband? kids?”

you blink, the question catching you off guard. your smile falters just slightly, and you look down at your hands before answering.

“no husband. no kids. no one waiting at home.” you try to sound casual, even throw in a little laugh. “i guess i’m just married to the job.”

he doesn’t laugh. doesn’t look away. “i didn’t know.”

you nod, suddenly very aware of the silence around you. “most people assume. but... yeah. i live alone.”

another pause. then, gently, you ask, “what about you, mr. jeong? i mean, you’re always here late too. no one waiting on you?”

he looks away for the first time, his jaw tightening slightly before he answers. “no one yet.”

and there it is again—that silence between you. but this time, it’s different. it hums with something unspoken. curiosity. surprise. maybe even recognition.

you return your gaze to the screen, not really seeing it. he’s still standing there, close enough to feel but not close enough to touch. something in the air shifts, and for the first time in a long time, your chest feels... not heavy, but full.

the next morning, you arrived a few minutes early—just like always. being punctual wasn’t about impressing anyone; it was about control, about proving—at least to yourself—that you had your life together. it made you feel reliable. consistent. in a workplace full of half-assed excuses and people who couldn’t meet a deadline to save their lives, your discipline was something you wore like armor. something no one could take from you.

your outfit was soft, delicate even—rose-pink skirt brushing just above your knees, a crisp white button-up tucked in neatly, the blazer matching your skirt in a subtle pastel tone. your heels clicked softly against the tile floor as you made your way to your desk, and as you passed the reflection on one of the glass panels, you couldn’t help but think: i look good today.

you did. your hair was in place, makeup light but elegant, lips tinted a faint nude-pink. polished. pretty. professional. but beneath all that... you also looked a little alone. not that anyone would say it to your face—but you could see it sometimes, in the glances people gave you. admiration, maybe. pity, sometimes. curiosity always.

you sat down, smoothing your skirt and adjusting your chair, reaching for the little yellow post-it you’d stuck to the side of your monitor the day before. your handwriting was neat, methodical. a short list of pending tasks, each one already being mentally checked off as you booted up your computer. you didn’t waste time—your fingers flew across the keyboard, and within minutes the familiar sounds of productivity filled your small corner of the office: the rhythmic clack of keys, the soft hum and spit of the printer warming up to spit out proposals and reports.

you didn’t hear him come in.

you were too deep in the flow, too focused on aligning the final report with the visual standards the company demanded. your eyes scanned the document line by line, searching for typos, ensuring everything was clean, sharp, presentable. the sound of footsteps behind you didn’t register until you felt it—that subtle, electric awareness that comes when someone is watching.

“good morning, byun. please leave the project report on my desk once it’s ready.”

he didn’t look at you. just passed by, smooth and quick, his voice calm and firm, a cup of steaming coffee in one hand, the familiar scent of roast beans and expensive cologne trailing behind him like a silent presence. his stride didn’t falter, his gaze fixed ahead, like he’d already moved on to the next ten things in his mind. you barely had time to nod, mouth parted to respond, but he was already disappearing behind his office door.

you blinked.

right. the report.

you gathered the last printed pages, slid them into the presentation folder, double-checked the order, smoothed the cover with your palm before rising from your seat. your heels clicked softly against the floor as you made your way down the short corridor, your fingers lightly tapping the edge of the folder, nerves tightening with each step even if there was nothing to be nervous about. it was just work. just jaehyun. just another report.

you knocked once and entered when he answered. he was seated behind his desk, sleeves already rolled up to his elbows, the dark veins of his forearms visible as he typed something on his laptop. he glanced up, briefly, then reached for the report when you held it out.

“thank you,” he said, flipping it open with precision, already scanning the contents. “at two p.m. we have the meeting with upper management. you’ll be joining me at the table. along with choi and hwang.”

you nodded. “understood.”

“good. go over the numbers one more time before then. they’re likely to ask.”

“yes, mr. jeong.”

and that was it. no warm smile. no thank you. just professional, cold efficiency. you turned and left, closing the door gently behind you before returning to your desk, the weight of the upcoming meeting settling on your shoulders like a familiar cloak. you’d been through this before. plenty of times. but it never got easier. not when the room was full of men in suits who barely hid their condescension, who chewed through ideas like tasteless gum until someone—usually jaehyun—said something smart enough to catch their interest.

you spent the next few hours fine-tuning the financial section, making sure your data was clean, graphs properly labeled, estimates realistic but still ambitious. it was a delicate game—making things sound innovative without actually suggesting anything too risky. they didn’t want bold. they wanted impressive illusions of boldness packaged in safe wrapping.

the meeting room was as bland as ever. too much glass, too much beige. you sat at the long table beside jaehyun, your laptop open, presentation ready. the managers arrived first, already complaining about another team’s failed prototype. the director entered last, stone-faced as always, his tie perfect, his opinion impossible to read.

as expected, the meeting dragged. they picked apart the proposal, paragraph by paragraph, expressionless until one of them grimaced like the very concept of originality offended them. you watched them, these men who nodded at each other but rarely smiled, who offered feedback that wasn’t feedback, just empty phrases like “it needs more punch” or “is this trend even scalable?”

then jaehyun spoke.

his voice was calm, slow, measured. and yet he made every single line sound convincing. powerful. like there was no other way forward but the one he was laying out. the room shifted around him. the tension eased. eyes narrowed—not in skepticism now, but interest. he wasn’t just presenting; he was selling a vision, and you felt yourself straightening with pride even if the credit wasn’t yours.

until he said your name.

“y/n,” he said, still facing the director. “if you could present the budget projections.”

you froze for a half second. not out of fear—just... surprise. you hadn’t expected him to call on you so soon.

you stood, smoothed your skirt unconsciously, and took a breath before switching slides. your voice was steady, even if your palms were clammy.

“these are the projections for the next two quarters,” you began, pointing at the chart. “we’ve estimated a moderate increase in cost during the development phase, with a break-even point projected for the beginning of q3. depending on the approved budget, we’re looking at a return on investment of approximately—”

you kept going, explaining the graphs, walking them through the numbers with careful clarity. no embellishments, no guesswork. facts. you swallowed once, clearing your throat before the final slide, then ended with a nod.

when you sat back down, jaehyun glanced at you. just a moment. a flicker of something almost soft in his expression.

like you’d done well. like you couldn’t possibly disappoint him.

the rest of the meeting blurred. the managers began tossing in extra suggestions—small changes, tweaks they hoped would impress the director. the man nodded, offered vague praise, and you remained at your seat, listening to it all with a practiced, patient expression.

when the meeting finally ended, you stood beside jaehyun again. he didn’t say much—he never did—but as he packed his laptop, he looked at you.

“good work today,” he said. “you’re an essential part of the team. if you keep this up, i’ll make sure your name’s considered for the upcoming promotions.”

you stared at him, momentarily stunned. the words hit harder than you expected. you’d worked for five years, given everything to this company, and this—this was the first time someone above you had said something that felt... real.

“thank you,” you said softly, trying not to let your smile get too big. “really.”

he nodded. “you earned it.”

later, when the director extended the dinner invitation, you didn’t hesitate. it wasn’t optional. the team needed to show up, needed to mingle, to pretend everything was a celebration and not an endless cycle of office politics masked with clinking glasses.

the bar was upscale but casual enough to loosen people’s ties. smoke from grilled meats hung faintly in the air, the tang of sweet sauces and roasted garlic filling the space. you sat between your supervisor and jaehyun, trying not to feel too stiff in your work clothes. everyone was drinking, toasting, laughing louder than they had all day.

the supervisor leaned forward, voice slightly slurred. “you know,” he said to the director, “the whole prototype? the mockup? the execution timeline? all her. y/n practically carried the whole thing.”

the director turned to you, surprised. “really? how long have you been here?”

“five years,” you replied, sipping from your glass.

he raised a brow. “how is it possible i haven’t noticed you until now?”

jaehyun, still beside you, said nothing—but you felt the subtle tension in his posture.

“you’ve got a good employee,” the director told him. “it’s your job to shape her. teach her. sounds like she’s already on the right path. with the right guidance... she’ll move up in no time.”

he raised his glass. “to y/n.”

“to y/n,” echoed around the table.

you lifted your glass, cheeks warm—not just from the alcohol but from the unfamiliar sensation of being seen. you smiled, surrounded by coworkers and approval and good food, and for a moment, just one moment, everything felt like it was finally going somewhere.

you were finally going somewhere.

the dinner had blurred into noise.

conversations overlapping, laughter rising and falling like tides. glasses clinked, meat sizzled on the grill, the warm lighting softening everyone's expressions into something hazy and unguarded. you sat at the long table, just a bit to the side, the smoky scent of barbecued meat in your hair and the echo of compliments still lingering in your chest. across from you, your supervisor had long since slipped into a drunken retelling of his glory days. to your left, jaehyun sat quietly, jacket off, shirt sleeves rolled to his elbows. his arms were strong, veins defined even in the low light, and on his left wrist, a sleek, expensive watch glinted every time he reached for his glass. he hadn’t touched his soju in a while, though. he just held the rim between his fingers and occasionally let his gaze wander across the room.

when your eyes met, it was casual, almost accidental. but you didn’t look away.

“you’re not drinking,” you said, quietly enough that only he could hear.

he offered the ghost of a smirk, the kind that barely pulled at one corner of his mouth. “someone has to remember what was actually said tonight.”

you laughed, a soft breathy sound, grateful for his clarity amidst the chaos.

a silence settled between you, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. rather, it felt like a small space carved out just for the two of you—unbothered, untouched, a bubble where you didn’t have to keep smiling or pretending. you let out a quiet sigh, swirling your untouched drink in your hand.

“do you ever feel like you're running out of time?” you asked, voice low, not even sure why you were asking him of all people.

jaehyun looked at you, brows drawn slightly, intrigued but still calm. “time for what?”

you hesitated, fingers tightening around your glass. the alcohol was warm in your chest, but not enough to numb this confession.

“for everything,” you admitted. “i mean, professionally… things are going great. i can’t complain. i’ve worked hard, and it’s starting to pay off. but…” you looked down, lips pressing together. “sometimes i feel like i’m trapped inside a giant hourglass, watching the sand fall, grain by grain. i’ll be thirty in a few months. and i know that shouldn't mean anything, but in a world where people expect you to have everything figured out by now—marriage, kids, some picture-perfect life—i feel like i’m falling behind. like my dreams are moving farther and farther away.”

you took a breath, not daring to look at him.

“it’s just… sad,” you continued. “when you achieve something big and there’s no one waiting at home to celebrate it with you. no partner, no family. no one to say, ‘i’m proud of you.’”

jaehyun was quiet for a moment. then his voice came, soft and even.

“i can celebrate with you.”

you looked up, surprised, blinking at him. “thank you, but… that’s not what i meant. it’s not the same.”

he held your gaze. then, calmly, like he was offering a solution to a logistics problem, he said it.

“then marry me.”

your brain stalled.

you didn’t understand at first. maybe you misheard him. maybe he was joking, or drunk—except his voice hadn’t changed. his tone hadn’t wavered. your stomach dropped.

“…what?” you whispered.

“you want a family. you want someone to come home to. marry me.”

the words hung between you like smoke. absurd. unreal. your mouth opened, but nothing came out at first. you glanced around—everyone else was too busy laughing or slurring their next toast to notice what had just happened.

you leaned in slightly, voice tense and hushed. “mr.—jeong—what are you talking about? we don’t even know each other like that.”

“we know enough,” he said without blinking.

“we’ve never even had a real conversation outside of work until now.”

“so let’s have more,” he replied, as steady as always.

you felt like your heart was beating too loudly. “are you… are you seriously suggesting we get married?”

“i’m not suggesting it. i’m telling you i’d do it. if you said yes.”

you stared at him, at the cool detachment on his face, the quiet certainty in his voice, and felt your world tip on its axis.

he shrugged. “how long until you turn thirty?”

“…my birthday’s in november,” you muttered, the words escaping before you could even process them. “it’s april now. that’s seven months.”

jaehyun nodded slowly. “then you have seven months to decide.”

he finished his beer in one slow, final gulp. then he stood up, reaching into his wallet and placing a few bills under his empty glass. you were still frozen when he stepped beside you.

“i’ll take you home,” he said.

you tried to protest, voice stumbling over half-formed refusals. “you don’t have to—i can call a cab, really—”

he looked down at you, expression unreadable.

“that wasn’t a request. it’s your boss giving you a ride.”

and with that, he turned, waiting for you to follow. your legs felt heavy as you stood, your mind racing, still reeling from what had just happened. marry him? seven months? he was serious. he was actually serious.

you had no answers. only questions. and one man who had just offered you everything you’d spent your life pretending you didn’t need.

you didn’t sleep.

not really. you tossed and turned, arms flung across the bed one minute and buried under the covers the next. jaehyun’s words echoed in your skull like an intrusive melody, looping over and over again.

then marry me.

you have seven months to decide.

like some sort of countdown had been triggered.

you must have stared at your ceiling for hours, trying to make sense of what he meant—what it meant for you—and whether he’d been serious. but the worst part wasn’t the proposal. the worst part was how calm he’d been, how effortlessly he’d said it, and how easily he’d walked away afterward like it hadn’t upended your entire sense of self.

your alarm went off at seven, and you hit snooze five times. by the time you dragged yourself out of bed, you felt like your bones had aged a decade overnight. you put on your makeup with the heaviness of someone trying to erase exhaustion from the inside out—concealer, color corrector, foundation. you went over your under-eyes twice, then a third time. you looked like yourself, but blurry. off.

you arrived to work twenty minutes later than usual, which was already enough to earn a few raised brows. no one said anything, but they noticed. you noticed them noticing.

you sat at your desk and stared at your drawers, forgetting which one you kept the monthly reports in. your fingers shook slightly as you shuffled through folders, trying to find the stupid paperwork you'd seen a million times. a stack of them slipped from your grasp and scattered onto the floor like a metaphor. you groaned and crouched down to collect them, muttering under your breath. your brain still felt like it was swimming through molasses.

then—

“good morning.”

his voice. that casual, bored tone he always used in the office. neutral, even, no trace of anything buried beneath it. no sign that he’d ever said something as life-altering as what he’d said last night.

you startled so hard you hit your head on the underside of your desk.

“good—ouch!” you winced, clutching your scalp with one hand and your pride with the other. “good morning, mr. jeong.”

he kept walking. didn’t glance down at you. didn’t smirk. didn’t check if you were okay. he passed your desk like any other morning, like he hadn’t proposed to you over beer and smoke and shared loneliness.

a few coworkers peeked over their partitions, concerned. you gave a shaky thumbs-up and a whispered, “i’m fine,” even though you felt anything but fine.

you weren’t like this. not at work. not ever. your name was synonymous with precision. discipline. control. and here you were, dropping papers and bumping into furniture like your brain had short-circuited.

you finally gathered the reports and brought them to his office.

he was seated at his desk, focused on his screen, the sleeves of his dress shirt still rolled to his elbows. your eyes caught briefly on the line of his forearm, the watch still there, still ticking.

“these are the reports from last month,” you said, setting the folder down.

“thanks,” he replied without looking at you.

you lingered.

“mr. jeong.”

he finally looked up.

his eyes were calm. cool. like nothing was wrong. like he hadn’t detonated a bomb and walked away from the wreckage.

you hesitated, your throat dry. “about what you said last night—”

his expression didn’t change.

“we’re at work,” he said simply. “i’m being professional.”

you blinked, almost offended. “so that’s it? you say something that insane and then just—go back to normal?”

“we’ll talk after work,” he said, returning to his screen. “if you want to.”

you stood there, gripping the folder even though it was already out of your hands, heart thudding with something sour and hot and unnamable. frustration? humiliation? confusion? all of it?

he was treating you like you were the one out of line. like you were being inappropriate for even bringing it up.

you turned around without saying anything else and walked out of his office, pulse hammering in your ears. the rest of the day dragged like wet cement. you couldn’t concentrate. you couldn’t remember what you were supposed to be doing half the time. you reread emails four times before hitting send. and every time someone walked past your desk, you wondered if it was him, if he’d say anything, if he’d look at you, if he even remembered what he said or if the memory of it belonged to you alone now.

you’d never felt so out of control.

you didn’t know what was worse—his silence or the fact that you wanted him to break it.

you tried to focus. god, you really did. you stared at spreadsheets until the numbers blurred into static. you answered emails with words you didn’t remember typing. every time the phone rang, your heart jumped, irrationally convinced it might be him—even though you were in the same building, separated by maybe thirty feet of glass, air, and unspoken tension. it felt like the longest day of your life. your temples throbbed with a slow, building ache, like your thoughts were pressing too hard against the inside of your skull.

you popped two painkillers around lunchtime, washed them down with lukewarm water from your reusable bottle, but they didn’t help. not really. because the pain wasn’t just physical—it was mental. emotional. a kind of pressure that wrapped around your ribs and squeezed.

your mind wouldn’t shut up.

you kept looping the same questions, over and over again, like your brain was stuck on a carousel with no exit.

why would he say that? why now? why you?

he already told you he'd wait. seven months. seven impossibly long, slow-burning months.

so why talk? why meet? it wasn’t for him. it didn’t serve him. he’d been clear. he had time, he had patience. this conversation—it was for you. you were the one desperate to make sense of it. to understand his motives. to justify the insanity of it all.

but how were you supposed to justify something that made no sense?

he’s twenty-seven. handsome. polished. wealthy. he could have anyone—literally anyone. girls younger than you, brighter than you, women who weren’t crawling toward their thirties with a fading list of half-achieved dreams and a fridge full of takeout leftovers. why you?

a mid-level employee in a department no one paid much attention to. someone who had to fight tooth and nail just to be noticed in board meetings. someone who had accomplishments but no one to toast with. someone who fell asleep most nights with their phone face-down and on silent because no one was texting anyway.

why you?

you didn’t have an answer.

you finished your tasks—barely—and the moment the clock hit the end of your shift, you shut your computer down with shaky fingers and grabbed your bag. your steps felt heavy, reluctant, as you made your way through the hall toward the entrance. part of you wanted to bolt, to pretend nothing had ever been said, to go home and crawl into bed and put on a show you wouldn’t really watch. to sleep off the confusion like a bad hangover.

but the doors opened before you could entertain the thought. those clean, automatic glass doors slid apart with a hiss, and there he was.

leaning casually against one of the white pillars just outside, his suit jacket draped neatly over his forearm, his other hand gripping his sleek black briefcase like it weighed nothing. he looked like something out of a commercial—well-dressed, composed, the perfect image of success. but when his eyes met yours, something flickered beneath the surface. maybe restraint. maybe tension. maybe nothing.

he walked toward you calmly, the sound of his footsteps muffled by the smooth tile.

