pyuddings 𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅

yeosang

now that i’m thinking about it, yeosang might be #1…..

he’s also a really calm person

he loves the idea of things just being slow and romantic

he’s a big softie imo

very careful with you, always tending to your every need

he’s always ALWAYSSSSSS checking on you during sex

he treats you like you’re made of glass almost

he’s always whispering in your ear, “i’m right here baby” WHAAAATTTTT?! i need him

yunho

yk i was confused as to where i should put yunho but i think this is a good place

it’s not that he’s not into rough sex, he just prefers the soft, loving kind

such a gentleman OUUUUU he like that vanilla stuff

and yunho gives that like… deep, intoxicating slow sex idk if that makes sense

he’s the type to be so deep in you while like… praising you for doing the most mundane things

“my pretty girl, you do it all don’t you? always making dinner, taking care of our home,” hello im just doing adult things

he’s a sweetheart

seonghwa

putting hwa in the middle bc 🌚 well

it’s really a gamble with him

some nights you might get it rough and nasty

and others, he just wants to hold you in his arms while also putting you through the mattress (lovingly)

it really just depends on the day

but he’s sweet :( he loves the soft sex, he’s a big softie

he likes to go slow most times and just worship your body

he’s crazy abt you girl idk

wooyoung

almost put san here but i think this is good placement for woo

it also depends for him

he also lovessss taking his time but then again.. that’s an impatient man 😭

sometimes he just wants to put it DOWNNNN honey

it gets too good for him to be soft sorryyyy

san

ngl san really only do that soft shit when he’s tipsy and needy

you’re GONNA get your back blown with him i’m sorry

he might take it slow if you ask him to or if he gets tired yk a little grind of the hip never hurt nobody

but he’s.. probably not going soft half of the time

hongjoong

ALMOST PUT HIM AT TGE BOTTOM LMFAOOOOO

omg this man … this is a tough topic for me stop

he loves to just rough you upppp sometimes idk

he will leave the cooch a little sore icl

doesn’t really do the soft stuff unlesssss its morning sex

soft sex with him is fire tho he’s so cute

otherwise, he’s #poundingthat

mingi

do i really have to explain tho.. like

he lovesss to be rough like even when you’re on top

he needs to see you bouncing on datttt

no joke, he’s putting you through the mattress. that’s a promise.

everyone seems restless without him bossing them around. the course of the ship was set, and the crew had enough supplies to get to the next dock. it was now just a waiting game, if luck was on your side. the marines were always a worry in the back of your mind. after all, your bounties had nearly quadrupled from the last posters to the current ones.

it only takes half an hour to get through the area of unforgiving waves to calm waters. the sky is still gloomy but no seawater makes it onto the deck, no man is knocked over by the force of the wind.

you’re idling on the deck, leaning over the railing to look down at the water. it isn’t the clear kind you can see through to greet the sealife. but it’s stunning, nonetheless, in all its mystery.

“hey,” you hear from beside you, a heavy arm draping onto your shoulders. “you’re antsy. you keep pulling at your shirt.”

mingi’s eyes greet you as your turn, but you make no move to shy away from his touch. if anything, you lean into it. “there’s nothing else to do.”

a hum rumbles in his chest, you feel it on the side of your head, “yeah. it’s quiet up here. i feel like everyone’s nervous. i don’t think most of the crew has ever gone through one of captain’s moods.”

you glance at the crew behind you. new, friendly faces. some of them you still mixed up with each other. “it’s been a while since he locked himself up like that. seonghwa won’t say what it’s about.”

mingi shrugs, “same old. a new map he got his hands on. some intel that might change our course. maybe—”

“—mingi, have some respect,” a command sounds from a few feet away, the usual sweetness of seonghwa’s voice sharpened around the edges.

the man straightens up immediately, pulling his arm back to his side before taking a slow step back and away from you. the heavy thuds of his boots on the floor drown out the small inhale he takes.

you take a step back as well, turning around fully to see everyone standing up with their shoulders squared, breaths bated.

hongjoong is already looking at you.

the crew doesn’t know where to set their eyes. some glance between their captain and you. others look straight down, unwilling to be caught staring by either.

your spine prickles with heat as the stare stretches on for a long moment, and you feel your breath shallowing in anticipation.

hongjoong’s eyes move from yours to scan over mingi as he speaks, “a word, please.”

mingi takes a careful step forward, but hongjoong’s eyes narrow, making the former stop dead in his tracks.

“not you. i’m talking to my gunner.”

the steel at your hip feels weirdly heavy as he speaks. he never referred to you by your role like that. you step forward regardless, almost expecting him to change his mind. but he doesn’t, allowing you to walk past him before following you down.

as soon as the door to his room closes behind him, he’s speaking.

“what the fuck was that?”

you turn on your heel to face him, voice hushed to encourage him to lower his tone, “what was what?”

an amused scoff pushes through his lips, “i went up to announce— fuck, it doesn’t even matter. i stay in for a few days and you start letting the crew touch you like that?”

“it was a side hug—”

“don’t—” he takes a step forward, searching your features, “your head was resting against his shoulder.”

“i didn’t realize it would bother you so much,” you shrug, looking off to the side.

he looks at you like you’ve just revealed yourself as a marine. “would you have let him, had i been there?”

“no.”

“then you knew it would bother me.”

you open your mouth to counter, but you’re left with nothing to say. hongjoong takes that as an opportunity to crowd you against a wall, pressing his lips to yours without any room for hesitation.

the kiss is deep and desperate, days worth of passion poured into it as he unbuttons your shirt with little precision. he pulls back, opting to nip at your jaw and neck as his fingers work to get your clothes off you in record time.

he steps back, takes his own shirt off and throws it next to yours on the floor. he grabs a quilt from his cot and throws it on the floor behind himself before pulling you down with him.

he leaves a searing kiss on your lips before impatiently turning you onto your back, tossing your belt and steel weapon to the side, and tugging your pants off of you, “how long have you been waiting?”

“what do you mean?”

his eyes flicker up to yours, and you almost shy away from the intensity, “your panties are soaked. i can fucking smell you.”

your nails dig into your palms, trying to push yourself to answer, “days. but i didn’t wanna bother you.”

“you could’ve asked me, instead of batting your eyelashes at mingi. you think he knows what to do with you?”

you avoid the second question, wincing as he pushes your legs apart almost painfully, “you said you wanted to be left alone.”

“when do any of my rules apply to you?” he asks, breath fanning across the inside of your thighs. he sits up on his knees, looking down at you, “did you think i’d say no? call you a whore?”

the air in your lungs feels thick as you watch him attentively, nearly forgetting he was expecting an answer before shaking your head.

“words,” he says firmly, three fingers coming down with a smack, right against your clit.

“no,” you gasp out, brows pinching at the feeling, “no, but i deserve it.”

a small smile pulls at his lips as he watches the wet patch on your panties darken, “you don’t get to decide that. i do.”

he bends at the waist, tongue sticking out to lick a firm stripe over your underwear. his bottom row of teeth grazes your clit ever so slightly and you moan unashamedly at the feeling.

“that’s it,” his fingers hook around the middle of your underwear before pulling it to the side, “you gonna let me in?”

you nearly answer him with an enthusiastic nod, but the stinging feeling between your legs reminds you of his expectations. “yes.”

hongjoong spit-covered lips spread over his straight teeth, a satisfied hum settling in the air before he’s freeing himself, pants tugged halfway down his thighs. “there’s my girl.”

you lie back, head settled over the quilt as you wait, mouth watering at the sight before you. he doesn’t leave you hanging for long, his length dragging against you slowly before he guides himself into you.

you cover your mouth to no avail, the sudden sensation of him fully sheathed too much to bear. the floor creaks under your bodies as he begins thrusting into you, the soft fabric haphazardly thrown beneath you wrinkling with all the movement. but hongjoong is laser focused, pressing one of your legs back against your chest and raising the other over his shoulder.

he rewards you with a kiss against your calf when you hold your own legs near your chest, one of his free hands now messily rubbing against your clit while the other holds your jaw to keep your eyes on him.

"slow down—" you protest half-heartedly, but the man between your legs doesn't abide by your request, a droplet of sweat dripping down his sharp jaw and landing on your stomach.

his eyes follow its trail down your navel hungrily, his calloused hand releases your jaw to press on your lower abdomen, "feel me right here, baby? hm? talk to me, fuck, wanna hear you.”

"yeah," you repeat desperately, legs threatening to kick with the new sensation, "cap'n, i'm gonna cum too quick.”

the name makes his head fuzzy and he moans, putting all his focus into slowing down his thrusts, "uh-uh, not yet."

he rips his hand away from your clit and watches with a lopsided grin as your eyes snap open and land on him. you gulp down a complaint, knowing better than to talk back now, "but, i just... wanted your attention."

he leans down, silky hair grazing your skin with the new angle. he nudges his nose against your jawline, nipping softly at the skin there, "i know. this is a reminder."

you arch into him, your chest bumping against his. "joong, i didn't mean to..." you're cut off by a moan when he snakes a hand down to continue playing with your clit, his thick rings grazing your skin deliciously, "i didn't mean to, i promise."

"no?" he asks, unconvinced by your words, "didn't mean to? that's funny."

his streak of jealousy bleeds through his questioning and you give into it, "cause you were ignoring me."

you feel the sting of another slap against your cunt and your body shudders at the conflicting pain, eyes rolling back at the warm feeling.

"so your solution is to brush up against another crew member?" he quips almost amusedly, enjoying the build up of your noises before pulling his hand away from your arousal and tapping his fingers on your bottom lip.

you open up automatically, answering with a muffled groan around his digits. he looks at you, lovestruck but unwilling to relent, "should've used your words and told me you were feeling neglected. i would've made time for you, baby. i always do.”

you wrap your tongue around his middle and ring fingers, sucking them into your mouth as if your life depended on it.

when he finally catches the tears welling up in your eyes, he feels himself twitch, a barely audible moan tumbling from his glistening lips, "fuck, are you gonna cry?"

the humiliation makes even more tears prick at your eyes, and he removes his hand from your mouth to wrap around your throat and pull you in for a sloppy kiss. the exchange is all spit and teeth, his tongue exploring your mouth as if he doesn't know how to do anything but that. you move your hips against his and he allows you to, biting down softly on your bottom lip as a warning.

he's dazed when you pull apart, his eyebrows knitting together as he watches hot tears spill down your cheeks. he's licks them up faster than you can even register what he's doing, the saltiness of the fluid making his eyes screw shut. "are you sorry?" he whispers against the shell of your ear, and you think you hear a whine mixing into his tone.

"it won't happen again," you assure him, your arms wrapping around his neck and heels pushing against his backside to push him into you, "j— captain, please. they’ve probably all heard us by now, they know who i belong to, please."

hot sparks of desire thrum in his chest as call yourself his, and he presses softly against the sides of your neck, "yeah? is that what you wanted? other people to hear this?"

in your fogged mind, you barely capture his words, nodding enthusiastically to anything he says, "please, i just want you."

he pulls you even closer, roughly tugging your legs to press himself into you at a new angle. he hears the commotion on the deck above and can't bring himself to care in the slightest when you breathlessly moan his name.

"i want you too. love having you like this," he rambles as he builds up his thrusts again, "so fuckin' wet for me. you're dripping all over yourself.”

you throw your head back as his pelvis brushes against your clit with every pointed thrust. he continues, "where do you want me, baby?"

"inside," you plead, fighting against the urge to close your legs at the overpowering force of your impending climax, "i need it."

a strained whine rips spills from his throat in response, not questioning your answer as he begins to draw tight circles around your pulsing clit.

your grip on his forearms tightens as stars rise in your vision, finishing with a silent plea of his name. watching you tips him over the edge, his gaze focusing on your face as he follows your instruction to finish inside you.

you both reach your highs with heaving chests and restless hips, meeting each other's desperate thrusts halfway. when you start complaining, he pulls out, dropping his forehead on your stomach to regain his strength.

a few moments pass before you hear a hesitant knock on the door and a deep voice, "uh, sir, seonghwa says you’re needed in the comms room."

you immediately recognize the voice as mingi’s, and your dazed smile drops. hongjoong looks up at you with an amused grin at the coincidence, his voice hushed against your skin, "you gonna answer or not?"

you gulp down your embarrassment, trying to ignore the open-mouthed kisses your captain is leaving just under your belly button, "he'll be right out, mingi, thank... you."

"no rush. yeah, we can, uh, we can wait. yeah,” you hear from the other side of the door, the baritone of your friend's voice wavering slightly.

you feel a slight nibble just over the bone of your hip, a satisfied smile on hongjoong's face as he straightens up. he watches you clench around nothing, his eyes following the mix of your arousal traveling down your bottom, “you heard him. let’s keep him waiting just a little longer.”

It wasn't unusual for Jaehyun to go a day or two without texting. You both had busy lives, you with band rehearsals and him with football practice, so you understood. Whenever he had time, he always came back to you. That was how your relationship worked: comfortable, intact, and especially intimate when you finally got to be alone together.

You never doubted him. He always reassured you so well.

Until now.

It had been a full week since the last time you actually spoke to him in person. No late-night visits to your dorm, no sneaking in through your window with that boyish grin. Just short, dry texts. And every time you tried calling him, he would pick up only to say he was "too busy with practice" and hang up after a minute.

Something felt... off.

You tried to shrug it off at first. Jaehyun was probably just exhausted from practice. You told yourself he'd text soon, that he just needed some time to himself. Three days ago, he had sent a short message saying he was going back to his father's house for a while and wouldn't be around campus. You understand.

But that was three days ago.

Now it had been two full weeks since you last saw him in person. Two weeks of dry, replies and calls that ended within a minute. The uneasy feeling in your chest grew heavier, tightening around your throat like a chokehold.

You weren't used to this. You weren't used to doubting him.

Lucky for you, you actually knew his father—Kim Hongjoong.

He was a genuine, warm man. A single father of three who somehow still looked like he belonged on a magazine cover. At 42, Hongjoong could easily pass for someone in his early thirties. Tall, muscular, with sharp, refined features and that same devastating smile Jaehyun inherited. He was kind, attentive, and had a quiet confidence that always made the air feel a little thicker whenever he was around.

If he wasn't your boyfriend's father... well, you wouldn't have let yourself think about it.

But right now, worry was winning over everything else.

You pulled out your phone and quickly typed a message to him.

You: Hi, Mr. Kim. Sorry to bother you. I haven't heard from Jaehyun properly in almost two weeks. He mentioned he was going home a few days ago. Is everything okay? Do you know where he is?

You hit send and stared at the screen, nerves twisting in your stomach. The party noise faded into the background as you waited.

Not even a minute later, your phone vibrated.

Hongjoong: Hey sweetheart. Jaehyun isn't home right now. He said he'll be coming next week. I'm not sure why he told you he was already here...

Your stomach dropped.

He lied.

Jaehyun lied to you.

He never lied to you. Does he?

But now the doubt was creeping in, loud and ugly. Jaehyun had lied. He told you he was going home when he clearly wasn't. Why? The question twisted uncomfortably in your chest, and the fact that you couldn't even confront him made it worse. He was completely missing in action. You typed back with slightly shaky fingers.

You: Oh. I see. Thank you, Mr. Kim. If he comes home, please tell him to message me. Thank you. Hongjoong: Of course, darling. Take care of yourself, yeah? And visit here sometimes, whenever you can.

You couldn't help but smile softly at his reply. Even through text, Hongjoong's warmth came through so easily. He really was such a sweet man, a genuinely good father. The kind of man who made you feel cared for with just a few words. For a moment, the heavy weight in your chest felt a little lighter.

You slipped your phone back into your pocket and let out a long breath, trying to push the uncomfortable thoughts about Jaehyun to the back of your mind.

You took a deep breath, trying to steady the uneasy feeling twisting in your chest.

If Jaehyun wasn't at his father's house like he claimed, then he was probably just hiding in his dorm. That had to be it. Tomorrow, you decided, you would go see him. You'd look him in the eyes and ask what the fuck was actually going on.

The next day came by so quickly.

You baked his favorite cake. Chocolate with extra frosting, hoping it would soften whatever conversation was about to happen. With the cake box in one hand and your spare key in the other, you stood in front of Jaehyun's dorm door, heart beating heavily.

You took a deep breath and unlocked the door quietly.

The moment you stepped inside, your stomach dropped. Loud, breathy female moans filled the entire dorm. The sound was unmistakable. High-pitched, needy, and very real.

He's probably just watching porn, you told yourself, trying to stay calm. He does that sometimes when he's stressed...

But something felt wrong. You walked down the short hallway, cake still in your hands, and slowly pushed open the door to his bedroom.

The sight hit you like a truck.

