𝕬 𝕽𝖔𝖈𝖐 𝕲𝖔𝖇𝖑𝖎𝖓

"breathe, y/n, stay with me." jaemin’s voice cut through the heavy fog clouding your mind. his hand was wrapped tightly around yours, grounding you, his thumb brushing against your trembling knuckles. "donghyuck, file a report now," jaemin ordered, his tone sharp and urgent. donghyuck doesn't hesitate, already pulling out his phone, dialing the police with shaky fingers.

but you couldn’t move. your body refused to. the world felt muffled, far away. your thoughts ran wild, colliding, scattering. only one thing was clear—jun. your son. your baby. the only piece of love you had left in this godforsaken world.

"y/n!" jeno’s voice pierced through the chaos as he shoved past the crowd, eyes wide, heart pounding. he looked between you and jaemin, voice strained. "what’s going on?"

"she must’ve taken him away!" you screamed, the words tearing out of you like they had been clawing at your throat for hours. your glare found jeno, sharp, accusing, and desperate. he froze. confusion flashed, then realisation hit like a blow to his chest. he looked around—donghyuck whispering frantically into the phone, jaemin steadying your shaking form, and you… eyes wild with fear.

the “she” in question—he knew who it was.

his lover.

and “him”— his only son, jun.

the air around you shattered. anger, grief, panic—all tangled and suffocating. you stumbled forward, pushing against jaemin’s grip. "i have to find him," you said, your voice breaking.

"y/n, wait—" jaemin caught you by the arm, pulling you close, his voice low, trembling but firm. "listen to me, you can’t run around like this. you’re not thinking straight. i’ll get the car. just… just stay here, okay? please. i’ll be right back."

he squeezed your shoulders, searching your eyes until you nodded, barely holding it together. then he ran off toward the parking lot.

and then jeno appeared again. breathless. disheveled. guilt written all over his face. "where is she?" you shouted, stepping closer until he had to stumble back. "where did she take him? where did that bitch take my son?"

"y/n—" his voice cracked. his phone was in his hand, trembling, the screen showing soomin’s name flashing. "i’m calling her—i’m trying to—i swear, i don’t know!"

"don’t lie to me!" you shoved him hard in the chest. jeno staggered back, barely catching his balance. your vision blurred with tears and rage.

"you did this!" you screamed, your voice raw. "you brought her into our lives! you let her near him! everything i love—everything that mattered to me—is gone because of you!"

jeno’s lips parted, but no words came. only a broken sound—half sob, half breath. he looked at you like he’d been hit, eyes glassy, his chest heaving. "i didn’t know," he whispered, voice trembling. "y/n, i didn’t know she’d—"

"you never know, do you?" you spat, your tears finally spilling. "not until it’s too late."

silence hung heavy between you—shattered only by the sound of sirens in the distance, drawing closer. jeno’s hand was still on his phone, but it had slipped to his side, forgotten.

you turned away before he could say another word, your knees weak, your heart breaking all over again. jaemin’s car screeched to a stop nearby, "y/n!" he called out, practically jumping out of the care to get you.

you didn’t look back. you couldn’t. because if you did, you’d see the devastation in jeno’s eyes—the same kind that mirrored your own.

jeno’s heart stopped the second your front door slammed behind you and jaemin. at first, he tried to tell himself everything was fine—that you were just upset, that jaemin would calm you down, that this wasn’t the worst thing it looked like.

his mind shot straight to his son, to every worst-case scenario a parent should never have to imagine. if anything happened—if even one thing went wrong—he would never forgive himself. not now, not ever.

he shot to his feet, almost stumbling as he sprinted toward the parking lot. his fingers trembled around his phone, thumb slamming the call button over and over.

“pick up, damn it—”

but the ringing didn’t even last.

straight to voicemail.

“fuck!” he barked out, voice cracking with fear as he fumbled for his keys. his heartbeat was pounding in his ears, drowning out everything else as he ran to get his car.

meanwhile in jaemin’s car, time had lost all meaning.

you sat folded forward, elbows braced against your knees, hands buried in your hair as if you could physically hold your thoughts still. your breathing was shallow and uneven, each inhale scraping painfully against your chest.

the world outside the windshield moved in cruel slow motion. traffic lights lingered on red. cars crawled forward at an infuriating pace. every second stretched thin and taut, threatening to snap.

jun.

his face flashed behind your eyes, sleepy smiles, sticky hands, the way he called you mummy when he was scared. your chest tightened until it hurt, a sob lodging painfully in your throat. you pressed your palms harder against your temples, as if that might quiet the panic screaming inside your head.

jaemin noticed everything.

the way your shoulders shook.

the way your breaths stuttered.

the way you looked like you were barely holding yourself together.

his grip on the steering wheel tightened. he hesitated—because touching you felt like crossing a line he didn’t know if he was allowed to cross anymore. but then you let out a broken sound, halfway between a gasp and a sob, and instinct took over.

slowly, carefully, he reached out.

his hand settled on your arm lightly. the contact made your breath hitch violently. your teeth sank into your lower lip as tears finally spilled over, hot and uncontrollable. you tried to stop them—you really did—but fear had hollowed you out from the inside, and there was nothing left to hold it back.

“i shouldn’t have…” your voice cracked, barely audible. “i shouldn’t have pursued the case.”

the words fell out like a confession.

jaemin’s head snapped toward you, eyes dark with concern.

“if i didn’t—if i just kept my head down—jun would be home. he’d be safe.” your shoulders shook harder now. “i should’ve known better. i should’ve—”

“no.”

the word cut through the air, firm despite the tremor beneath it.

you shook your head, tears streaming freely now. “this is my fault—”

“it’s not,” jaemin said, voice stronger, urgent. his hand tightened just slightly, anchoring you. “listen to me. you did exactly what you were supposed to do.”

the car rolled forward another few feet. another red light loomed ahead like a cruel joke.

“you protected your son,” he continued, jaw clenched. “you fought for the better of this society so that he can have a good future. you didn’t stay quiet when something was wrong. that doesn’t make you responsible for this—it makes you a good mother.”

your breath shuddered, a sob tearing free as you covered your face.

jaemin swallowed hard. “i’m going to find him i promise,” he said, the promise heavy, unbreakable. “i swear to you. i don’t care what it takes or who i have to talk to—I will bring jun back to you safely.”

you looked at him then, eyes red and glassy, clinging to his words like they were the only solid thing left in the world. jaemin’s jaw tightened when your gaze met his, the fear there mirroring his own. “but i need you to stay strong too,” he said quietly, voice gentle despite the tension running through it. “you cannot collapse now.”

you nodded, even though your body felt like it was on the verge of giving out. your fingers reached for his hand almost instinctively, curling around it where it rested on your arm. the warmth of his skin seeped into yours, grounding in a way you hadn’t realized you desperately needed. your chest loosened just slightly, the crushing anxiety easing enough for you to draw a fuller breath.

you didn’t say thank you. you couldn’t. but jaemin seemed to understand anyway.

he traffic light flicked to green.

jaemin stepped on the accelerator without hesitation, the car surging forward. his mind was already racing ahead, mapping routes, possibilities, contingencies. first, he needed to get you home—somewhere safe, somewhere you could breathe, somewhere he could think clearly without watching you unravel beside him.

his phone buzzed.

then buzzed again.

and again.

each vibration felt like a warning.

jaemin glanced down briefly at the screen when traffic slowed, his grip tightening on the wheel as donghyuck’s name filled the display over and over. he opened the messages with a sinking feeling in his gut.

lee donghyuck: checked with the school.

lee donghyuck: cctv footage is gone.

lee donghyuck: teachers said jun was last seen at the sandbox.

lee donghyuck: alone.

the word alone hit like a punch to the chest.

jaemin swallowed hard, his jaw locking as his eyes flicked back to the road. the city suddenly felt too open, too exposed—every passing street another place where something could have gone wrong. his fingers flexed unconsciously around yours, grip firming as if to reassure both of you at once.

your breath caught when you noticed the shift in him. “what is it?” you whispered, voice fragile, afraid of the answer before it even came.

jaemin didn’t answer right away. he exhaled slowly through his nose, steadying himself—because he had just told you not to collapse, and the last thing you needed was to see him do the same.