“get in the car,” he said, voice even. “we’re going to talk. like you wanted.”

not a question. not a request.

he turned without waiting for your answer and made his way to a parked luxury sedan—shiny, deep black, windows tinted so dark you could barely see the interior. he opened the passenger door for you, as if the conversation that waited inside was just another part of his routine.

you hesitated, only for a second.

but then you followed.

because no matter how messy your thoughts were, no matter how terrified or confused or unworthy you felt, one truth cut through the noise:

you wanted to know.

you slid into the passenger seat, trying to calm the way your heart was sprinting inside your chest. the door closed beside you with a quiet thunk, sealing you into a space you weren’t sure you were ready for.

he walked around the front of the car and got in behind the wheel, smooth and unhurried.

you stared straight ahead.

ready—or not—to finally ask the questions that wouldn’t leave you alone.

the silence in the car wasn’t uncomfortable. not exactly. but it was dense—like fog inside your chest, heavy and silent and there to stay.

you stared out the window as the city drifted past, familiar buildings made foreign by the storm in your head. beside you, jaehyun drove with one hand on the wheel, the other resting on the gearshift. there was music playing—low, jazzy, old—but he didn’t speak. not until you passed a traffic light and he tilted his head, casually.

“did you get enough sleep last night?” he asked, like he was commenting on the weather.

you didn’t look at him. “not really.”

“figured,” he said, turning smoothly into another avenue. “you looked like hell.”

you gave a humorless chuckle, resting your elbow against the door and propping your chin in your hand. “thanks for the compliment, sir.”

“anytime,” he said dryly.

and that was it. that was all the small talk he offered. nothing personal. nothing intimate. just an acknowledgment that he saw you. that he’d noticed.

the drive was short, and before you could make sense of anything, you were already parking in front of a modest little korean restaurant tucked between a laundromat and a bookstore. it smelled like steam, garlic, and simmered bone broth. a place where people went for real food and no-frills comfort.

“this place has the best gomguk in the city,” jaehyun said, grabbing his briefcase from the back. “been coming here since i was a teenager.”

you hesitated at the door. “you like bone soup?”

“love it.”

you wrinkled your nose. “i can’t stand that stuff. never could. not even as a kid.”

he paused mid-step and gave you a look, slightly amused. “well,” he said, “there’s our first disagreement as a couple.”

you blinked at him, caught off guard. “what?”

“now i know you don’t like gomguk. guess i’ll have to avoid cooking it for you.”

you said nothing.

because he wasn’t joking. not really. not entirely. and that was the part that made your mouth dry.

how could he say things like that so easily? so naturally? as if you hadn’t spent the entire day unraveling at the seams while he strutted through the office like nothing had happened?

he sat across from you at the table, unbothered, scanning the menu like it wasn’t even necessary. he already knew what he wanted. meanwhile, you still didn’t know why you were there.

you picked something else. kimchi jjigae, maybe—safe, familiar, strong enough to mask the taste of your confusion.

once the server took your orders and disappeared behind the curtain, you leaned forward, folding your hands together to stop them from trembling.

“why me?”

his eyes lifted slowly from the empty table to your face. “there’s no reason,” he said. “i just want to give you what you want.”

“do you say that to all women?”

he smirked. “if i did, i’d probably be married to half the city by now.”

you shook your head. “don’t do that.”

“do what?”

“don’t treat this like a mission,” you snapped, trying not to raise your voice. “i don’t need your pity. i shared something vulnerable with you, yeah. but that doesn’t mean you have to swoop in and rescue me from a miserable life of solitude by offering a ring. this isn’t some fairytale. i don’t need a man to save me.”

“i never said you did.”

you exhaled slowly. “i want to love and be loved. to build something. something real. not this... whatever this is. a contract. a deal. a deadline to escape loneliness.”

his expression didn’t shift. not a single flicker. but his voice softened.

“then let’s say this. if in seven months, you still haven’t found someone—someone who makes you feel like you can build something... try it with me.”

you stared at him. hard. trying to read every intention in the lines of his face.

“just like that?”

“just like that.”

you couldn’t look away.

and then he said it. the words that settled into the cracks of your resolve like warm rain after a drought.

“we can love. i can love you. you can love me, if you want to. if you want to date, we can date. you don’t have to feel pressured. i just think... you’re worth the risk. and i don’t think you should torture yourself every day that passes just because you haven’t ‘settled down.’ opportunities don’t always come twice. sometimes you have to grab them while they’re here. or regret it forever.”

your lips parted, but nothing came out.

you looked at him then—not as the cold, polished man who walked the halls like a ghost in tailored suits. not as your boss. not as someone who confused and overwhelmed you.

you saw him as a man.

a man who knew what he wanted. who wasn’t afraid to take action. who looked you in the eye and offered you something you weren’t even sure you deserved.

his jawline. his eyes. the little wrinkle between his brows when he got serious. the calm way he listened. the confidence. the clarity.

you saw him differently.

you weren’t ready to give him an answer. not yet.

but something inside you had shifted.

you just didn’t know what to call it.

he didn’t rush you.

he didn’t push.

he just sat there across from you in that tiny booth, his sleeves rolled up and his tie slightly loosened, waiting with the kind of quiet confidence that only made your heart beat louder. he stirred his soup gently, letting it cool, occasionally taking a sip without ever looking away from you for too long.

and then he said it—casually, as if proposing something as simple as lunch next week.

“let’s do this. i’ll pick you up after work from now on. we’ll go out. have dinner. spend time together. see what happens. let it unfold naturally.”

just like that.

your breath caught. “i… i have doubts,” you admitted, almost in a whisper. “i don’t know what to say. i don’t know what to feel. this is all so sudden, so... fast.”

he nodded, unbothered. “that’s okay.”

you blinked. “that’s okay?”

“yes. it’s not a race. but you heard what i said—opportunities don’t always knock twice. you don’t have to say yes right now. just think about it.”

but you were thinking. too much.

his voice played on repeat in your mind: we can love. i can love you. you can love me. and god, wasn’t that the exact thing you’d been terrified of never having?

your fingers trembled under the table. your palms clammy, your mouth dry. you rubbed your hands together slowly, grounding yourself in that simple motion, trying to breathe.

he didn’t flinch. didn’t ask again. just kept sipping his soup, patient as stone, like he’d already accepted whatever answer you’d give him.

you stared at your food, at the steam rising, the way the aroma filled the space between you and him like something sacred. you still couldn’t stand bone soup. but somehow, being across from him made it smell less... offensive. less like something to run from.

and you remembered.

all those nights crying in silence.

all those mornings brushing your teeth with tears stuck in your throat because you didn’t know if ever would come.

ever finding someone.

ever being enough.

ever being loved without begging for it.

maybe he wasn’t what you imagined.

maybe he was better.

you looked up at him.

“okay,” you said, softly. then stronger. “okay. i’ll try. i’ll let you pick me up. we’ll go on these dates. maybe… maybe i can love you. maybe i can let myself be loved by you.”

he paused mid-sip, eyes lifting.

your voice cracked slightly when you added, “maybe i can stay with you.”

for a beat, the world went still.

he didn’t smile wide. didn’t gloat or tease.

he just gave a slow, almost imperceptible nod. his eyes warm, deep, but controlled—like someone who’d been expecting this moment and didn’t want to scare it off.

“good,” he said. “that’s all i needed.”

you swallowed hard.

and for the first time since that strange proposal, something in your chest loosened.

you weren’t sure if this was love.

but it was a beginning.

the next morning. everything is different.

you walk into the building like you own the damn place—heels sharp, suit immaculate, makeup clean and fierce, ponytail slicked high like a crown. the memory of yesterday—your stumble, your throbbing head, your wandering thoughts—now felt like a distant, irrelevant dream. that wasn’t you. this was.

a woman who knew what she wanted.

a woman who said yes.

you smiled to yourself in the elevator. not just any smile—that kind. the kind that curled at the corners, the kind that held secrets, the kind that felt like sin dressed in silk. the kind that belonged to someone with a man waiting outside a restaurant, ordering bone broth, and talking about love like it was something simple. doable. inevitable.

you were early. again. not by accident this time, but by choice.

you slid into your desk, organized, efficient, present. the hum of the office hadn’t started yet, and you took advantage of the calm, catching up on reports and scheduling the week like the good girl you were trained to be. but this time, it was different. you weren’t surviving the day. you were anticipating it.

and then—at exactly the hour—he walked in.

jung jaehyun.

same black suit. same silver watch. same air of cool detachment.

but today, when he passed by your desk and muttered his usual, “good morning,” you didn’t just nod like before.

you stood up—too fast.

too happy.

“good morning, mr. jeong!” you sang, voice lilting and almost musical, like you’d just won the lottery.

it was instinctual. not calculated. just... you.

the entire floor stopped.

heads turned.

some eyebrows shot up. a few eyes narrowed.

jaehyun himself halted in his tracks, looking back at you slowly, his brows drawn together in the tiniest frown. he cleared his throat.

“everyone, back to work,” he said, voice firm. and then, after one last look—eyes narrowed at you in something between confusion and amusement—he turned and walked away.

you bit your lip so hard it almost hurt, barely suppressing the giggle building in your throat.

the memory of last night echoed in your mind, maybe i can love you, maybe i can stay with you—and now here you were, trying not to beam like a teenager with a crush. you watched his back disappear into his office, and your lips curled up, despite yourself.

you could still feel his eyes on you. even if he wasn’t looking.

after work, you waited by the entrance as the glass doors slid open.

he was already there—like he promised. leaning casually against his car, black coat folded over one arm, briefcase in hand, gaze scanning the horizon like the perfect ceo out of a drama. but as soon as his eyes met yours, they softened—barely, subtly—but you noticed.

“get in,” he said, opening the passenger door for you.

you slipped in without protest, heart beating faster than it had any right to.

once the car pulled away from the curb, the silence settled—but it didn’t last long.

“you can’t do that,” he said, not harshly, just... firm.

“do what?” you asked, knowing damn well.

“greet me like that. like that.” he glanced at you sideways. “at work.”

you shrugged. “what? we’re dating now. aren’t we?”

“we’re seeing where this goes,” he corrected. “but we still have to be professional. people talk. your position can be affected. and mine—”

you cut in, not harshly but with a certain fire. “i’m not going to apologize for being happy.”

“i’m not asking you to apologize.”

“then don’t ask me to pretend. i’ll dial it down, sure. but i’m not going to act like you don’t mean something to me when we’re under the same roof eight hours a day.”

he stayed quiet for a beat, tapping the wheel with one hand, lips twitching like he was trying not to smile.

“is this how you are with all your boyfriends?”

you grinned. “i’m worse.”

he laughed. actually laughed. that deep, velvet sound you hadn’t heard much outside of formalities.

“well, i’ll brace myself,” he said. “i might enjoy it.”

you turned to the window, hiding your smile. this was really happening.

the drive back was quiet at first—a comfortable silence that didn’t demand immediate conversation. the kind of quiet that says: you don’t need to perform, just exist here with me.

the radio was on. a soft playlist of english ballads played in the background—songs about longing, beginnings, maybe even second chances. you doubted jaehyun picked them himself. it was probably just the algorithm. still, the timing felt so precise… so intentional, that you wondered if the universe was helping him out tonight.

you played with your fingers over your thighs, crossing and uncrossing your legs slowly, watching the night pass outside the window. city lights in the distance. trees swaying softly in the wind. you tried to guess where he was taking you next, but the truth was… you didn’t really care.

not knowing was part of the charm.

“where are we going?” you finally asked, unable to resist the curiosity.

he smiled without turning to look at you, eyes steady on the road ahead.

“it’s a secret,” he said. “you’ll have to wait and see.”

you squinted at him with mock suspicion, amused—and yet, inside, your heart started to thump a little faster with every mile.

there was something strangely beautiful about not being in control this time. about letting yourself be taken somewhere, not out of submission, but out of trust. you weren’t used to that. you weren’t used to letting anyone drive. but tonight, you wanted to believe you could lean back and just... be.

and then… the car turned down a dark, barely lit road, and you saw it.

a wide, open lot. a giant projector screen glowing at the far end. dozens of cars parked in neat rows, some with trunks open, fairy lights, blankets, snacks. couples curled together under the stars.

it was a drive-in movie. like something out of an old romance film.

you gasped, both hands flying to your mouth as you turned to him.

“oh my god. no way. are you serious?! i love the movies—but i've never done this. i’ve always wanted to, but… i don’t know. it just never happened.”

jaehyun glanced at you sideways. and this time, he smiled. really smiled. not the polite, composed smile he wore in the hallways or meetings—but something warm. something real.

“then it was a good idea,” he said simply.

he parked in the middle row. good view of the screen, but far enough for privacy. you were already melting—and then he popped the trunk.

a thick blanket. two small pillows. a tote bag with snacks—popcorn, a big soda bottle, even the exact chocolate bars you’d once said you liked during a random, probably drunk, late-night conversation. you didn’t even remember mentioning it.

he did.

“did you plan all of this?” you asked, curled slightly sideways in the passenger seat while he arranged everything with care between you.

“i just wanted you to be comfortable,” he said. “i wanted it to be... special.”

no posturing. no hidden motive. just sincerity. you felt it in the way he unfolded the blanket and draped it gently over your lap. in how he checked the window—cracked just enough to let in the breeze, not enough to let in the cold. In how he handed you the soda first, before even opening his own drink.

the movie started. some lighthearted rom-com with ridiculous dialogue and cheesy plot points, but it didn’t matter. it was perfect. low-stakes. no pressure. you curled your legs under you, blanket snug, the flickering light from the screen dancing across your skin.

every once in a while, you’d glance at jaehyun. and more than once, you caught him watching you instead of the film.

“are you bored?” you whispered.

“not even close.”

“you haven’t laughed once.”

he turned to you, that sarcastic little smirk tugging at one corner of his mouth, eyes narrowed just slightly.

“you’re already making enough noise for the both of us.”

you gave him a playful slap on the arm, pretending to be offended.

“that was a compliment,” he added, amused.

you rolled your eyes—but smiled. god, you smiled so much that night.

as the credits rolled, something shifted in the silence. the mood thickened—not heavy, just… deeper. weighted with something. a moment hanging on the edge of change. your head leaned against the window as the screen dimmed, your eyes distant but your heart so very full.

he still didn’t touch you.

he didn’t grab your hand. didn’t lean in.

but his presence wrapped around you all the same—solid, patient, waiting. not pushing, just there. learning how to be near you without demanding anything in return.

“thank you,” you said softly, voice almost too quiet to hear. “for this. for everything.”

“you don’t have to thank me.”

“yes, i do. it’s not every day someone goes out of their way like this.”

he paused before answering. his tone was steady, but low.

“i want this to work,” he said. “and if that means planning teenage-level dates with blankets and popcorn, then… yeah. i’ll do that.”

you laughed, eyes dropping to your lap.

“you’re doing well so far.”

“yeah?”

“yeah.”

and then you looked at each other. just looked. no words needed.

but inside… you felt it.

your shoulders, usually tense, were light. your heart, bruised and cautious for so long, was opening again. quietly, but surely. as if whispering, i’m still here. i still want to believe.

you weren’t sure where this would go. if it would last. if it would end in tears or something worse.

but right now, in his car, under the stars, with the last notes of the film still echoing through your skin…

you wanted to find out.

you wanted to try.

the next morning at the office felt different—less chaotic, more grounded. you greeted the receptionist with a small smile, your heels clicking softly against the marble floor as you made your way in, clutching your coffee cup like a security blanket. you weren't glowing, exactly, but something about you was… softer. less guarded. like a petal finally relaxing in the warmth of spring after a too-long winter.

jaehyun noticed immediately.

you caught him watching you from the glass-walled conference room as you entered the bullpen. he didn't stare, not in a way that would make it obvious to others—but his eyes followed you, just long enough to clock the change. your navy blue pencil skirt hugged your hips, the slit in the back offering just the right amount of grace as you walked. the cream blouse you wore was modest but elegant, the top button left undone, showing the delicate line of your collarbone. your hair was half-up, your makeup minimal, professional—but the gloss on your lips and the quiet shimmer on your eyelids betrayed a whisper of mischief. not overt. just enough for someone paying attention.

you met his gaze briefly through the glass and raised your brows in a silent hello before looking away, sipping your coffee with forced nonchalance.

by the time you crossed paths an hour later—both of you heading into a smaller briefing room—he gave you that look again. the one that asked, really? amused, but faintly disbelieving.

"good morning, mr. jeong," you greeted him politely, eyes straight ahead as if you hadn't spent the last night wrapped in his blanket, watching a movie with your legs tangled under it.

"miss y/l/n," he replied, his lips curving into a knowing smile as he held the door open for you. “very formal today.”

you didn’t rise to the bait. just gave him a brief, professional smile and walked past, heels clicking, not looking back. you were committed to the bit.

the meeting was brief, technical—a review of deliverables, some feedback loops, nothing out of the ordinary. you contributed where you needed to, kept your tone measured, avoided lingering glances. even when he made a rare joke and the room chuckled, you only allowed yourself a small, polite laugh, hands folded neatly on the table.

he didn’t push. but when you passed each other near the coffee station later, his voice dropped low, just enough for you to hear.

“you’re really leaning into the whole executive assistant with boundaries thing, huh?”

you smirked as you refilled your mug, still not looking at him. “just trying to keep things professional, mr. jeong.”