Jaehyun was lying on his back in the middle of the bed, completely naked. A girl you didn't recognize was on top of him, riding him hard, her head thrown back in pleasure as she moaned loudly. His hands were gripping her ass, guiding her movements while he groaned beneath her.

For a few painful seconds, you just stood there frozen, cake box trembling slightly in your hands.

Jaehyun's eyes suddenly snapped open and locked onto yours. His face went pale.

"Baby—?!" he choked out, voice hoarse. The girl on top of him let out a startled yelp and quickly tried to cover herself, but it was too late. You had already seen everything.

The cake suddenly felt heavy in your arms. The sweet smell that used to comfort you now turned your stomach. All the late replies. All the sudden "practices." All the lies about going home.

This is why.

"Kim Jaehyun! What the fuck!?"

The cake box slipped from your fingers and hit the floor with a dull thud. For a split second, everything was silent except for the girl's heavy breathing. Then your blood boils.

You didn't scream. You didn't cry. Instead, you strode forward with long, confident steps, that signature domineering aura radiating off you like ice.

The girl barely had time to react before your hand shot out. You grabbed a fistful of her hair and yanked her off Jaehyun with one powerful pull. She screamed as she tumbled sideways onto the mattress.

"Get the fuck off him," you said coldly, voice low but sharp enough to cut glass. She scrambled away from you, eyes wide with shock, trying to cover her naked body with her hands. Jaehyun sat up quickly, face pale and panicked.

"Babe— wait, it's not— I can explain—"

"Explain?" You let out a bitter laugh, still holding the girl's hair tightly in your grip as you glared down at him. "You lied to me for two weeks just so you could fuck someone behind my back?"

The girl whimpered as you finally released her hair with a rough shove. She quickly grabbed her clothes and ran out of the room like her life depended on it, slamming the door behind her.

Now it was just you and Jaehyun. He looked pathetic, naked, flushed, dick still hard and glistening from another girl's pussy. The sight made your stomach turn.

You stood tall at the foot of the bed, arms crossed, looking down at him like he was nothing more than a disappointing subordinate who just ruined the entire performance.

"Two weeks, Jaehyun," you said, voice dangerously calm. "Two fucking weeks of 'I'm busy' and 'I'm at my dad's'. And this is what you were doing?"

Jaehyun's eyes widened in panic. He scrambled off the bed, still naked, and lunged forward, grabbing your wrist tightly.

"Babe, wait— please, just listen to me! It's not what it looks like, I swear! She doesn't mean anything, it was just— fuck, it was a mistake—"

You felt his grip on your wrist like fire.

With a sharp, powerful yank, you shoved him off you. Jaehyun stumbled back, nearly losing his balance.

"Don't you fucking lay your filthy hands on me!" you hissed, voice dripping with venom. "A mistake? You lied to me for two whole weeks so you could fuck some random bitch behind my back and you call that a mistake?!"

Your chest heaved with rage. Your eyes blurred as tears pooled on your eyelids, making Jaehyun shrink under your glare.

"We're done," you said coldly, staring straight into his eyes. "Don't ever call me. Don't text me. Don't even look at me. Fuck off, Jaehyun."

You turned on your heels, not even sparing the fallen chocolate cake on the floor a second glance, and walked out of his room. The sound of your footsteps echoed down the hallway as you slammed the dorm door behind you with a loud bang.

Tears burned in your eyes the moment you stepped outside, but you refused to let them fall. Not here. Not for him. You were done.

For the next week, Jaehyun wouldn't leave you alone.

He texted and called nonstop, even after you blocked him on everything. He showed up outside your classes, your band practice, and your dorm. Every time he tried to approach you, your friends were right there, ready to throw punches and shield you like bodyguards. They cursed him out and dragged you away before he could get close.

You stayed strong on the outside, but the betrayal still stung.

By the start of the second week, you thought it was finally dying down. Until one afternoon.

You had just finished band practice and were walking out of the campus gate when a girl stepped in front of you. It was her. The girl you had pulled off Jaehyun that day. She looked nervous, eyes red like she'd been crying.

"Can we talk?" she asked quietly. "Please... just for a minute."

You almost walked past her, but something in her expression made you stop. You crossed your arms, staring her down.

"Fine. Talk."

She took a shaky breath.

"I'm so sorry... I had no idea you existed. Jaehyun told me he was single the entire time. We'd been seeing each other for almost a month. He said he didn't have a girlfriend, that he was too focused on football to date anyone seriously." Her voice cracked. "If I had known about you... I would never have touched him. I swear."

She looked genuinely devastated.

"I feel sick knowing I was the other woman. I'm really, really sorry. You didn't deserve any of this."

For a moment, you didn't know what to say. The anger you'd been carrying suddenly felt heavier. Jaehyun didn't just cheat on you. He had played both of you.

You let out a bitter laugh and ran a hand through your hair.

"...Thanks for telling me," you said coldly. "At least now I know how much of a lying piece of shit he really is."

The girl nodded, looking ashamed, before quietly walking away. You stood there at the gate for a long time, the evening sun casting long shadows on the pavement. The betrayal felt even deeper now.

For the next month, you drowned yourself in studies and band practice.

You threw everything you had into rehearsals, perfecting every count, every movement, every command on the field. At night, you buried yourself in books and assignments until your eyes burned. You barely slept, barely ate, and barely gave yourself time to think.

The whole campus knew what happened. The cheating scandal spread like wildfire. People whispered when you walked by, gave you pitiful looks in the hallways, and sent sympathetic messages. But you kept your chin up high, shoulders back, and that signature domineering aura firmly in place. You refuse to let anyone see you break. You were the drum major. You didn't fall apart in public.

Two months had passed since that awful day. You were in your dorm, surrounded by notes and textbooks, when your phone buzzed. You glanced at the screen.

Hongjoong: Hey sweetheart. It's been a while. How have you been? It's already been two months since I last heard from you. I didn't even know you and Jaehyun broke up until recently... Are you okay?

Your chest tightened. You stared at the message for a long time before replying.

You: Oh. Hello, Mr. Kim. Yeah, we broke up. I'm fine though, thank you for checking me up. Hongjoong: I'm really sorry to hear that. If you're free this weekend, why don't you come over for dinner? I'll cook. You can talk about what happened if you want to... or we can just eat and you can forget everything for a while. No pressure. I just hate the thought of you dealing with this alone, besides I know for sure whatever the reason is, it could have been my stupid son's fault.

You bit your lip, fingers hovering over the screen. Part of you wanted to say no and keep burying yourself in work. But another part, the tired, angry, emotionally drained part, desperately needed to let it all out.

You: Okay. I'll come. Thank you, Mr. Kim. Hongjoong: Great. Come by Saturday at 6? Can't wait to see you, sweetheart.

Saturday came faster than you expected. By 6:30 PM, you were standing in front of Hongjoong's house, heart beating a little faster than usual. You had chosen one of your favorite Sunday dresses. A soft, off-shoulder cream-colored dress that hugged your figure nicely but still looked modest enough. You tugged at the hem nervously, suddenly wondering if it was too much. Too pretty. Too revealing for a dinner with your ex-boyfriend's father.

You took a deep breath and rang the doorbell.

A few seconds later, the door opened. Kim Hongjoong stood there, looking unfairly good in a simple black button-up shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his forearms, revealing toned muscles. His dark hair was slightly tousled, and when he saw you, his face lit up with a warm, genuine smile.

"You're here," he said softly, voice rich and comforting. His eyes quickly scanned you from head to toe before he caught himself and looked back at your face.

"You look great. Come in, sweetheart."

He stepped aside, letting you enter. The house smelled amazing, Garlic, herbs, and something savory that made your stomach rumble.

"I'm sorry I'm a little late," you murmured.

"Don't apologize. I'm just glad you came." He closed the door behind you, then gently placed a hand on your lower back to guide you towards the dining area. The light touch sent a small, unexpected shiver up your spine. "I made carbonara and grilled steak. Hope you're hungry."

As you followed him, the reality of the situation settled in. This was the first time you'd been here since the breakup. No Jaehyun. Just you and Hongjoong.

He pulled out a chair for you like a gentleman, then disappeared into the kitchen for a moment before returning with two glasses of wine. Hongjoong sat across from you, his warm gaze never leaving your face.

"So..." he started gently, voice low and careful. "Do you want to eat first and relax... or do you want to tell me what really happened between you and my son?"

He leaned forward slightly, eyes full of quiet concern and something deeper you couldn't quite name.

"I'm here to listen to everything. No judgment."

You sat quietly for a moment, staring at the glass of wine in your hands. The warmth of Hongjoong's home and his gentle presence made the walls you'd built over the past two months feel dangerously thin.

"I... I'll tell you," you whispered. Hongjoong nodded, giving you his full attention. He stayed silent, patient, as you started talking.

You told him everything.

How Jaehyun had been distant for weeks. The constant excuses. The lies about being at his house. How you baked his favorite cake and went to his dorm with a spare key, hoping to fix things. How you walked in on him fucking another girl. How he had the audacity to lie and say it was a mistake.

The more you spoke, the more your voice shook.

"I kept myself busy for two months straight," you continued, tears already blurring your vision. "Studies, practice, rehearsals... anything just to stop thinking about it. The whole campus knew. Everyone was looking at me with pity and I hated it. I'm supposed to be strong, supposed to be in control... but he made me feel so stupid."

Your throat tightened painfully.

"I trusted him. I never doubted him even once. And he played me like I was nothing. He told that girl he was single the whole time. He lied to both of us."

The dam finally broke. A sob ripped from your chest. Tears streamed down your face as all the anger, humiliation, and pain you'd been holding in came rushing out at once.

"I feel so pathetic..." you cried, covering your face with both hands. "I'm supposed to be better than this. I hate that he still has this much power over me."

You couldn't stop sobbing.

Suddenly, you felt strong, warm arms wrapped around you. Hongjoong had moved from his seat and pulled you into a tight, comforting hug. One hand gently rubbed your back while the other cradled the back of your head.

"Shhh... it's okay," he whispered softly against your hair, voice deep and soothing. "Let it all out, sweetheart. You don't have to be strong right now. Not here."

He held you closer, letting you cry into his chest as your body shook with heavy sobs.

"You're not pathetic," he murmured firmly. "You're incredible. My son is the idiot who couldn't see what he had."

Hongjoong didn't let go. He kept holding you, rocking you gently, his warmth and steady heartbeat slowly calming you down as you cried out months of pent-up pain.

"Just so you know," Hongjoong said softly, still holding you close, "I didn't raise my son to be like that. I thought I taught him well."

His voice was low and heavy with disappointment. One of his hands kept rubbing slow, soothing circles on your back while the other gently cradled the back of your head.

"I don't know where he got the idea that cheating is okay," he continued, almost to himself. "I'm really sorry, sweetheart. You didn't deserve any of this. Not a single second."

You stayed buried against his chest, your sobs slowly quieting into shaky breaths. His shirt was damp with your tears, but he didn't seem to mind. He smelled comforting, like warm cologne, fresh laundry, and something distinctly him.

Hongjoong pulled back just enough to look at your tear-streaked face. His thumb gently wiped away the tears still clinging to your cheeks, his touch incredibly tender.

"Well..." you whispered shakily against his chest, voice still thick with tears, "just by how you're treating me right now... maybe it's only the looks that Jaehyun inherited from you."

Hongjoong let out a soft, surprised chuckle, the sound vibrating warmly through his chest. He pulled back slightly so he could look at you properly, his hand still gently cupping your cheek.

"Is that so?" he murmured, a small, handsome smile tugging at his lips. His thumb brushed another stray tear from your skin. "I'll take that as a compliment then."

Hongjoong watched you with quiet intensity, his dark eyes never leaving your face as you pushed the pasta around your plate. The warm lighting in the dining room cast soft shadows across his sharp jawline and the open collar of his black shirt.

He set his wine glass down slowly, the quiet clink breaking the silence.

"What do you want to do with Jaehyun now?" he asked, voice low and velvety.You stared at your plate for a long moment, the hurt and rage you'd buried for two months rising back to the surface like poison.

"I want him to learn his lesson," you said bitterly, your voice cracking. "I want it to hurt. I want him to feel even a fraction of the humiliation and betrayal he made me feel."A heavy silence filled the room.

Hongjoong leaned back in his chair, studying you carefully. Then the corner of his mouth slowly lifted into a dark, dangerous smile. He stood up and walked around the table until he was standing right beside you. His tall frame towered over you as he gently tilted your chin up with two fingers, forcing you to meet his gaze.

"Then let me help you teach him," he murmured, his thumb brushing slowly across your bottom lip. "We can film ourselves in bed. You and me. I'll fuck you the way you deserved. I'll make you moan my name so loudly the camera catches every desperate sound."

Your breath hitched.

Hongjoong leaned down closer, his lips hovering near your ear as his voice dropped into a husky whisper.

"Imagine it, sweetheart... My hands all over this beautiful body. My cock buried deep inside you while you're falling apart. And then we send that video straight to Jaehyun. Let him watch his own father ruining the girl he was stupid enough to cheat on." He pulled back just enough to look into your eyes, his own burning with lust and something dangerously possessive.

"You'll be screaming for me... and he'll be forced to watch every second of it."

His fingers slid from your chin down the side of your neck, leaving a trail of heat on your skin."It's your decision," he said softly, but his eyes were anything but soft. "If you want real revenge... I'll give it to you tonight. I'll make sure my son never forgets what he lost."

You stared at Hongjoong, heart hammering wildly in your chest.

He was undeniably attractive. The way his black shirt stretched across his broad chest and muscular arms, the sharp line of his jaw, and those intense eyes that seemed to see right through you. At 42, he looked better than most men half his age. But this... this was crossing a dangerous line.

"I... I don't know," you whispered, voice shaky. You looked down at your hands, fingers twisting together nervously. "Mr. Kim, he's still your son. This feels... wrong."

Hongjoong gave you a warm, understanding smile, the kind that made the corners of his eyes crinkle gently. His hand slid from your thigh to your back, giving you a soft, comforting pat as if he could sense the storm of emotions inside you.

"It's okay," he said softly, voice gentle and reassuring. "I don't like pushing things on people, sweetheart. Especially not you."

He straightened up and moved back to his seat across from you, though his eyes never really left your face. The tension in the air slowly eased, but the heat of his earlier words still lingered.

"Go ahead and eat," he added with a small nod toward your plate. "Then you can rest if you want. No pressure at all. I'm just happy you're here."

You nodded quietly and picked up your fork again, though your appetite had mostly vanished. The carbonara tasted amazing, but your mind kept replaying his proposal, the image of you and Hongjoong in bed, filming everything, sending it to Jaehyun.

For the next few weeks, Hongjoong's offer refused to leave your mind.

It lingered like a parasite burrowing deeper every quiet moment. Late at night while you tried to study. During band practice when your mind should've been focused on counts and formations. Even in your dreams, his low voice would whisper the filthy promise again and again.

You told yourself it was wrong. Disgusting, even. He was your ex-boyfriend's father for heaven's sake. But no matter how hard you tried to push the thought away, it always crawled back, hotter and more tempting each time.You decided to ignore it. Bury it. Move on.

Until one sunny afternoon.

You were walking past the football field when you saw them.

Jaehyun was sitting on the bleachers with the same girl, the one you had dragged off his cock that day. She was laughing at something he said, leaning into his side while his arm was casually draped around her shoulders. He looked... completely unbothered. Like he hadn't shattered your trust and humiliated you in front of the entire campus.

Something ugly and sharp twisted violently in your chest.Your feet stopped moving. Your fists clenched tightly at your sides.All the pain, the anger, and the humiliation came rushing back in full force. And right behind it, Hongjoong's voice echoed clearly in your head.

"If you want real revenge... I'll give it to you."

That's when you stopped hesitating.

The sight of Jaehyun laughing with that girl on the bleachers had ignited something feral inside you. No more crying. No more burying the pain. Tonight, you were going to make him regret ever laying eyes on anyone else.

Later that evening, you stood in front of the his father's house with fire in your eyes and steel in your spine. Your fist knocked firmly on the wooden door.

The door opened, and there was Hongjoong.

He looked devastatingly attractive in a simple black button-up with the top few buttons undone, revealing a hint of his toned chest. His dark hair was slightly messy, and the moment his eyes landed on you. Standing there with flushed cheeks, furrowed brows, and clenched fists.

Before he could even speak, you looked him dead in the eyes and said with absolute conviction. "Let's do it."

The air between you instantly thickened. Hongjoong's gaze darkened with raw hunger as he stepped aside, silently inviting you in. The moment the door closed behind you with a soft click, it felt like the outside world had been shut out completely.

Your head started to spin.You didn't know if it was because of Hongjoong's strong, woody perfume, deep, masculine, and intoxicating, that kept flooding your senses with every breath, or if it was the sudden wave of nervousness crashing over you all at once.Your heart hammered violently in your chest. Your palms felt clammy. The reality of what you just agreed to hit you like a freight train.