“donghyuck checked with the school,” he said carefully. “the cctv tapes… they’re gone.”

your hand tightened around his.

“jun was last seen at the sandbox,” jaemin continued, his voice low, controlled. “he was alone.”

the words settled between you like something heavy and unforgiving.

your heart stuttered painfully in your chest, fear surging back up so fast it made you dizzy. the image of jun sitting by himself—small, vulnerable, unaware—flooded your mind, and you had to bite down on your lip to keep from breaking apart again.

“alone?” you echoed faintly, like saying it out loud might make it less real.

jaemin tightened his hold on you, just slightly. grounding. “we don’t know how long,” he said carefully. “and we don’t know who saw him. but someone did. kids don’t just disappear without leaving a trace.”

your breathing started to spiral again, sharp inhales cutting short in your chest. “what if—” your voice broke. “what if he followed someone? he’s so trusting, jaemin. he talks to everyone.”

jaemin’s jaw clenched. the thought crossed his mind too—jun’s easy smiles, his curiosity, the way he believed the world was kind because the people who raised him tried so hard to make it so.

“hey,” jaemin said softly, glancing at you when traffic slowed. “look at me for a second.”

you did, reluctantly. your vision blurred, but you saw the resolve there. not panic. not doubt. resolve.

“we’re not going to spiral,” he said. “not yet. we’re going to do this properly.” he took a breath. “we’ll go home first. you need to sit down. the police are already on it and jisung's also driving around on a lookout. ”

your throat tightened. “and jeno?”

jaemin didn’t answer immediately. his grip on the wheel shifted, knuckles whitening.

“he’s probably already on the road,” jaemin said finally. “and panicking.” guilt twisted painfully in your chest. jeno’s face flashed in your mind—his fear, his desperation, the way his voice cracked when he said jun’s name earlier.

“this is my fault,” you whispered again, the words automatic, like a wound you kept pressing just to see if it still hurt.

jaemin shook his head sharply. “no no. stop.” his tone wasn’t harsh, but it left no room for argument. “nobody could've seen this coming."

the car turned into your street. familiar houses blurred past, looking wrong somehow—too normal, too untouched by the terror tearing through you.

when jaemin pulled into the driveway, he didn’t turn off the engine right away. he looked at you, really looked at you, like he was committing this moment to memory.

“you’re not alone in this,” he said. “do you hear me?”

your lips trembled. you nodded.

inside the house, everything felt frozen in time. jun’s sports shoes by the door. dino-chan that he loved so much sitting by the sofa. the silence was deafening.

the moment you stepped inside, your knees nearly gave out.

jaemin caught you immediately, steady hands on your arms. “sit,” he urged, guiding you to the couch. “just sit.” you did, curling inward, arms wrapping around yourself like that might hold you together.

jaemin pulled his phone out again. messages were still coming in. missed calls now—jeno’s name flashing across the screen.

he hesitated for half a second.

then he answered.

“jaemin,” jeno’s voice came through raw and frantic. “have you received any updates yet?” the question hung in the air and heavy.

jaemin closed his eyes briefly before replying. “we don’t know yet,” he said honestly. “but we’re working on it. the school’s cctv was wiped. last sighting was the sandbox.”

there was a sharp inhale on the other end. “how about y/n? is she okay?” jeno asked. even at times like this, jeno couldn't help but worry about you.

jaemin glanced across the room, catching sight of you hunched over the dining table, shoulders drawn inward like you were trying to disappear. “we’re back at her place,” he said quietly. “i’m trying to calm her down. you should come over.”

“no. she definitely doesn't want me around. i'm only going to make everything worse.” jeno said quietly, voice almost defeated.

“trust me, she needs you.” jaemin insisted. because if there's anything that he's learnt in the years of watching the two of you, it was that the two of you were each other's emotional pillars. you steadied one another in ways no one else could. and that's the very thing that jaemin was envious of since university days.

jeno doesn't answer and instead, the line went dead.

jaemin turned back to you. you were staring at nothing, eyes unfocused, like your mind had already gone somewhere dark. he crouched in front of you, lowering himself to your level. “jeno's on his way,” he said gently. “we’re all here now. we move together.”

your eyes finally filled again. “what if he’s scared?” you whispered. “what if he’s calling for me and i’m not there?”

that was the moment jaemin’s composure cracked—just a fraction.

he reached up, cupping your face, forcing you to look at him. “then we find him faster,” he said, voice thick. “because he has people who love him enough to tear the world apart if we have to.”

outside, a car screeched to a stop.

jeno had arrived.

jeno barely made it to the door before pounding on it. the sound cracked through the house like a gunshot, sharp and desperate. jaemin was already moving, opening it just as jeno stumbled inside, breath ragged, eyes wild like an animal caught in a trap.

“have we heard anything from the school other than what we know yet?” jeno demanded, voice breaking on the last word. his gaze swept the living room, the hallway, the stairs—every place jun should’ve been.

you stood up so fast the room spun. “we don’t know,” you said, and the words tasted like poison. “jeno, we don’t know yet.”

jeno’s knees nearly buckled at that. he dragged a hand down his face, pacing like he couldn’t stay still for even a second. “soomin won’t answer. she won’t pick up. i’ve been calling for an hour.” his chest heaved. “this isn’t like her. she wouldn’t—” he cut himself off, fear swallowing the rest.

the door opened again before anyone could respond.

chenle and renjun rushed in, coats half-on, expressions tight with worry. chenle didn’t even bother with greetings. “okay,” he said quickly, eyes scanning everyone. “tell us everything. from the beginning. no skipping.”

jaemin gestured for everyone to sit, though no one really did. you perched on the edge of the couch, fingers knotted together so tightly they hurt. jeno leaned against the wall like it was the only thing keeping him upright.

“school,” jaemin started. “donghyuck checked. cctv’s wiped. jun was last seen at the sandbox. alone.”

renjun swore under his breath. “wiped how?”

“gone,” jaemin replied. “not malfunctioned. gone.”

silence fell heavy.

chenle ran a hand through his hair. “that means this was planned.”

“we believe soomin has intent to kidnap jun,” jaemin said, his voice controlled but grim. “if she’s expecting anything in return, she’ll reach out soon. but for now, we don’t know where she’s holding him.”

chenle frowned. “does the police have all of this?”

“yes,” jaemin replied. “they’re on alert. but her whereabouts are still unknown.”

renjun turned to jeno, his expression careful. “jeno, you know her—and her family—better than anyone here. is there anywhere they might take him?”

jeno shook his head slowly. “her family never fully trusted me. not until i married into them.” he let out a hollow breath, rubbing the back of his neck. “and after i refused to ask y/n to drop the case in front of them… they were already guarded around me.” his eyes drifted to you without meaning to. the air shifted. it was a sore subject—one he never wanted to drag back into the light.

then, as if summoned by the tension itself, his phone rang.

unknown number.

everyone froze.

jeno answered immediately on loud speaker, his heart pounding so hard it drowned out everything else. “hello?”

“you betrayed me.”

soomin’s voice came through shaky, brittle, vibrating with something close to hysteria. every muscle in jeno’s body locked up.

“and now,” she continued, breath uneven, “i’m going to hurt the most important thing in your life.” in the house soomin had bought in quiet anticipation of building a future with jeno, jun sat bound to a chair. rope cut painfully into his small wrists. a strip of tape covered his mouth, muffling his sobs, a blindfold pulled tight over his eyes. tears streamed down his cheeks, soaking into the fabric. faint bruises marked his skin—evidence of rough hands, of fear, of a moment that never should have happened.

the school janitor—paid and bribed, was already long gone.

back in your house, jeno’s face drained of all color.