“of course.” he nodded once, pretending to adjust his tie. “wouldn’t want to cross any lines.”

you bit your lip to suppress your grin. the game was on.

at 3:47 PM, your phone lit up with a text from his office number: meeting with the department heads in fifteen. boardroom. don’t be late. signed J.J.

you rolled your eyes but your stomach did a little flip.

the 4 PM meeting dragged—there was a lot of back and forth over campaign numbers and rollout schedules, but you held your own, taking notes, speaking clearly when your insight was needed. you could feel jaehyun watching you when others weren’t—his gaze warm, grounding—but he didn’t speak to you directly unless it was related to the discussion. you appreciated that. It let you stay in control, let you breathe.

after everyone had trickled out and the room was quiet, you stayed behind a moment, closing your laptop and straightening the chairs without a word. he didn’t move from his seat at the head of the table, just watched you as you moved, his fingers idly spinning a pen.

“dinner?” he asked eventually, breaking the silence.

you didn’t look up right away. “are you asking as mr. jeong or...?”

he tilted his head, eyes playful. “just jaehyun.”

you looked up, meeting his eyes. something flickered between you—recognition. of the past few days, the softness in your chest, the way your shoulders had finally stopped bracing for disappointment.

“okay,” you said quietly. “dinner.”

he didn’t take you to a fancy restaurant or anywhere showy. just a quiet little rooftop place downtown, dim lights and mellow music, open air and the sound of the city below. you sat across from him at a small table, knees brushing under the surface. you shared dishes, laughed softly, talked about nothing and everything. he asked about your childhood; you asked about his first heartbreak. there was no rush to get anywhere. just being there—together—was enough.

at some point, after dessert and a second glass of wine, the conversation quieted. the city stretched around you, glittering and alive. jaehyun leaned back in his chair, watching you.

at some point, after dessert and a second glass of wine, the conversation quieted. the city stretched around you, glittering and alive. jaehyun leaned back in his chair, watching you with that open expression he reserved for moments like this—unguarded, gently curious.

“you said you grew up outside the city,” he said, casually swirling the remnants of his drink. “what about your parents?”

you set your fork down and rested your elbows lightly on the table, exhaling. “they still live in the same town. a couple hours from here.”

he nodded. “siblings?”

“one,” you replied. “older brother. married. two little boys.”

jaehyun smiled at that. “you’re the cool aunt.”

you laughed softly, the sound bittersweet. “i try. i send them stickers and weird snacks from the city. but i think i’m mostly the mysterious aunt who lives alone in seoul and doesn’t have a husband, which is a major point of concern for my parents.”

jaehyun raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. “concern?”

“oh, huge.” you leaned back, crossing your arms with a mock-serious nod. “they think i’m one heartbreak away from crawling back into my childhood bedroom with a suitcase and giving up entirely. i get the same call every weekend—‘have you met someone yet?’ and ‘when are you coming home, sweetheart?’ like my single status is a national emergency.”

you smiled, tried to make it sound light. funny. but the knot in your chest tugged a little tighter with each word. because underneath the teasing tone, it hurt. the weight of expectation, of having let them down without really meaning to. you’d always thought, by now, you’d have that picture-perfect family. a husband. maybe a child. but life had taken its own sharp turns, and somewhere along the way, you'd lost the map.

before your thoughts could spiral too far inward, you turned your eyes toward him and asked, “what about you? any siblings?”

he shook his head. “only child.”

“wow. that explains the drama,” you teased.

he grinned, playing along. “what drama?”

you shrugged, playful. “the perfectly tousled hair. the quiet confidence. the whole mysterious boss with a tragic past vibe.”

jaehyun laughed, the sound low and warm. “nothing tragic, thankfully. my parents own a condo complex back in busan. they keep to themselves. ever since i moved out, they’ve stayed out of my decisions. no guilt trips. no blind dates.”

he smirked a little, taking another sip. “which is great for me.”

you smiled at that, but there was something about the way he said it—casual, yes, but laced with a kind of loneliness you recognized. the kind that came with being left alone a little too much. with being successful but still carrying a shadow no one quite asked about.

you watched him for a second longer than necessary. then nodded slowly. “that does sound kind of great.”

he looked at you then, really looked, and the silence between you shifted—deeper now. heavy with things not said.

the city hummed around you. glasses clinked from other tables. somewhere, a violinist was playing faintly near the street below. but you only heard the soft cadence of his breath, the way it matched your own.

and then he stood and offered you his hand.

you didn’t hesitate this time. you let him lead you to the edge of the rooftop, where the view was clearer, the air colder. your arms brushed as you looked out together, shoulder to shoulder, warm skin against cool wind.

he turned to you first, eyes darker now, thoughtful. “you don’t need to rush anything. marriage, or whatever they want from you. you’re… okay. just as you are.”

you looked at him slowly, your heart caught somewhere between gratitude and ache. “thanks,” you whispered. “sometimes i forget.”

he stepped closer—barely—but it was enough to make your breath hitch.

you met his gaze, and something shifted between you again. tighter. stronger. the kind of tension that doesn’t demand to be broken, only… felt.

he leaned in slowly, giving you every chance to pull away. you didn’t.

your lips met his softly, a single, tentative kiss that carried the full weight of everything left unspoken. sweet, searching, the kind of kiss that says i see you. that says stay.

and when you pulled back, your eyes didn’t dart away.

they lingered.

because something had begun. and neither of you was pretending anymore.

there was no big speech. no sudden declarations.

just the quiet gravity of this moment. the closeness. the way his eyes searched yours with a gentleness that made your breath catch.

april melted into may in soft, golden increments—like a candle burning slow at both ends. the weather grew gentler, the evenings warmer, and with each passing day, your relationship with jaehyun unraveled in small, tender pieces that neither of you rushed to name.

you had more dinners together. nothing extravagant—he wasn’t the kind to impress with grand gestures—but always thoughtful. ramen tucked away in a quiet corner shop with mismatched stools. a spontaneous detour after a work meeting that led to an art gallery’s closing hour. coffee at a tiny cafe with mismatched mugs and jazz playing softly from a dusty speaker. with every outing, something softened between you. the way you spoke to each other, the way you lingered a second longer when saying goodbye, the way your eyes found his in a crowded room and stayed there.

still, at work, everything remained perfectly composed. restrained. you never touched, never called him anything but mr. jeong. no one suspected a thing—and that secrecy gave it all the thrill of something sacred. childish almost. like passing notes under a desk. a shared joke disguised in a spreadsheet. your fingers grazing when you exchanged documents. a glance too long in the breakroom when he poured your coffee before you even asked. you could feel it in the air, that charged silence of two people pretending to be just colleagues, and failing quietly, deliciously.

the project itself was moving well—smooth timelines, promising data. it gave you an excuse to spend more time in his office, laptop open across from his, sometimes both of you too focused to speak for long stretches. sometimes one of you talking while the other typed, nodding with half-listening affection. sometimes, on the slow days, the lines between work and personal conversation blurred gently, like ink on damp paper.

today was one of those days.

you sat across from him, legs crossed under the conference table, scrolling through performance reports while he adjusted a chart on his screen. outside the windows, the afternoon sun filtered through the blinds, casting pale lines across the carpet and the sleeves of his shirt. he leaned back, stretching slightly, then caught your gaze with a small smile.

“so…” he said, voice lower than usual, “what are you doing this weekend?”

you glanced up, biting your lip to hide a smile. “why? do you need me to run more numbers?”

“maybe,” he said, teasing. “but i was thinking something less tragic. maybe the museum? or that poetry cafe you mentioned.”

you shrugged, trying to sound casual. “depends. are you asking as mr. jeong or as… jaehyun?”

he smirked, eyes playful. “i guess that depends on your answer.”

you were about to respond when the door opened without a knock. both of you sat up straighter instinctively, like students caught passing notes. the supervisor from the analytics division stepped in, scanning the room with barely concealed curiosity.

“mr. jeong,” he said, tone clipped, “the director wants to see you.”

jaehyun stood immediately, buttoning his jacket with an easy nod. “i’ll be there in a moment.”

the supervisor looked at you then. his eyes lingered—not long, but long enough. something unreadable passed over his face. “you’ve been spending a lot of time here,” he said, like it wasn’t a question.

you gave him your most neutral smile. “just supporting the project. we’re on a tight schedule.”

“mm.” he said nothing more, just nodded once and stepped out.

jaehyun glanced at you before leaving, and there was a flicker of something in his eyes—amusement, maybe. or quiet warning. you went back to your laptop, fingers pretending to type while your heart tried to calm its sudden gallop.

the evening found you both in his car again. the sun had already begun its descent, turning the sky a soft shade of apricot. you slid into the passenger seat, closed the door behind you, and without thinking too much, leaned over to kiss his cheek.

his skin was warm under your lips.

he blinked, clearly caught off guard, and for a second, he forgot to hide it. the tips of his ears flushed red. he cleared his throat and reached for the ignition, like nothing happened, but his smile lingered, crooked and faint.

“you keep doing that,” he murmured, not looking at you.

“doing what?” you asked innocently.

he shook his head, eyes on the road. “making it hard to pretend we’re not dating.”

you grinned and didn’t answer.

he drove you to the han river, where the breeze was cool and kind, and the crowds were light enough to feel private. you sat cross-legged on the grass, sharing tteokbokki and fried dumplings from paper trays, watching cyclists blur past under the lamplights. a small speaker nearby played an old ballad, sweet and melancholic, and you leaned into his shoulder without needing permission.

“i like this,” you said softly.

“what part?” he asked.

“this part. where everything’s… quiet.”

he didn’t speak immediately. just reached over and brushed a strand of hair behind your ear.

“me too.”

you looked at him, really looked—and it hit you in that moment how far you’d come. from formal greetings and polite distance to soft laughter and shared silence. from stolen glances to kisses on the cheek that left him blushing.

and somehow, without realizing it, you’d stopped keeping count of how many times you thought about him during the day. because now he was part of your days.

and you didn’t want to imagine them without him anymore.

june arrived with a subtle shift in rhythm—projects moved faster, deadlines drew closer, and the sun stayed longer in the sky. the office felt heavier in the afternoons, warm with late spring air and the quiet hum of new beginnings.

one of those beginnings came in the form of kim jungwoo.

he was transferred from the incheon branch—a bright-eyed analyst with quick wit and a laugh that filled corners. you were told he'd be supporting the data team, and since your department handled most of the projections, he was placed right in front of your desk, where your eyes met every time you looked up. your first impression of him was that he was disarmingly charming—too friendly, too easygoing for the stiff, quiet culture of the office—but undeniably efficient. he asked questions that made sense, learned fast, and had a way of easing tension with a joke delivered just under his breath.

you kept things professional, as always. showed him how you sorted the quarterly metrics, how to navigate the company’s outdated database system without crashing it, how to color-code your sheets for easier reading. he listened, smiled, nodded. and eventually, he joked. made you laugh when you’d been staring at the same budget chart for hours. brought you coffee with your name scribbled on the lid in dramatic calligraphy. sometimes too much, sometimes exactly what you needed.

you liked him. platonically. comfortably. it was easy to like jungwoo.

but jaehyun noticed. of course he did.

at first, it was subtle. he’d call you into his office more frequently, asking for reports he usually didn’t request until later in the week. you didn’t think much of it—until you realized he was keeping you in there for hours. even when the topic had already run dry, even when both of you were silently pretending to still be discussing something relevant. you’d glance at your watch, mumble about needing to check on jungwoo’s progress, and jaehyun would give you this look—tight-lipped, unreadable, almost irritated.

the third time it happened, you couldn’t keep quiet anymore.

“are you seriously going to keep me hostage in your office every time jungwoo asks me a question?” you asked, laptop balanced on your knees, arms crossed.

jaehyun didn’t answer right away. he leaned back in his chair, one hand draped lazily over the armrest, watching you. but there was tension under his cool expression, the kind that coiled in his jaw.

“you’re my girlfriend” he said, voice low, measured. “even if we have to act like colleagues in this building, you’re not just anyone to me.”

your breath caught. not because of what he said—because of the way he said it. with that sharp, quiet certainty, like it wasn’t up for debate.

“you’re jealous,” you muttered, trying to smile, to turn it into something lighter.

“of course i’m jealous,” he said, leaning forward. “he’s new, he’s charming, and he’s looking at you like he already knows what you taste like.”

your face flushed.

you looked away, but only for a second.

because when you met his eyes again, he stood.

in two strides he was in front of you, taking the laptop gently from your knees and setting it on the coffee table without a word. then he cupped your face with both hands and kissed you—deep, slow, and hungry. there was nothing tentative about it. it wasn’t sweet or shy. it was possession, poured soft and molten through the shape of his mouth on yours. you sighed into it, hands gripping the front of his shirt, pulse thudding in your throat.

he pulled away just enough to speak, voice rough. “don’t tease me about this.”

you nodded, breathless. “okay.”

and then he kissed you again.

the kiss tasted like all the things you weren’t allowed to say out loud. frustration. longing. the ache of pretending, day after day, that you were only what the world let you be. his thumb stroked your jaw as his mouth opened against yours, deeper now, slower. you felt your knees weaken and your thoughts scatter, all logic melting into the heat of the moment.

that night, like every night since the start of your secret, you met him outside the office. his car waited at the edge of the lot, tinted windows and the soft thump of quiet music playing through the speakers. you slid into the passenger seat, your heart already dancing.

this time, he didn’t say hello.

he reached over and kissed you—harder than before, lips parting yours in a way that made your body sing. the car wasn’t moving. neither of you were thinking. you kissed like it was all you knew how to do. mouths hungry, breath shallow, his hand tracing the edge of your thigh just enough to make you gasp. every time you pulled away for air, he followed. every time he groaned into your kiss, you shivered.

he never rushed.

never crossed that line you hadn’t yet spoken about.

but you felt how close it hovered. just under the skin.

and as your lips brushed his one last time before pulling back, your forehead resting against his, you whispered, “i like it when you get jealous.”

his smile was crooked. dangerous.

“you better not like it too much,” he said, his thumb stroking the corner of your mouth, “because next time… i might not let you leave so easily.”

thursday crept in quietly, with no big plans or messages of anticipation. the city, usually loud and hungry for excitement, felt unusually tame that week—like it had spent itself on too many events, too many evenings out, too many people chasing novelty in crowded cafés and rooftop bars. maybe it was just you, though. maybe everything had started to feel dull because your world had shifted to revolve around something—someone—entirely new. and nothing outside of that circle could compare anymore.

you barely spent time in your apartment lately. always out. always in his car, in places that weren’t quite home but felt more real because he was there. so on that afternoon, with your head tilted against the cold surface of your desk and your brain spinning from spreadsheets, you blurted it out between quiet keyboard taps.

“don’t make any plans tomorrow night.”

jaehyun glanced at you from across his office, pen in hand, eyebrows drawn. “should i be worried?”

you smiled without looking up. “you’re staying over. the weekend. at my place.”

the pause was heavy. not uncomfortable, but... loaded. you didn’t dare lift your head until he spoke.

“wait—what?”

and there it was. you looked at him finally, biting your bottom lip to keep from smiling too wide. he looked stunned. genuinely caught off guard.

“you heard me. pack a bag. pajamas. toothbrush. snacks. i don’t know. whatever you need to survive two days with me.”

his face went red. a deep, rich pink that spread across his cheeks to the tips of his ears. you laughed. he was thinking things.

“ya, what were you imagining?” you teased, narrowing your eyes at him with a smirk.

“nothing!” he defended too fast. “i just... i didn’t expect we’d be spending the weekend... alone like that. it’s not a bad thing. i like it. i like the idea. i just—i mean, we’ve been doing great. this relationship. it feels good. real. and... if it keeps going like this, who knows—maybe one day we’ll get married.”

you froze.

he didn’t say it as a joke. it was quiet. casual. but he meant it.

married.

you hadn’t thought about that in weeks. you’d been so swept up in the rush of the new—new glances, new kisses, new secret dates and stolen evenings. but that word made your heart skip, stumble, leap. it opened a future you hadn’t dared imagine.

married to jeong jaehyun. walking down an aisle. your coworkers gasping. your parents trying to stay calm. him lifting your veil. kissing you like it was the beginning of forever. sunday mornings with kids and cartoons and coffee. vacations. shared bookshelves. him waiting at the door when you got home.

you shook the image out of your head.

“you can’t just say things like that,” you whispered, barely breathing.

“why not?” he asked softly, his eyes sincere. “it’s where we’re going, right?”

friday night came like a slow exhale.

he arrived with a small black duffle bag slung over his shoulder and a sheepish grin. you wore mismatched pajamas—striped pants and a faded hoodie from a school club you barely remembered joining. the sight of you like that made him laugh, and the sound was so unguarded it made your chest ache with affection.

you stayed in. ordered too much food. picked a cheesy rom-com that made you cry halfway through. he kept making sarcastic comments at first, trying to pretend he didn’t care, until somewhere in the middle he got quiet. his hand found yours under the blanket, warm and steady. when the credits rolled, your head was on his shoulder and your eyes were puffy.

“i hate that you made me cry,” you sniffled, wiping your face.

“i didn’t make you cry. blame julia roberts,” he said, kissing the top of your head.

the rest of the night blurred. an improvised dinner of instant noodles and wine, soft music from your phone speaker, him dancing stupidly in the kitchen with a wooden spoon, trying to make you laugh. and you did. hard. the kind of laugh that made you forget to be careful.

when it got late, and the lights dimmed, the kisses came back. slow. long. searching. his hands on your waist, your fingers in his hair, breathing each other in like you were afraid to stop. the heat built, like always, but neither of you pushed further. it wasn’t time. not yet. but god, it was close.

saturday was lazy and warm and beautiful.

you woke up tangled in the blankets, his arm draped over your stomach, his breath soft against your neck. the kind of morning you never thought you’d get to have—where nothing was urgent, and everything felt right.

you took turns in the shower, argued over who finished the milk, and spent an hour sitting on the floor flipping through old photo albums you’d forgotten you had. you didn’t plan to show him—but he insisted. and once he started looking, he didn’t stop.

“wait... this is you in high school?” he asked, pointing at a photo.

“yeah,” you said, embarrassed. “why?”

“you were so cute.”

you rolled your eyes. “i wasn’t popular or anything. i had one boyfriend. lasted a week.”

he stared. “a week?”