"Come with me," he said softly.

His hand slid down to yours, at the flat as he guided you upstairs. The house was quiet except for the sound of your own heartbeat echoing in your ears. Every step up the stairs made your stomach flutter harder.He led you down the hallway and pushed open the door to the master bedroom. The room was spacious and masculine, dark wood furniture, a large king-sized bed with crisp black sheets, and soft ambient lighting from the bedside lamps. The air smelled faintly of his cologne, the same intoxicating scent that had made your head spin earlier.

Hongjoong gently pulled you inside and closed the door behind you with a soft click. Without saying a word, he guided you toward the bed, his hand resting lightly on your lower back.

"Sit down, sweetheart," he murmured.You obeyed, lowering yourself to sit at the edge of the large bed. The mattress dipped slightly under your weight. Hongjoong stood in front of you, tall and commanding, looking down at you with dark, hungry eyes.He reached out and brushed a strand of hair behind your ear, his touch surprisingly tender.

"Nervous?" Hongjoong asked softly, his voice low and gentle as he stayed crouched between your parted thighs.You could only nod, not trusting your voice. Your cheeks burned with embarrassment, but you couldn't deny it. Your heart was racing so fast you felt lightheaded, and the way he was looking at you, so intense, so patient, yet so hungry, made everything feel overwhelming.

Hongjoong gave you a small, understanding smile. He rose slowly from his crouch and sat beside you on the edge of the bed, his thigh pressing warmly against yours. One arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer to his side while his other hand came up to gently cup your face.

"It's okay to be nervous, sweetheart," he murmured, thumb stroking your cheek. "This is a big step. But I promise... I'll take care of you."

He leaned in and pressed a slow, tender kiss to your forehead, then another on your temple, letting his lips linger there. The scent of his cologne wrapped around you again, making your head spin in the best way.

"I'm not going to rush you," he whispered against your skin. "We can go slow."

His hand slid down from your face to your neck, then lower, tracing the line of your collarbone with feather-light fingers. He tilted your chin up so your eyes met his again.

"Tell me what you want," he said softly, eyes dark but patient. "Do you want me to kiss you? Touch you? Or do you just want me to hold you until the nerves settle down?" His thumb brushed slowly over your bottom lip as he waited, giving you full control even while his body radiated heat and barely contained desire.

The sigh that left your lips was soft and shaky the moment Hongjoong's lips met yours.It wasn't rushed or demanding. It was slow, warm, and devastatingly gentle, like he was savoring the first taste of something he had wanted for a long time. Your head instinctively leaned into him, eyes fluttering shut as a rush of heat spread through your body.

Hongjoong hummed approvingly against your mouth, one hand cupping the back of your neck while the other stayed firmly on your waist, pulling you closer. His lips moved against yours with experience, deepening the kiss gradually until you parted your lips for him. When his tongue slipped inside, tasting you, a quiet whimper escaped your throat.He kissed you like he had all the time in the world, deep, sensual, and thorough. The kind of kiss that made your toes curl and your thighs press together instinctively.

When he finally pulled back, just enough to let you breathe, his forehead rested against yours. His breathing was slightly heavier, eyes half-lidded and dark with desire as he looked at you.

"Still nervous?" he whispered, voice husky. His thumb brushed tenderly over your now slightly swollen bottom lip.You barely managed a small shake of your head.

"There we go." Hongjoong smiled, slow and predatory, before capturing your lips again, this time with more hunger. His hand slid down your side, gripping your hip as he guided you further onto the bed until your back gently met the soft mattress.

He hovered over you for a moment, drinking in the sight of you lying in his bed, flushed cheeks, parted lips, and eyes hazy with nerves and arousal. Then, without breaking eye contact, he sat back on his knees and reached for the buttons of his black shirt.

One by one, he undid them slowly, deliberately, revealing his toned chest and defined abs inch by inch. The shirt slid off his broad shoulders and strong arms, exposing his muscular upper body. He was even more impressive than you had imagined, years of quiet discipline showing in every line of his torso. He tossed the shirt aside without care.

Your breath caught.

Hongjoong leaned down again, capturing your lips in another slow, heated kiss. His bare skin radiated warmth as he pressed closer, one hand sliding up your side.

His fingers found the hem of your sundress. He sat up slightly and gently tugged the fabric upward, eyes locked on yours the entire time, giving you every chance to stop him. You lifted your hips instinctively, and he pulled the dress up and over your head in one smooth motion, leaving you in just your bra and panties.

Hongjoong let out a low, appreciative groan as his gaze roamed over your body.

"Fuck... look at you," he murmured, voice rough with desire. His hands traced your waist, then moved up to cup your breasts through your bra, thumbs brushing over the fabric. He leaned down and pressed hot, open-mouthed kisses along your collarbone, then lower, between the valley of your breasts. His fingers skillfully unclasped your bra and slid the straps down your shoulders, freeing your breasts.

"Perfect," he breathed, eyes dark.He tossed your bra aside and returned to kissing you — deeper this time, while his hands explored your now mostly bare body with slow, reverent touches.

Hongjoong kissed you like he was starving for you, his mouth claiming yours in deep, slow strokes while his hands explored your body with growing hunger. He trailed kisses down your neck, across your collarbone, and lower, until his lips wrapped around one of your nipples, sucking gently.

A soft moan slipped from your lips.

He continued downward, pressing wet kisses along your stomach until he reached the waistband of your panties. Without hesitation, he hooked his fingers into the thin fabric and started slowly pulling them down your thighs, exposing you completely to his hungry gaze.

As the lace slid down your legs, Hongjoong looked up at you, eyes dark with lust. His voice came out low and rough, slightly breathless.

"Where's your phone, sweetheart?" His hands never stopped moving. He finished pulling your panties off and tossed them aside, then ran his palms up your bare thighs, gently spreading them wider so he could settle between them.You could barely think straight, head spinning from the sensation of being completely naked under him.

"In... in my bag," you managed to whisper, voice shaky. "By the door..."

Hongjoong hummed in acknowledgment. He leaned down and pressed a slow, open-mouthed kiss right above your mound, dangerously close to where you were already aching for him.

"Stay right here," he murmured against your skin, his breath hot. "Don't move."

He stood up for a moment, giving you a full view of his sculpted torso and the obvious bulge straining against his pants. He walked over to your bag, retrieved your phone, and returned to the bed.

Hongjoong gave you one last deep kiss before pulling back, then handed you your phone with a dark, heated look in his eyes.

"Here, sweetheart," he said, voice low and commanding. "You're going to record this."

He helped you sit up and lean back against the plush headboard, propping pillows behind you so you were comfortable. Then he moved down the bed, settling his broad shoulders between your spread thighs. His large hands gripped the back of your knees and pushed your legs wider apart, fully exposing your glistening pussy to him.

Your hands trembled slightly as you opened the camera app on of your phone and switched it to video mode. You hit record.

Hongjoong looked straight into the lens for a moment, a wicked smirk on his lips, before his gaze dropped back to your dripping core. Without another word, he leaned in and dragged his tongue slowly up your slit in one long, filthy stroke. A broken moan immediately spilled from your lips.

"Oh my god..." you whimpered, hips twitching.

Hongjoong groaned at your taste, the vibration sending sparks through your body. He licked you again, slower this time, savoring every drop before wrapping his lips around your swollen clit and sucking gently.

"Fuck—!" you cried out, your free hand flying down to grip his hair.

He ate you out like a man possessed, slow and deliberate at first, then faster, more hungry. His tongue circled your clit, flicked it, then dipped down to push inside you. The wet, obscene sounds of his mouth on your pussy filled the room, clearly captured by the camera.

You struggled to keep the phone steady, your hand shaking as pleasure coursed through you. "Joong— ahh!" you moaned loudly, eyes rolling back. "It feels so good..."

He looked up at the camera again, eyes almost rolling at the back of his head, while you watched his face contort through the screen of your phone. He then slid two thick fingers deep inside you, curling them perfectly against that sensitive spot. Your moans grew louder, more desperate, as you tried your best to keep recording, legs trembling around his head, hips grinding against his talented tongue.

His tongue worked your swollen clit with expert precision, licking, sucking, and flicking in perfect rhythm while two thick fingers pumped deep inside your soaked pussy. The wet, filthy sounds of his mouth and fingers filled the room, all of it being captured clearly on the phone you were desperately trying to hold steady.

"Ahh—! Hongjoong... fuck!" you moaned loudly, your voice cracking.

Your head fell back against the headboard, but you forced your eyes to stay on the camera. Your thighs trembled violently around his shoulders. The pleasure was building fast, coiling tight and hot in your lower belly.

Hongjoong groaned against your pussy, the vibration making your back arch sharply.

"You taste so fucking good, baby," he growled, lips shiny with your juices. He curled his fingers harder, stroking that perfect spot inside you with every thrust. "So wet for me already."

"I— I can't—" you whimpered, hips grinding desperately against his face. "It's too good... I'm— I'm so close!"

He sucked harder on your clit, flicking his tongue rapidly while his fingers fucked you faster, deeper. Your whole body started shaking uncontrollably. Hongjoong pulled back just enough to look up at you, eyes dark and commanding.

"Cum for me, sweetheart. Cum on my tongue." He dove back in, sucking your clit into his mouth with intense pressure while his fingers curled relentlessly against your g-spot. The coil inside you snapped.

"Oh my god— Hongjoong!" you screamed, your back arching violently off the bed. Your orgasm crashed over you like a tidal wave. Your thighs clamped around his head as you came hard, pussy pulsing and gushing around his fingers. Wave after wave of intense pleasure ripped through your body, making your vision blur and your legs shake uncontrollably. You kept moaning his name brokenly, loud and shameless, as the orgasm went on and on. You didn't even know if you properly recorded the way he made you cum. It was too much for you to think about it.

Hongjoong didn't stop. He kept licking and fingering you through every pulse, milking every last drop of pleasure until you were a trembling, whimpering mess against the headboard. Only when your moans turned into weak, oversensitive whimpers did he finally slow down. He pressed one last gentle kiss to your throbbing clit before pulling his fingers out and looking up at you with a satisfied, predatory smirk.

Hongjoong huffed a heavy, shaky breath against your soaked pussy, his chest rising and falling as he tried to steady himself. Your orgasm had clearly affected him just as much. His eyes were dark, pupils blown wide with lust, and his lips glistened with your release.

He slowly crawled up your body like a predator, hovering over you on his forearms. His muscular frame caged you in completely, his hard cock pressing hot and heavy against your inner thigh through his pants.

Without a word, he snatched the phone from your trembling hands. He quickly tapped the screen a few times, saving the video with a satisfied hum, then tossed the phone onto the far side of the bed where it landed safely on the pillows.

Now there was nothing between you two. Hongjoong looked down at you with pure hunger, his dark hair falling slightly over his eyes. His bare chest brushed against your breasts with every breath he took.

"Enough recording for now," he rasped, voice thick and rough. "I want to feel you properly."

He leaned down and captured your lips in a deep, messy kiss, letting you taste yourself on his tongue. One of his hands gripped your thigh, pulling it up around his waist as he ground his clothed erection against your bare, sensitive pussy. You moaned into his mouth, still twitching from your orgasm. Hongjoong broke the kiss just enough to rest his forehead against yours, breathing heavily.

"Are you ready for me, sweetheart?" he asked, voice low and husky, barely holding back his hunger. You didn't answer with words. Instead, you looked straight up into his eyes, fiery, determined, and needy all at once, and slowly wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer. Your fingers threaded through the hair at the nape of his neck as you gave him the clearest answer you could.

Hongjoong's eyes darkened even more. A low, pleased groan rumbled from deep in his chest.

"That's my good girl." He reached down between your bodies and quickly freed himself from his pants. His hard cock sprang out, thick, heavy, and flushed. He wrapped a hand around the base and rubbed the swollen head up and down your soaked slit, coating himself in your wetness.

You gasped softly at the feeling, your arms tightening around his neck.

Hongjoong pressed his forehead against yours, breathing heavily as he lined himself up with your entrance.

"Eyes on me, baby," he whispered roughly. Then, with one slow but firm thrust, he pushed the thick head of his cock inside you.

A broken moan escaped your lips as he stretched you open. Inch by inch, he sank deeper, groaning at how tightly your walls gripped him.

"Fuck... so tight," he hissed through gritted teeth, fighting the urge to slam all the way in. "You feel even better than I imagined." He buried his face in the crook of your neck, kissing and sucking on your skin as he gave you time to adjust to his size, his hips twitching with the effort of holding back.

The moment you wrapped your arms around his neck and looked him in the eyes, something in Hongjoong snapped.

He didn't hold back anymore.

With a deep, guttural groan, he thrust forward hard, burying his thick cock deep inside you in one powerful stroke. A loud, broken cry tore from your throat as he stretched you wide open, filling you completely.

"Fuck—!" Hongjoong growled, voice raw with years of pent-up desire. "Finally..."

He didn't give you time to adjust. He pulled back almost all the way and slammed back in, setting a brutal, desperate pace right away. The bed creaked loudly beneath you as he fucked you like a man who had been starving for this moment for years.

"Been waiting so fucking long for this," he rasped against your neck, teeth grazing your skin as he pounded into you. "You have no idea how many nights I imagined fucking you raw in my bed."

Every thrust was deep and punishing, his hips snapping against yours with raw power. The sound of skin slapping skin mixed with your loud moans and his heavy grunts filled the room.

Hongjoong grabbed one of your legs and hooked it over his waist, driving even deeper. His rhythm was relentless, almost animalistic, like he was claiming you completely.

"Mine now," he groaned, one hand gripping your hip hard enough to leave marks while the other braced beside your head. "This pussy is mine."

He kissed you messily, all tongue and teeth, swallowing your moans as he fucked you harder. His hips rolled with every thrust, making sure you felt every inch of him dragging against your walls.You could barely think, only feel the way he was ruining you so perfectly. Hongjoong buried his face in your neck again, sucking hard on your skin as he growled.

He fucked you like a man possessed, hips slamming against yours with raw, years-long hunger.

He suddenly shifted his angle, hooking your leg higher around his waist and driving deeper. He thrust hard a few times, searching, adjusting, until he found it. Your whole body jerked violently.

"Ahh—! There—!" you screamed, nails digging into his shoulders.

Hongjoong's lips curled into a feral smirk against your neck.

"Right here?" he growled, voice dark and satisfied. He immediately started targeting that sweet spot mercilessly. Every thrust was precise, deep, and devastatingly fast, slamming directly into the spot that made stars explode behind your eyes. The wet, filthy sound of his cock pounding into your soaked pussy echoed loudly in the room.

"Fuck yes— take it, baby," he groaned, eyes half-lidded with pleasure as he railed you without mercy. "This is what you needed, isn't it? A real man who knows how to fuck you properly."

His pace was brutal now, deep, fast, and relentless. The headboard banged loudly against the wall with every powerful thrust. Your breasts bounced wildly between your bodies as he drove into you again and again, hitting that perfect spot over and over.

You were moaning shamelessly, almost sobbing with pleasure, your arms locked tight around his neck.

Hongjoong buried his face in your neck, biting and sucking on your skin while he fucked you even harder, hips snapping with pure desperation.

"That's it," he panted, voice rough. He angled his hips again, making sure every thrust dragged perfectly against your g-spot, pushing you closer and closer to the edge at an overwhelming speed.

"You're getting so fucking tight again," he groaned, almost snarling. "Gonna cum for me already, sweetheart? Cum all over my cock like the good girl you are."

Hongjoong kept slamming into that perfect spot with ruthless precision, his hips moving in a fast, deep rhythm that left you completely undone. Your eyes suddenly rolled to the back of your head, mouth hanging open in a silent cry as the overwhelming pleasure reached its peak. Your entire body tensed violently beneath him.

"I'm— I'm cumming—!" you sobbed brokenly, voice cracking.

Your walls clamped down around his thick cock like a vice, pulsing and fluttering wildly as your second orgasm crashed through you even harder than the first. A loud, shameless moan tore from your throat, your back arching sharply off the bed while your legs shook uncontrollably around his waist.

The way your pussy squeezed him so tightly, almost begging him to cum with you, finally pushed Hongjoong over the edge.

"Fuck— baby!" he growled loudly, his thrusts turning erratic and desperate. With a deep, guttural moan, he buried himself as deep as possible inside you and came hard. Thick, hot spurts of cum flooded your spasming pussy, filling you up completely as he kept grinding into you, riding out both of your orgasms.

His body trembled above yours, hips twitching with every pulse as he emptied himself inside you, groaning your name against your neck like a prayer. For a long moment, the only sounds in the room were your heavy breathing and the faint creak of the bed. Hongjoong stayed buried deep inside you, his forehead pressed against yours, both of you panting and covered in sweat.