“soomin,” he choked, voice breaking as panic tore through him. “please. hurt me. do anything to me—just don’t hurt my son. please.”

the silence in the room turned suffocating.

jeno stood frozen, phone held tightly in his hand, his knuckles white as if gripping hard enough might keep the world from slipping any further out of his control. no one spoke. no one moved. even the air felt like it had stilled, waiting for soomin to breathe again on the other end of the line.

her laughter came instead.

it was soft—too soft. unsteady, brittle around the edges, like glass about to shatter.

“hurt you?” soomin repeated, almost thoughtfully. “jeno, you don’t get to decide that anymore.”

his throat closed. “please,” he whispered, the word tearing out of him. pride, anger, dignity—none of it mattered now. “he’s just a kid. he doesn’t understand any of this. this is between us.”

“between us?” her voice wavered, then sharpened. “you made it between everyone the moment you chose her. the moment you let everything that my family and i built burn into ashes today. the moment you left me to fend on my own.”

you felt your knees weaken.

jaemin was beside you instantly, steadying you with a hand at your back. chenle’s jaw was clenched so tight you could see the muscle twitching. renjun had already pulled out his phone, quietly dealing the primary investigator's number that donghyuck had sent over to him, his fingers moving fast but controlled.

jeno swallowed hard. “tell me where you are,” he said. “whatever you want—money, my shares—I’ll give it to you. just let him go.”

there was a pause. long enough for hope to flicker.

then soomin sighed. “see? this is all i wanted. for you to finally understand what you’re worth to me.”

your stomach dropped.

“you’ll do what i ask,” she continued. “you’ll make this right. and if you don’t—” her voice trembled, then steadied with resolve, “jun stays with me.”

jeno’s legs nearly gave out.

“he’s crying,” she added quietly. “he keeps calling for you.”

the sound that left jeno’s chest wasn’t quite a sob, not quite a scream. it was something broken and animal, ripped straight from fear. he dropped into the nearest chair, one hand braced against the table as if the ground itself had betrayed him.

“i’m begging you,” he said, voice hoarse. “don’t do this. he’s scared.”

on the other end of the call, jun whimpered.

it was faint—but unmistakable.

your hand flew to your mouth, a sob escaping before you could stop it. your vision blurred, the room tilting violently as your body reacted before your mind could catch up.

“that’s enough,” jaemin said suddenly, his voice cutting through the chaos like steel. he leaned closer to jeno, speaking loud enough for soomin to hear. “soomin, the police are involved. every second you stay on this call increases your sentence.”

soomin laughed again, breathless. “oh, jaemin. always the hero.”

jaemin’s eyes hardened. “you don’t want to do this. once you cross this line, there’s no coming back.”

“i crossed it the moment he left me,” she snapped. “and i won’t be the only one paying for it.”

the call ended.

just like that.

the dial tone echoed loudly through the living room.

for a second, no one moved.

then jeno slammed the phone onto the table so hard it skidded across the surface. he dragged both hands through his hair, breathing uneven, eyes unfocused. “this is my fault,” he kept repeating, over and over, like a punishment. “this is my fault. this is my fault.”

“she didn’t say where,” chenle muttered, rubbing his palms together like friction might spark an answer. “nothing. no hint.”

renjun was already pacing, steps short and restless. “the police checked her parents’ place. hotels near the school. jewel corp properties that are still active. nothing lines up.”

you sat frozen at the dining table, staring at the wood grain like it might rearrange itself into a map. jun’s cry—muffled, terrified—still echoed in your ears, replaying over and over until your chest hurt from the effort of breathing around it.

jeno hadn’t moved.

he was staring at nothing, eyes unfocused, lips parted like he was trying to remember how to breathe. his hands were clenched in his lap, knuckles white, veins standing out starkly against his skin.

“jeno,” you whispered, your voice barely there. “please—if there’s anything—”

he flinched, like the sound of his name dragged him back into his body.

“there’s… there’s one place,” he said slowly. his voice sounded wrong—flat, distant, as if it didn’t belong to him. everyone turned to look at him at once. “one place i didn’t think to check.”

chenle stepped closer. “what place?”

jeno swallowed hard. his throat bobbed. “she mentioned it once. months ago.” his brows knit together as he searched his memory, fingers pressing into his temples. “she said she bought it as a wedding gift. something about… starting fresh. somewhere quiet.”

your heart stuttered painfully. “a house?”

jeno nodded, breath uneven. “a coastal house.”

the room seemed to tilt.

renjun stopped pacing. “coastal how?”

“out of the city,” jeno continued, words coming faster now, urgency creeping in as the memory sharpened. “near the cliffs. private road. bad signal. she said that was the point—no distractions. just family.” his voice cracked on the last word.

jaemin straightened instantly. “address.”

jeno shook his head, panic flashing across his face. “i never went. she never took me.”

your hands curled into fists, nails biting into your palms. a coastal house. isolated. hidden. every instinct in you screamed that this was it.

“she said it was close enough for weekend trips,” jeno added, like he was afraid the thought would disappear if he didn’t hold onto it. “about two hours out. there’s a long driveway. cameras. she joked that it was impossible to find unless you knew where to look.”

jaemin was already pulling up maps on his phone, fingers moving fast. “there aren't any coastal properties purchased under her family name in the last two years,” he said to renjun. “we'll have to narrow it down by private access roads.”

"do you think... she could've bought it under your name jeno?" you slowly pieced it together through your hazy mind.

jeno's breath hitched, “what… what do you mean?” jeno finally asked, his voice barely audible. it wasn’t anger that colored his tone—it was fear. the kind that crept in quietly, already knowing the damage it would leave behind.

you looked at him, your chest tight, your fingers curling into the fabric of his sleeve as if it were the only thing keeping you grounded. “you told us it was a wedding gift,” you said slowly, carefully, as if each word might shatter something fragile. “a surprise. something she wanted to give you once everything was… settled.”

jeno nodded faintly, eyes unfocused. he remembered soomin’s smile when she’d mentioned it—soft, almost shy. a place for us, she’d said. somewhere quiet. by the sea.

“she was obsessed with legitimacy,” you continued, your voice trembling now. “with making everything look right. secure. permanent. what if she bought it under your name so no one would question it? so it would look like it already belonged to you… to your family.”

chenle swore under his breath, pushing his chair back hard enough for it to scrape loudly against the floor. “that’s not just manipulation,” he muttered. “that’s premeditated.”

renjun, who had been silent until now, slowly turned his laptop toward jeno. his expression was tight, all humor gone. “jeno,” he said gently but firmly, “did you sign anything recently? contracts. ownership papers. trusts. anything she told you not to worry about?”

jeno’s head started to pound.

paperwork blurred through his mind—documents passed across polished tables, soomin’s fingers tapping impatiently, her parents’ eyes watching him from across the room. he remembered how tired he’d been. how badly he’d wanted the tension to stop.

“there was something,” he admitted, voice cracking. “she said it was about asset restructuring. pre-marital arrangements. i thought…” his throat closed. “i thought it was normal.”

jaemin exhaled slowly through his nose, already pulling his phone from his pocket. “it’s searchable,” he said. “if it exists, we can find it.”

as if summoned by his words, jeno’s phone vibrated violently on the table.

everyone froze.

jeno stared at it for a second too long, dread pooling in his stomach. then he picked it up with shaking hands.

a system notification glowed on the screen.

property registry accessed — gold coast residence ownership record located

his heart dropped.

“jeno,” you whispered, stepping closer.

his fingers trembled as he scrolled.

registered owner: lee jeno co-trustee: han soomin

the room seemed to tilt.

jeno staggered back a step, like the ground beneath him had given way. “she…” his voice broke. “she used my name.”

jaemin swore quietly, already grabbing his keys. “that’s where she took him.”