“he said i was too uptight and boring.”

jaehyun’s mouth dropped open. “that guy was an idiot.”

you laughed. “no, he was probably right. i’ve always been... structured. controlled. even back then. guess that’s why i’m like this now—such a workaholic.”

he didn’t laugh. instead, he kept looking at your photo—finger brushing over the glossy paper like it meant something.

“if i had met you back then,” he said quietly, “i would’ve fallen in love with you. no doubt.”

your breath caught.

he didn’t look away. “i wouldn’t have let you go. not for a second.”

“you don’t mean that,” you whispered, unsure what else to say.

“i do,” he said, firm. “you’re not boring. you’re brilliant. you’re thoughtful. you see things no one else sees. you work harder than anyone i know. and... you make me want to be better.”

tears pricked your eyes again. not from sadness. just—too much emotion. too much truth.

“you’re going to make me cry again,” you whispered.

“then cry,” he said, pulling you close. “but only if you let me hold you through it.”

the rest of the weekend passed like a dream.

grocery runs in sweatpants. a half-burnt attempt at making pancakes. arguments over which playlist was better for cleaning the kitchen. you wore ridiculous socks with cartoons on them. he made fun of you until you found his even worse ones.

you kissed between chores. kissed while brushing your teeth. kissed while folding laundry.

it wasn’t glamorous.

but it felt like home.

and when sunday night came, and he packed his bag again, you didn’t want him to go. not because of the sex, or the thrill, or the high of newness. but because somewhere between instant noodles and high school photos, you realized something terrifying and beautiful—

you were falling in love.

for real.

for the first time.

towards the end of the month, your phone rings. you’re in your apartment, folding laundry with the window cracked open to let in the soft breeze of early summer. the sunlight filters through sheer curtains, painting everything in golden hues. you glance at the caller id and feel a knot tighten in your stomach. mom.

you answer.

“it’s your father’s birthday this weekend,” she says, skipping greetings as always, her voice a mix of cheerful anticipation and subtle reprimand. “you should come visit. he’s been asking if we’ll see you.”

you agree, almost without thinking, but then comes the dreaded question.

“and? have you found a boyfriend yet or do i need to talk to mrs. lee again?”

you rub your temple. “mom—”

“her son is still single, you know. owns a good piece of land. sells vegetables to that big food corporation. you’d be set for life.”

you exhale deeply, eyes closing in frustration.

“i’m… i’m seeing someone.”

a pause. then her voice lights up like fireworks. “you are? oh, this is wonderful! finally, you’re not wasting away alone up there in that office job.”

“mom, we’ve just started seeing each other,” you say, hesitating. “it’s too soon to—”

“no,” she cuts in firmly. “you don’t have time to be unsure. the train is about to leave the station, sweetheart. you either get on or it’s gone. bring him. we want to meet him.”

before you can argue, the call ends with a clipped goodbye, and you’re left staring at your phone, pulse racing and chest tight.

the rest of the week, you feel like a ghost of yourself. distracted at work, distant on your dates with jaehyun, your mind spinning in loops. he notices immediately—of course he does—and it only takes one missed joke and a quiet dinner for him to call you out on it.

you’re sitting across from him, poking at your food. the restaurant is softly lit, cozy, but there’s a distance in your eyes.

“y/n,” he says, setting his chopsticks down. “what’s going on?”

“nothing,” you mutter, but he leans in.

“don’t give me that. we’re together now, remember? you can talk to me. or… if you’re second guessing this… if i’m moving too fast, just tell me. i can handle it.”

your heart aches at his words. you reach across the table, grabbing his hand.

“it’s not that. i’m not doubting us,” you say quietly. “it’s just… my mom called. she wants me to visit this weekend for my dad’s birthday. and she… kind of expects me to bring you.”

he blinks. then, without hesitation, he says, “okay. then i’ll come.”

you blink right back. “wait, seriously?”

“yes. if it means that much to them—and to you—I want to go. i want to meet your family, y/n. it feels right.”

your chest swells with something warm and terrifying. you nod, silently.

friday comes and your suitcase is zipped and ready by the door. you’re wearing a floral summer dress, light and breezy, with your favorite pair of nude heels that make your legs look longer than they are. your hair is pinned loosely, lip tint soft and rosy. there’s a nervous flutter in your chest when you step outside.

jaehyun is already waiting beside his car, leaning casually against it like he belongs in a photoshoot. he’s in cream linen pants and a sage green button-down with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, collar open at the throat. his sunglasses reflect the afternoon sun, and he looks, frankly, too good to be standing in your quiet little street. you gulp.

“need help with those?” he says with a grin, reaching for your bags before you can answer.

the ride is filled with music, laughter, and long, thoughtful silences. the kind that don't feel awkward, but full. pregnant with meaning. he holds your hand on the highway, thumb stroking the back of it lazily, his warmth anchoring you through your nerves.

when you pull up to your parents' house—a modest home with stone finishings and a neat little front garden—your heart thunders. everything feels smaller, more fragile, like stepping back in time. your mom rushes out first, apron still tied around her waist, eyes wide and wet with excitement.

and when she sees jaehyun? she nearly cries. “you’re real,” she says, pressing her hands together like she’s witnessing a miracle. your dad comes out next, chuckling as he wipes his hands on a dish towel.

“so this is the young man,” he says with a knowing nod, clapping jaehyun on the back. “your mother hasn’t shut up about you since she found out.”

inside, the dining table is set with your dad’s favorite dishes. everything smells like memory. you sit in the living room afterward, your parents across from you, jaehyun beside you on the couch, close enough to feel his knee brushing yours.

he speaks up first, voice calm and clear.

“i just want to say that i’m very serious about your daughter,” he says. “i have genuine intentions. we’re still getting to know each other, but… if things keep going the way they are, i’d like to build a future with her.”

your mother gasps, reaching for a tissue. your father nods slowly, visibly moved.

“this… this is the best birthday gift i could ask for,” he says.

you shrink into the couch, cheeks burning, while jaehyun’s hand finds yours again and squeezes gently.

then comes the chaos.

your older brother, baekhyun, bursts through the door with his wife and two kids in tow. he takes one look at you and smirks.

“who’s the guy and what have you done with my perpetually single little sister?”

you groan. “shut up, baek.”

the two of you bicker like teenagers, tossing playful insults back and forth while your nephews cling to your legs, shouting your name with delight. you hand them the toys you brought and their eyes light up like it’s christmas.

jaehyun watches it all, amused, until one of the boys climbs into his lap and hands him a toy too.

he freezes.

and in that moment, something shifts in him. the sound of children’s laughter, the image of you with a soft smile, cradling one of your nephews in your arms. the warmth of this home, the love in every corner. he imagines it—having this with you. kids with your eyes. a house that’s yours. your framed wedding photo on the wall. vacations. birthdays. late-night talks in bed. wrinkles and silver hair, but still loving you with the same fire.

he blushes.

and you notice.

“what?” you whisper as you lean close.

he shakes his head, smiling to himself. “nothing. just… i really, really like this. all of it.”

the night unfolds gently. dinner turns into stories, stories into laughter, and soon the sun has long set and the house is lit with warm yellow lights. you and jaehyun sit outside for a moment, watching the stars.

he wraps an arm around you, and you rest your head on his shoulder.

“you feel like home,” you whisper, not even realizing the words have slipped out.

he turns to look at you, eyes soft. “so do you.”

and in the quiet, with the cicadas singing and the echo of your family’s voices drifting from inside, you know.

this might just be the beginning of everything.

the month of july passed by with little to no complications. your parents were pleased with jaehyun, and you could tell that their approval meant the world to him. jungwoo, on the other hand, was playful and teasing, but with a newfound sense of respect, especially as jaehyun started to show more signs of being protective, making sure that jungwoo didn’t cross any boundaries. you were still professional with everyone at work, but the chemistry between you and jaehyun was undeniable. nights together were spent laughing, and weekends were filled with stolen moments of joy, where you both shared something more than just professional courtesy.

jaehyun had made a habit of calling you during the day, just to check on you, and you found yourself doing the same. the conversations were simple, but they felt important. visits to his office became more frequent, sometimes just for work, but other times, it was an excuse to sneak in a kiss or two. the passion between you two continued to build, a slow, steady fire that became increasingly hard to ignore.

one night, a wednesday, you both ignored the weather forecast and decided to take your date out in the city. the air was warm, and the lights of the city sparkled as you walked the streets together. the mood was light, but as midnight approached, the weather took a sharp turn. dark clouds rolled in, and soon, rain began to pour, turning into a violent storm. the wind howled, and the streets quickly flooded. jaehyun’s car struggled against the force of the water, and you couldn’t help but grip the seat, anxious.

jaehyun tried to keep calm, glancing at you with a reassuring smile. “it’s okay, nothing’s going to happen,” he said, though you could tell he was also feeling the weight of the storm.

the rain pounded against the windows, and the car barely moved as the currents began to grow stronger. after what felt like an eternity, you both agreed that waiting in the car wasn’t safe anymore. as you both discussed where to go, a motel appeared in front of you. it seemed like an odd choice, but the parking lot was dry, and there were few other options at that hour. both of you hesitated, unsure of what to do. it was a strange situation—neither of you wanted to suggest anything that could be misinterpreted.

jaehyun was the one to break the silence. “let’s just use the parking lot, at least we’ll have shelter from the rain,” he said. “and if it lasts all night, we’ll have a warm place to stay.”

you nodded, a little nervous. “yeah, i mean, we’re not going to do anything else, right? just sleep, then in the morning, we’ll head back to our places and go to work, right?”

jaehyun smiled at you, trying to ease your nerves. “of course, just a safe place to wait out the storm. no pressure.”

you both parked and got out of the car, a little stiff from the tension, but the moment you entered the motel, things started to feel different. jaehyun took the lead, making sure you were comfortable and settled in, giving you space to breathe. He didn’t rush you, always checking to see how you felt.

both of you were tired from the day, and the weather didn’t help the situation, so after some brief, awkward glances, you both decided to take separate showers to unwind. you both changed into something more comfortable, but since it was summer and it was warm, you decided to just sleep in your underwear. when you looked at jaehyun in his, the moment felt almost surreal. his gaze lingered for a moment before he quickly turned away, as if both of you were still trying to adjust to how close you had become.

“you know,” he said softly, his voice breaking the silence, “you don’t have to feel awkward. we’re taking things at our own pace.”

you smiled, feeling your heartbeat quicken at the sound of his voice. “what if i want to go faster?” you said, your words surprising even yourself.

jaehyun looks at you, eyes widening slightly before they darken with something deeper—something he’s clearly been holding back. “are you sure?” he asks, voice low, almost trembling with restraint.

you nod, stepping closer, your fingers brushing against his bare chest. “i’m sure.”

his hands find your waist gently at first, testing the waters, but when you lean into him, he pulls you in like he’s been waiting forever to hold you like this. his lips find yours in a kiss that starts soft, exploratory, but quickly deepens, hungry and needing. he walks you backwards slowly until the back of your knees hit the bed, and you fall onto it with a soft gasp, taking him with you.

his hands roam your body, reverent and slow, like he’s memorizing every inch of you. he whispers your name against your skin, trailing kisses down your neck, over your collarbone, and lower still. your breath hitches when his mouth lingers between your thighs, his eyes meeting yours, waiting for any sign to stop—but you nod again, your fingers threading into his hair, guiding him closer.

what he gives you isn’t rushed. it’s worship. like he’s been dreaming of this moment for too long to waste it. you lose yourself in the rhythm of his mouth, the way he listens to your body, adjusting, teasing, giving. he doesn’t stop until your thighs are shaking and your voice is broken with moans you couldn’t hold back.

when he finally crawls back up your body, his lips kiss yours again, slower this time, tasting you. he whispers, “still okay?” and you nod, pulling him closer.

when he slides into you, it’s not hurried or careless. it’s deep, slow, and overwhelming in the best way. you cling to him, breathless, as your bodies move together like they were made to. he holds your gaze, foreheads pressed together, sweat-damp skin sticking in the summer heat, but neither of you care.

you whisper his name like a prayer, and he answers with yours, over and over, like he’s trying to brand it into the moment.

you fall apart in his arms, not once, but twice, and he follows soon after, burying his face in your neck as he trembles against you. 

his lips are still on yours when he pushes deeper inside you, and this time, there’s no hesitation. your body arches under him, the stretch of him delicious and overwhelming all at once. he fills you slowly, inch by inch, like he wants to feel every reaction he pulls from you.

“fuck, you feel so good,” he breathes out, forehead resting against yours. “been thinking about this for so long.”

you moan softly, nails dragging down his back as he starts to move, slow at first, rolling his hips into you with precision that makes your legs tremble. he kisses down your throat, biting softly at your skin as he picks up the pace, each thrust hitting deeper, harder. the headboard taps gently against the wall, a quiet rhythm that matches the sound of your breathy moans and his soft, low groans.

your fingers clutch the sheets, the pleasure building with every thrust. jaehyun’s hands grip your thighs, spreading you wider for him, and the new angle has you gasping his name, your voice breaking. he doesn’t stop—he can’t stop—lost in the feel of you, the sounds you make, the way your body clings to his like it’s the only place it belongs.

he pulls out just enough to see the way you take him, watching your slick coat his length before sliding back in with a filthy, wet sound that makes your toes curl. “look at you,” he murmurs, his thumb brushing your lower lip, eyes locked on yours. “so fucking beautiful like this.”

when he shifts, propping one of your legs over his shoulder, the angle has you crying out, your whole body shuddering. “you’re so deep,” you whimper, and he groans, hips snapping faster, harder, chasing both your highs like a man starved.

your climax hits hard—white-hot and blinding—as your walls clamp down around him, dragging him over the edge with you. he cums with a strangled moan, burying himself to the hilt, his hips stuttering as he spills into you. he stays there, chest pressed to yours, breathing heavy, hearts pounding in sync.

after a few moments, he pulls out slowly, carefully, kissing your shoulder as he lies beside you and pulls you into his arms.

your body’s still trembling when he runs a hand down your spine, voice low and thick with affection. “think we’re still just sleeping?”

you laugh softly against his chest, lazy fingers tracing circles on his skin. “not a chance.”

he kisses the top of your head. “then let’s not sleep yet.”

and before you can even respond, he’s already kissing down your body again—because one round clearly wasn’t enough.

you barely have time to catch your breath before jaehyun’s mouth is back on your skin, trailing open-mouthed kisses down your chest, between your breasts, over your stomach. his hands roam your thighs with greedy fingers, and even though you’re still sensitive, your body responds instantly—needy, aching, already ready for him again.

“you’re still so wet,” he murmurs, spreading you open with his fingers, dragging two of them slowly through your folds. “fuck, baby… you’re dripping.”

your hips jerk when he circles your clit, light and teasing, and you whine, fingers gripping the sheets. “j-jaehyun…”

he smirks, dark eyes meeting yours as he sinks his fingers into you—slow, deep, curling just right. “you can take it, can’t you?” he says, voice thick with lust. “you want it again.”

you nod helplessly, mouth parted as your back arches off the bed. he fucks you with his fingers until you’re trembling again, begging for him, grinding down onto his hand like you can’t get enough—and you can’t.

when he pulls his fingers out and lines himself up again, there’s no patience this time. he pushes in all at once, rougher, deeper, making your breath catch in your throat. the stretch, the pressure, the heat—it’s almost too much, but you crave every second of it.

he fucks you like he owns you now, one hand on your hip, the other pressing down on your stomach so he can feel himself inside you. “you feel that?” he groans. “you’re taking all of me.”

your moans turn shameless, high-pitched and raw, the wet slap of skin on skin echoing in the room with every thrust. the bed creaks, the headboard pounds against the wall, and you don’t care who hears. he flips you onto your stomach without warning, pulling your hips up, and slides back into you from behind.

you cry out at the new angle, your hands clawing at the sheets as he drives into you, deeper than before. “god—jaehyun, i’m gonna—”

“cum for me,” he growls, grabbing your hair and pulling your head back to kiss the side of your neck. “cum all over my cock, baby.”

your orgasm hits like a shockwave, blinding and hot and overwhelming. your whole body shakes, legs giving out beneath you as he keeps fucking you through it. he follows moments later, groaning your name as he fills you again, hips jerking against your ass, the sound of it all so filthy and perfect.

this time, when you collapse together on the bed, everything is soaked in sweat and heat and the scent of sex. your body is limp, your mind dazed, and he just pulls you close, wrapping you in his arms like he’s never letting go.

“okay,” you whisper, laughing breathlessly. “now we might need to sleep.”

he chuckles against your hair, voice rough. “maybe. after round three.”

that night at the motel changed everything.

it wasn’t just the sex—though, god, it was incredible. it was the way his hands learned your body like a second language, the way he whispered your name like a secret, the way you both let yourselves fall without fear. that night was messy, breathless, and soaked in want. but more than anything, it was a turning point—a quiet, unspoken agreement that this was no longer just something casual. not for either of you.

after that, the line between love and lust blurred beautifully. sex became part of your rhythm, part of how you communicated. stolen glances in the office turned into stolen kisses in the elevator. late nights became sleepovers, and every morning-after was filled with lazy touches and knowing smiles. you memorized each other’s moans like favorite songs, found new ways to say i want you, even when the words themselves weren’t spoken.

but there was one night that stood out. the one you still think about more than any other.

it was the night you stayed over at his apartment—just the two of you, no distractions, no storms outside, only the slow burn between your bodies. dinner turned into kisses. kisses turned into the first round on his kitchen counter, then the second in the shower, steam fogging up the mirror as your bodies tangled and slipped together like water and flame.

by the third round, it was past midnight. you were already sore, breathless, but insatiable. he pulled you back into bed, whispering things in your ear that made your skin burn. he was rougher that time—hungrier—gripping your hips as he fucked you deep and slow, drawing out every moan until your voice was hoarse and your mind was gone.

you were on top, riding him with lazy, desperate rhythm, your head thrown back, your nails digging into his chest. he looked up at you like you were something divine, his hands guiding your pace, eyes locked on the place where your bodies met.

and just when your orgasm started to hit—when everything went hot and tight and unbearably good—the words slipped out of you.