"Shit..." he whispered hoarsely, pressing a lazy kiss to your lips. "You feel so fucking good milking my cock like that." He gave one last slow thrust, pushing his cum deeper into you, then stayed there, savoring the warmth of your body wrapped around him.

Both of you stayed locked together, breathing heavily in the quiet aftermath.

He let out a long, satisfied sigh and gently collapsed on top of you, careful not to crush you with his weight. His face nestled into the crook of your neck, lips brushing softly against your damp skin as he tried to catch his breath.

For a long moment, neither of you spoke. The only sounds were your mingled breathing and the faint beating of his heart against your chest.

Hongjoong was the first to move. He pressed slow, lazy kisses along your neck and jawline, then finally lifted his head to look at you. His hair was messy, cheeks flushed, and his eyes were softer now, warm, almost tender.

"You okay, sweetheart?" he whispered, voice hoarse from exertion. One of his hands came up to gently brush strands of hair away from your sweaty forehead.

You could only nod weakly, still dazed and trembling from the intensity of your orgasms. Your arms remained loosely wrapped around his neck, fingers playing with the hair at his nape.

Hongjoong smiled softly, a small, genuine smile that made the corners of his eyes crinkle. He leaned down and kissed you, slow, deep, and full of affection this time, completely different from the raw hunger earlier.

Hongjoong stayed buried inside you for a few more moments, savoring the warmth and the way your walls still fluttered around him. He pressed one last lingering kiss to your lips before slowly pulling out with a low groan.

A thick trickle of his cum immediately leaked from your swollen pussy onto the sheets. He watched it for a second with dark satisfaction before looking back at your face.

"Stay still, sweetheart," he murmured softly, brushing a kiss on your forehead. "Don't move. I'll get you a glass of water."

You nodded hazily, still floating in a blissful, post-orgasm daze. Your body felt heavy and boneless against the mattress.

As Hongjoong got up and walked out of the room, completely naked, you reached over to the other side of the bed where he had thrown your phone. Your fingers trembled slightly as you picked it up.

The video was still there.

Without giving yourself time to overthink, you opened your messaging app, found Jaehyun's contact, and attached the video. Your thumb hovered for only a second before you hit send.The message delivered.

You stared at the screen, heart pounding. A few seconds later, the typing bubble appeared... then stopped. Then appeared again.

Finally, a message came through.

Jaehyun: What the fuck is this?

Another message followed almost immediately, his panic clear even through text.

Jaehyun: Is that... my fucking dad?! Jaehyun: Are you seriously fucking my DAD?!

You didn't reply. You smiled .A slow, satisfied, almost wicked smile spread across your lips as you scrolled through the flood of texts Jaehyun had sent in the last few minutes.

Jaehyun: What the actual fuck is wrong with you?! Jaehyun: You're seriously fucking my DAD just because I made one mistake?! Jaehyun: This is so fucked up. You're disgusting. Jaehyun: Delete that shit right now. I can't believe you'd stoop this low. Jaehyun: Answer me you fucking bitch.

Every angry, desperate message made the smile on your face grow wider. You could practically hear him shouting through the screen, the panic, the rage, the disbelief.

You were still smiling when Hongjoong returned with a glass of cold water in his hand. He paused at the doorway for a second, taking in the sight of you, naked, flushed, and glowing, sitting up in his bed while scrolling through your phone with a satisfied little smirk on your face.

Hongjoong raised an eyebrow, amused.

"Did you already send it?" he asked, walking over to the bed. You looked up at him and nodded slowly, biting your lip to suppress the grin threatening to spread across your face.

Hongjoong let out a low, rich chuckle, clearly pleased. He sat on the edge of the bed beside you and handed you the glass.

"Here, drink up," he said softly.

You took the glass and drank the rest of the water slowly while he watched you with dark, affectionate eyes. When you finished, he took the empty glass from your hand and set it on the nightstand.

He leaned in, cupping your jaw gently as he pressed a slow kiss to your lips.

"Good girl," he whispered against your mouth, voice laced with satisfaction. "Now come here."

Hongjoong pulled you back down onto the bed, wrapping his strong arms around your body and tucking you against his chest. He kissed the top of your head, one hand lazily stroking your back.

"Rest now, sweetheart," he murmured, holding you close. As you drifted off in his warm embrace, your phone buzzed one last time on the nightstand. You smiled against Hongjoong's chest and closed your eyes. Revenge had never felt so good.

permanent taglist: @hime-honne, @dxllyhorror, @thepoeticpurplepotato, @verslyns, @channlust, @leewayout, @zosauce, @kloversung, @1-aria-1, @vxyselectric, @urfavleobiscuit, @written-by-music, @fanficwriter5, @minniebitesfr, @pedropacals0l0s, @iheartkentonanami, @ncityswrld, @danielle143, @persassyismysecrettwin, @trisha-dear, @pineapple-burgah, @luv4innie, @bunbunbl0gs, @marlboropuffs, @morgangrice18, @33peach33, @peskybirdysya, @ogerontheside4, @theyknowagus, @zerefdragn33l, @melodyladean, @ebnabi, @emeraldgem22, @fweakygyatt, @taekwondoe, @sue-reads, @shinygubbins, @lilmissfergy, @quokkahansung, @binniebb, @clairementsolo, @nclabels, @genuinelybrittleidol , @parkthothwa8, @daphnnie, @hyunnjynn, @sagetakami, @hanniesbubuwife, @hycnsung, @matzduo

── omg this is my first ever post on here and it turned out to be waaaay longer than i had intended, honestly. i’ve had this idea in my head for a while and knew nobody else was gonna do it so i had to take matters into my own hands. i’d like to mention that this is NOT proofread. if you see any typos pls lmk !! i really hope u enjoy it, byeeeee >ᴗ<

inhale.

exhale.

everything is fine, you’re okay. it’s not like you’re about to walk into a room full of people you’ve never met before or anything. oh! and even better, you’ll be with them for the rest of your life. how perfect. it’s not a huge change, i mean, you’ve been working for this since you were what, sixteen? or was it fifteen? hell, who knows? all you know is you’re an eighteen year old girl ready to change her life forever.

“come in!” that pulls you out of it. the rough voice coming from the other side of the frosted glass door has just enough power to make your hand rest on the handle.

you want this. you need this.

one more inhale, another exhale. you push the door open and immediate chaos floods all five of your senses.

boys. eight boys are seen on the couch in the corner of the room, some goofing off with one another and some staying to themselves.

loud, it’s so loud in here, why? oh, that might be due to the four boys practically screaming over each other as they argue about whatever the fuck the current topic is.

cologne. it reeks of testosterone in here. woody, fresh, warm, musky. wait, it kind of smells really good. not important.

oh god, here comes the cotton mouth. your mouth tastes bitter and your whole body has run cold, or hot. are you sweating? fuck if you know. you reach up to touch your forehead. no, yeah, definitely sweating. why are you so cold? oh no, no, no.

consider your world completely and utterly fucking. rocked.

boys? why would i ever want to be surrounded by boys all day, every day?

i thought i would be with a group of girls.

they didn’t specify this in the papers.

god, please save me, tell me this is a dream. i can’t live a life like this. i’m gonna pass out. there is entirely too much going on in this room. is the room spinning?

you exhausted all of the possibilities in your head long before opening the door. but this? this was not one of them.

one of the eight boys looks up at you. he has sharp features. asymmetrical eyes, you clock that almost immediately as they pierce through you. he’s clad in a red bape and ape hoodie and black adidas sweatpants. brown hair, tanned skin, big, perfect nose. he nods towards you and goes right back to his phone. the smirk on his face certainly not going unnoticed by you.

you know what? okay, yeah.

“wooyoung, please, not right now,” you breathe out. you guys have just wrapped up practice for your latest comeback; work. and boy, oh boy, are you fucking working.

“pleaseeeee,” he begs, “it’ll only take a minute.”

“okay, then you can wait for just a minute,” you pant. keep in mind, currently laying on the floor here. dropped dead. limbs numb. sweating from your scalp to your little piggies. what does wooyoung want? glad you asked! tiktok. he wants to make a fucking tiktok fresh after practice. “how do you have the energy to even want to make a tiktok right now, dude?”

“um, because the choreo isn’t as draining as you’re making it seem? and even then, you’ve been stumbling over your feet all day,” he sits next to you on the floor, holding himself up with his arms as he cocks his head at you. at this point, the rest of the boys have exited the room for water, food, or their beds.

you chew on the inside of your cheek as you figure out what to say. honestly? you haven’t eaten in two days, certain parts of the choreo aren’t sticking with you like they usually would, you’re distracted, dissociated, not all there with the rest of the world. your boyfriend is currently on tour, and you’ve had this gut wrenching feeling eating away at you ever since he left. i love you baby, you know that, right? he had said. weird, but also, not weird? you say you love each other every time you’re going to be separated for a while, so why did it feel different this time?

“hello?” wooyoungs fingers snap in front of your face, “are you still with me, darling?” you blink.

“did you just snap at me?”

“well, yes.”

a moment of silence.

you spring forward and drag him onto the floor with you, punching his sides, “do. you. want. to. die?” you grunt between punches as he laughs, pleading with you. after a moment you both sit up, “i’m fine, wooyoung, don’t worry. i do have to go to my dorm though, so, have fun!” you squeak as you jump up onto your feet, almost losing your balance.

wooyoungs face scrunches up, “what are you in such a rush for? gotta call your boytoy?”

“he’s my boyfriend, not boytoy. get it right. but since you’re so curious, no, actually, i’m just ready to strip naked and wash my ass.”

“yeah whatever, didn’t need to know all that,” it’s silent as he watches you pack up your belongings from the floor. his feet wiggle in place, fighting the urge to help you pack up. he can hear it now, i am an independent woman, why the fuck would i need you to do that for me? he chuckles to himself before noticing a bruise on the back of your arm, immediately perking up, “what happened there?”

“huh?” you turn to look at him, then to the back of your arm where he was gesturing, “oh, mingi happened. i slammed into him earlier, remember? turns out he’s made of stone instead of skin and bones.”

“ah, right. make sure you take care of that.”

your eyebrows furrow as you chuckle and turn to face him again, “it’s a bruise wooyoung, not a stab wound. it’ll take care of itself.”

“still, don’t put pressure on it when you sleep tonight,” he states as he finally gets up and makes his way towards the door with you, “it could make it worse, or something.” he shrugs.

“sir yes sir, dr. jung,” you salute as you turn to walk your separate ways. wooyoung slings his already-packed-bag over his shoulder and watches you turn the corridor. with a sigh, he turns and makes his way over to his dorm.

perk number one of being the only girl in ateez: you get your own dorm. it gives you a break from boys in your fully furnished, cozy, warm, space. now, yunho and yeosangs dorm? a literal cardboard box. you couldn’t be paid enough to live in that.

you let out a sigh upon entering your dorm, sliding off your shoes and into your slippers. dropping your bag and keys off at the door, you beeline to your room and rip your drawers open.

underwear, shirt, what else, what else… oh!

you throw the clothes on your king sized bed, moving towards your vanity where you keep your self care. you snatch your favorite scents off the shelves and toss them on the bed with your clothes. it’s go time, baby.

the bathroom is humid and smells like the gingerbread man drowned in the tub, just how you like it. bubbles are engulfing your body, music is playing on the speaker beside you, you’ve got your wine glass in your hand, vanilla candle lit. what else could you possibly need?

…

why did your music stop..?

ring ring ring

your eyes snap open. you have got to be kidding me.

the growl that escapes your throat is beastly, leaning over the wall of the bathtub to grab your phone.

incoming call: my baby <3

the smile that appears on your face is bright enough to light millions of galaxies. of course, you answer with much enthusiasm. “hi baby! i miss you so much. how’s tour?”

“i miss you too, what’re you doing?” okay fuck me and my question then. from the looks of it, he’s laying in his hotel bed. all you can see is the top of his head though, strange?

“i’m taking a nice relaxing bath, soaking in the peace while i have some. today’s practice was so tiring.”

“mm,” he groans out. it’s silent for a beat before he speaks again, “fuck- i miss you, baby,” he sounds breathless.

um. “i miss you too… are you feeling okay?” your eyebrows furrow with concern. his camera moved down a bit more, you can see his whole face now. his eyes are closed, his bottom lip squeezed between his teeth, eyebrows pinched together. it seems he has no shirt on also, which is pretty normal for him.

“y-yeah, i’m just tired,” his eyes open to look at you now, droopy.

“oh- well, i’ll let you go then. get some rest, okay?”

“alright. b-bye,” he stutters. right before he hangs up the phone, yes, he hangs up, you hear a moan. well, no not a moan. a groan? squeak? whatever the fuck it was, it didn’t come from him. it was high pitched, feminine.

the fuck?

your thumbs move faster than your brain.

you: what the fuck was that?

12:28am

you: hello?

12:46am

you: jaehyun r u srs

you: did u fall asleep

1:13am

you: annyeonghaseyo what the fuck ????

now here you are, laying in your bed. restless, stressed, sad. you have pretty damn good ears, there’s no chance that they could be deceiving you right now. it’s been almost two hours since he hung up and you bolted out of the bathroom. you don’t understand, everything was fine before he left. what could’ve happened within the span of a few days?

you didn’t get a wink of sleep. maybe an hour — no, that’s a reach. you slept for thirty minutes before your alarm clock began screaming at you to wake up. ten seconds later, here comes the banging on the door.

“what, literally what?” you yelled as you stomped towards the door, swinging it open harshly.

“oh- good morning to you, too,” wooyoung waves before pushing past you and into your living room. “you look like shit, by the way.”

you’re surprised your eyes didn’t get stuck in the back of your head with the force you rolled them with. “we don’t have practice for another three hours wooyoung, why are you here?”

“i’m here to chill and eat your snacks beforehand, duh. call it practice pregame,” he says matter-of-factly.

“the whole point of me having my own dorm was so that none of you could be in here with me. get out,” you deadpanned as you made your way to the kitchen for a glass of water.

“well that’s kind of hard to avoid, i’m only a building away. plus, san, mingi, and seonghwa literally live a door down.”

“yeah, a door down, not in my guest bedroom.”

wooyoung scoffs and turns his body away from the tv, really watching you now, “what’s up with you today? you’re awfully snappy”

you place your glass on the island counter and stare at him for second. he’s serious, isn’t he? “gee, i don’t know, maybe because i only got thirty minutes of sleep before i was woken up by a psychotic alarm clock at seven in the fucking morning! then an even more psychotic man—who is currently sitting on my couch, barged into my home, chose to bother me on a morning that wouldn’t have been any better anyways but at least i wouldn’t have to worry about being disturbed by you—” you ramble, your hands flailing all over the place as you go on and on.

wooyoung? he listens. he could tell something has been bothering you these past few days, he knows it’s best for you to let it all out now than later. in the midst of your breakdown he rises from the couch and moves to sit across from where you stand instead.

“i tried to have a relaxing night last night before my fucking boyfriend called me—”

“i thought you were excited to talk to him?”

“oh, just you fucking wait. so, he ended up calling me while i was in the bath. when i answered he sounded very… tired? i guess, i have no idea anymore. i’m so fucking confused,” you hold your head in your hands as you recall what happened last night, “he fucking called me, okay? i knew something was off when i answered and the only thing i could see was his stupid fucking forehead for the first two minutes.”

“two minutes? but th—”

“it was a short conversation,” you cut wooyoung off, holding your hand up, “i tried to talk to him about my day, you know, normal couple things. told him about practice, all that good shit. what’d he say? mm. fucking mm?!” you exclaimed, “and it didn’t even sound like an mm of acknowledgement, it sounded horny as fuck! he was all like—mm fuck, baby i miss you, like, get out of my face.”

wooyoung rolled his eyes, not at you—never at you, but at what he was hearing. he was simply distraught at the fact that anyone could be so vague and passive with you, one of the most charismatic people he knows. although he can’t blame him if he was in fact horny.

“that’s not even it, wooyoung. he starts… moaning? groaning? i don’t know, he sounded out of breath and like he was trying to hold stuff in. eventually, the camera moved down. i don’t think he meant for it to though. he was biting his lip and shit, it looked freaky as hell, and trust me, i know his sex faces.”

wooyoung grimaces at the thought of you doing the deed with someone, “alright maybe i didn’t need to know that.” retract previous statement. he can blame him.

“no you definitely did, it’s crucial to the plot. anyways, i asked him if he felt okay, to which he replied y-yeah, i’m just tired,” you mocked him in your ‘man voice’, “i told him to just get some rest—now keep in mind, he called me, okay? right before he hung up i heard a weird noise. i don’t wanna say it was a woman, but it sounded very feminine.”

“what the fuck?”