“it’s the only place,” renjun said, already pulling up maps. “remote. private. easy to disappear.”

jeno’s hands came up to his face, nails digging into his skin. guilt crushed his chest until it felt hard to breathe. “this is my fault,” he whispered. “if anything happens to him—”

you moved without thinking, standing directly in front of him, forcing his eyes up to meet yours. your own were wet, red-rimmed, but steady. “listen to me,” you said, voice shaking but unyielding. “she did this to you. but jun is still out there. and he needs his father standing, not blaming himself.”

jeno stared at you, lips trembling, then nodded once—sharp, desperate.

“take me there,” he said. “please.”

jaemin didn’t slow down.

the engine screamed as he pressed harder on the accelerator, tires skidding slightly as he cut between cars, horns blaring behind them like distant warnings he refused to heed. chenle barked directions from the front seat, voice clipped, eyes glued to the glowing gps screen.

“left here—no, tighter—don’t miss it.”

in the backseat, the world felt smaller.

jeno’s body shook beside you, uncontrollable, silent sobs wracking his chest as if his lungs were collapsing inward. without thinking, you pulled him toward you, his head falling against your shoulder like he had no strength left to hold himself upright. his breath came out uneven, broken.

“he’s going to be okay,” you whispered, fingers threading through his hair, voice barely louder than the hum of the car. you weren’t sure who you were trying to convince anymore.

jeno swallowed hard. “he’s going to be okay,” he echoed, clinging to your hand like it was the only thing anchoring him to reality.

the road narrowed.

city lights faded behind them, replaced by darkness and the distant roar of waves crashing against rock. the gps guided them onto a single-lane road that twisted along the coast, sharp bends hugging the cliffside. there were no streetlights now—only headlights cutting through the dark, illuminating jagged stone and wild grass bending violently in the wind.

the closer they got, the heavier your chest felt.

“that’s it,” renjun said quietly from beside you. “that house.”

it appeared suddenly—perched dangerously close to the edge of the cliff, a modern structure half-swallowed by shadows. the ocean stretched endlessly behind it, black and unforgiving.

jaemin slammed on the brakes and everyone piled out at once.

the sound hit you first.

jun’s muffled crying.

your heart stopped.

she was already there.

soomin sat on the concrete steps leading up to the house, hair disheveled, eyes wild and red-rimmed. one arm was wrapped tightly around jun, fingers tangled violently in his hair, forcing his head back. he whimpered, small hands trembling as they clawed uselessly at her sleeve.

and pressed against his temple—

a gun.

"i knew you'll figure out." soomin let out a scoffed laugh. “soomin—” jeno choked, taking a step forward before jaemin grabbed his arm. “stop right there!” soomin screamed, voice cracking as she stood abruptly, dragging jun with her. the barrel shook in her hand, but it never left his head. “one more step and i swear i’ll do it.”

jeno’s face crumpled. “please,” he begged, tears streaming freely now. “he’s just a kid. he loved you."

"daddy!" jun sobbed, his little legs kicking up in hopes to release himself from soomin's tight grip.

soomin laughed hysterically, the sound sharp and broken. “you're fucking delusional jeno. your precious son hates me. you too. you chose her. you chose to let her continue with that case. you took everything from me.”

the wind howled around them, whipping her hair across her face. her grip tightened. jun cried out.

something in you snapped.

“it was me.”

all eyes turned to you.

you stepped forward slowly, hands raised, heart pounding so loudly you were sure everyone could hear it. “i’m the one you want,” you said, voice shaking but steady enough to stand. “i ruined your plans. i exposed jewel corporations. i didn’t back down.”

jeno turned to you in horror. “don’t—”

“leave him alone,” you continued, eyes never leaving soomin’s. “jun has nothing to do with this. hurt me. point the gun at me. if you need someone to blame, blame me.”

soomin’s eyes flickered.

for just a second, doubt cracked through the madness.

jaemin felt his heart slam violently against his ribs the moment you stepped forward.

“y/n stop.” he said, reaching out for you instinctively, fingers grazing the back of your sleeve before you slipped just out of reach. his voice wasn’t loud—but it was raw, stripped bare of composure. “don’t do this. please.”

you didn’t look back.

each step you took toward soomin felt heavier than the last, gravel crunching beneath your shoes, the wind clawing at your clothes as if trying to pull you away from the edge. jaemin followed half a step behind you, hand hovering uselessly in the air, afraid that touching you might startle her. afraid that not touching you would lose you entirely.

“y/n,” he said again, desperation bleeding into his tone now. “stop. this isn’t on you. you don’t have to carry this.”

you shook your head slightly, eyes never leaving jun. the gun trembled against his temple. he was crying quietly now, small shoulders shaking, too afraid to make a sound loud enough to anger her again.

“if she needs someone,” you murmured without turning, “let it be me.”

jaemin swallowed hard. “she’s unstable. you don’t know what she’ll do.”

“i do,” you whispered. “and that’s why i can’t let it be him.” you drew in a shaky breath, forcing your voice steady even as your hands trembled.

“if you want to hurt jeno badly,” you said, eyes never leaving hers, “kill me instead.” jeno broke behind you, a strangled sound tearing out of his chest, but you didn’t turn.

“that’ll hurt him for life,” you continued, each word deliberate, cruel in its honesty. “not just today. not just right now. forever.” your throat tightened, but you pushed through it. “i’ll be gone from your lives. and he’ll have to live with it.” you bit your lips.

“isn’t that what you want?” you asked softly. “to leave him with something he can never recover from?”

soomin’s grip on jun faltered—just slightly. the gun wavered, her breathing coming apart in sharp, uneven gasps.

jaemin’s voice cracked behind you. “y/n—please—”

you ignored him.

“let him keep his son,” you said, quieter now, almost pleading. “take me instead.”

the sound came faint at first—so distant it almost felt imagined.

sirens.

low, wailing, carried by the wind from somewhere far down the coast.

soomin stiffened.

her head snapped towards the sound, eyes blown wide, pupils trembling as reality finally caught up with her. whatever fantasy she’d been clinging to—control, revenge, leverage—it collapsed all at once.

“…there’s not much time left,” she whispered.

the words were soft, almost calm. that was what terrified you “soomin,” you breathed, stepping forward again, palms open. “please—”

the wind surged harder, ripping at hair and clothes, the ocean roaring beneath the cliff like it was waiting. soomin’s chest rose and fell in quick, uneven breaths. her grip on jun loosened just enough to be dangerous. her finger brushed the trigger—not pressing, not pulling—just grazing.

your heart dropped.

you didn’t think. your body surged forward on instinct alone. “jun!”the world exploded into motion—jeno shouting your name, jaemin swearing, chen le and renjun sprinting behind you. feet pounded against concrete, gravel skidding under shoes, the wind screaming in your ears. “y/n!” jaemin shouted behind you, panic tearing through his voice.

your shoes scraped violently against the concrete as you ran, lungs burning, vision tunnelling until there was nothing but jun’s small frame and the gun shaking beside his head.

soomin jerked in surprise as you lunged.

jeno reached him first. he crashed into soomin with the force of pure panic, tearing jun from her grasp as if nothing else in the world mattered. jun was yanked free, stumbling into renjun’s arms as chen le pulled him back, shielding him with his own body.

jaemin caught you instead. his arms locked around your waist, hauling you backward just as soomin shrieked, the sudden movement jerking her hand and then—

bang!

the sound ripped through the night. the sound was deafening, echoing violently off the cliffside, bouncing back at you in sharp, disorienting waves. your ears rang, the world blurring as the bullet tore upward into the sky, vanishing into nothing but darkness.

soomin screamed as the gun slipped from her hand, skidding across the concrete and her legs gave out beneath her. she collapsed hard onto the steps, sobbing uncontrollably, nails scraping against the ground as if she were trying to claw herself back from the edge she’d already fallen over.

sirens wailed closer now, lights flashing harshly across the scene—red, blue, red—casting fractured shadows across the house and the cliff.

renjun ran after the gun and jeno collapsed to his knees. jun was in his arms, shaking violently, face buried against his father’s chest. jeno sobbed openly, clutching him so tightly it bordered on desperation, rocking him back and forth as if afraid letting go would undo everything.