“i love you.”

your voice cracked around it, high and trembling, your body still grinding against his, your climax crashing over you like a wave. for a split second, everything stopped. you felt him freeze beneath you, heard the sharp intake of breath, saw the shock in his eyes.

you hadn’t meant to say it like that. not in the middle of fucking. not when you were bare in every sense of the word.

it was reckless. vulnerable. raw.

but not wrong.

his hands gripped your waist tighter, and then he was sitting up, arms wrapping around you, thrusting up into you so hard and deep that you sobbed out his name.

“i love you too,” he groaned against your neck. “fuck, i love you so much—too much.”

and then he came—hard and fast, holding you like he never wanted to let go.

afterward, you just lay there on top of him, chest to chest, skin to skin, hearts pounding in unison. there was no awkwardness. no regret. only this strange, beautiful calm that settled over the room like dawn.

it was in that moment you realized just how deep your feelings for him ran.

what had started as a simple plan—just something to avoid growing old alone—had become the best part of your life. somewhere along the way, between the office visits and shared glances, motel rooms and quiet mornings, you had fallen hopelessly, madly in love with jaehyun.

and the craziest part?

you couldn’t imagine ever thinking of anything—or anyone—else but him.

august wrapped around you like a golden ribbon, thick with heat and filled with the kind of breathless anticipation that only comes after months of hard work. the project was done—finally—after weeks of stress, endless reports, last-minute corrections and late nights. but it was done. and not just done, but successful. glowing feedback, client satisfaction, numbers that sang. it was more than you had dared to hope for.

and then—the email.

subject line: promotion confirmation.

you stared at it for a full minute before opening it. and when you read the words “congratulations, supervisor,” your breath hitched. you covered your mouth. you gasped. and then you ran.

jaehyun wasn’t even at his desk anymore, he was just walking into the hallway when you caught him. “jaehyun!” you called, your voice trembling with a kind of joy that had nowhere to go.

he turned, concerned for half a second—until he saw your face. and then you said it.

“i got it.”

“you got what?” he blinked, confused.

“the promotion.”

his eyes widened. he froze for a second. and then—his arms were around you before you could even finish breathing. he lifted you, spinning you once, twice, both of you laughing as you clutched his shoulders and buried your face in his neck.

“oh my god, baby—you did it! i knew it, i knew you would!”

you were dizzy, and not just from the spinning. he kissed your cheek, your temple, your lips. everything was warm and golden and right.

he took you out that night.

you didn’t go anywhere fancy—jaehyun insisted that celebrations should be personal, not performative. so he drove you to that one little pizzeria you loved, the one that made the potato crust just the way you liked it. he ordered your usual without asking, and when the wine came, he raised his glass first.

“to you,” he said, his eyes soft and gleaming under the low light. “my brilliant, unstoppable, incredible woman.”

your heart swelled so fast it almost ached. the clink of your glasses felt like the sound of a new chapter opening.

“i’ve never had this before,” you confessed, fingers curling around the stem of your glass. “celebrating something this big. with someone i love. it feels…” you laughed, shy and overwhelmed. “it feels like everything’s different now.”

jaehyun reached for your hand, his thumb stroking the back of it slowly.

“it is different,” he said. “because now, every good thing that happens to you—we get to celebrate it. together.”

you stared at him, your chest tight with emotion, with the kind of love that had no bottom, no edge. just more.

you leaned across the table, kissing him slow, deep, grateful. pizza between you, wine in your veins, your laughter echoing off the walls of that tiny booth.

you didn’t need fireworks.

this was better.

this was yours.

mid-september arrived with a softness that clung to the air—warm enough to feel like summer still lingered, but mellowed by the early hints of fall. the leaves hadn’t turned yet, but something in the wind carried change. maybe that’s what had been stirring inside you all week—a restless certainty that had taken root in your chest and bloomed with every kiss, every sleepy morning wrapped around each other, every whispered i love you that escaped your lips without hesitation. it had been five months, five months of chaos and clarity, of fire and softness, and you knew now—you didn’t want to wait anymore.

you wanted jaehyun. not in a month. not after careful plans. now.

so you climbed the steps to his office, heart thudding like a war drum, nerves tangled with determination. you paused outside the door, breathed once, twice, and knocked.

“come in,” his voice called, muffled behind the heavy door.

you stepped in and found him at his desk, back slightly hunched, focused on the glow of his screen. he looked up, and the moment he saw you, he smiled—that slow, dazzling smile that always made your knees feel like melted wax—and stood immediately, walking toward you without hesitation. he cupped your face, leaned in, and kissed you like he’d been waiting to do it all day.

“jaehyun,” you said, voice almost trembling, more from the gravity of what you were about to say than nerves. he pulled back slightly, tilting his head.

“yeah?”

you met his eyes and, without giving yourself the chance to second-guess it, you let it fall from your lips.

“i want to marry you.”

his lips parted slightly, surprise flickering across his features. he blinked, as if trying to be sure he heard you right.

“i know, baby,” he said, a soft chuckle lacing his words. “that was the whole deal, right? but remember—we said after november. we’d have more time to plan, get everything ready—”

“no,” you interrupted, stepping forward, clutching his hands tightly. “i don’t want to wait till november. i mean it. i want to marry you now. today, tomorrow, next week—i don’t care when or how. i just want to be yours. forever.”

he stared at you, quiet. processing. his brows drew together, and then lifted again like the meaning had just landed fully. his hands gripped yours tighter.

“but—what about the wedding? your parents, mine—”

“we’ll figure it out,” you whispered. “but this... this love we have, i don’t want to keep treating it like something that needs to be scheduled. it’s real. it’s now.”

he took a breath, deep and full. and then, his expression softened into something vulnerable and glowing—his eyes shone with something deeper than just affection. he leaned his forehead against yours and whispered, “you want to be my wife.”

you nodded, lips brushing his as you breathed, “more than anything.”

his thumbs brushed over your cheeks, as if committing this moment to memory. “then we’ll do it. not because it’s rushed, but because we know. we’ve known. and if you want to be my wife now... then i’ll make it happen. we’ll get married. i promise.”

and he kissed you again, this time slower, as if sealing an oath between your mouths.

the proposal happened three days later.

he told you it was just a normal date—dinner, then a walk somewhere scenic. no pressure. he even played it off by wearing something casual: a white linen shirt, sleeves rolled, soft beige slacks, and the cleanest pair of loafers you’d ever seen. he looked devastatingly handsome without trying.

he picked you up and drove toward the edge of the city, toward the river trail where the summer festivals were usually held. the area was quiet now, early autumn having driven the crowds away. but fairy lights still dangled from the trees, twinkling faintly as the sun dipped beneath the horizon, casting a warm, honeyed hue over everything.

he walked with you along the wooden path, your fingers tangled. his hand was slightly clammy. you noticed, and your heart fluttered, thinking—he’s nervous. the realization made you giddy.

and then, just as you reached the little bridge that overlooked the water, he stopped.

“wait here,” he said softly, squeezing your hand. “don’t move.”

he jogged a few steps ahead, ducked behind a low fence near a cluster of trees, and returned with a bouquet of peonies—your favorite. you hadn’t told him that. he remembered.

your eyes began to water.

he handed them to you, smiling shyly, and then pulled something out of his pocket.

a velvet box.

he opened it without a speech, without fanfare. his voice was soft, his eyes locked on yours like the world outside didn’t exist.

“you already said yes,” he whispered. “but i want to do this right.”

he got down on one knee, the gravel crunching beneath him, and held the ring up.

“y/n, will you marry me—not next month, not in theory, not in some future we’re still trying to picture... but now. for real. because i’m yours. and you’re mine.”

you didn’t cry. you sobbed. like an idiot. like a girl who had waited her whole life for someone like him. you nodded so fast your vision blurred and fell into his arms, and he kissed you like he was promising you the rest of forever.

in that moment, september never felt sweeter.

telling the company was a whole thing.

it started with a scheduled meeting—a weekly operations check-in with the usual suspects: team leads, upper management, the supervisor, and a couple of sharp-eyed executives who never missed a detail. it was jaehyun’s idea to make it official at work, to do it clean and direct and proudly. no rumors. no hiding. just the truth, glowing and solid like the ring that now lived permanently on your finger.

you both walked into the meeting room together, which wasn’t unusual, but something in the way your hands brushed as you took your seat already had jungwoo giving you the side-eye.

the presentation started, charts and projections lighting up the screen behind jaehyun as he stood with calm confidence. it was business as usual—until the last slide.

"before we wrap up," he said, glancing back at the room, his eyes finding yours briefly before turning to the group again, "i have one personal announcement to make."

you swallowed. jungwoo leaned forward like a damn hawk. mr. choi narrowed his eyes suspiciously, as if he'd been waiting for this moment since spring.

jaehyun smiled—soft, boyish, unbothered. “as some of you may know… or have guessed," he said, and gave jungwoo a teasing look that made him gasp, "i knew it," he muttered dramatically—"y/n and i have been seeing each other for a while.”

the room exploded. a gasp from the secretary and the supervisor actually choked on his coffee. someone in the back whispered “what the fuck” under their breath.

jaehyun held up a hand, a little smug, a little amused.

“and, as of last weekend… we’re engaged.”

your cheeks were burning. your heart thundered. you expected chaos, maybe disapproval, but what followed was—

cheering. clapping. wide eyes and stunned smiles. even mr. choi looked like he was trying very hard not to grin.

“you’re marrying jaehyun? our jaehyun?” he blinked at her, then looked at jaehyun like he’d just discovered a double life. “okay, i knew something was going on. i’m not blind. but marriage? dude, that’s insane. like, insane in the good way, but—holy shit.”

you stood up, feeling brave. “we just didn’t want to hide it anymore,” you said. “we’re really happy. and we hope you’ll be happy for us too.”

the room burst into applause again. someone shouted, “wedding invites or we riot!”

the parents came next.

you visited your family first. your mom opened the door and immediately noticed the ring. she gasped, dropped the dish towel she was holding, and squealed in that way only mothers can. within seconds, your dad was there too, grinning, eyes glossy, holding jaehyun’s shoulder like he was already part of the family.

"are you kidding me," your mom kept saying. "you're engaged? oh my god, you're engaged!"

you nodded, trying not to cry as she hugged you so tight it hurt.

“he’s everything i ever wanted for you,” your dad told you quietly, before giving jaehyun a very serious handshake. “you take care of her.”

“always,” jaehyun promised, voice thick with sincerity.

then it was his parents' turn.

you were more nervous, but you shouldn’t have been. the moment jaehyun’s mom saw you, she pulled you into a hug, muttering in korean how beautiful you were, how she’d been praying her son would be smart enough to not let you go. his dad was more reserved, but the sparkle in his eye said everything. when jaehyun said, “we’re getting married,” his mother clapped her hands and screamed like she’d just won the lottery.

“we’re so happy,” she said, eyes shining. “you are already family.”

they brought out food, wine, photos from jaehyun’s childhood. his mom made you take home a tupperware of kimchi and a crocheted doily she claimed she made for whoever he married one day. she said she just had a feeling it was going to be you, and jaehyun turned red.

it turned out that weddings—real weddings—took a lot more time to plan than y/n had expected. even with jaehyun’s calming presence and the help of a surprisingly competent wedding planner, the months passed like petals falling from a tree: softly, quickly, too beautifully to hold onto.

they settled on march 28. it gave them just enough time to breathe, to build, to dream together.

from the moment they told everyone—first their friends, then their families, and finally, in a hilariously formal email, the entire company—the whirlwind began. the announcement caused a stir so loud in the office that y/n had to leave her desk just to get some peace.

the directivos were equally shocked, though mostly amused. her supervisor just nodded sagely, like he’d been betting on this since the beginning.

“you two were always ‘too in sync’,” he said, raising his coffee mug in mock toast. “i give it six months before one of you becomes the other's boss at home too.”

and then came the parents.

jaehyun’s mother cried when she met y/n, tears slipping down her cheeks as she hugged her tight and whispered in korean, “you’re even more beautiful than he said. and i knew he was in love the first time he said your name.”

her own parents, after recovering from the initial shock, became obsessively involved in the planning, sending flower samples, playlist suggestions, and opinions on wedding favors at all hours of the day. but none of it was overwhelming. not with jaehyun there, always pulling her back into calm. always making sure this was their wedding, not anyone else’s.

they chose a venue outside the city—a small vineyard with soft hills, blooming wisteria, and golden light that melted everything it touched. march 28 arrived with the scent of earth and lilac, a warm wind, and the sky so blue it almost hurt to look at.

y/n stood before a mirror in a white gown that made her feel like everything good in the world had been sewn together just for her. she could hear the quiet rustle of guests arriving, the soft music playing in the distance, the laughter of children running between the rows of flowers.

and then, jaehyun.

when she saw him waiting at the altar, dressed in a suit that fit like second skin, with his hair slightly tousled and a look in his eyes that could undo galaxies—she forgot how to breathe.

he mouthed “you’re perfect” as she walked down the aisle.

she mouthed “you’re mine.”

the ceremony was intimate, emotional, wrapped in vows that made everyone cry—even jungwoo, who tried to play it off by pretending he had allergies.

“i promise to protect your dreams as fiercely as my own,” jaehyun said, voice trembling slightly, “and to always make sure your pizza has the right amount of potato crust, even when we’re eighty.”

“i promise to choose you, even on the days we forget how lucky we are,” y/n replied, tears in her eyes. “and to never let the fire between us die, even when we’re old and gray.”

they kissed.

and the world felt new again.

their first dance was under strings of fairy lights, barefoot on the grass. the song was soft, a slow jazz tune that jaehyun had played for her once in the car when she’d been crying. now, with her head against his chest, they swayed like the wind had been made just for them.

“we did it,” she whispered.

“we did,” he said. “and i’d marry you again tomorrow if i could.”

the honeymoon came a few days later. they chose santorini, greece, not for the postcard beauty or luxury, but because y/n had once told him, offhandedly, that she always dreamed of watching the sun melt into the sea from a white rooftop. he remembered.

their suite was perched on a cliff, overlooking the caldera, with white walls and blue domes and windows that opened to eternity. the first night, they sat on the balcony with a bottle of wine, their feet touching, their hands always searching for each other.

they kissed under sunsets and made love under stars. they danced in narrow streets, shared kisses between sips of ouzo, fed each other olives and sweet baklava. they were ridiculous. and in love. and utterly themselves.

“this is the life i want,” y/n whispered one night, tangled in cotton sheets, her cheek against his chest.

“then it’s the life we’ll have,” jaehyun said. “forever.”

and this time, forever didn’t sound like a fairytale.

it sounded like a promise.

three years passed like chapters in a love letter—written slowly, lived fully.

you and jaehyun made a home out of a sleek little apartment tucked into the rhythm of the city. it was all black wood and soft gray, velvet cushions and open windows where sunlight poured in like gold. it wasn’t big, but it held your whole world. your toothbrushes leaned against each other. your shoes tangled by the door. your laughter lived in the walls.

mornings were sleepy and soft—coffee mugs clinking, your legs wrapped around his under the kitchen table, newspaper pages ignored in favor of each other’s eyes. nights were even softer—blankets twisted around you, movie soundtracks playing in the background while your fingers danced across his skin. the kind of love that didn’t need grand gestures—just the warmth of his palm on your thigh and the way he said “come here” like home itself.

but then, one evening, the quiet changed.

you were in the bathroom. pacing. heart in your throat. your phone timer ticked like thunder in the silence. the test rested on the sink, small and still—like it held the weight of the universe. you sat on the edge of the tub, knees pulled up, trying to breathe.

when the timer stopped, you moved like you were underwater. slow. hesitant. scared.

two pink lines.

you stared. blinked. stared again.

your lips parted, the shape of a whisper you couldn’t form. your hands trembled, and for a moment, the whole world tilted—just you and that tiny piece of plastic and everything it now meant.

you stepped out of the bathroom, barefoot, holding the test like it might shatter.

jaehyun was on the couch, lounging with his phone, one leg bent lazily, hair tousled from running his hand through it too many times. he looked up. paused. frowned softly. “baby… what is it?”

you didn’t answer right away. just walked toward him—slow, like the floor might disappear—and placed the test in his hand.

“we’re gonna be parents!!”

the silence cracked. and then—

jaehyun surged forward, arms wrapping around you so tight you gasped. he lifted you off the ground, spinning you around the living room like a kid on christmas morning, laughter bursting from his chest, from yours, from some place deep inside where all the hope had been hiding.

you were both crying. laughing. kissing. saying “we did it!” over and over again like a prayer you never thought you’d get to say out loud. he pressed his forehead to yours, voice shaking, “we’re having a baby.”

“we’re having our baby,” you whispered.

months passed like petals falling from a blooming tree.

you were glowing. exhausted, but glowing.

your blush-pink maternity dress clung gently to your growing belly, printed with tiny white florals that made jaehyun smile every time he saw you in it. your feet were bare, your ankles swollen, your back ached constantly—but he was always there, hands rubbing your spine, lips on your shoulder, whispering, “you’re magic, you know that?”

the nursery was nearly finished—lavender walls painted with care, gold stars twinkling on the ceiling, and a soft mobile that played lullabies like stardust. the crib waited, delicate and perfect, with a plush bunny nestled in the corner.

jaehyun was kneeling by the dresser, sweat on his brow, tongue between his teeth as he finished the final drawer. he looked up, eyes finding you immediately, and god—he looked at you like the whole sky lived inside your smile.

“she’s gonna love this room,” he said, standing to press a hand to your belly. his palm warm. grounding. full of quiet awe. “our little moon.”

you leaned into him, pressing a kiss to his jaw. “i hope she gets your eyes,” you whispered.

he smiled, eyes soft with wonder. “and your heart,” he murmured. “especially your heart.”

the room went quiet again—except for the soft hum of the mobile spinning slowly above the crib. gold stars turned, catching the light.

and in that moment, just one suspended, breathless moment, everything was still.

you. him. her.

and the love that built it all.

finally. completely.

𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚

the night was a velvet shroud, cold and oppressive, the kind of darkness that pressed against your skin and settled deep in your bones. the faint hum of streetlights buzzed in the distance, their dim glow doing little to dispel the shadows. 

in this suffocating darkness donghyuck stood before you, leaning against the brick wall with all the casual arrogance of someone who knew exactly the effect he had on you. he leaned against the wall like he belonged there—like the bricks beneath his shoulder bent to his will. the angles of his body were deliberate, the kind of practiced ease that came with knowing exactly how to pull attention without asking for it.

the faint scent of smoke clung to him like a second skin, mingling with the sharp winter air, a cruel reminder of the nights you’d spent tangled in his orbit. it drifted from between his fingers, curling lazily into the cold air, and despite yourself, your eyes followed it, as if drawn by muscle memory. you used to breathe him in like it was the only oxygen you needed—and part of you hates how the memory still quickens your pulse.

that scent was something you thought you’d buried—tucked away behind locked doors and half-hearted promises—but it clung to him now, threading through the distance like an echo of the nights you tried too hard to forget.

he exhaled slowly, his breath curling into the frigid air, his lips parted just enough to reveal the faintest hint of a smirk. his eyes, dark and unrelenting, locked onto yours and refused to let go, pinning you in place as if he held you by invisible threads, breath shallow and uneven. there was something infuriating in the way he watched you, like he was waiting for you to crumble, for the hesitation in your eyes to slip past the wall you kept rebuilding.

“let me know when you’re ready to be with a real man again,” he said, his voice low and deliberate, each word slipping past his lips like honey laced with venom.  

his tone dripped with the kind of arrogance that should have pushed you away, but instead, it curled around you like the smoke—unshakable, sinking beneath your skin and spreading warmth where there should have been cold. each syllable felt deliberate, like he was speaking directly to the parts of you that you tried to keep hidden, the ones you didn’t want to admit were still his.

the words hit like a dagger, sharp and precise, and you shivered, unsure if it was the piercing cold seeping into your skin or the undeniable weight of his voice that left you trembling. you wrapped your arms around yourself, a futile attempt to hold yourself together under the intensity of his gaze.  

“donghyuck…”

his name slipped from your lips, barely louder than the whisper of wind curling around the corner, fragile and weightless, as if saying it out loud might shatter whatever thin thread of resolve you were clinging to. the rest of the sentence never found its way out, swallowed whole by the quiet tension that stretched between you, thick and palpable, wrapping around your lungs and stealing the air from them.

his eyes stayed locked on yours—steady, sharp, unrelenting—pinning you beneath the weight of his attention, like he was daring you to break the gaze, to crack under the unbearable heat smoldering just beneath the surface. your heart pounded erratically, each beat echoing in your ears like a war drum, and you bit down on your bottom lip, desperate to keep yourself from saying something you couldn’t take back. 

but he knew you too well. he always had.  

“you know what i mean, princess,” he murmured, and the nickname twisted something in your stomach, his voice softer now but still carrying that unmistakable weight. 

a quiet storm, low and distant but impossible to ignore.

he shifted closer—just enough that the space between you barely existed anymore, his breath spilling across your cheek, warm despite the cold pressing in from every direction. it was intentional, the nearness, the way his presence blurred the line between proximity and possession.

“you can’t possibly tell me he makes you feel better than i do.”  

his words coiled in the space between you, settling like smoke in your lungs—thick, inescapable, impossible to ignore. they weren’t just a challenge; they were a reminder. a quiet, unshakable truth that wrapped around your ribs and squeezed until you felt it in every breath you tried to take.

the involuntary press of your thighs betrayed you before you could stop it, a flicker of movement so slight it might have been nothing—except donghyuck caught it. his gaze dragged downward for half a second, and when it lifted, the slow curl of his lips deepened into something that felt like victory. 

he didn’t say anything. he didn’t have to. the weight of his smirk alone told you he’d already won whatever game you hadn’t realized you were playing. he straightened slightly, his confidence a palpable thing, as if your silence was all the confirmation he needed.  

“he does. he treats me better than you do. fucks me better too,” the words tumbled out before you could think twice, thin and tight around the edges, as if saying them fast enough might make them true. 

they sounded small, barely more than a breath, and you hated the way they felt coming off your tongue—like a deflection, a distraction that didn’t even convince you.

donghyuck’s eyes didn’t waver. if anything, they darkened with quiet amusement. you weren’t answering the question he had asked, and you both knew it.  

“i bet he does,” donghyuck replied, his voice low and dripping with amusement, just enough to drag across your skin, rough in all the right places.

he moved then, slow and deliberate, closing the distance between you one step at a time, the low thud of his boots against the pavement somehow louder than the rush of your pulse.

“bet he lets you pout those pretty little lips of yours and get away with murder.”  

his words sent a shiver down your spine, his tone teetering between teasing and something darker, something that made your pulse flutter in a way that infuriated you. the air between you crackled, laced with the kind of tension that felt impossible to break, and you swore you could feel the heat of him, even though he hadn’t touched you.

he leaned in again, his face so close now that you could see the faint glint of mischief in his eyes, your stomach twisting. his gaze dropped to your mouth, lingering just long enough to make you draw in a sharp breath, the slight curl of his smirk as he let his next words land with a weight that left you breathless.  

“but i believe brats deserve to be punished,” he said, his voice dipping into a dangerously low hum that settled somewhere in the pit of your stomach, “not rewarded or encouraged.”  

the world around you seemed to shrink until there was nothing but him—the scent of smoke, the warmth of his breath, the unshakable pull of his presence. the faint echoes of the party behind you felt distant, muffled, as though you’d stepped out of reality and into something that existed solely between the two of you—a place you thought you’d abandoned long ago.

you opened your mouth to respond, to push back, to regain some semblance of control, but nothing came out, the words dissolving the second they surfaced—fragile and weightless against the wall of silence pressing in around you.

his head tilted, eyes catching the soft glow of the streetlights as they dragged over you with the kind of interest that made your skin prickle. that maddening smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth, as if he was already knew you wouldn’t be able to say no.  

and maybe he was right.

the space between you felt electric, the air charged with an unbearable tension that neither of you seemed willing to break. every fiber of your being screamed for you to walk away, to retreat into the safety of the party behind you, into the arms of your sweet and loving boyfriend, but your feet remained rooted to the ground.

donghyuck’s gaze was razor-sharp, slicing through the carefully constructed walls you thought would protect you. there was nothing left to hide behind, nothing left to offer him except the ache blooming in your chest, but more importantly your legs. the one he hadn’t earned the right to pull from you—but did anyway.

“cat got your tongue?” he murmured, his tone laced with mockery, though the rasp of his voice sent a tremor rippling through you. “or is it mine you’re wishing for instead?”

the worst part wasn’t the cockiness laced in every word—it was the way it dragged over your skin, slow and suffocating, settling between your legs before you could stop it. his confidence was maddening, his arrogance almost suffocating, and yet you found yourself drawn to it—drawn to him.

your jaw tightened as you fought the urge to lash out, to respond with something sharp enough to cut through his composure the way he always did to yours. you wanted to say something—anything—to wipe the smirk off his face the way he so effortlessly dismantled you. 

but even as you tried to summon the words, your heart betrayed you, its erratic rhythm pounding in your chest like a drum, loud enough that you were sure he could hear it. 

“don’t flatter yourself,” you bit out, finally managing to force the words past the knot in your throat.

but your voice cracked at the edges, trembling just enough to betray the war waging inside you.

the smirk tugging at his lips only deepened, his eyes flashing with something dark—satisfaction laced with the kind of hunger that made your stomach twist, your weak protest only emboldening him. he stepped forward without hesitation, closing what little space lingered between you. the tip of his boot brushed against your heel clad feet and the heat radiating from him burned in sharp contrast to the icy air biting at your skin.

you felt yourself sway ever so slightly toward him, like a moth helpless against the pull of a flame.  

“i don’t need to flatter myself,” he said, his voice dropping to a murmur, rich and dangerous, like a secret that could only exist between the two of you

“not when I can see the way you’re looking at me right now.”  

you swallowed hard, the lump in your throat impossible to ignore as his words sank in. the way you were looking at him? you wanted to deny it, to insist he was wrong, but the truth of it burned in your cheeks, your gaze flickering to his lips for a moment too long before darting away.  

he caught it. donghyuck always caught it, knew you better than anyone else.

“see?” he said, coaxing he confession from you without demanding a single word. “you don’t even have to say it, princess. your body already told me everything i need to know.”  

your breath hitched, your chest rising and falling in shallow pants as you fought to steady yourself, but his words were like a tether, wrapping around your resolve and tugging until it unraveled entirely.  

“you’re insufferable,” you hissed, your voice trembling, though whether from anger or something else entirely, you couldn’t say.  

“maybe,” he admitted, his smirk returning, though his gaze remained locked on yours, unwavering. 

“but you still want me, don’t you?”  

the question landed like a blow, and you flinched as though he’d struck a nerve. the answer was too complicated, too tangled in the web of your shared history, the pull of your toxic connection, the undeniable chemistry that neither of you could seem to escape.  

donghyuck didn’t give you room to breathe. he leaned in, close enough that the faintest brush of his lips skimmed the shell of your ear, and it felt less like a whisper and more like a claim

“you can lie to yourself all you want, but you can’t lie to me.”  

the warmth of his breath slipped down your neck, pooling low in your stomach as a violent shiver tore through you, traitorous and unrelenting, ripping apart the thin seams holding your resolve together. your fists clenched, nails biting into your palms as you grasped for any anchor, anything to stop the slow, steady unravel that came with the sound of his voice so close.

“i’m not lying,” you managed to say, though even as the words escaped, they hung limp between you, empty and unconvincing.

he chuckled—soft, low, the sound vibrating through your skin like a slow descent into something inevitable.

“hmm,” he hummed, the faintest brush of his fingertips skimmed your waist, light enough to feel accidental, but deliberate in the way it left fire trailing behind.

“then prove it. walk away. right now. go back inside to him.”  

the challenge in his voice was unmistakable, a gauntlet thrown at your feet. you hated him for it, hated the way he always knew exactly how to twist the knife just enough to keep you hanging on the edge. but most of all, you hated how much you didn’t want to move. how much you wanted to stay right where you were, caught in the magnetic pull of him, in the tension that buzzed between you like a live wire.  

you should have. you should have spun around, shoved him aside, and disappeared back into the warmth of the party, into wonbin’s steady touch, into safety.

donghyuck pulled back just enough to look at you again, his gaze burning with something that felt too intense to name.

“what’s it gonna be, princess?” he asked, his voice soft but insistent, the faintest hint of a smirk still playing at his lips.  

the door creaks open with a slow, grating protest, splitting the hush of the night like a sudden crack of thunder. you swear the cold air seems to slither through that gap, brushing over your cheeks and burrowing down to your bones. it’s sharp enough to sting, and for a moment, you feel more awake than you’ve been all night—like your nerves are strung too tight, and every breath tastes like electricity.. 

wonbin stands in the doorway, bathed in a thin halo of light that spills out from the party behind him. the music inside thrums low, muffled, a heartbeat just out of reach. he looks at you and then at donghyuck, his eyes snagging on the tiny space between your bodies. there’s a flicker in his gaze—part desperate, part wary— betraying the litter of emotions beneath his practiced calm, as though he’s stumbled onto something forbidden, something dangerous, and he’s not sure whether to drag you away or confront the threat head-on.

“you should come inside,” he says, voice taut, every syllable trembling with unspoken emotion. “it’s freezing, and you don’t have a coat.”

donghyuck doesn’t move, doesn’t even acknowledge him at first. he stays exactly where he is. you feel the heat of his presence despite the icy air, and you can almost smell the faint trace of cologne that clings to him, his eyes never leaving yours.

there was no urgency, no guilt, just that lingering smirk curling at the corners of his lips, as though this interruption was nothing more than an inconvenience in a game that donghyuck dominates.

when he finally did turn his head, it was deliberate. slow. a calculated shift, like he was taking his time to let the moment stretch, letting the weight of wonbin’s presence settle over him without bothering to hide his amusement.

“ah,” donghyuck drawled, the mockery in his voice palpable.

“here comes prince charming himself,” each word rolling off his tongue with a casual malice that makes your pulse kick in your throat.

wonbin’s fists clench at his sides, knuckles turning pale in the meager light, but he holds his position, that turbulent mix of hurt, anger, and doubt churning just beneath the surface. you sense the precarious balance in the air—one wrong word and the tension could splinter into something far more destructive. 

donghyuck, however, seems to bask in it, a low chuckle escaping his throat, reverberating like a low note struck in a tense lull as he pushes himself off of the wall with a lazy grace that somehow made him seem even more imposing.  

“let me guess,” he continued, his tone light but cruel, “you’re here to whisk her away with some sweet little speech, right? something about how it’s too cold for her delicate self to be out here, and how you’ll take such good care of her inside?” 

the cold presses in harder, as if summoned by his words. you shiver, unsure if it’s the chill or the rush of adrenaline coursing through your veins. you think of all the times you told yourself you’d never let donghyuck get this close again, never let him unravel your composure with a single well-placed whisper.

but here you are, breath hitching at every syllable he spits.

“yeah,” donghyuck muses, eyes narrowing as he studies wonbin’s tightening jaw. “you’re that kind of guy, aren’t you?” donghyuck continues, eyes hooded, voice dripping scorn. “the kind who’d offer her his coat and tuck her under his arm like she’s made out of porcelain.”

wonbin’s jaw flexes; you can practically hear the grinding of his teeth. he still doesn’t speak—maybe he’s afraid that once he starts, he won’t be able to stop. there’s a storm brewing in his stare, but donghyuck feeds on that tension, seems to draw strength from his silence.

“stop,” you whisper, your voice trembling.  you can’t tell which one of them you’re speaking to, or if the plea is more for yourself. “donghyuck, just stop.”

he ignores you, barely tossing you a glance. instead, he steps closer, gravel crunching beneath his shoes that sound like gunshots in the still air. his gaze locks onto wonbin, piercing and unrelenting, cornering him in a silent dare.

“ how… sweet,” donghyuck said, dragging out the word like it tasted sour in his mouth, like it physically disgusted him. his dark eyes flicked back to wonbin, his gaze piercing.

“but she doesn’t need someone who’ll bow down every time she breathe,” donghyuck says, his voice a low rumble that thrums against your nerves. “she’s not a pretty ornament you lock in a glass case.”

“she doesn’t want to be treated like she’s fragile. she likes it rough and needs someone who can handle her attitude and put her in her place.”

“shut. up.” wonbin’s voice cracks at the edges as his composure slips, the fury in his eyes trembling on the brink of explosion, something he doesn’t quite know how to unleash. you glance at him—see his fists trembling at his sides, see the heartbreak etched into the tight line of his mouth. he’s desperate to be your shield, but it’s like watching someone hold up a thin sheet of paper against a raging inferno.

donghyuck arches an eyebrow, the corner of his lips curving into a slow, lethal smile. “see that?” he murmurs, almost reverent. “there’s a spark in you, boy scout. but it’s not enough to keep her warm.”

there’s a silence that nearly screams between them. it pounds against your eardrums, your heart thrashing in your chest. the wind whips around you, and you inhale the sharp scent of frost and regret. you wish someone would break the stalemate—wish you’d find the strength to walk away, or that wonbin would finally challenge donghyuck with more than just trembling fists.

donghyuck, though, shows no sign of easing the tension. you can almost feel his smugness radiating, like a dark cloud gathering above him, ready to split the sky with lightning at any moment.

“but let’s be honest. even if you tried, what could you really do? you think standing there with your fists clenched makes you a man? because from where I’m standing, it just makes you look pathetic,” he lets the words drag, taunting him.

“donghyuck, that’s enough,” you said, your voice stronger this time, stepping between them, your pulse hammering so hard you feel it in your fingertips.

but he wasn’t finished, not yet. his eyes narrowed—dangerously, mockingly—as he addresses you now, voice dropping to a near-whisper that still somehow drags across your nerves like a velvet blade

“tell me something. when’s the last time prince charming here made your heart pound so hard it felt like you were floating? when’s the last time a single look made you forget how to breathe?”

your stomach twisted at his words, heat rising in your cheeks as you felt wonbin’s gaze also shift to you, the unspoken question hanging heavy in the air. there was no accusation in his eyes—only quiet, painful doubt. the kind that asked a question he wasn’t ready to hear the answer to.

“you don’t have to answer,” donghyuck intercepted the moment between you two, his smirk widening as he stepped back, arrogance dripping from every syllable.

“i already know.”  

the silence that followed was deafening, broken only by the faint crackle of the music drifting from inside. you’re trapped between the raw hurt in wonbin’s eyes and the magnetic pull of donghyuck’s presence, an invisible chain that keeps dragging you back even when you know you should run. 

but donghyuck was right—he wouldn’t do anything. couldn’t do anything.  

“let’s go,” wonbin says at last, voice raw and trembling like a frayed guitar string. his hand is outstretched, and you notice the slight tremor in his fingertips, a fragile quiver that betrays his careful calm. 

your body shifted, legs moving before your mind could catch up. but even as you stepped toward wonbin, the weight of donghyuck’s words lingered, a dark and inescapable shadow that refused to let you go. they pressed into you like a brand—hot and unforgiving, refusing to loosen its hold.

you’re greeted by a wall of humid air, thick with sweat, spilled alcohol, and the pulsing beat of bass-heavy music. the room seems to close in around you, every body too hot, every breath too shallow, but you can’t shake the chill that’s settled in your bones. wonbin didn’t stop, threading through the crowd with a gentle insistence, guiding you around stumbling dancers and half-shouted conversations. it’s the same tenderness he’s shown you a hundred times before—quiet, thoughtful, almost too soft. 

he mutters a few rushed goodnights without turning around, his fingers circling your wrist in a way that feels protective. almost desperately so, like if he can just get you far enough away, maybe he can erase the echoes of donghyuck’s voice and wipe the smirk off his face that’s burned into your mind. but as you pass through the throng of people, your gaze drifts—seeking out the one person you shouldn’t look for.

and there he is, exactly where you feared he’d be: donghyuck, half in shadow, leaning against a wall with that insufferable grin painted across his face, you feel the press of his gaze like a hand on your throat—lazy, confident, and infuriatingly assured of his own power. he watches as wonbin pulled you through the crowd like some fragile thing he had to protect, like you were made of glass that might shatter if he wasn’t careful.

his gaze lingered, sharp and heavy with amusement, as if he’d already won—and you hated how right he looked.

the door that wonbin held open for you clicked shut behind you, sealing the two of you in the hushed quiet of his car, but the silence felt different this time—weighted, thick, like the space between you was holding its breath, like it’s brimming with all the things neither of you will say.

despite the crackling tension, wonbin says nothing about what happened out there. no demand to know why donghyuck was so close or what was said. no fists tightened in fury. no voice raised in accusation, not even a flicker of anger in his gaze.

instead, as the traffic lights bleed from green to red, he risks a glance at you with a faint smile, his eyes soft with concern.