“yeah, what the fuck. i texted him for an hour straight last night, still no response to this very moment,” you sigh, now looking down at your glass of water. “i don’t want to accuse him of cheating but like,” you look back up at wooyoung, “ive had this gut feeling something bad was happening behind my back ever since he left for tour. that’s why ive been acting strange, and i know i shouldn’t have held it in but i just-” you sigh.

wooyoung is absolutely fuming, even if he didn’t show it. he is a man after all, he understands exactly what is going on—granted he’d never participate in such devious activities if he had a parter, especially not if he had someone like you. he walked around the counter and engulfed you in his arms. your body began to tremble, finally releasing all the pent up emotions you’ve been holding on to.

“i’m sorry i was mean,” your muffled voice fills his ears.

“it’s okay honey, i’d be mean too if i were you,” he pulled back to look at your face. your had tears streaming down your cheeks as you looked up at him. it tore him into pieces to see you like this. his hands reached up to wipe your face, “go get cleaned up, we’re going out.”

you frown, “out where?”

“out,” he shoves you towards your room, “go.”

“ooh look at this,” san chirps as he poses with the girliest purse you’ve ever seen. wooyoung decided to gather almost everyone to go out and shop together after your breakdown? rant? rant. you don’t have breakdowns over men. either way, it’s definitely cheering you up.

“wait, what about this one?” mingi walks up behind you with a more sleek purse. oh, here comes seonghwa strutting down with wooyoung hand-in-hand, holding matching coach bags. you can’t help but laugh at how ridiculous they look.

“so if i say i love them all you guys will buy them for me?” you lift your eyebrow with a smirk on your face.

“yes,” they say in unison.

chuckling and shaking your head, “guys you don’t have to do this, i’m seriously fine with just walking around. you don’t have to shove all these things in my face and beg to buy them for me,” wooyoung looks at you with a knowing look, cocking his head to the side. he can always tell when you’re bluffing, “okay fine, sugar baby me.”

and sugar baby you they sure fucking did. the boys walk in tandem with you back to your dorm, all of their arms covered with bags of things they bought you. you know when that one kid in school walked down the hallway and you just knew they were coming because of their keychains? yeah, that’s basically them but with shopping bags right now.

“fuck, why did you let me do this,” seonghwa pants as you guys exit the elevator.

“you wouldn’t leave me alone, don’t complain now,” you shrug as you unlock your door and let them in. the bags are immediately dropped to the floor, grunts and groans of relief coming from the men. “you guys are dramatic. hey—don’t break my shit!”

“anything you say, girly. now let’s go, we have to be at practice in thirty minutes. hongjoong will kill us if we’re late… again.” san says.

you giggle as they walk ahead of you and out of your dorm. as you’re locking your door you feel your phone vibrating in your pocket, frowning, you pull it out.

oh.

jaehyun.

you begrudgingly put the phone to your ear, “yes, jaehyun?” wooyoung turns to look at you at the mention of his name, a concerned look on his face. you shake your head at him and motion for him to go ahead, which he reluctantly obeys.

“hey baby, how are you?”

“uh, i’m good. could be better, actually. what’s up?” you begin walking a few feet behind the boys, closer to wooyoung than the rest of them. of course, he purposefully walked slower than the rest to pick up on your conversation. call him nosy, shame him for eavesdropping, he couldn’t care less.

“oh, um- i was just wondering. what happened last night?”

your heart stopped for a moment. he’s serious?

“what do you mean?”

“well i saw i had called you last night but i don’t remember it at all, haha,” haha. “i drank with the guys so i was pretty drunk.”

“oh, i see… were you too drunk to answer my texts as well or was that because you were busy doing something else—or should i say—someone else?” your irritation is evident in your voice at this point. the other side of the line does quiet for a beat too long, so you take the initiative, “you know what, jaehyun? until you manage to use all the brain power you have left to tell me exactly what you were doing last night; don’t message me, don’t call me, don’t even think of me. got it?”

“wait- baby, i-”

beep beep beep.

shut up.

you rolled your eyes and tucked your phone back into your pocket. the peace was nice for the two hours it lasted.

“get out. my. face.” sans voice booms through the practice room as he calls out the phrases that helps you all remember the choreo. today is the last day of practice, which is very stressful for you this time around. usuallly you’d have every movement nailed down by now, but you’re falling behind.

you keep fucking bumping into mingi during the stupid ass line formation you have to do. you’re sweating, your clothes are sticking to your body, hair falling out of your ponytail, bruises beginning to form from your countless failures.

“take 5 guys,” hongjoong calls out as he exits the room.

“are you doing okay?” jongho crouched down beside where you’re sprawled out on the floor.

“oh my fucking lord, yes, i’m fucking peachy. i am perfectly fine. why is everyone asking me this? actually, no, you know what, jongho? no, i’m not fucking okay because i’m pretty sure my boyfriend is cheating on me with some random bitch while i’m here stuck in this muggy practice room and failing at everything i do. is that a better answer for you guys? i’m not okay,” is what you wish you could scream out at the top of your lungs. unfortunately, what you say is, “i’m okay jjong, thank you,” don’t forget to top it off with a smile and nod!

thankfully, he drops it, deciding to not push you further. unlike someone, what’s his name?

“yeah right, what’d that asshole have to say to you earlier?” wooyoung plops himself on the ground on your other side. oh right, wooyoung.

“wouldn’t you like to know.”

“yeah i would, that’s kind of why i asked,” he shoves your shoulder, “come on, tell me. i promise i wont hunt him down, even though i should,” he murmurs the last part.

“what was that?” he shakes his head and motions for you to speak, sigh. “he basically just told me he didn’t remember anything from last night.”

“mm, and what’d you say?”

“you know what i said wooyoung, i know you were listening.”

“well tell me again, it was kind of hot,” he smirks, that makes you roll your eyes as you laugh.

hongjoong comes back and everything is set in motion once again, you swear that five minute break felt more like five seconds. after two more hours the work day has ended, you’re back in your bed, and suddenly it’s almost a month later. you pulled countless all-nighters practicing the choreography by yourself, pushing your body to its limit. jaehyun? not a word from him, and that’s perfectly fine with you. the music video released a few days ago, and now it’s s performance day. you have bigger things to worry about.

to say you’re nervous is an understatement. the anxiety of repeating the same mistakes you had worked so hard to fix comes creeping up your neck, sending shivers down your spine. or was it the hand that’s now laying against your lower back that did that?

“you ready, popstar?” wooyoung whispers into your ear from behind. you can’t see him, but you can feel him. hear him, smell him. it’s overwhelming to say the least, but also provides you a sense of comfort. you turn your head to the side and smile at him with a nod.

you all get into position in the stage, waiting patiently for the music to start, fans are cheering. what’s going in your head, you wonder?

anytime now…

oh! that scared me, oh my it’s really loud.

these lights are blinding me…

don’t mess up, don’t fuck it up. wait—yes, fuck it up. fuck it up so good, girl.

get out. my. face.

please don’t bump into him, please don’t bump into him.

oh thank fuck. thank you, lord.

okay jongho sing itttt.

voice please don’t crack, it’s my turn.

gotta make that money make—

it’s nothing but heavy breathing and stripping of clothing once you get backstage. you had been itching to get this heavy ass jacket off your frame for over an hour now, the relief of shredding it from your body an overwhelming sensation.

“you did so good, im so proud of you.” wooyoung jogs towards you and squeezes you so tight you can barely breathe.

“thank you, youngie, but i’m really sweaty and i kinda can’t breathe… move. please.” he pulls away with a breathless smile.

“you ready to do it all over again in two days?” he winks at you, the guttural groan you let out probably echoed down the halls. “i’ll take that as a no,” he laughs.

later that night after you’ve returned home and showered, you hear a knock at your door. who the fuck? you open the door to see none other than jung fucking wooyoung standing there in his full pajama set.

a giggle escapes your lip as you quirk a brow at him, “and what do you think you’re doing?”

“uh, sleepover?” he says, or asks, it’s hard to tell which one it was. once you see the container of brownies in his hands though? it was an immediate yes anyway. he cooks you dinner, you serve him wine, it all felt very domestic but also… just friendly? there was no tension, nothing dramatic. it was almost as if he were one of your girlfriends. you gossiped, laughed, watched movies, things that you’d do with your best friend.

while you guys are in the middle of watching the second hunger games movie, there’s another knock at the door.

“did you invite san or yeosang over?” you question, to which he shakes his head just as confused as you are. you get up and go open the door, freezing in place once you see who’s behind your door.

jaehyun.

all you can do is stare at him through the crack of the door, all the emotions you had forgotten about a month ago suddenly crashing down on you.

“who is it?” you hear wooyoung shout from the couch. nobody answered him.

“hey,” jaehyun started. no.

“don’t,” you hold your hand up, “are you fucking kidding me right now?”

“look, i know i messed up—”

“messed up? messed up?! we haven’t spoken in a fucking month, jaehyun!” you snatch your phone from the pocket of your pajama pants and open the messages between you guys, “12:28am, what the fuck was that? 12:46am, hello? jaehyun are you serious? did you fall asleep? 1:13am, hello, what the fuck?” your eyes are open so wide they’re damn near bulging out of your head. behind you, wooyoung creeps up around the corner.

“baby, please just let me in so we can talk—”

“about what? about fucking what, jaehyun? have you finally remembered what happened that night or what?” silence. “well, i’m waiting. what happened? please, do tell.”

silence, again. fine.

“i thought you were on tour, why are you here?”

“i- i am- i was i- i’m back just for the week. i-“ he sighs, searching for the words he wants to say, “i- i cheated on you,” he said under his breath as he looked at his feet.

“hm? what?”

“i fucking cheated! okay? are you happy now? i cheated on you!”

your five senses have been infiltrated once again.

blurry. everything is blurry, you can’t see who you’re talking to anymore. nothing is clear, you’ve spent two years of your life with this man. the man you thought you would marry, the man who wrote songs about you, the man who was your first everything.

your ears are ringing, what did he say? you knew it, you had a feeling deep down inside. but for him to just flat out scream it out like it means nothing? like you mean nothing?

you can smell the alcohol on his breath as he speaks to you. oh, he’s been drinking. again. go figure.

just seeing him leaves a bitter taste on your tongue.

tears. red, hot, angry tears are streaming down your face. you feel your hands touch your face, are you moving your arms? you can’t feel them. everything feels numb, you’re numb.

“y-you need to go,” you whimper, looking right through him as more and more tears cascade down your cheeks.

“jagiya, i-”

“don’t,” you feel a hand on the small of your back. your lip starts quivering, you start breathing faster, you’re panicking. you don’t understand anything that’s going on right now. “you heard her, you need to go,” he doesn’t. “leave before i fucking make you leave, and trust me, you don’t want that.” wooyoung threatens, causing you to jump slightly at the sudden outburst. his hand rubs circles against your spine.

jaehyun looks between the two of you, then at the floor, ultimately deciding to leave the premise. your numb hand slowly moves to shut the door, and all you can do is stare at it. you feel your body slide down the door as your sobs finally break free.

you knew it.

you fucking knew it.

why were you in denial for so long? why did you allow this to happen to yourself? this is all your fault, if you knew, then why didn’t you end it before now? do you still love him? were you hoping that it wasn’t true? god, it would’ve been much better if you were just making thing up in your head.

you sob, and you sob even more. wooyoung drops down next to you and pulls you into his arms. “what’s wrong with me?” you cry out.

“nothing is wrong with you, honey. nothing at all, okay?” he hears his chin on top of your head as he rubs your back, “he has no idea what he just lost. you’re the smartest, most amazing, beautiful, kind, courageous person i know. you’ll find the one who’s best for you.”

“promise?” you whimper.

wooyoungs heart is torn. all he wants in this moment is for you to be okay, happy, and in his arms. “i promise, i really do.”

it’s been a long time since that night. a really long time, actually. you’ve had three comebacks since then and are currently working on your fourth; golden hour: part 4. now sitting in the studio, wooyoung and yourself are bundled up on the couch together scrolling on pinterest.

“i’ll do it if you do it,” he smiles and turns his head to look at you, showing you a picture of cherry red hair.

“you want me to dye my hair red?” he nods. “you’re not gonna chicken out last second and have me running around like strawberry shortcake, will you?” wooyoung damn near dies. why? because it’s you. it wasn’t nearly half as funny as he made it out to be, but you just tickle him so good.

“of course not, i’ve already dyed my hair red before, remember?” oh you remember all too well. that red hair looked spectacular on him. it was during that time when you had a crush on him—or was it before then? scratch that, it was when you first met. you had a huge crush on wooyoung when you first met, and it lasted up until you met jaehyun for the first time. when was that? 2021? you broke up in… 2024?

gosh, it’s been so long since you’ve even thought about jaehyun. it’s now 2026 and you all have moved on to bigger and better things. last you checked, he was doing his military service.

haha, you lost your hair. loser.

you know who hasn’t lost his hair? wooyoung. where were we? oh right, back to the crush thing. yeah, you had the fattest crush on him, just cute puppy love at first. he didn’t know, you tried to hold it in, it ate away at you for years, and eventually the crush faded. but now? something has changed, you can’t tell if it’s the way he looks at you or if the plates in your brain shifted the night he comforted you during one of the most heartbreaking moments in your life. all you know is right now, he is taking your breath away all over again.

“do you know how to dye hair?” you ask.

“i mean… not really, but i can try.” he smiles down at you, oh god.

“alright, i’ll dye your hair tonight. come over with the stuff so i can get to business, and make sure you get enough!”

“how much is enough?”

“the whole store baby, the whole store.” you rest your head on his shoulder and continue scrolling on your phone.

baby? did she just call me baby? she’s never done that before. what does that mean? uh, my heart is kind of freaking out. oh my god, does she hear it?

so yeah, wooyoung may or may not have never gotten over his crush on you. fuck that, he never did. it’s definite. when you were with jaehyun he had to tone down the his touching, flirting, all the things that makes him, well, him. but it’s been two years since jaehyun has been out of the picture. guess what that means? it’s his turn.

he’s had a crush on you ever since you graced his eyes, though he never allowed himself to show it. which, even if he did, he’s pretty sure you’d only just think it’s him being the same old flirty wooyoung when that wouldn’t have been the case at all. i mean, yes, he has flirted with you, and yes it has been serious on his end. does he think you got the hint though? pfft, how could you? you were too far up jaehyuns ass to pay him any mind.

knock knock knock

“yay, yay, yay, yay, yay, yay, yayyyyy!” you squeal as you make your way over to your door. you love when it’s time to get your hair done, just as much as you love doing others’ hair. you yank the door open with a big smile, and as expected, wooyoung is standing there with a boyish grin and a bag full of hair supplies.

“are you ready to stain your entire bathroom?”

“yes!”

here’s the current situation; you currently have your hair soaked in red dye under a shower cap. wooyoung? he’s sitting on the toilet while you stand in front of him and work the dye into his hair.

“you should’ve put gloves on,” he says as he watches you work your magic above him. he’s extremely aware of how close you are to one another right now, you between his legs while he struggles to figure out where the fuck he should put his hands.

“well you didn’t either. if you get in trouble then i’ll get in trouble too,” you smile down at him with the most beautiful smile he’s ever seen. he takes this moment to really look at you. you have a beauty mark right under your lip, how has he never noticed that before? you smell amazing, don’t get him wrong, you always smell good, but right now? oh my god. vanilla and everything gourmand. wooyoung swears he’s become addicted to it.

you know he’s staring, you’re extremely aware of it actually. that’s what makes this all the more fun. you’ve noticed he’s been extra clingy lately. always sitting with you during practice breaks, going to get food with you, getting food for you, he’s even been walking you home some nights. you’re not sure why, but your hopes are most certainly high.

“what’re you looking at?” you question with an anxious laugh.

“your beauty mark,” he replies, reaching up to rub his finger against it. okay, that took you off guard completely. your entire body froze for a second before getting back to work on his hair, reaching to gather more of the dye. wooyoung noticed the effect he had on you.

“you’re just now noticing it?”

“yeah, i don’t know why though…” he says softly, almost mesmerized. “it’s pretty,” the room is silent for a moment after that, the only sound coming from your hands working on his head. “you’re pretty.”

you freeze.

what did he just say?

your eyes fall to his, he’s already looking at you. you both stare at each other for a moment, no words being said but somehow it’s so loud in this bathroom. you notice him leaning up, an attempt to get closer to your face. you find yourself also inching closer to him, so close yet so far.

your lips are inches away from each other at this point, his breath tickling your face. his hands slide up the backs of your legs and that’s what snaps you out of it. you quickly pull away, clearing your throat. wooyoung jumps from shock and does the same, nervously rubbing his hands on his thighs.