“it’s okay,” he choked, voice breaking completely. “you’re okay. daddy’s got you. you’re safe.”

you stood frozen, knees threatening to buckle, breath coming in sharp, uneven gasps. adrenaline drained from your body all at once, leaving nothing but shaking limbs and a hollow ache in your chest.

jaemin tightened his hold on you from behind, steady, grounding, his forehead pressing briefly against the side of your head as if to make sure you were still there. "she's alive... she's alive..." he gasped over and over again, anxiety high in body.

police cars screeched to a stop nearby. officers flooded the space, weapons drawn, shouting commands as they swarmed soomin, forcing her hands behind her back while she screamed and cried, her voice dissolving into the chaos.

the ocean roared below, endless and indifferent.

but above it—on the edge of everything—jun was alive.

and the night, brutal and unforgiving as it had been, finally began to loosen its grip.

the chaos around you—the flashing lights, the yelling officers, the screaming wind—faded into nothing as jun ran into your arms.

“mummy!” he cried, burying his face into your chest, tears streaking his small cheeks. you pressed your lips to the top of his head, holding him as tightly as you could, inhaling the sharp, salty smell of the ocean and the faint scent of gunpowder still lingering in the air.

jeno knelt beside you, wrapping his arms around both of you, a trembling, raw mixture of relief and exhaustion written across his face. “i’ve got you buddy,” he whispered, voice cracking. “i’m never letting you go again.”

you held him both, rocking back and forth gently, your heart pounding with a fierce, uncontainable mix of love and fear. on the side, jaemin leaned against a police car, arms crossed but loose, watching quietly. his gaze softened as he observed the reunion, his chest tight as he swallowed the lump in his throat. When your eyes inadvertently met his, he quickly looked away, shaking his head and taking a small step back, as though he weren’t allowed to be part of the scene.

but you didn’t care about rules tonight.

you pulled yourself from jeno and jun, brushing past officers and shouting, racing across the gravel to him.

“jaems,” you said softly, breathless, voice carrying over the roar of the ocean.

he froze, hand half-raised, stepping back instinctively.

“you should be with j—” you cut him off without thinking, crashing into him, pressing your lips to his in a kiss that was raw, desperate, and demanding. your hands tangled in his hair, pulling him closer, while his hand hesitated at your waist before finally settling, holding you like he never wanted to let go.

when you pulled back slightly, chest heaving, jaemin’s voice broke the silence, low and almost trembling.

“i’m sorry,” he whispered, forehead resting briefly against yours. “i'm so, so fucking sorry.” you didn’t speak. you just let him hold you, letting the emotions spill.

“you’re the only one i’ve ever wanted,” he continued, voice breaking. “devastatingly… maddeningly… i tried to protect myself from losing you by pretending i didn’t care. by keeping you at a distance. i told myself you could never love me back… that i’d be safer if i let you go.”

he paused, swallowing hard, eyes glistening. “but i was wrong. every moment away from you, every second, it only made me want you more. i wanted to be with you, always, even if it destroyed me to admit it.”

he shook his head slightly, desperate, raw, as if saying it out loud could somehow cleanse years of self-inflicted pain.

“i should have fought,” he admitted, voice cracking with pain and regret. “i should have taken the chance, instead of locking myself away in my head. i was terrified… terrified that you’d never choose me. but all i’ve ever wanted was you.”

his lips hovered near yours again, eyes searching yours, trembling like a man who had carried his heart in pieces for far too long.

you reached up, cupping his face, brushing the tears from his cheeks.

“i love you, jaems,” you breathed, voice soft, trembling with everything you had kept inside for so long. his breath hitched. his chest heaved, heart pounding violently against his ribs, as if it might break free from the weight of his own longing. the words—your words—echoed inside him, loud and undeniable. “i love you too, y/n,” he choked out, voice rough, cracked with emotion. “i really… fucking do.”

for a heartbeat, he just stared at you, memorising your face, memorising the warmth of your touch, trying to convince himself this was real. after all these years of pining, of watching from the sidelines, of thinking that he had no chance against jeno, that he had lost you forever… now, finally, he heard the truth. you loved him too.

and that truth hit him harder than anything ever had. he pulled you into him with a force that nearly stole your breath, arms wrapping around you like he was trying to merge your bodies into one. you felt the tremor in his chest, the shaky rhythm of his breaths, the heat of the tears on his cheeks mingling with yours.

“you have no idea how long i’ve waited for you to say that,” he whispered into your hair, voice thick, shaking. “i thought… i thought you’d never feel the same. that i’d have to watch you love him and be happy without me. and i—i couldn’t. i couldn’t stand it.”

you held him just as tightly, letting yourself feel the flood of his desperation, his relief, his love, all the emotions he had buried for so long.

“i'm sorry for making you wait so long,” you whispered. he buried his face into your neck, inhaling you as if he could commit your scent to memory, and murmured against your skin, “i’ll never let you go. not ever. not after tonight. not ever again.”

and for the first time in years, he allowed himself to fully, completely, unabashedly feel it—all the love, the longing, the ache that had consumed him—because finally, finally, you were his too.

jeno watched from a distance, jun still wrapped tightly in his arms. he saw the way jaemin pulled you close, the way your hands stayed curled into his shirt like you were afraid he might disappear if you let go. he saw the way jaemin bent into you, protective, reverent, like loving you was something sacred he never wanted to mishandle.

and for the first time that night, jeno smiled. it wasn’t bitter nor was it jealousy. it was soft and full of understanding. for so long, jeno had carried the weight of knowing he had failed you—failed to protect the love you once had, failed to be the man you needed when it mattered most. seeing you now, held so carefully, so fiercely, something in his chest finally loosened.

you’re safe, he thought. really safe.

jaemin wasn’t trying to own you or save himself through you. he loved you quietly, deeply, the way jeno once wished he had known how to. the way you had always deserved.

jeno pressed a kiss to jun’s hair, blinking back the sting in his eyes.

“that’s your mum,” he whispered softly, more to himself than to his son. “and she’s loved right.”

he looked back at you one last time—your smile, finally free of the hurt he’d helped carve into you.

and he let you go.

not with regret, but with relief that you had found someone who could love you the way he never learned how to.

and jeno knew without a doubt, that you deserved nothing less.

two years later, the sunlight poured through the grand stained-glass windows of the chapel, casting fractured rainbows across the polished floor. the air was warm, heavy with the scent of roses and lilacs, and the gentle murmur of family and friends filled the room with life.

jeno stood quietly to the side, shoulders slightly hunched but eyes steady, watching. he watched you—his heart giving a quiet, tender ache—as you walked down the aisle in your flowing gown. your hair shimmered in the light, eyes bright, cheeks flushed with happiness, and a smile tugged at your lips that seemed to radiate a calm joy he had never thought he’d see again.

and yet, beneath that joy, he could see the way your gaze lingered for just a second, long enough for only him to know, as if tracing every line of a past you had both survived.

after the ceremony, when the last guests had smiled and clapped, you found your way to him. your dress brushed softly against the floor, the train trailing like a gentle echo of the life you had lived, and when you reached him, your eyes softened.