“are you cold?” he asked, his voice gentle, almost tender. without waiting for a response, he shrugged off his jacket with one hand, his movements practiced and precise.

“here,” he said, draping it over your shoulders, the fabric warm and soft from his body heat. “you didn’t bring one, and i don’t want you catching a cold angel.”  

you tugged the jacket tighter around you, more out of politeness than need unable to bring yourself to meet his eyes as you murmur a quiet “thanks.”  

wonbin’s hands drifted to for the temperature controls next, turning the dial a fraction warmer, evidence of how he’s always trying to make you feel comfortable.

“is that okay?” he asked, his voice full of concern. “too hot? too cold?”  

“it’s fine,” you repeated, your voice strained as you fixed your eyes on the blurred city lights streaking past the window. but it wasn’t fine. none of it was.  

you bit the inside of your cheek as the words donghyuck had whispered to you echoed in your mind, taunting you. “she doesn’t want perfect… she wants someone who knows how to handle her.” 

it stings because a piece of you hates that there’s some truth buried there—hates the way it sparks heat low in your belly, a throbbing reminder of how messed up your own desires might be. you hated that it was sticking with you, hated that it was affecting you at all, but then you looked at wonbin—his hands gripping the wheel at ten and two, his brow furrowed ever so slightly as he focused on the road, his expression calm and composed—and something inside you cracked.  

why wasn’t he angry? why wasn’t he gripping the wheel so tightly it creaked under his fingers, his jaw clenched in a barely contained rage as he demanded to know what donghyuck had said to you? why wasn’t he jealous? why wasn’t he fighting for you?

instead, he kept fussing over you, like his kindness would be enough to erase the memory of donghyuck’s words seared into your skin. but softness wasn’t enough to erase the fingerprints donghyuck had left behind. his entire presence radiating the kind of quiet, unwavering stability that should have been enough to ease the ache in your chest, but it didn’t.

“you sure you’re okay?” wonbin asked again, glancing at you out of the corner of his eye as he observed the way your body language had changed.

you let out a slow sigh, the weight of it pressing against your chest, feeling guilty that your own boyfriend was starting to annoy you.

“i’m fine,” you lied, though the word felt sour on your tongue, the word hollow before it even left your mouth.

wonbin gave you a small, reassuring smile, the kind of smile that should have melted your heart but only made it ache instead. he reached over briefly, his hand brushing against your knee before retreating to the wheel. 

“we’ll be home soon. you can rest, okay?”  

you stared at him, at the way he was always so thoughtful, so careful, so safe. it should have been enough—it was enough, wasn’t it? but even as you tried to convince yourself, you could feel the memory of donghyuck burning in the back of your mind, his smirk sharp and knowing, his words a dagger that had struck far deeper than you wanted to admit.  

“he’s sweet. nice. safe. but when’s the last time he made your heart race?”

you swallowed hard and shifted in your seat, as if the tension pooling between your thighs could somehow be willed away—pressed down, buried beneath the weight of your own restraint. but it didn’t fade. it lingered, heavy and uncomfortable, the ghost of donghyuck’s voice tracing patterns beneath your skin.

the rest of the drive passed in strained silence, wonbin humming softly under his breath as though nothing had happened, as though he hadn’t just witnessed you standing too close to your ex, caught in a moment too intimate to explain away. he didn’t ask. he didn’t accuse. he didn’t even bring it up.  

and that, more than anything, left you hollow. 

the silence that stretched between you and wonbin didn’t just remind you of what was missing, it screamed it. it forced you to remember the way donghyuck’s jealousy never lingered quietly in the background. how he tore into you the night he caught you wrapped up in what he called a “more than friendly embrace” with a male friend.

his hands had been on you before you could even explain, his grip bruising, his breath hot against your skin as he pinned you down. he didn’t stop until you were boneless beneath him—your thighs quivering, skin flushed and damp, the weight of his possessive grip lingering long after the heat between you had faded. 

he fucked you like he had something to prove, his hips snapping against yours with a force that left you breathless and trembling, jolting forwards with each thrust. your head bucked against the pillows, your neck arched back in a desperate plea for freedom, but he had you trapped, pinned beneath him like a captive. 

his palms dug painful marks into your hips, leaving bruises that mirrored the ache building inside you, as he used you with a raw, unbridled hunger that was almost animalistic, his eyes ablaze with lust, lips pulled back into a snarl.

"don't even think about it, baby. take it. fucking take every inch of me,” he growled, each word punctuated by the way he drove his dick impossibly deeper into you. 

sweat dripped from his brows from his efforts of pulling orgasm out of orgasm from you, not out of love, but punishment. even as the world blurred, your nerves igniting as you trembled under the weight of sensation that had grown too big to hold, the shameful knot in your stomach only seemed to tighten.

his chest was slick against yours, and you could feel the pulsing beat of his cock, a drumbeat of desire that drove him to the edge. he was lost in the moment, so lost that it was dizzying, and yet he was in control, his body moving with a ruthless precision that leaves you gasping. 

"like that," he panted, his voice torn apart by ragged breaths, his eyes locked to the spot where your bodies met. 

"you’re mine, princess. my cock drunk whore,” he coaxed cries from your throat as he whispered against your ear. “made only for this cock.”

you mind was blank, floating somewhere soft and far away, the only thing anchoring you was the weight of donghyuck above you, his voice distant, reduced to a quiet hum as he filled your every senses. your pulse raced like a wild animal, breath short and sharp as you clawed weakly at his chest, trying to gasp out a word that only got lodged in your throat.

“this body is all mine. all mine. and you know i hate sharing, princess,” he growled, voice rough and low like gravel dragged across silk, his hand tightening just enough around your throat to make your pulse stutter beneath his grip, his breath hot against your skin, lips brushing against your ears as he spoke.

his eyes-- dark, lust-filled-- never left yours, pinning you in place, devouring every flick of surrender. your skin prickled beneath the weight of him, heat blooming wherever his fingers pressed, where he claimed, where his dominance wrapped around you like a vice.

he used you until you were nothing more than a trembling offering beneath him, flesh slick with sweat, limbs twitching, your breath a broken melody against the dark. your skin always glowed with the aftershocks of him, burning as every nerve humming like a wire stretched too tight. your eyes were glassy and half-lidded, held with that fevered gleam, ruin dressed as reverence as devotion etched into your bones, and he carved it in deeper with every thrust, until you knew nothing but him.

you’re dragged out of the filth of your sinful daydreams with the pressing of your thighs together, shifting in your seat as you force yourself to calm down, the familiar sight of your apartment complex snapping you out of things.

wonbin turned off the engine, the faint hum fading into the heavy quiet between you. he turned toward you with another small, practiced smile—the kind that had always been gentle, warm, and yet never quite enough to fill the void clawing at your chest. his hand lifted, tugging at the edges of his jacket still draped over your shoulders, adjusting it carefully as if that would somehow shield you from the storm stirring just beneath your skin.

“take care of yourself, okay?” he said softly, brushing a stray strand of hair out of your face, yet his brow creased faintly, his lips parting as if to speak again, but after a beat, he only shook his head, as if deciding against it.

instead, he forced another small, easy smile—the kind you’d seen a hundred times, the one meant to reassure you even when it didn’t reach his eyes. his hand slid to your cheek, thumb grazing your skin with featherlight care before he leaned in, pressing a lingering kiss to your lips.

it was soft, sweet, and everything it should have been.but the tenderness of it twisted something inside you, sharp and bitter, because it wasn’t enough to quiet the ache left behind by someone else’s touch. .

you forced a smile, mumbling another thanks as you stepped out of the car, pressing a haste kiss to his lips. he waited until you were safely inside the building before driving off, and the sight of his taillights disappearing into the night left you standing there, empty and restless.  

by the time you reached your apartment,  the night coiled around you like a serpent, heavy and suffocating in its darkness.

it clings to your skin even after you’ve closed the door behind you, even after you’ve shed wonbin’s jacket, letting it slip from your shoulders in a forlorn heap on the couch. you stand there, breathing too loud in the silence, staring at the soft folds of fabric as though they might anchor you—but they’re too light, too safe, too far from the storm still raging beneath your ribs.

when you finally sank down beside it, the weight of the evening folded over you like wet silk, clinging to every inch of exposed thought. the apartment felt cavernous—each breath echoing too loudly in the empty space, the quiet pressing down until it left an ache in your chest.

for months, wonbin’s gentle presence had been your remedy, his steady affection easing the sting donghyuck’s recklessness left behind. he was patient where donghyuck was merciless, tender where he was cruel, offering you stability, a quiet kind of love that asked for nothing but your presence.

and yet, in a single night, donghyuck had torn down every wall you’d built. one look, one whispered taunt, and the careful walls you had so meticulously constructed buckled beneath the weight of his voice, reminding you of a version of yourself you thought you’d buried beneath wonbin’s steady affection, stirred.

but she had never left.

your phone buzzed on the table, breaking the silence and you froze—fingers curling into your palms as the sound lingered, vibrating in your bones long after the screen stilled. you didn’t need to look. you already knew.  

donghyuck didn’t need to see the way you shifted in your seat as wonbin drove, thighs pressing together in a vain attempt to quiet the phantom weight of his hands. he didn’t need to hear your heart stumble every time his name crossed your mind.

he felt it.

the pull of him still hummed in your veins, restless and electric, like static before a storm. and now, as you sat there in the quiet hum of your apartment, the weight of his message coiled tightly around your throat, squeezing just enough to remind you that escape was never truly an option.

the screen goes dark, but the weight of his message coils around your throat all the same, tightening until your pulse skitters in a panicked rush. 

Valentine’s Day had been exhausting for Jaemin. He barely had the energy to even think. The hospital was a madhouse. He’d never expected that so many injuries would come from couples trying something new with their partners. By the time he clocked out, it was already 11 PM, and he couldn’t shake the guilt gnawing at him for missing your first Valentine’s Day together. 

But as soon as he stepped through the door, his thoughts of guilt disappeared. There you were, lounging on the couch, eating strawberries. You were wearing nothing but the skimpiest piece of lingerie he’d ever seen before.

His breath caught in his throat as your gaze fell on him, a slow smile curling on your lips. “Long day?” you asked, your voice dripping with sweetness.

Jaemin’s throat tightened, but he managed to choke out a response. “Yeah… you could say that.” His voice cracked slightly as his eyes scanned over your body. “You look....”

“Good, I hope?” You giggled softly when he couldn’t finish his sentence.

“Absolutely,” he said, swallowing hard. “…Are you trying to kill me?”

You smiled and stood up slowly, giving him a full view of your curves. His gaze followed your every movement as you sauntered toward him. You stopped just inches from him, his body stiffening in anticipation. His hands ached to touch you.

“What’s the matter?” you teased, pressing your body against his lightly. “You look like you want something.”

Jaemin bit back a smirk, trying to hold on to his composure. He leaned in, brushing your hair back from your neck, his lips grazing your skin. “And you look like you're offering something.”

You laughed, the sound of it making him feel lighter, but he couldn’t ignore the way his heart pounded in his chest, or the tightness between his legs that was only growing. You seemed to notice it too, your hand slipping down his chest. “I think you might be right,” you said with a wink.

Jaemin tried to maintain some semblance of self-control, but his hands betrayed him by wandering to your waist on their own. You flinched slightly from the coldness and he smiled at that.

"You know," he said, with a half-smirk, "I'm not that easy." There was a playful challenge in his eyes. "You have to try harder than this."

“Oh, really?” you grinned, your voice dripping with mock innocence. "Well, I think I can manage."

He felt the heat in his body surge just thinking about what you had planned for him. When you turned and began leading him to your room, he couldn’t help but let his eyes trace every curve of your body, lingering on the flimsy string of fabric between your cheeks—just a bow for him to undo.

Jaemin followed you into the bedroom, his mouth going agape at the sight. Candles flickered softly on the bedside tables, and rose petals were scattered across the floor and on the bed. The whole scene looked straight out of a movie, but it was real, and it was for him.

“Wow,” he murmured, genuinely impressed. “Princess, this is amazing. I should’ve done this for you…” His voice dropped, a slight frown forming as he looked at you.

“You can do it next year,” you replied, and the fact that you were already planning another Valentine’s Day with him made his heart swell. You closed the space between you, pulling him down by his neck and kissing along his jaw.

“You must be tired,” you whispered against his skin.

Jaemin's hands roamed over your back, cupping your ass making you gasp at the sudden touch. When your lips parted, he took the opportunity to kiss you. He slipped his tongue into your mouth, tasting the strawberries you’d been eating.

“Not anymore,” he whispered, lifting you up by your hips, your legs locked around his waist. He carried you to the bed, never breaking the kiss, his lips moving against yours with need.

You pulled away, and for a moment he thought you would kiss him again. Instead, you gently pushed him down onto the bed and guided him to lie back. His chest rose and fell with anticipation, lips parted as you climbed over him and settled on top. He stayed still, pretending to be unaffected, but you noticed the way his muscles tensed as he fought to hold back.

"I want to try something new," you said, your voice laced with playful daring.

Jaemin raised an eyebrow, a teasing smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “Oh? Do I get a say in this?”

You paused for a moment before tugging his shirt up and over his head, letting your fingers graze his skin as you did. Your gaze roamed over him slowly, as if committing every inch to memory. His broad shoulders, abs that tensed whenever he took a breath, the faint happy trail he’d stopped shaving just because you said you liked it, the love bites still lingering on his chest from the other night.  

Reaching for his hand, you guided it to the delicate bow at the center of your bra, your lips curling into a teasing smile. “Go on,” you murmured, “unwrap your present.”

Jaemin raised an eyebrow, smirking. He tugged on the bow and the bra fell open, exposing your breasts. He couldn’t help the soft, reverent exhale that escaped him. “Fuck…” he groaned, his hands reaching to touch you, but you stopped him with a soft but firm hand on his shoulder.

“Ah, ah,” you tutted, leaning in to kiss the frown from his face. “Let me take care of you first.” 

Jaemin opened his mouth to protest, but then you were gone. He saw you searching in the drawer, and when you returned to the bed, you had something hidden behind your back. You leaned in close, whispering in his ear.

“Do you trust me, Jaem?”

He nodded, his voice barely a whisper. “Of course.”

Then, you pulled out a blindfold, and he froze, anticipation and excitement flooding his system in equal parts “What are you planning, love?” he asked, his tone soft but amused.

“Something you’ll really like,” you whispered, placing a kiss below his ear.

Jaemin chuckled nervously, shivering slightly. “Should I be worried?”

You only smiled, slipping the blindfold over his eyes. He swallowed hard, his heart pounding as his world went dark. His other senses immediately heightened and he tensed when he felt you reach for his wrists.

The soft touch of silk against his skin made him flinch. “Wait—what are you—” His breath hitched as you wrapped the restraints carefully around him.

His fingers twitched, an instinctive urge to move, but the fabric held him firm. He gave a small, experimental tug, testing the hold, and a shiver ran through him when he realized he couldn’t easily free himself. There was something almost dizzying about being kept like this, unable to touch you, forced to wait. The helplessness only made his excitement burn hotter.

“Wow,” he mused, voice light but strained, “Are we into bondage now?”  

Despite his attempt at humor, you didn’t miss the way his chest rose and fell a little faster when you gave the restraints a small tug.  

You leaned in, letting your lips ghost against his ear. “I want to see if you can last…” you whispered, your breath sending another shiver down his spine.  

Jaemin swallowed, his smirk faltering just slightly. “What do you mean…” he asked, careful now, as if realizing he’d just walked into a trap.  

You didn’t answer right away, and the silence only deepened the anticipation clawing at him. He tried to keep his breathing steady, to act unaffected, but the combination of the blindfold, the restraints, and the sheer uncertainty of what you’d do next made it impossible to be calm.  

And then…cold.  

A sharp gasp tore from his lips as the ice cube slid across his chest, its sudden chill stealing the breath from his lungs. His entire body stiffened, muscles flexing against the cold shock.

“God—fuck…” he cursed breathlessly. He yanked at the restraints, desperate to get away from the bite of the ice but craving more of your touch at the same time. “You really like torturing me, huh?”

You laughed softly, a wicked note in your voice. “Torture? No…” you murmured, trailing the ice lower, just skimming the waistband of his pants. “I just want to see how far you’ll let me go to make sure you feel really good.”

Jaemin let out a strained breath, his fingers flexing against the restraints. He was still trying to hold onto some shred of composure, but his body was betraying him. He felt himself grow harder in his pants and he wanted to beg for you to release him but he didn’t want to give you the satisfaction of seeing him break down so easily.

“Tell me, Jaem… have you ever touched yourself on a particularly chilly night?” you asked, your voice smooth and teasing.  

“What—…” His breath hitched when you slid the ice cube lower, past his hip bones. “I… I don’t know… I suppose so,” he said, his voice cracking slightly.  

“Did your cold fingers feel nice?” you continued, drawing the ice in slow circles on his skin. “Did you like it?”  

Jaemin was trying to focus on your words, but the heightened sensation of the cold against his burning skin was making it impossible to think. The contrast was overwhelming, making his hips jerk involuntarily.  

“I—fuck… I guess so,” he breathed.  

Without warning, you pulled his pants down along with his boxers. His cock sprang free, slapping against his lower abdomen and startling both of you. 

“You seem excited,” you said, letting your finger graze the side of his shaft. His breath stuttered as he tensed, his chest rising and falling rapidly.  

The next thing he felt was cold sliding over his tip.  

“Shit—” he gasped, his whole body jerking as he tried to sit up, hunching over in a desperate attempt to regain some control. His bound wrists strained against the silk restraints, but they gave him no leeway. And then you did it again, this time, dragging the ice along the side of his cock, the sensation both shocking and exquisite.