“um- your hair should be good now. we just have to leave it in for thirty minutes,” you quickly say as your hands move just as fast to grab all the trash.

wooyoung clears his throat, “yeah, alright. okay,” he stands and grabs a shower cap, putting it over his hair. you’re out of the bathroom in a flash, speeding to your trash can and onto the couch. fuck. what just happened.

you turn a show on, no idea what it is but it provides you a distraction from whatever the hell you almost did in there. wooyoung makes himself known by sinking into the couch next to you. you don’t look at him, don’t acknowledge his presence, you don’t even speak. all you can do is stare straight ahead at the tv and pray the timer on your phone goes off any minute now.

wooyoung is the same. this fucking timer can’t go off any faster. he takes his chances and looks over at you, but you pay him no mind. ouch. it’s stays exactly like that until thirty minutes are up, the both of you springing off the couch and heading for the bathroom.

“we should wash your hair out first since it’s been sitting longer,” he points out. yeah, i guess we should. you grab a towel and wrap it around your shoulders while wooyoung takes your shower cap off. god this is awkward. you get on your knees and lean over the tub while wooyoung begins massaging your head under the water.

“holy fucking shit it’s been almost ten minutes why is the water not clear yet?” you yell out. you back is aching and your sure wooyoungs is too.

“i don’t know, do you think it’s good enough? i mean, it’s pink water and not red water so…”

“it’s good. it’s good, it’s good. oh my god, my back hurts please let me get up,” you groan as wooyoung helps you up and wraps the towel over your head. you just stare at each other for a minute before letting out tiny laughs. “you’re next.”

wooyoung stares at your pink-stained bathtub, “yeah, i guess i am.” and then you repeat the process once more, except it’s much louder and way more annoying this time.

“ouch! don’t rip my hair out, damn it!”

“i’m sorry, im not trying to!”

“my back hurts, oh my god.”

“i’m never letting you dye my hair again.”

wah, wah, wah! crybaby, crybaby, crybaby!

eventually, the torture is over and it’s time to dry the hair. great.

“do you want me to dry your hair or do you have it?” you ask.

wooyoung smiles, “you can do it.” oh, of course. don’t be mistaken, the situation is still very much awkward, but somehow a bit of the tension has been released. that’s just how you guys are. while you dry his hair there’s nothing to be said, as if you would even be able to with how loud the damn thing is.

once you finish his hair you switch roles, but instead of you sitting on the toilet he stands behind you in front of the sink. perks of being taller, i guess. you watch him very carefully through the mirror as he runs his fingers through your hair, making sure to dry every piece without tangles. he’s so pretty, you can’t help but to think.

just then, he looks up at you. you’ve been caught. his smirk grows wide, “whatcha looking at, huh?” he yells over the blow dryer.

“mm, nothing,” you say innocently with the faintest smile.

he turns the blow dryer off, “huh? what was that?” he teases.

you roll your eyes, “i said nothing.” he places the blow dryer on the counter and traps you from behind, both arms resting on either side of your body.

“doesn’t look like nothing,” he whispers in your ear whilst maintaining eye contact in the mirror. is the window open? it’s very cold in here, no, it’s hot. it’s so fucking hot.

wooyoungs hands move to your waist and spin you around to face him, “you won’t run from me this time, will you?” he whispers, eyes flicking to your lips for a split second.

you can’t help but to notice how close you both are in this moment, his hips keeping you grounded against counter, the tips of your noses brushing. you shake your head as you both lean in, lips finally locking. his arms wrap around your waist and pull you impossibly closer, your arms lock around his neck, fingers pulling at his freshly dyed hair.

you open your eyes for a split second, seeing the cherry red hair you worked oh so hard on.

you hear wooyoungs groans as you pull his soft hair, and you can smell the strawberry chapstick he must’ve put on right before this.

your tongues mix together, now finally, you taste the strawberry chapstick.

his hands are roaming all over your body now, and you reciprocate. your hands glide down his back, feeling the muscles as they flex beneath your hands.

wooyoung groans into your mouth once more, feeding you with all of his beautiful sounds. yours mouths move in tandem with one another, barely coming up for air, but when you finally do? oh, it is so, so sweet.

your breaths mingle as you pull apart, staring into each others eyes. “so,” you squeak.

“so.”

“what now?” he hums as he rests his forehead on yours.

“hmm, round two?” you both giggle as you lock your lips for a second time that night, the both of you having no idea what you’ve just started.

it’s officially comeback day. you’ve got adrenaline flushing through your veins. no, seriously. you’re all backstage getting your make up and hair done. wooyoung is sitting beside you with his assigned make up artist while you get your hair done, scrolling through your phone and seeing what atiny thinks about the music video.

“wooyoung, atiny said they like our matching hair.” you giggle and show him the comments under the video.

“they have good taste,” he winks. after about fifteen minutes your hair is done and wooyoung has his make up on, it’s time to rotate with the other members. you walk out the room and to your dressing room to make any adjustments to your make up and hair. what? god forbid a girl has preferences.

“now why are you ruining what our lovely stylists worked so hard on?” the oh, so, familiar voice booms through your dressing room, causing you to jump and accidentally smear lipstick on your chin.

“wooyoung!” you whined, pouting at him through the mirror. he’s smirking, leaning against the doorframe. “it wasn’t ruined until you did that shit!” you groan, not noticing him close the door and lock it behind him. you’re too focused on trying to fix your make up that you don’t realize how close he is now.

“aww baby, it’s okay. here, let me see,” he leans down from behind and holds your face in his hand. oh. licking his lips, he kisses up from the smeared lipstick to your lips, stealing your breath away. you relax immediately, releasing the breath you didn’t know you were holding in all this time.

he pulls away with a frown, “mm. that didn’t work, hold on.” he moves his thumb to your chin, carefully wiping the lipstick off. his bottom lip is tucked between his teeth as he pulls your bottom lip down with his thumb. feeling a bit naughty, you take advantage of this moment. you open your mouth and let him thumb glide against your tongue, maintaining eye contact with the cherry-haired man. “oh, baby…” he groans, “you shouldn’t do that.”

that only encourages you to suck his thumb harder. “oh, i see. you wanna be a little slut, huh?” your eyes gloss over at that, pupils dilated. he pushes his thumb further back before sliding it out your mouth, holding the side of your head as you lean into his touch.

“please,” you beg.

“please what?” he presses, sinking down to his knees and turning your chair to face him. your legs spread willingly, your body moving before you can even think. his hands smooth over your thighs, trialing up your skirt, “you gotta tell me what you want or i can’t help you, my love.”

your breath hitches as he pulls down the shorts you’re wearing underneath your skirt. “p-please, touch me.”

“touch you?” he cocks his head to the side, “touch you where, huh?” wooyoung leaves a trail of kisses up your inner thighs and pushes up your skirt to reveal your panties. his thumb grazes the wet spot shining through them, “here?” your legs try to close but oh, oh no, he’s not having that. he keeps your legs spread with his hands, “keep these pretty legs open or you won’t be getting a damn thing from me, got it?”

you’ve never nodded your head so quick in your life.

he hooks his thumb on your panties and pushes them aside, mouth watering at the sight. “oh, look at this pretty pussy,” he damn near moans as he blows cool air against your heat, making your hips jerk forward. he smirks before sinking inbetween your thighs, flattening his tongue against you to test the waters. you lay your head back against the chair, a content sigh escaping your lips.

his tongue swirled around your clit once, twice, three times before he began to suck, eliciting a loud moan from you. then comes his fingers, and boy does he waste no time. he dives two fingers into your heat, curling and twisting while you encourage him with your moans.

“oh- fuck, youngie.” you cry out. he chuckles against your clit before picking up the pace, “please- don’t stop, please.”

“mm, yeah? don’t stop?”

“please-”

“tell me how good it feels baby, tell your youngie how good he’s treating your pussy.”

you’ve completely lost your mind at this point, the coil in your stomach is getting tighter and tighter by the second. not a single word is coming to mind. you can’t speak, you can hardly think, only thing you know is him. with another flick of his tongue you’re releasing all over his fingers, crying out for god knows who as you rock your hips with the movement of his fingers still inside of you.

“yeah baby, let it all out for me. cum all over my fingers.” he coos. he helps you ride out your orgasm with a couple kisses to your now swollen clit, kissing up your body to your mouth. you can taste yourself on his tongue, his fingers still pumping in and out of your at a slow pace. after another minute or two he finally pulls them out of you, sucking his fingers dry and pulling you into another sloppy, wet, kiss.

when he pulls away a string of saliva is left behind, keeping the two of you connected. “bend over the vanity for me, doll.” he says as he unbuckles his belt and works to get his pants off. you do as he says and watch in the mirror as he pulls his cock out. you bite your lip once you see his red, hot, angry tip is leaking with precum, mouth immediately watering. “it’s impolite to stare.” he teases, pushing your head further down as he lines up behind you.

he pushes your skirt over your hips and pulls your panties to the side again, rubbing the tip of his cock against your clit, your mouth falls open as a silent moan tears through you. wooyoung bites his lip as he watches through the mirror. “that feel good baby? you feel me?” you nod. all you can do is nod at this point, you’re so insanely fucked out and he’s barely even done anything. “i need you to be quieter this time, okay? we gotta go on in five minutes.” he whispers in your ear.

his hands hold your hips steady against the vanity as he pushes in, holding back his own moan as he sinks into your heat. “fuckkk, baby.” he groans, his head falling back before he slides out and then slams back into you.

his whole body is leaning over you now as his hips piston into your gummy walls, your mouth has fallen open once again and your eyes roll to the back of your head. “oh, fuck!” your cry out, causing wooyoung to shove two fingers into your mouth to shut you the fuck up.

“what did i say?” he groans breathlessly into your ear, “be a good girl for me, shhh, shh, it’s okay.” he has to bite into your shoulder himself just to stay quiet, his own orgasm creeping up on him. the coil in your stomach is tightening again, your hands grabbing out for anything to keep you stable.

your orgasm tears through you once more, tears running down your face. “i feel you, baby. i’m here.” his hips are moving at an impossible speed by now, chasing his orgasm along with yours. once he feels your walls fluttering around him he knows it’s time. “cum again, baby. cum all over my cock, please- cum for me.” his whines drive you over the edge.

your entire body trembles underneath his as you release for the third time, all over his now softening cock. he pumps a few more times, making sure every last drop is gone before removing his fingers from your mouth and leaning back, looking down at the beautiful sight. once he slides out of you, his thumb replaces his cock. bending down to be face to face with your pussy, he pumps his thumb in and out of you a few times. “gotta make sure you don’t leak all over the stage, huh?” he smirks, removing his thumb and sliding your panties back into place.

“hey, where are my shorts?” you ask once you’ve both cleaned each other up. wooyoung smirks at you for what feels like the hundredth time today.

“oh, you mean these?” he holds them up on his pointer finger, waving them around in your face before shoving them in his pocket. “you won’t be needing them.”

staff knocks on your door, “thirty seconds, let’s go!” you both look at the door and then at each other.

wooyoung leans towards you, “like i said, don’t leak all over the stage.” and with that, he leaves a smack on your ass before walking out of the dressing room, leaving both you and your five senses going haywire.

what. the. fuck.

© woopetal. all rights reserved.

y/n:

hey, it's san, you already know that. okay, you know i'm bad at this, so i'm sorry in advance. there might be a right way to write this and i don't think i know it, but for you i'll try. please don't judge the handwriting too much. or the wording, or how short or long it is. i rewrote the first part four times and it still feels bad. anyway, i'm sorry, here's the letter. i guess i should start from the beginning, no? is that stupid? i don't know. [scribbled] the first time i saw you was in that class we both didn’t want to be in. i don’t even remember what the professor was saying, but i remember you. you were leaning over the desk, hand on your cheek, resting your head. i remember thinking you looked easy to be around. i don’t know why, but it did. this is embarrassing but i think i knew i wanted to marry you way earlier than i probably should have. i didn’t say it, obviously, that would've been creepy. i just knew you looked so so pretty and now that i know you, you became so beautiful. not that you weren't beautiful before being with me, you always were, i'm just saying from my perspective just how mesmerized you had me from the start, you know? you are just so smart, so creative, so diligent. [scribbled] it's like when you balance numbers and they finally add up the way they’re supposed to, that's what it kind of felt like, but in the romantic way. i'm sorry i'm not good at expressing my feelings and all that, you know that better than anyone else. but i want you to know that choosing you has never felt like a decision i had to force myself into. i want this more than anything, with you. we have this apartment now. it’s small and the walls are kind of thin and the kitchen light flickers sometimes, but it’s ours. i keep thinking about how this is the place where everything will start. mornings, dinners, normal days, hard days, all of it. and i like knowing you’ll be here at the end of the day. i like knowing i get to come home to you. i promise i’ll take care of you. i promise i’ll work hard. [scribbled] i know i don’t always say what i’m thinking, but i feel things even when i don’t show them right. does that make sense? well, [scribbled] i’m really proud to be your husband. that still feels strange to write, but in a good way. i hope we grow old together. i hope we don’t stop choosing each other, even when life gets busy or complicated. i hope you always know that you’re my favorite person in the world, even if i forget to say it out loud sometimes. i’ll always try to try, even if i’m bad.

i love you.

san

tucked beneath the neatly folded cashmere sweaters, exactly where you left it. lace covered box, meant for letters he had promised to fill with, yet a year and a half later, only the first one stood alone. you weren't angry, not even sad. it actually made you chuckle a little. just a quiet grief for what had been started to root deep inside, for the vibrant colors that had softened into pastels, for the soft reverence in his eyes that had slowly faded into habit. you often found yourself staring at the box, a wry smile touching your lips.

the paper, once crisp, now yielded to countless revisits. you knew every word by heart, the rhythm of his awkward sincerity etched into your memory. you traced the faded ink. his handwriting, usually neat in ledgers, was a little clumsy here. each letter formed with an almost painful deliberation. it was short, a simple promise. a quiet declaration of his intent to build a life with you, to be your home. no extreme pronouncements of undying passion, but a solid foundation of devotion. san had never been one for grand gestures, at least not in words. his love manifested in the certainty of his presence, the steady rhythm of his life intertwined with yours. in fact, you had asked for the letter in the first place, at that diner right before receiving the keys to the apartment.

"a letter?" he'd shifted on his seat, a blush creeping up his neck. "i'm not... good with words, y/n."

you shook your head with an endeared smile. "you don't have to be shakespeare sannie, just you."

he seemed in thought for a moment, trying to resist looking at your puppy eyes asking pretty please before straightening his back, accepting the challenge. and he did. pen clutched tight, brows furrowed in concentration. you’d watched him, your heart swelling with a love so potent it felt like a physical ache. then when he finished, he slid it across the booth table, eyes avoiding yours with his shy offering.

now, the paper, soft as old linen, whispered between your fingertips. you didn't rush. each sentence, each carefully chosen word, you read them slowly, precious memory reexperiencie. tasting the hope, the fresh promise of that day when he later bought you the box, saying he'd get better at it and you'd have it spilling out with his loving written words. you ran your fingers over the intricate patterns of the lace, delicate threads contrasting the hollow space.

you folded the letter along it's original creases, the paper folding easily, and placed it back before checking your thight bun in the mirror, perfect posture, every single hair placed where it was meant to be. he still looked at you, of course, but the spark, the raw wonder, had dimmed. it wasn't his fault. life had a way of sanding down the sharp edges of infatuation, leaving behind the smooth, enduring stone of work life.

silence stretched, punctuated only by the distant city chorus. you tell yourself he just forgot. got busy, or thought one was enough. you're good at explaining things away. but when did trying turn into remembering? when did the promise of a future become the past?

the aroma of roasted chicken and rosemary filled the air, a comforting scent that tonight told a solitary performance. table was set, candles unlit, everything waiting for a moment that kept getting delayed. the antique clock sat on the mantelpiece. seven thirty, again. you waited for the familiar click of keys in the lock, the sound that usually signaled the end of day and the beginning of us.

when he comes in your head lifts before you even realize. smoothing your dress automatically, fingers brushing over fabric that was never wrinkled in the first place. a small smile already forming, reserved for him. san already halfway out of his shoes, shoulders slumped, a dark suit jacket draped over his arm. he didn’t glance at the table set for two, but knows everything looks exactly as it always does.

"hey," his voice tired, worn down. like business of the city still clung to him.

"hi," you answer, softer.

he leans in, presses a quick kiss to your temple. familiar, practiced.