“jeno…” you whispered, voice hushed and trembling slightly, you took a breath, eyes glistening with the faintest shimmer of tears, and reached out to rest a hand lightly on his arm. “i want you to know… i have no regrets. none at all. everything we went through—the heartbreak, the fear, the nights when we thought we’d lose everything—it all brought me to this moment. and even now, standing here, marrying jaemin, living my life… i love you deeply. always. in the way i know you’ll love me too, the way only we could understand each other.”

jeno’s throat tightened. the hollow ache from old wounds opened just enough to sting, but there was no bitterness, only a quiet, profound sorrow that seemed to settle in his chest. “you deserve all this happiness y/n. you really do.”

you released him gently, turning as jaemin appeared beside you, hand outstretched, a soft smile playing on his lips. your eyes met jaemin’s, a spark of laughter and comfort in them, and you slipped into his hand as if it were always where you belonged.

in the years that followed, you, jaemin, chenle, and renjun moved to canada, opening your very own law firm. it was a quiet, bustling life, filled with late nights in the office poring over case files, laughter echoing through open-plan meeting rooms, and the soft clamor of phone calls blending into a rhythm that felt like home.

jun thrived in the new life. he grew tall and curious, taking a strong liking towards the work that you and jaemin are doing. mornings were spent biking along quiet streets, afternoons at the local park or library, evenings at the dinner table with stories spilling between bites of food. weekends were for laughter, building forts in the living room or snowball fights in the garden during winter, and the house always smelled faintly of cookies and freshly brewed coffee.

every night, after tucking jun into bed with one of his favorite bedtime stories or a soft song, jaemin would hand the tablet to him. jun’s eyes would light up the moment jeno appeared on the screen.

“daddy!” he’d shout, waving frantically as jeno’s face filled the screen, smiling despite the distance. jeno’s voice was always warm, patient, filled with the same love he had poured into your lives long ago. “hey buddy! how was your day?”

the conversations were filled with laughter, teasing, homework help, and little victories jun wanted to share. and though miles separated them, the bond between father and son remained unbroken. every three months, jeno made the trip to canada, and those visits were filled with hugs so tight they took your breath away, afternoons at the park, and evenings telling stories while jun sat cross-legged between you and him, soaking up every word.

you watched those visits quietly, heart full, understanding that jeno had found his place too. not as a rival, not as a ghost from the past, but as someone who loved jun unconditionally and respected the life you had built. he had become a quiet, steady presence in your world—a man who had learned to love without possession, to care without expectations.

and as you stood beside jaemin one evening, watching jun play in the garden with jeno’s laugh echoing through the video call tablet at your feet, you realised how far you had all come.

the sun was setting, casting long amber shadows across your backyard. jaemin’s hand found yours, fingers intertwining naturally, and he leaned down to press a soft kiss to your temple.

“we did good,” he murmured, voice low and content.

you smiled, eyes tracing jun’s joyful movements on the screen, then looking at jaemin, your heart swelling with a quiet, unshakable peace.

“we did,” you replied. “and we’re still going to do good. together.”

the sound of distant waves, the laughter of your son, the soft murmur of life around you—it was imperfect, messy, and real. and finally, it was enough.

because love had survived heartbreak, distance, fear, and chaos. it had survived everything.

and in this moment, surrounded by the people who mattered most, your heart could rest.

this was home.

and it was everything you could ever wish for.

// the end

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You stir when the bed dips, murmuring his name in that sleepy-soft voice that makes his cock twitch painfully against his zipper.

“Shh, baby,” he whispers, lips brushing your knee as he settles between your thighs. “Go back to sleep. Just need my dessert.”

He starts slow—god, so fucking slow—like he has all the time in the world. Mouth warm and lazy, kissing over the damp cotton first, breathing you in through the fabric until the panties are soaked twice over. Only then does he hook a finger under the gusset and tug it aside, humming at the sight of you make—swollen, glistening, already fluttering for him.

The first lick is a long, flat stripe from entrance to clit, deliberate, savoring. He groans like he’s tasting something forbidden and perfect, the sound rumbling straight into your core.

“Fuck… missed this all day,” he mumbles against you, voice thick with exhaustion and hunger. “Missed this pretty pussy waiting for me.”

His thumb settles over your clit, pressing in slow circles—just enough pressure to make your hips jerk—while his tongue pushes inside you, slow and filthy, curling like he’s trying to drink you dry. Every tiny reaction you give him—the gasp, the whimper, the way your thighs tremble on either side of his head—he catalogues it, stores it, uses it. He learns you like he learns constellations: reverent, obsessive, permanent.

Hours. He stays down there for hours.

Sometimes he pulls back just to watch his thumb work you, eyes heavy-lidded and dark, lips shiny with you. “Look at you leaking for me already… such a messy girl.” Then he dives back in, lips sealing around your clit in a tight, perfect “O,” sucking soft and steady while two fingers slide in to stroke that spot that makes your back arch clean off the bed.

You’re close—so close—when he suddenly changes.

It’s like a switch flips.

The lazy worship turns feral in a heartbeat. Tongue flicking fast and hard, thumb grinding rough circles, fingers curling and pumping with ruthless precision. The wet sounds are obscene—loud, sloppy, echoing in the quiet room. He growls against you, hips grinding into the mattress because he’s so hard it hurts, chasing his own edge just from the taste of you.

“Give it to me,” he rasps, voice wrecked. “Cum on my tongue—wanna feel you fall apart, baby, please—”

You shatter—sobbing his name, thighs clamping around his head, whole body shaking as he drinks down every pulse, every gush, licking you through it like he’ll die if he misses a single drop.

When the aftershocks fade, he doesn’t stop. Just slows again, gentle now, soothing, pressing sleepy kisses to your swollen folds, your inner thighs, the soft crease where leg meets hip. His lower face is drenched—chin, lips, even his nose glistening—and he doesn’t care. Wipes it off on your thigh and smiles, drowsy and satisfied.

“C’mere,” he murmurs, voice hoarse.

He gathers you close, pulling you into his chest, your back to his front, legs tangled. His cock is still hard against your ass, but he ignores it, nuzzling into your hair.

“Love you,” he whispers, lips brushing the shell of your ear. “Love how you taste… love how you sound you make when you come for me… love you in my sweater, in my bed…”

You feel him smile against your neck, hear the soft, contented hum as he finally lets sleep take him.

“Just needed my dessert,” he mumbles, already half-gone. “Best part of the whole damn day.”

And with your taste still on his tongue and your body limp in his arms, Xavier drifts off—happy, full, and utterly yours.

祁煜 ⛦ RAFAYEL !

Rafayel comes to you pouting.

You hear it before you see him— the dramatic sigh, the keys tossed onto the counter with theatrical flair, the soft thud of his shoes kicked off one by one.

“Cutie ignored me all day,” he announces to the empty living room, voice lilting like he’s wounded. “Left me to rot in that boring studio while you were out doing… whatever mysterious human things you do.”

You’re on the couch in nothing but his silk button-up—three buttons done, the rest hanging open) and a pair of lace panties he bought you “as a joke.” The joke’s on him; they’re already ruined.

He stops in the doorway, eyes narrowing, lips curling into that dangerous little smirk.

“Oh. Look who decided to dress up like a present.”

You don’t even get to answer before he’s on you, knees hitting the rug, hands sliding up your thighs and spreading them wide like he’s unveiling a masterpiece.

“Missed this pretty cunt,” he murmurs, voice velvet and venom. “Bet it missed me too, hm?”

He starts slow, cruelly slow. Kisses everywhere except where you need him: soft presses along the crease of your thigh, the delicate skin just above your clit, the lace edge of your panties. Every time you twitch toward his mouth he pulls back, laughing under his breath.

“Rafayel—”

“Shh. Good art takes time, baby.”

He drags the flat of his tongue over the soaked fabric once, just once, then blows a cool stream of air right through it. Your hips jerk; he pins them down with one hand like it’s nothing.

“Sensitive tonight? Cute.”

Finally, finally, he tugs the lace aside with his teeth. The first real touch is just his lips: plush, warm, closing over your folds in a slow, open-mouthed kiss. He makes out with your pussy the way he kisses you when he’s trying to ruin your lipstick: deep, lazy, filthy, lips sliding and catching and sucking like he’s trying to drink you through them. A soft, wet sound every time he pulls away and dives back in.

You feel it in your spine.