“Fuck… th-that feels weird…” he shivered slightly.

His lips were red and wet from how he kept biting them, trying not to moan too loudly.  

You leaned in, kitten-licking the tip while still holding the ice against him.  

“Wait—” he moaned, his hips bucking up instinctively.  

With one last teasing kiss to his tip, you pulled back, watching the way he twitched, the way his body practically vibrated with pent-up need.  

“Looks like you’re ready to play.”  

Jaemin exhaled shakily. The way you were handling him was so different to what he was used to. He was always the one setting the pace, pulling pleasure from you at his leisure. But now, you had him completely at your mercy. And the craziest part was how much he was enjoying it.  

He heard more movement, some shuffling and the quiet creak of the mattress as you settled back in front of him. His muscles tensed in anticipation, his whole body straining against the restraints. He wanted to reach for you, to pull you down and take what he needed but all he could do was wait.

“Jaem, do you know what a cock ring is?” you asked, your voice so soft and innocent that for a second, he thought he must’ve misheard you.  

“Hm?” His brain was lagging, too focused on the lingering cold of the ice cube melting against him. Then your words sank in. “Yeah,” he swallowed.  

“Good,” you hummed, and before he could react, he felt your warm hand wrap around him, pumping once, just enough to make his hips twitch, to make a moan escape his throat before he could swallow it down.  

And then something hard pressed against his dick.  

“Fuck—” he hissed, his body tensing as you carefully slid the cock ring into place. His sensitivity was already heightened, and the combination of your touch and the unfamiliar tightness made him shudder.  

“I want you to hold on as much as you can,” you murmured, trailing your fingers up his stomach, nails lightly scratching at his skin. “Can you do that for me?”  

Jaemin groaned, tugging at the restraints in frustration. “You’re so fucking unfair.”  

You giggled, pressing a kiss to his hip bone. “I’ll take that as a yes.”  

Jaemin’s breath came in sharp, uneven pants as you pulled away, leaving him aching for more. His head tilted back, exposing the long line of his throat as he swallowed hard, trying to remain as calm as possible. 

“Fuck,” he exhaled, his voice shaky. His fingers clenched and unclenched where they were bound, his knuckles turning white from how hard he was gripping nothing. “You’re really trying to kill me…”

You only smiled, still running your nails lightly down his torso, making his abs twitch. “You’re being so dramatic, Jaem.”  

His head snapped up at that, eyes still blindfolded, but his frustration was written all over his face. “Dramatic?” He let out a humorless laugh. “Princess, I’m so fucking hard it hurts, and you’re just—” He groaned, pulling against the restraints again. “God, you’re such a fucking tease.”  

You hummed as if considering his words, then leaned in, pressing a slow, open-mouthed kiss just below his navel. “But it looks like you’re enjoying it.”  

Jaemin’s hips twitched, but he still managed a weak scoff. “I’d enjoy it more if you actually fucking did something.” His voice was strained, cracking at the edges.

You let your hand drift lower again, wrapping around him with a slowness that had him sucking in a sharp breath. “Is this what you want?” you murmured, your fingers squeezing just enough to make him twitch in your grasp.  

“Fuck—yes, that’s what I fucking want—”  

You gave a single stroke, dragging your hand up his length at an agonizing pace.  

Jaemin let out a throaty whimper, and the sound only intensified the heat pooling in your lower belly.  

His chest heaved as his thighs trembled. His whole body jerked, but the cock ring kept him from reaching the release he desperately chased.

“Oh my god,” he choked out, his voice practically a whine. “Princess, please, I need—”  

You tightened your grip slightly, cutting him off with another slow, teasing stroke. His hips bucked into your hand, but it wasn’t enough, it wasn’t fucking enough, and the frustration in his voice was turning into something dangerously close to begging.  

“Please what, Jaemin?” you asked, tilting your head.  

His lip was pulled between his teeth so hard it was turning red, his whole body trembling from restraint. “Please, just—fuck, I don’t even know—just something, please, princess, I can’t—”  

His voice cracked again, revealing his desperation in every syllable. He was completely wrecked, yet still nowhere near getting what he wanted.  

And that was exactly how you wanted him.  

When your mouth dropped down on his dick again, you took in more than just the tip this time. You sucked and licked him just the way you knew he liked.

“God… oh god,” he groaned, his hips jerking up instinctively, but you kept him firmly in place, pressing down on his thighs.  

“Be good,” you murmured against his swollen tip, lips brushing the heat of him. “Or I’ll stop.”  

Jaemin let out a shaky breath, his fingers twitching at his sides, unable to do anything but take what you were giving him. “Fuck… you’re so—” His voice broke into a strangled gasp as you sank back down, taking him deeper, your tongue swirling along his length. 

He was losing control. His thighs trembled under your touch, ragged gasps escaping his lips. His body was already screaming for release, but the cock ring kept him stuck on that unbearable edge, holding him in a storm of pure, agonizing pleasure.

“I can’t… anymore… please.” His voice was strained, broken apart by breathless moans. “Please, take it off.”  

You pulled back just enough to let your breath fan over his tip. “Take what off, Jaem?”  

“Everything,” he choked out. “Let me touch you… let me see you… let me fuck you…please.”  

The little laugh you let out made his stomach tighten painfully. If he wasn’t so desperate, he would’ve held out longer just to make you work for it. But he was past the point of caring about winning right now.

“Well…” You let your hands caress down his thighs, feeling the way his muscles clenched under your touch. “I think you’ve been patient enough.”  

The first thing to come off was the blindfold. Jaemin blinked rapidly as his eyes adjusted, the dim light in the room almost blinding after what felt like hours in the dark. His gaze flickered over your form, hovering over him like a lioness about to pounce. Fuck, he forgot you were braless. His hands twitched against the restraints, desperate to touch you.

Then his eyes dropped lower. His dick was painfully swollen, red at the tip, the cock ring still keeping him from the relief he needed. His breath caught as you reached down, fingers brushing his base before you finally removed it. The rush of sensation that followed had his whole body tensing, his abs clenching as he gasped through the sudden overwhelming relief. He was seconds away from—  

You moved to undo the silk restraints, and the moment his wrists were free, he lunged.  

You let out a sharp squeal as he grabbed your arm and yanked you down, pressing your body flush against his chest. In one quick movement, he flipped you onto your back, looming over you with a wicked, predatory grin.  

“Shouldn’t have fucking released me, princess,” he growled, voice still rough from moaning. He licked his lips, eyes raking down your body like he was deciding where to ruin you first. “You’re gonna take everything I give you now.”  

There was no fear in your gaze—only pure, smoldering desire.  

Jaemin’s lips crashed against yours, devouring you, tongue sliding past your lips as his hands finally claimed your body. His fingers found your breasts, squeezing, teasing, all while his hips rolled against your barely clothed core.  

Then, he flipped you onto your stomach. You gasped, feeling his body press against your back, his lips tracing a heated path from your shoulder to the nape of your neck.  

“Wanted to do this since I walked through that door,” he muttered, voice thick with lust. He hooked his fingers into the delicate lace of your underwear, undoing the tiny bow with a slow pull. His eyes went dark with greed and desire when he saw it fall apart and expose your bare backside to him. 

He kissed along your spine, then rocked his hips against your ass with a shuddering sigh before flipping you over again.  

You were already breathless, your mind hazy, and he still hadn’t even touched you where you needed him most.  

But then, just when you thought he was going to finally take you—he suddenly grabbed your ankles and yanked you down the bed, shifting you so you were face-to-face with his abs.  

Your brows furrowed in confusion, until you felt his dick sliding between your breasts.  

“Gonna let me fuck your tits, princess?” he murmured, voice husky.  

Heat pooled in your stomach at his words, and without hesitation, you pressed your hands against the sides of your chest, squeezing your breasts together, trapping him between them.  

Jaemin groaned, the sound deep and raw, before spitting onto your chest to lubricate the area.

You gasped softly, the sheer filth of it making your thighs squeeze together, but Jaemin was also too far gone to tease you about it. He let out a low, guttural fuck as he thrust, slow at first, watching himself slide between the plushness of your breasts.  

“Shit…” His breathing was heavy, his fringe damp with sweat, his jaw slack as he fucked into the tight heat of your chest. “Letting me fuck your perfect tits—fuck.”  

The sounds filling the room were obscene. The wet slide of his dick against your skin, the breathy moans slipping from his lips, the quiet, desperate whimpers coming from you.  

Your legs clenched again, seeking friction, your own arousal dripping down your thighs.  

Jaemin’s rhythm faltered. His thrusts grew uneven, more desperate. “I’m—fuck, I’m close—”  

Suddenly, his hand was on your jaw, tilting your head up.  

“Open for me, princess.”  

You parted your lips instinctively, watching through hazy, lidded eyes as he pumped himself, working himself closer and closer—until the first warm spurts landed across your chest and tongue. His thumb swiped through the mess on your chest, and before you could even react, he brought it to your lips.  

“Taste.” His voice was hoarse.  

Your tongue flicked out to catch it. His breath stuttered as he watched you.  

“Fuck,” he exhaled, his fingers pressing against your tongue just a second longer before pulling away. His cock twitched against your stomach, already getting hard again.

You let out a small whimper, rubbing your thighs together, the ache between your legs only growing sharper.  

Jaemin caught the movement immediately.  

“Oh?” He smirked, eyes flicking down to where you were shamelessly pressing your legs together for any friction. “You want more?”  

You whined, squirming.  

He hummed, as if amused. “Poor thing.”  

“Jaem…” Your voice came out as a whimper, breathless, desperate.  

His smirk deepened. He loved seeing you this way—helpless, needy, falling apart before he even touched you properly. 

But he wasn’t going to make it easy.  

“What’s wrong, princess?” His hand ghosted over your stomach before slipping between your legs, fingertips grazing your soaked folds. “You need help?”  

You bucked your hips, but he barely applied any pressure, making you whimper in protest.  

You let out a frustrated sob, moving to take over yourself, but his hand shot out and gripped your wrist, pinning it to the mattress.  

“Ah, ah! We can’t have that,” he tsked, eyes flashing dark. 

The next thing you know, your hand is being replaced with his own, two fingers sliding through your folds. Your entire body jolted at the contact.  

Jaemin groaned, pressing his forehead against yours. “Shit, you’re so wet, princess,” he murmured, dragging his fingers through your slick before pressing them against your swollen clit. “You like having my cock between those pretty tits that much?”  

You barely managed a nod, too lost in the feeling of his fingers teasing you.

“Such a messy little thing,” he teased, rubbing slow, agonizing circles over your clit, just enough to make you desperate, but not enough to give you what you needed. “I should make you wait. Make you beg for it.”  

“Jaemin—”  

His fingers pushed in, stretching you, filling you just enough to make you gasp.  

“Holy fuck,” Jaemin groaned, his head dropping to your shoulder. His cock was already leaking against your thigh, his body trembling as he tried to hold himself back. “You’re so tight. You’re gonna fucking choke my fingers.”  

He pumped his fingers in and out, slow but deep, so deep you were writhing beneath him.  

“Jaem, please—” Your walls clenched, thighs trembling.  

“Hm?” He purred. “Tell me exactly what you want.”  

Your eyes were glassy, your body begging for it. “Please, just fuck me.”  

Jaemin let out a sharp exhale, visibly shaking as he tried to hold himself back.  

“You—” His voice broke. He looked down, seeing how you were practically dripping down his fingers, and groaned, cursing under his breath. “Jesus Christ.”  

His fingers slipped out with a wet, filthy sound. Before you could even whine, he grabbed your thighs, spreading you wide and pressing the head of his cock against your entrance.  

Your breath caught.  

But he didn’t push in.  

He just teased, rubbing himself between your folds, coating himself in your slick. He watched with dark, hooded eyes as you twitched beneath him, whimpering at every brush of his cock against your swollen clit.

“You want it?” His voice dripped with sin.

“Jaem—”

“Beg for it.”

The jerk was using your own tricks against you.

Now, you were regretting edging him earlier, because this… this felt like hell.

You whined, your nails digging into his arms. “Please, Jaem. Please. I need you. I need your cock inside me, I—fuck—I can’t—”  

That was enough for him. With a wrecked groan, he slammed inside you in one stroke, bottoming out so deep you saw white.  

A choked cry left your lips, your entire body arching off the mattress.  

“Oh my fucking god—” Jaemin’s voice broke, his hands gripping your thighs so hard you were sure it would bruise.  

He was shaking, breathing ragged, his cock twitching inside you as he tried not to cum right then and there.  You were so tight, so wet, so warm. He felt like he was going insane.

“You—” His voice was strained, wrecked. “You feel so fucking good, princess.”  

His thrusts punched the breath out of you, slamming into you so deep you felt it in your stomach, your walls clenching around him like a vice.  

“Holy shit—fuck—” Jaemin groaned, his hips snapping against yours in a brutal rhythm. “You’re so tight—I can feel you fucking squeezing me—”  

You couldn’t even form words, just moaned and whimpered, nails raking down his back.  

Jaemin growled, grabbing the backs of your knees, pushing them up and folding you beneath him.  

The angle —oh god—the angle had his cock hitting so deep it left you shaking, your mouth falling open in a silent scream.  

“There we go,” Jaemin groaned, watching you writhe under him. “That’s the spot, isn’t it?”  

“Jae—Jaemin—”  

“Shhh,” he cooed, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “You’re taking me so well, princess. So, so well.”  

His fingers found your clit, rubbing fast. The pleasure crashing over you all at once.  

“Cum for me, baby,” Jaemin rasped, barely holding himself together. “Make a fucking mess on my cock.”  

Your orgasm tore through you, so intense your vision blurred, your entire body shaking under him as you cried out his name.  

Jaemin groaned, feeling you clench around him. His hips stuttered as he buried himself deep, moaning against your throat as he came again, filling you completely.  

For a moment, neither of you moved. Just heavy breathing and shaking limbs.  

Jaemin finally lifted his head, sweat-damp hair clinging to his forehead, eyes dark.

He smirked a cat-like smile.

“I hope you don't think we’re done.”  

He was still inside you, his cock twitching, throbbing, still semi-hard despite just coming deep inside you. He could feel you clenching weakly around him.

You didn’t want it to be done.

You felt empty, even with his cock still buried inside you. You needed more, needed all of him, needed him to ruin you completely.

And he could tell.  

Jaemin tilted his head as his fingers dug into your thighs, keeping them spread wide for him. His thumbs traced slow circles into your skin both soothing and possessive, a silent reminder that you weren’t going anywhere.  

“Think you can handle more?” The low rumble of his voice had you feeling dizzy.  

You nodded, too fucked out to form anything coherent.  

He hummed, pretending to consider. “Now that I think about it… you were pretty mean to me earlier.” His hands slid lower, gripping your ass and giving it a sharp squeeze that made you jolt. “Do you even deserve it?”  

“Yes—yes, please, Jaem—”  

He laughed, a breathy chuckle that broke apart into something rougher, needier.  

“Insatiable little thing.”  

And then he was pulling out achingly slow, dragging every inch of himself through your trembling walls. The friction sent a helpless whimper tumbling from your lips.

Jaemin nearly lost his mind at the sound.  

He stared down at you, his ruined, pretty girl. Face flushed, hair sticking to your damp skin, lips swollen and parted, body still twitching from the aftershocks of your orgasm. 

He growled, gripping your waist and flipping you onto your stomach in one swift movement.  

You gasped, heart pounding as Jaemin manhandled you effortlessly, positioning you exactly how he wanted with your chest pressed to the mattress and ass high in the air.

He moaned, running his hands down your spine, over the curve of your hips, before gripping your ass and spreading you open for him.  

“Look at you,” he breathed, watching the way your slick dripped down your thighs, his own cum still leaking from your core.  

His cock throbbed painfully at the sight.  

“Fuck, baby, I made such a mess of you.”  

You whimpered, pushing your hips back toward him, trying to tempt him. But Jaemin only smirked, rubbing the tip of his cock against your entrance, teasing you, making you squirm.  

“What do you want, princess?” His voice was low, smug.

You whined, pressing your face into the pillow, trying to grind back against him.

“Jaem—please—”  

He tutted, gripping your hips to hold you still. “You’re so cute when you beg.”  

Then, he slid inside you again, slowly making you feel every inch. You cried out, hands gripping the sheets desperately.

Jaemin groaned, rolling his hips slow but deep. His cock pressing against a spot that made black spots appear in your vision.  

“Oh, my god—”  

“That’s it,” he praised, gripping your waist tighter. Watching the way your back arched, how you clenched around him so perfectly.  

He was so deep like this, hitting angles that had you completely unraveling beneath him.

“God, you’re perfect for me,” he groaned, his hips snapping forward just a little harder, making you choke on your breath.  

His hands traveled down, reaching for your arms, and before you could even react, he pulled you up, pressing your back against his chest. One hand snaking around your waist, the other gripping your throat lightly.

Your moan was sinful, body trembling as Jaemin fucked up into you, the new position letting him bury himself impossibly deep.  

“Shit—” Jaemin choked out, pressing his lips to your sweaty temple. 

His free hand slid down your stomach, two fingers finding your clit, rubbing torturous circles in time with his thrusts.  

You gasped sharply, hands grabbing at his wrists.  

“Too much?” He teased, his voice taunting, but the way he was shaking against you, the way his thrusts were growing sloppier, told you he was just as close as you were. 

You could only moan, pleasure overwhelming you, his cock dragging against that perfect spot over and over, his fingers pushing you closer—

“Cum for me again, princess.” He said, lips pressed to your jaw, groaning with every thrust.  “I want to feel you squeeze me.”  

And just like that another orgasm crashed over you, your walls clamping down on him so tight he nearly screamed.  

Jaemin cursed, feeling you pulsing around him, dragging him straight into his own orgasm. 

“Fuck—fuck—fuck—” His body convulsed, hips stuttering as he filled you up once more, letting go with a strangled moan against your throat.

Jaemin finally collapsed, pulling you down with him. He wrapped himself around you, pressing lazy kisses to your bare shoulder.  

His arms tightened, as if he never wanted to let you go.  

“God,” Jaemin exhaled, still breathless, lips brushing against your ear.

“I think I might have broken you, princess.”  

divider creds toastray

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