"sorry i’m late," he adds, already loosening his tie as you walked towards the dining table. "we had to redo part of the quarterly report because... how do i put this- there was a discrepancy in one of the ledgers, and it threw off the whole reconciliation process. so we had to go back and..."

pulling out his chair. the heavy oak scraped across the polished floor. he loosened his tie, then unbuttoned the top button of his shirt. "had to redo a section. whole damn thing.” he ran a hand through his hair, already tousled from the day. “hours. just… hours.”

you watched him, spooning roasted vegetables onto his plate. you pushed his plate closer, then sat across from him. "must be frustrating," you offered, a soft murmur.

he picked up his fork, turning the chicken over. "frustrating doesn’t begin to cover it. the whole team, scrambling. for a single misplaced figure." he took a bite, chewed slowly. "it’s done now. mostly."

he keeps talking about work, deadlines, numbers, something about a client. you listen, always do. you don't understand every word, but you understand him in the way he talks when he’s tired. the slight edge in his voice, the way he explains things like he’s still in the middle of solving them. it’s easier for him to talk about numbers than about how his day actually felt.

nods at the right moments. hums of acknowledgement. small "and then?" once in a while, just to keep him going.

"…where did those come from?" he signals behind you at the counter. a faint lift of an eyebrow. a hint of a smile, almost.

you glance back, even though you know exactly what he’s looking at. the vase sits neatly by the sink, filled with fresh flowers. soft colors, carefully arranged.

"oh," you say, turning back to him, a warmth creeping up your neck. "mrs. jones gave them to me. i brought her some brownies earlier."

he paused, fork halfway to his mouth and exhales a small breath through his nose in genuine bewilderment.

"y/n," he says, setting his fork down for a second, "you need to stop baking so much."

you blink at him. "why?"

"i don't know, it's just..." he gestures vaguely, like the answer should be obvious. "it's every day. there's always something new. brownies, cookies, that cake from yesterday. the whole building must be swimming in your desserts." he didn’t sound angry, just... resigned.

"i like baking," your voice still gentle, picking at a loose thread on the tablecloth

"i know, i know," he says quickly. "i'm just saying… it's a lot, isn't it?"

a small pause settles and you shrug, barely lifting your shoulders. "it keeps me busy."

he reached across the table, covering your hand with his. his palm was warm, calloused. "tell you what. how about i book you a day at that salon you like? the one on fifth street. hair. nails. the works. i can tell my sister to join you."

"what? am i starting to look like a hag?" you managed a weak laugh.

his grip tightened slightly. his eyes, usually so guarded, held yours with an intensity that surprised you. "you know that’s not what i meant." his voice was firm, no trace of humor.

the small joke withered and you nodded, slowly. "okay." you swallowed. "okay, that sounds... nice."

the candle flickered, casting dancing shadows across his face. he picked up his fork again, the brief moment of connection already fading.

later, the apartment settled into it's nightly quiet. you lay in bed, the soft glow of your reading lamp illuminating the pages of a novel you couldn't quite focus on. normal people by sally rooney, but the words blurred. beside you, san lay on his back, eyes fixed on the small screen in his hands. the blue light painted his face in stark contrasts. his thumb scrolled, scrolled, scrolled. numbers, probably. reports. another discrepancy.

you watched the subtle movements of his jaw, the slight furrow in his brow. he was so focused, so far away. still, you reached out, tentative touch to his forearm. his skin was warm beneath your fingers.

he didn’t stir, didn’t look up. his thumb kept scrolling.

you moved your hand, gently, up his arm, over his shoulder, until your fingers brushed the nape of his neck, then threaded into his hair. soft, dark strands. you leaned closer, your breath stirring the air near his ear.

a soft sound escaped him and it almost seemed like he was leaning into it. a yawn. deep, stretching. he lowered the phone, placing it face down on the nightstand. his eyes, heavy lidded, met yours. fleeting moment, again.

"long day," he murmured, his voice thick with sleep. he gave you a quick short peck on your cheek then turned onto his side, facing away from you, the duvet pulled higher. "good night."

lamp clicked off. darkness enveloped the room, thick and immediate. you lay there, listening to the soft, even rhythm of his breathing, soon turning into soft snores. beside him but alone in the quiet. the book lay open, unread. words still blurred.

୨୧

acetone and something floral, both sharp and comforting. hum of dryers and low chatter fills the space, blending into a steady background noise that makes everything feel easy. normal.

you sat in the middle chair, hands resting neatly on the small cushion in front of you, fingers relaxed but still. a sigh escaping your lips before you could stop it. the manicurist, a young woman with a bright, knowing smile, took your hand, her touch cool and precise. she filed your nails into neat, elegant ovals. you picked a soft, clean color without much thought. something simple, safe, that goes with everything.

across from you, two of your friends leaned into each other, their overlapping voices a stream of gossip. too loud and uncaring. the others chime in, voices overlapping. one of them threw her head back, a peal of laughter echoing, the other one nodded, eyes wide with feigned shock. they talked about a mutual acquaintance’s recent engagement, the scandalous details of a breakup, the endless parade of societal expectations.

"he actually said that?"

"no, stop-"

"i'm serious, i swear-"

to your left, rhythmic snip of scissors. noeul, san's older sister listened quietly, sat under a cloud of foil, her head tilted back as a stylist worked through her dark hair. but her attention drifts back to you more often than not. she owned a warm, reassuring glint. offering a small, conspiratorial smile whenever you caught her gaze in the mirror, silent acknowledgment of the shared escape.

a few chairs down, a woman with kind eyes spoke in hushed tones to her stylist. "she just graduated middle school with the highest scores," her voice, thick with a mother’s proudness, drifted over.

the stylist hums a singing note. "you must be so proud."

"oh, more than that" the woman exhales. "she's even already thinking about what she wants to study after high school."

she spoke of her daughter, a girl she’d poured her heart into.

your fingers still for a second on the cushion. the stylist murmurs something gentle back, and the conversation folds into the background. but it lingers.

your gaze drifted from the woman’s satisfied face to the neat row of polish bottles, then to your own hands, at the careful brush of polish gliding over your nails. you imagined those hands, smaller, softer, reaching for yours. a child. a son, perhaps, with san’s dimples and your own tendency to blush when surprised. or a daughter, with san’s quiet strength and your expressive eyes. the thought bloomed in your mind like a fragile hothouse flower.

you try to picture it. years stacked quietly on top of each other. a child in your apartment. toys where there are now empty surfaces. noise where there is now silence. san, coming home from work. would he pick them up? would he be too tired? would he talk to them the way he talks to you now, half there, half somewhere else? or would it be different? the thought catches you off guard. unfamiliar.

because you've never talked about it. not seriously. not beyond passing comments, vague things people say because they’re supposed to. someday. eventually. no timelines, no plans, no want or don’t want laid out clearly between you.

you don't even know if he wants kids. and for a second, that realization feels heavier than it should. there’s a whole future on a limbo sitting out of reach. not because it’s impossible, but because it’s never been named.

"y/n? you’re miles away!" the brightness of your friend's voice cut through your reverie.

the other leans forward slightly, "how’s married life treating you?"

you don't look up right away, only tilting your hand slightly when the nail tech asks you to. a practiced tug at the corner of your lips masked the tremor beneath.

"it's good, really good." you offered, voice light and airy.

"ugh," someone groans playfully. "of course it is. you guys were always like... perfect for each other."

you let out a soft laugh. "thank you, emma."

"it is," the friend grins. "seriously though, what have you guys been up to lately? anything fun?"

there’s a pause. you glance up for just a second, like you're checking your memory for something recent, something worth telling. "not really," tone still light. "just... normal stuff."

"that's adorable," another friend says, laced with genuine admiration. "no drama or chaos. must be so peaceful to marry an office guy."

"yeah," you nod, smile a little wider. "exactly."

the conversation shifts easily after that, flowing like a meandering river to other topics, someone starts talking about a coworker, someone else about a trip they want to take, and you listen, add comments here and there, smile when you're supposed to. their voices rising and falling in a comfortable rhythm. you watched them, their easy camaraderie, the way they finished each other’s sentences, and a familiar pang of loneliness pierced through the carefully erected wall around your heart.

noeul’s voice, soft but firm, cut through the din. she leaned closer, her perceptive eyes, meeting yours.

"how’s he been?” she asks.

you turn slightly. "san?"

a small nod. "yeah."

your smile didn’t falter. it felt glued on now, a permanent fixture. "he’s good," you say. "just busy with work, you know how he is." the words came out a little too quickly, a little too smooth. you avoided her gaze, focusing instead on the manicurist applying the top coat, making sure each nail was perfectly glossy.

noeul scoffs and tilts her head. "i do." a faint, wry smile touched her lips. "you know, i’ve known my brother a long time. longer than you, even." she paused, letting her words hang in the air. "i know how he gets. when things pile up and he forgets the rest of the world exists."

for a second, the façade threatened to crack. the truth, the bitter, stinging sensation, rose in your throat. you wanted to confess, to unburden yourself, to say, he’s not here, noeul. even when he’s here, he’s not here. i’m so lonely. i feel like i’m drowning in this calm. but the words remained trapped. fearful of conflict, ingrained habit of presenting things softly. you forced a small, reassuring nod. "yeah, it's nothing." the lie tasted like ash.

she watches you for a second longer, like she’s weighing something, then hums lightly and looks away, letting the moment dissolve back into the room. as the conversation drifts away again, your gaze lowers, unfocused.

the manicurist finished, buffing your nails to a high shine. she applied a cuticle oil, the scent of almond and rose a delicate perfume. your hands, now impeccably groomed, felt foreign.

"all done, dear." she announced, her smile bright.

you lift your hands slightly, turning them under the light. they’re perfect. smooth, even, untouched.

"thank you," you say, smiling.

for a moment, you imagine asking him. should be simple. do you ever think about kids? it doesn’t feel like a big question. it's not.

and yet, you can’t picture the moment clearly. when you'd ask, how he’d answer, whether it would feel natural or out of place, like introducing a topic that doesn’t belong in the quiet shape of their life. so you let the thought go.

you reach for your phone absentmindedly. no new messages. thumb hovers over the screen for a second, like you might type something, then you lock it instead and set it back down.

"do you guys want to grab something after this?" a girls asks. "coffee?"

"perfect! i’m craving that new lavender latte."

"oh, i can't," you say quickly, forcing another regretful smile. "i really should head home. dinner, you know." you gestured vaguely, as if the very concept of an empty fridge was an urgent, looming threat.

"alright, wifey," someone teases.

you simply smile again in a thin line as you stand, smoothing down your dress out of instinct and reach for your bag. giving everyone a small goodbye hug. as you pass behind noeul, there’s a brief brush of hands, intentional to pause you.

"hey, if it’s ever not nothing," she says quietly, a hint of concern still lacing her words. "you can tell me."

you hold her gaze for a second. then you smile. soft, reassuring, effortless. "i know." and you mean it, you just don't use it.

blur of city sounds and hurried footste. you stepped out, the cool afternoon air a sharp contrast to the salon’s warmth. rose scented oil on your nails, faint blush of pink, it felt like a disguise. you walked, footsteps echoing on the pavement, toward the quiet of the apartment, toward the silent kitchen, toward the dinner you had to make. the thought of it, a weight in your stomach, settled in with the dull ache of loneliness. the calm awaited.

୨୧

the last of the suds swirled down the drain, taking with them the faint scent of tonight’s braised short ribs. you wiped down the counter, movements precise, methodical. the clinking of ceramic plates against the drying rack was the only sound in the kitchen. you dried your hands on a towel, folding it neatly over the edge of the sink when you're finished. dishes done, kitchen clean again.

san's in the living room, laptop open, the soft glow of the screen lighting his face. he's not typing much. just staring, scrolling, thinking. you paused at the archway, shoulder pressing lightly against the cool plaster. the conversation from the salon, a snippet of motherhood, rang in your mind. it had all been a gentle nudge, a question mark in the back of your thoughts all afternoon. you hadn't realized how much space the idea of a child, of your child, could occupy until that moment.

the future, once a vibrant tapestry you and san wove together with eager hands, now a blank canvas. you’d painted the college days in bright, bold strokes, the wedding vows in shimmering gold. but the years beyond, the ones stretching into a quiet domesticity, remained unsketched. you found yourself wondering if san even saw that canvas anymore, if he still held a brush.

you watched the muscles in his forearms flex as he began typing, the subtle ripple beneath his shirt. his dark hair, a little longer than you usually liked, fell across his forehead. he didn’t look up, his focus absolute, a tunnel vision you’d come to recognize.

"still have a lot to do?" you asked, your voice softer than you intended, a whisper against the keyboard’s clatter.

his fingers stilled for a beat, then resumed their pace. "almost," he murmured, eyes still fixed on the screen. "just finishing up these projections for the morning."

a breath, deep and slow, air cool in your lungs. you watch him for a second. the way his brows pull together slightly, the way his attention narrows into whatever’s on the screen. focused. distant. the question, the real question, the one that had been brewing since you left the salon, fell heavy on your tongue. it wasn't just about kids. it was about us. about the unspoken, the unasked, the growing chasm of silence. you wanted to ask if he ever thought about them, about a future that wasn’t neatly tied to quarterly reports and spreadsheets. you wanted to ask if he still saw you, really saw you, beyond the perfectly made bed and the carefully planned dinners. maybe, just maybe, this question could be the key, a small crack. it could lead to an actual conversation, a real one, not just about work or groceries or the weather. your heart beat a frantic rhythm against your ribs.

"hey," you start.

he hummed, signaling acknowledgement without breaking concentration. his head tilted slightly, silent invitation to continue.

do you ever think about kids?

words once so clear in your mind, so simple in your head, at least, suddenly tangled. they became a knot in your throat, a lump of unspoken fears and resentments. the image of him, so engrossed, so far away, solidified the doubt. what if he says no? what if he doesn’t want them? what if he thinks it’s a silly question? the fear of that disappointment in his eyes, was a known, suffocating weight. you’d spent years perfecting the art of soft landings, of avoiding any ripple in the calm surface of your shared life. to shatter that now, to introduce a potential disagreement, felt like a betrayal of your own carefully constructed peace. the question of children, of your future, of his love, dissolved into a vague, unformed anxiety.

"do you…" you began, then faltered, sentence dying on your lips. "do you want some tea?"

he looked up then, slanted brown eyes meeting yours, a faint smile touching his lips. the blue light softened the edges of his face, highlighting the dimples that appeared only when he was genuinely pleased. "yeah," he nodded. "sounds nice."

and just like that, the moment passed. the opportunity vanished. you offered a small, tight smile in return, then turned and walked back into the quiet kitchen, already reaching for the kettle. behind you, the quiet settles back into place. the question dissolves somewhere between the sink and the stove, blending into the rhythm of water filling, mugs being set out, something warm being made and offered instead of something uncertain being asked. by the time the kettle starts to hum, you can’t even tell if it would’ve been the right moment or if there would ever be one.

୨୧

the supermarket was colder than you'd expected when the automatic doors whispered open, spitting out artificial chill. paused just past the entrance, adjusting your grip on the heavy cart as the air settled unwelcome against your skin. for a moment, you just stood there, letting the quiet hum of refrigerators and distant chatter fill the space around you. a shiver traced it's way down your spine, cold reminder that you had to move, and so you pushed the metal basket forward as it's wheels squeaked faintly.

there was no reason to rush. you followed the aisles in a pattern you didn’t have to think about anymore. chicken first, hand reaching for the familiar white tray. then the vegetable section. flour, again. sugar, constant drain on the pantry, always seemed to run out faster than it should. everything found it's place in the cart without hesitation, each item chosen with the same steady certainty. each line on your shopping list crossed off with a decisive stroke of the pen. at some point, you realized you had already walked down the same aisle twice.

nothing missing, nothing forgotten. the necessities secured, a small indulgence felt earned. you slowed, then stopped altogether at the snack aisle. eyes drifted over the shelves, lingering on things you didn’t need. brightly colored packaging, a mental tally forming: which ones you wouldn't you buy, which ones would san wrinkle his nose at? the familiar ritual offered a brief, quiet comfort. you imagined his polite imperceptible nod of approval when you presented his favourite chocolate covered crispy biscuits, or the slight, teasing lift of his brow if you dared bring home something too exotic.

"y/n?" the voice came from behind, uncertain but enough to make you turn, the cart creaking in protest. you couldn’t place him until the crooked smile appeared and recognition settled in.

seonghwa.

he stood a few feet away, a half basket hooked over his arm. the boy you remembered, all sharp angles and adolescent angst, had softened around the edges, but the core was undeniably him. the piercings that once studded his ears and lip were gone, leaving only ghost like indentations. but new ink snaked up his forearms, dark tendrils against his skin, a testament to a life lived beyond high school hallways. his wolf cut, a shaggy, artfully dishevelled frame around his face, was longer, wilder than you remembered. his round eyes, still piercing, held a glint of surprise, then something else, something assessing.

"oh...hi," you said, a small, surprised smile breaking through. "wait, hi."

"wow, it's really you." he smiled back, a little wider, like he’d been more sure of it than you were. "i almost didn't recognize you. you... look good, exactly the same," he added, almost as an afterthought.

you let out a quiet laugh, shaking your head. "that’s not true."