He hums some annoying pop song that’s been stuck in his head for three days, the vibration rolling straight into your clit. Your hand flies to his hair on instinct.

“Yes—fuck—pull it,” he breathes against you, tongue flicking out to trace your entrance. “Use me, cutie, c’mon.”

You do. You fist those soft violet strands and shove his face exactly where you want it. He moans like you just gave him a gift, nose bumping your clit, rubbing it in messy circles until it’s shiny with you. Then he pulls back just far enough to spit, once, twice, watching it drip down your folds with half-lidded eyes.

“Pretty,” he whispers, and seals his mouth over you again.

He edges you twice. Brings you right to the cliff with that wicked mouth and those long artist’s fingers curling inside you, then stops, blowing cool air over your throbbing clit until you’re shaking and cursing his name. The third time you sob, actually sob, he laughs softly and gives in.

“Alright, alright. Greedy baby.”

And then he doesn’t stop.

He sucks your clit between those sinful lips and flutters his tongue so fast your vision whites out. Fingers scissoring, stroking, spitting again just to hear the wet sound when he pumps them back in. You come with his name cracked in half on your tongue, thighs clamping around his ears, and he just groans like he’s the one unraveling, drinking every pulse like it’s paint and he’s starving.

You’re still trembling through the aftershocks when he starts again.

Second orgasm. Third. Fourth. By the fifth you’re crying, oversensitive, pushing weakly at his forehead while he licks you open like he’ll never get enough.

“R-Raf—please—too much—”

He pulls off just long enough to flash you a lazy, smug grin, lips swollen pink, chin dripping, eyes glassy with lust.

“One more,” he coos, voice hoarse. “You can give me one more, can’t you? For your poor neglected boyfriend who missed you all day?”

He waits until your hand falls limp against the cushion, until your body going soft and trusting again.

Then he dives back in.

By the time he finally lets you breathe, you’re boneless, tears drying on your cheeks, his silk shirt twisted around your waist. He crawls up your body, kisses you slow and deep so you taste yourself all over his tongue, and smiles against your lips.

“Best welcome-home ever,” he whispers, nipping your bottom lip. “Next time leave the panties off. Save me thirty whole seconds.”

You’re too wrecked to even roll your eyes.

He just laughs, tucks you into his chest, and hums that stupid song again, content, smug, and absolutely drenched in you.

黎深 ⛦ ZAYNE !

You come home dragging your feet, shoulders knotted, temples throbbing from twelve straight hours of deadlines and idiots. Zayne is already there—white coat traded for a charcoal sweater, sleeves pushed to the elbows, glasses low on his nose while he reviews charts on the couch. He glances up once and immediately closes the tablet.

“Bed. Now,” he says, voice calm, clinical, final. “You’re presenting with acute sympathetic overdrive. Heart rate elevated, trapezius spasming, cortisol through the roof.”

You groan. “I’m fine—”

“You’re not.” He stands, towering, gentle but immovable. “Doctor’s orders: you need to relieve yourself properly. Thoroughly.”

You flop face-first onto the mattress still in your work clothes. He follows, fingers already working the buttons of your blouse with surgical precision.

“And you?” you mumble into the pillow. “You pulled a double shift yesterday. You must be just as tense.”

A low hum behind you. “I am. Which is why we’re going to treat both of us at once. Efficiency, darling.”

Before you can ask what that means, he’s sliding your skirt and panties off in one smooth motion, lifting you like you weigh nothing, settling on his back in the center of the bed. His cock is already hard against his slacks—thick, flushed, curving slightly toward his stomach when he frees it. He pats his chest.

“Straddle me. Face down.”

You know the position. You love the position—sixty-nine. Still, your thighs shake as you climb over him, knees bracketing his ribs, hands bracing on either side of his hips. He guides you back until your soaked cunt hovers an inch above his mouth.

“Good girl. Now lower yourself. Let me take care of you.”

The first touch of his tongue is precise—one long, deliberate lick from entrance to clit that makes your arms buckle. He groans, deep and satisfied, hands clamping on your hips to pull you flush against his face.

“Labia minora engorged,” he murmurs, voice muffled, vibrating straight into your clit. “Clitoral hood retracted. Perfect autonomic response.”

You whimper around the head of his cock as you sink down, lips stretching wide. He’s thick, hot, pulsing against your tongue, and the taste of him—clean skin, faint salt, pure Zayne—makes you dizzy.

He starts slow, academic, like he’s mapping you. Tongue tracing every fold, cataloguing every twitch.

“The levator ani is fluttering beautifully,” he says, breath ghosting over your clit. “Pelvic floor tension releasing already. Excellent.”

Then his fingers slide in—two at once, no resistance because you’re dripping for him—and crook upward in that cruel, perfect angle that hits your front wall dead-on. His mouth seals over your clit, sucking in steady pulses while his fingers pump slow, deep, relentless.

You choke on his cock, eyes watering, throat working to take him deeper. He rewards you with a throaty moan that you feel in your spine.

“Sexual release triggers oxytocin and prolactin cascade,” he lectures between licks, voice wrecked now. “Reduces serum cortisol by up to thirty percent. You’re going to come for me at least three times. Minimum therapeutic dose.”

You try to pull off to breathe and he growls, hips flexing up, fucking shallowly into your mouth.

“No. Stay. Breathe through your nose. Relax your soft palate—yes—like that.”

His fingers speed up, scissoring, curling, while his tongue flicks your clit in tight, merciless circles. You come the first time with a muffled scream around his cock, thighs clamping on his head, entire body seizing. He doesn’t stop —just switches to soft, soothing licks while you ride it out, murmuring praise against your folds.

“First orgasm achieved. Heart rate one-thirty and climbing. Preparing second.”

The second hits harder, faster, because he adds a third finger and sucks your clit like he’s trying to leave a bruise. You sob around him, tears streaking into his trimmed hair, hips grinding helplessly.

He’s leaking steadily now, precome painting your tongue, cock jerking every time you swallow around him. You can feel him getting close—his thighs tensing under your hands, breath ragged against your cunt.

“Cum with me,” he orders, voice cracking for the first time. “Third one. Now.”

He curls his fingers hard, tongue lashing your clit without mercy, and you shatter again—vision whiting out, whole body locking up. The clench of your throat around his cock drags him over with you; he spills hot and thick down your throat with a broken groan, hips stuttering, fingers buried to the knuckle inside you while he licks you through both climaxes like he’ll never get enough.

When it’s over you collapse forward, cheek against his thigh, panting. He gently maneuvers you off him, turns you around, gathers you close. His face is flushed, lips swollen and shining with you, glasses fogged and crooked. He kisses your temple, voice soft again.

“Cortisol levels should be negligible now,” he whispers. “Sleep. I’ll run a warm bath in twenty minutes. Hydration and electrolytes next.”

You laugh, hoarse and wrecked. “You’re such a nerd.”

He hums, already half-asleep, arms locked around you like steel bands.

“And you’re cured,” he murmurs against your hair. “For tonight, at least.”

秦彻 ⛦ SYLUS !

Sylus is sprawled on the couch in nothing but low-slung grey sweatpants and that infuriating little smirk, scarlet eyes flicking across the tablet in his hand like the numbers on the screen are more interesting than you.

You’re curled against his side, wearing his black dress shirt and literally nothing else, pretending to scroll on your phone. Except you’re not pretending very well. Your gaze keeps sliding to the sharp, arrogant line of his nose, the way it cuts through the dim light like it was sculpted for sin.

The words slip out before you can stop them.

“Your nose looks so rideable.”

Silence.

Then the tablet lowers, slow and deliberate. Those crimson eyes lock onto you, amusement and pure danger swirling together.

“Come again, sweetie?”

Heat floods your face. You slap a hand over your mouth, mortified, but it’s too late. The smirk spreads, wicked and slow.

“Didn’t know my kitten was so obsessed with my nose,” he drawls, voice velvet and smoke. “How long have you been thinking about grinding that pretty little cunt all over it, hm?”

You squeak. Actually squeak.

He tosses the tablet aside, stands in one fluid motion, and scoops you up like you weigh nothing. Two strides and you’re in his bedroom, the city glittering through floor-to-ceiling windows behind the massive bed.

Sylus drops onto his back, arms folded behind his head, looking like a king waiting for tribute.

“Well?” He arches one brow. “Ride it, then. Ride until you’re satisfied, kitten. I’ve got all night.”

Your thighs are trembling before you even straddle his chest. He watches, hungry, as you crawl forward, knees settling on either side of his head. The moment your slick folds brush the bridge of his nose he inhales, deep and filthy, eyes fluttering half-shut.

“Fuck,” he breathes. “You’re already dripping for me. Greedy girl.”

You sink down slowly, gasping at the first contact (his nose is perfect, straight and firm, slotting right between your lips, the tip nudging your clit). The groan he lets out vibrates through your entire body.

“Move,” he orders, voice rough. “Use me.”

You do.

It starts tentative—little rolls of your hips, testing, savoring, but his big hands slide up to grip your ass, spreading you wider, guiding you harder, faster. Every forward drag smears your wetness along the sharp ridge of his nose; every backward glide has the tip bumping your clit so perfectly your vision sparks.

“That’s it,” he growls against you, tongue flicking out to lap at your entrance between breaths. “Fuck my face exactly how you want. Make a mess.”

You lose it.

Hands flying to the headboard, you start riding him in earnest—hips snapping, thighs burning, tits bouncing under the open shirt. His tongue spears inside you every time you glide back, nose grinding your clit mercilessly when you rock forward. The room fills with wet, obscene sounds and your broken moans echoing moans of his name.

“Sylus—oh god—right there—”

He laughs, dark and filthy, the sound muffled against your cunt. “Not God, sweetie. Just your very devoted boyfriend letting you ruin his face.”

You’re dripping everywhere—down his nose, his cheeks, his chin, pooling in the hollow of his throat. He drinks it like wine, tongue thrusting deep, nose rubbing hard circles until your legs start shaking uncontrollably.

“Close,” you sob, nails scraping the headboard. “Sylus, I’m—”

“Do it,” he snarls, fingers digging bruises into your ass, forcing you to ride faster. “Come all over my fucking face. Mark me up, kitten. Want to smell you for days.”

The orgasm slams into you so hard you nearly collapse. Your whole body locks, a silent scream tearing from your throat as you gush against his mouth, hips jerking helplessly while he keeps licking, keeps rubbing keeps you riding the peak until you’re crying from overstimulation.

When the tremors finally fade, you try to lift off, legs jelly. His arms lock around your thighs like steel.

“Where do you think you’re going?” he rasps, voice hoarse, face absolutely drenched and gleaming. “I said until you’re satisfied. We’re nowhere near done.”

You whimper, because you’re still pulsing, still empty and aching in the best way.

He grins up at you, wicked and adoring, nose shiny with you, lips swollen and red.

“Round two, sweetie. And this time I’m setting the pace.”

He flips you effortlessly, pinning your thighs open with his broad shoulders, and dives back in like a man possessed.

You’re not leaving that bed until the sun comes up—and neither is the smug, perfect, rideable nose that started it all.

夏以昼 ⛦ CALEB !

You can’t even remember how you got here.

One minute you were storming into Caleb’s room, cheeks burning with second-hand shame embarassment—finding your favorite pair of panties balled up under his pillow like some dirty little secret. The next, he was on his knees in front of you, sunshine smile gone, pupils blown wide, begging in that cracked, desperate voice you’d never heard from him before.

“I’m sorry, pipsqueak—fuck, I’m so sorry, I just—your smell—”

And now it’s been hours.

Hours of him on his knees between your spread thighs, face shoved into the soaked cotton of the panties you didn’t even bother taking off. Hours of his tongue dragging slow, worshipful stripes over the fabric, nose buried so deep he’s practically suffocating himself in you. Hours of him whining like a kicked puppy every time you let him up for air.

You’ve got one leg hooked over his shoulder, knee locked around the back of his neck, heel digging into his spine to keep him exactly where you want him. His hands are fisted in the sheets because you threatened to stop everything if he touched himself.

“Please,” he mumbles again, voice muffled and wet against your crotch. “Please, I’m sorry—”

“Please what, huh?” You tug his hair hard enough to make him gasp, forcing his red-rimmed eyes up to yours. “You thought you’d just get away with stealing my panties like some gross little pervert? Look at you now.”

A broken whimper spills out of him. His hips jerk forward involuntarily, grinding against nothing, and you feel the wet spot on his sweatpants brush your ankle.

You laugh, mean and sweet. “Licking my cunt through my own panties like a dog. Pathetic.”

He sobs—actually sobs, hot breath fanning over the soaked fabric. His cock is outlined obscenely in his pants, flushed angry red at the tip, a steady drip of precome darkening the grey cotton. When his hand twitches toward it you kick it away with your free foot.

“Oh no no no. This is a punishment, remember? You don’t get to touch that filthy cock of your’s.”

Caleb’s whole body shakes. He leans forward again without being told, tongue flattening against the gusset, licking broad, desperate stripes like he’s trying to drink you through the barrier. You reward him with a slow roll of your hips, grinding your clit against the bridge of his nose, and he moans like he’s the one coming undone.

“You humiliated me, Caleb,” you sigh, threading fingers through his hair just to yank harder. “Ruined everything we had. Our friendship, everything. Least you can do is feel a fraction of it.”

You glance down and, oh. There’s a fresh, darker patch spreading at the front of his sweats. He came just from this. Just from tasting you through cotton and being called a pervert.

You laugh again, delighted and cruel. “Aww, did you just come in your pants? Already?”

He whimpers, nodding frantically, hips still twitching through the aftershocks.

“Poor baby,” you coo, and finally, finally hook your thumbs into the waistband of your ruined panties. “Guess I’ll be nice—ah!—wait, wait—ahhh, fuck!”

The second the fabric is pushed aside Caleb snaps.

Hands shoot up to grip your thighs hard enough to bruise, spreading you open like he’s starving. There’s a sharp rip as he tears the panties clean in half, and then his mouth is on you, no hesitation, no teasing, just pure, sloppy desperation.

He buries his face so deep his nose is flush against your clit, shaking his head side to side to coat himself in you. Tongue plunging inside, curling, licking up every drop like it’s the first time he’s ever tasted anything good in his life. The noises are obscene, wet, animal, his moans vibrating straight into your core.

You cry out, back arching, fingers tightening in his hair until he whines. He doesn’t care. He’s humping your leg now, cock still hard and leaking through his soaked sweats, dragging himself against your leg like he can’t help it. You twitch at the sheer size of it, the feeling of it dragging against your skin through his pants.

“F-fuck—Caleb—”

He pulls back just long enough to gasp, “Taste so fucking good, pipsqueak, please don’t stop, please—”

Then he’s back, sucking your clit between his lips, tongue flicking fast and messy while his hips rut helplessly against your calf. You can feel how big he is even through the fabric, thick and ridiculous, and the thought alone makes you clench around nothing.

Your thighs start shaking. You’re close, so close, and he can tell because he doubles down, licking into you like he’s trying to crawl inside and never leave.

When you come it’s sudden and brutal, a full-body spasm that has you yanking his hair hard enough to hurt. He moans like it’s the best thing that’s ever happened to him, drinking you down in greedy gulps, hips stuttering as he spills again in his pants just from the taste of you cuming on his tongue.

When the haze clears you’re both panting. He’s still on his knees, face shiny and wrecked, eyes glassy with devotion and shame.

You loosen your grip in his hair, petting gently now.

“Friendship’s not the only thing ruined,” you whisper, breathless.

Caleb just smiles, small and sheepish and utterly fucked-out. “Good,” he rasps, voice raw. “Was getting tired of pretending anyway.”