"it is," he said lightly. "just... older. in a good way."

you smiled again, more out of politeness this time, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear as if to give your hands something to do.

"what are you doing around here?" he asked. "do you live nearby?"

"yeah," you nodded. "not too far. i just came to... groceries."

"right," he said, glancing at his own cart. "same."

there was a brief pause, the kind that should have felt awkward, but didn’t quite. not yet.

"so... are you still in touch with... what was her name? sarah? no- samantha?”

you smiled faintly. "no."

"right, yeah," he said quickly, waving it off with a small laugh. "i always mix those up."

you didn’t correct him. his gaze shifted then, catching on your left hand, lingering for a fraction on the thin band around your ring ringer. you followed his eyes, as if you hadn’t noticed it until that moment.

you offered a practiced smile, a smooth, well rehearsed performance. "oh, yeah. met him in college." the words came out light, airy, almost dismissive of the years of shared history, of the dreams whispered in dorm rooms, the silent promises.

"college, huh? that's nice," he said, and it sounded genuine.

"it is," you replied, too quickly. "his name is san, he's an accountant." the description felt flat, inadequate, a pale shadow of the man you loved.

"an accountant. fancy." he chuckled. "so, what have you been up to? still arguing about about freud versus jung for fun?"

"no, not really." you corrected gently. "i mean, i got a psychology degree but i'm… i'm a stay at home wife now." the phrase almost felt embarrassing on your tongue.

his eyebrow shot up. "huh... i always pictured you, like, running a therapy practice, saving the world from going insane."

you shrugged. "well, it’s nice, though. i get to... manage the house. bake. plan meals. save him from going insane, you know?" the words hollow, even to your own ears.

"i bet san’s a lucky man. always coming home to fresh cookies." he teased, his eyes crinkling at the corners.

small, tight knot formed in your stomach. you baked when you were anxious, yes. but san rarely came home early enough for the cookies to still be warm. and most of them, you gave away to the neighbours, offerings of surplus comfort. "something like that," you murmured, deflecting. "what about you? still making music?"

his face lit up, a genuine, unadulterated passion sparking in his eyes. the words lingered between you for a second before dissolving into something lighter. you talked after that. nothing important, nothing that would be remembered in detail later. work, vaguely. life, in broad strokes. the kind of conversation that filled space easily without asking too much of either of them. he asked questions and waited for the answers. reacted in the right places. kept things moving without letting them settle too long in any one place. you found yourself talking more than you expected to.

"a few of us get together sometimes," he said, almost casually. "nothing big. just... hanging out. you should come, we’re going to a friend's house next week. old times' sake."

you hesitated, not because you didn’t want to, but because you did. your mind immediately conjured a mental checklist: the laundry basket overflowing in the utility room, the dust motes dancing in the afternoon sun on the living room floor, the intricate dinner you had planned for san, a quiet attempt to reignite a spark that felt increasingly dim. the thought of all those small, domestic duties, waiting patiently for your attention, made a familiar pang of guilt twist in your gut.

"i don’t know," you said lightly, automatic refusal on your lips. "i might be busy."

"with what?" he asked curiously.

you searched for something immediate, something obvious.

"just… stuff," you said instead, smoothing it over with a small smile.

he nodded, accepting it without question.

"well," he added, "if you’re not, you’re welcome. it’d be nice to catch up properly. it’s good to break free sometimes and let loose, you know?"

a small yearning stirred within you. the idea of an afternoon free from chores, from the quiet hum of your own thoughts, from the subtle ache of loneliness, held an unexpected appeal. "okay," you said, the word simple.

"yeah?" his eyes amused.

"yeah."

you exchanged numbers. nothing ceremonious about it, a small addition, barely noticeable in the moment. "well, it was good running into you, y/n. don’t be a stranger." he offered a quick, easy smile, then turned, his basket still hooked over his arm, and disappeared down the aisle towards the dairy section.

that night, you work through the knots in your hair in front of the vanity mirror. each stroke of the brush pulls a small discomfort. the rush of water from the tap in the en suite bathroom ceases. the door creaks open and san emerged, a towel draped low around his waist. water still clings to the dark hairs on his chest, glistening under the low light. he moves with a quiet efficiency, his broad shoulders filling the doorway for a moment before he crosses to his side of the bed, carrying the clean scent of his soap. he doesn’t look at you, not directly, as he peels the towel away, letting it drop to the floor. your gaze, however, finds the smooth expanse of his back, the hard lines of his muscles shifting as he reaches for the pajama drawer. you note the way his bicep flexes, the familiar curve of his neck, the slight slump of his shoulders that wasn’t there when you first met him.

you continue brushing, rhythmic scrape of bristles against scalp filling the silence. your heart a persistent bird, flutters.

"i ran into someone today," you say, your voice almost lost in the rustle of san pulling on a shirt.

a low hum sound from inside the fabric, he pulls the shirt down, smoothing it over his chest. he turns then, his eyes, dark and heavy lidded, finally finding yours in the mirror. a flicker of something unreadable passes through them before settling into a tired affection.

"at the market?" he asks as he pulls back the duvet on his side of the bed.

you nod, watching his reflection as he settles onto the mattress, propping himself up against the headboard. "an old friend. from high school." you pause, the brush still in your hand, it's bristles splayed. "apparently some of them still hang out, and i was invited."

the bed dips as he adjusts the pillows. "that’s good. you should go." his voice is calm, even. he picks up his phone from the nightstand, it's screen glowing blue for a moment before he sets it back down.

you turn fully then, the brush forgotten on the vanity. your bare feet touch the cool wood floor. "really? you don’t mind?" you walk to your side of the bed.

he looks up, his brows furrowed slightly. "why would i mind? it’s good for you to see people. you’re always here." his gaze sweeps around the room, then back to you. "you should get out more."

the words, meant to be reassuring, land with a surprising weight. always here. a small, sharp ache begins in your chest. you climb into bed, pulling the duvet up to your chin. the sheets, cool against your skin, feel vast tonight.

"i mean," you start, choosing your words carefully, "i haven’t seen them in years. since graduation, probably." you watch his face, searching for something, a hint of curiosity, a flicker of concern.

he just nods, a small, almost imperceptible movement. "people change. that’s okay. it’ll be nice to reconnect." he reaches over, his hand finding yours under the duvet. his fingers, warm and strong, intertwine with yours, a familiar comfort. "you’ve been cooped up. it’s good to have plans."

his thumb strokes the back of your hand, it’s a connection, yes, but one that feels practiced, automatic. you want to tell him more, to say, it was seonghwa, the boy with the emo hair, the one who used to draw skulls in his notebook during history class, but the words catch in your throat. the moment feels too delicate, too easily broken.

"i guess so," you murmur, your voice barely a whisper. you squeeze his hand, a silent plea for more, for him to ask, who was it? what did you talk about?

soft exhalation that sounds like relief escapes him. he leans over, his head dipping. his lips, warm and soft, brush your forehead, then your temple, then your mouth. it’s a brief, chaste kiss, a familiar closing to the day. his lips taste faintly of mint. he pulls back, settling deeper into his pillow.

"good night, y/n," he says, his voice already thick with sleep.

eyes closing and breathing deepening almost immediately. the rhythm of his breath fills the room, steady and even. his hand, still holding yours, loosens it's grip. fingers, heavy with sleep, slide away.

darkness pressed in as you layed there, the silence amplifying the quiet hum of the city outside. your eyes trace the familiar contours of his face in the dim light. his eyelashes, thick and dark, rest against his cheekbones. faint smile, ghost of a dream, plays on his lips. he looks peaceful, untroubled.

he hadn’t asked. he hadn’t asked anything beyond the most superficial. he hadn't asked who. he hadn't asked if you wanted to go. he just assumed.

you turn onto your side, facing away from him, pulling the duvet tighter around you. the warmth of the blankets does little to chase away the chill that has settled deep within you. still, you tried to push the thought away. it’s not fair. san is tired. he works hard. he provides. this is what you agreed to. this is the life you built. you chose this, to be here. for him. but the loneliness curls around your heart. the perfection of the bed you made this morning, the carefully planned dinner, the unspoken anxieties baked into the pastries you gave away, all of it feels like a silent scream swallowed by the vast, quiet expanse of your days.

tears won’t come even if the knot in you throat screams for a cry. instead, your mind drifts to the closet, to the neat rows of clothes, the perfectly folded sweaters. tomorrow, you think, you’ll reorganize the winter section. it needs it. you need it. a small, manageable task to fill the endless hours.

y/n choi: hi, it's y/n from the store. i think i'm free that day if the invite still stands

seonghwa park: hey!

seonghwa park: yeah of course 😉

seonghwa park: glad ur coming, heres the address

seonghwa park: [location]

୨୧

the building wasn't what you expected. grimy canvas of faded brick and peeling paint that slightly unnerved you. you pulled your phone from your pocket a third time, checked the address, then glanced up at the entrance like it might correct itself if you stayed waiting long enough.

no, this was it.

bass vibrated through the pavement, pulse beneath your feet. for a second, you consider leaving, then you adjust your grip on the small container in your hands and step inside. the hallway swallowed you whole, narrow canyon that smell suspiciously of gasoline. when you reach the graffiti painted door, it was already slightly open. you knocked anyway.

there's a small shuffle inside before seonghwa emerges, his grin a flash of white teeth.

"y/n! thought you weren't gonna make it." he stepped aside, his arm sweeping an invitation.

you offered a small, polite smile, stepping into the room. the air hit you first, thick with a cloying sweetness you couldn't recognize and the acrid bite of stale cigarettes. the apartment was a controlled chaos. art adorned every available surface, canvases leaning against walls, sketches tacked to corkboards, a half finished sculpture draped in cloth in a corner. the room swam with bodies. girls, their midriffs bare, navel piercings glinting under the strung fairy lights. men, their arms drawn with ink, sprawled on beanbags or perched on the worn, leather couches. they moved with an easy, unhurried rhythm, as if the space molded itself around their presence. your modest linen shirt, a soft ecru, felt suddenly like a costume, an ill fitting disguise.

"hey everyone, this is y/n, from high school." seonghwa’s voice cut through the haze, a casual announcement.

a few heads turned, a couple of languid nods, but most remained immersed in their conversations, their laughter echoing off the high ceilings. your gaze swept across the room, searching for a familiar face, a flicker of recognition. nothing.

"it’s... nice to meet you all," you murmured, voice a little too soft, a little too formal for the raucous atmosphere. you clutched the clear container in your hands, the weight of it suddenly grounding.

a girl with a constellation of tiny tattoos climbing her neck, her hair a violent shade of fuchsia, pointed a perfectly manicured finger at your hands. "what’s that?"

you felt a blush creep up your neck. "oh. cookies. i made them." you held the container out, a silent offering.

a woman with striking, dark eyes and a generous smile detached herself from a group near the window. she wore spiked hair and her eyebrows seemed to be gone, but her presence offered a quiet anchor. "cookies! how cute. anna, by the way." she extended a hand, her grip firm and warm.

"y/n." you returned her shake, a surge of relief washing over you.

"i didn't know this was a bake sale," a gravelly voice grumbled from a corner, followed by a snort.

anna turned, her dark eyes narrowing playfully at the fat guy with a mohawk. "shut up, mark. you never bring anything." she gave his arm a quick, sharp shove. despite his joke, he came up as well.

a fresh wave of embarrassment hit you, cheeks burning as you began to stammer, "i just thought, you know, as a... a thank you for inviting me..."

anna waved your apology away. "no, it’s great! we love snacks. what kind?" she peered into the container, her eyes sparkling.

"chocolate chip. with sea salt." you offered, a small smile tentatively forming.

the lid popped open with a soft click. the aroma of warm chocolate and vanilla wafted through the air, momentarily cutting through the other scents. it was like a siren song. suddenly, a small crowd materialized around you, drawn by the scent. hands reached in, fingers deftly plucking cookies from their neat rows.

"someone brought cookies?"

"wait, i want cookies."

"no way, cookies?"

"save me one. i said save me one!"

the conversation dwindled, replaced by the soft sounds of chewing and contented murmurs. a lanky guy took the last cookie, giving you a between apologetic and grateful look and you laugh it off. within minutes, the container lay empty, a few crumbs clinging to it's clear sides. you felt a genuine smile spread across your face. the tension in your shoulders eased. "i’m glad you liked them."

for a moment everything was filled with overlapping conversations and easy movement, people drifting in and out without much structure. you sat at the couch with anna and mark. being spoken to, responded to, included without having to work for it. she asks you what else you like to bake. he asks where you live. the questions aren’t deep, but they come one after another and you answer, laugh and nod. the silence you've been carrying around doesn’t follow you in, it stays somewhere outside the door you walked through.

after a while, when the rhythm starts to feel harder to follow and topics shift quickly, you find your way back to seonghwa in the kitchen. he’s near the counter, talking to someone, but he glances over when you approach, like he’s been keeping track of where you are.

"hey," he says, turning slightly towards yo.

"hi," you answer before a small pause, then casually, "are any other people from our school coming?"

he doesn't hesitate. "nah," he says, shaking his head. "couldn't come."

"oh," you felt a pang of disappointment, small knot tightening in your stomach. you’d envisioned friendly faces, shared anecdotes, a comfortable bridge to this unfamiliar landscape. "okay."

"why?" he adds. "were you expecting someone?"

"no,no. i just thought maybe-" before trailing off, you shake your head lightly. "it's fine."

he watches you for a second, then nods once, like that’s enough.

"you’re good," he says. "don’t overthink it. come on, let’s get you a drink." seonghwa grinned, his hand briefly brushing your lower back as he steered you towards a cooler overflowing with ice and bottles.

you chose a sparkling water, the chill of the can a welcome sensation against your palm. you gravitated towards anna, who was now engaged in a lively discussion with mark about a band you’d never heard of. you hovered at the edge of their circle, listening, slowly piecing together fragments of their world. they spoke of gigs, of art installations, of obscure films, their words painting a vibrant, chaotic picture of lives lived on the fringes of convention.

as the evening continued it's slow, winding course, the hours passed by without warning, suddenly, it was later than you thought. through the subtle buzz in your veins and lightness you hadn't realized you were missing, the image of san already in bed, alone, stirred something in you. your small bag and empty container already in your hands.

"you can come in anytime, even if seonghwa isn't here." anna said before hugging you goodbye.

as you made your way towards the door, seonghwa intercepted you. "leaving already? come on, just one more drink." his voice was persuasive.

"i really should go. it’s getting late." you offered a polite, but firm smile.

he stepped closer, his hand briefly touching your arm. "you know, you’re really something, y/n. a real breath of fresh air." his eyes held yours, flicker of something unreadable in their depths.

"thank you, seonghwa. for inviting me." you pulled your arm away subtly.

"anytime. seriously. we should hang out again, just us two." his voice dropped, a low murmur intended only for your ears.

you felt a shiver, a faint unease prickling at your skin. "maybe," you said, voice noncommittal, then slipped out the door, back into the cool night air.

the street was quieter now, the bass from the building still a faint thrum in the distance. you walked and thought of the laughter, the music, the easy camaraderie, and a strange sense of longing settled in your chest. it was a world so different from your own, a world where boundaries seemed to blur, where emotions were worn on sleeves, where life felt raw and immediate.

stale cigarette smoke clung to your clothes, a new perfume you hadn't anticipated, but somehow, it felt less offensive than the lingering scent of dish soap from your day to day. your sensible sedan, parked a block away, seemed almost out of place among the battered vans and motorcycles. once you got in safely, you pulled out your phone, the screen illuminating your face with a single text from san from an hour ago: 'home. have a good time, night.' short, efficient, just like him. you stared at it and felt a sudden, overwhelming urge to talk to him, to tell him about the fuchsia hair, the tattooed arms, their reactions to your cookies, the melancholic music, anna’s kind eyes. but you tucked your phone back into your purse, the small, bright screen now dark.

you unlocked the apartment door, the click echoing in the silent space. the air inside was still, heavy with the scent of your carefully chosen strawberry cake diffuser. a half eaten bowl sat on the kitchen counter, remnants of the chicken stir fry you had prepared earlier, the pan still on the stove, a few grains of rice clinging to it's surface. a small sigh of relief escaped your lips. he had eaten. the simple act, a confirmation of your effort, brought a satisfaction to you. you moved through the kitchen, the soft clink of ceramic and metal as you rinsed the bowl, scrubbed the pan. it was a mindless task, your hands working on autopilot, while your mind drifted back to the vibrant chaos of anna's house.

the bedroom was a hushed darkness. san lay sprawled on his side of the bed, a rumbling snore escaping his lips, his face buried in the pillow. the sheet, pulled up to his waist, outlined the broad expanse of his back, the familiar curve of his spine. a sight you knew intimately, a tableau repeated almost every night. he worked hard, you reminded yourself, always.

you untangled your hair from the neat french twist, the pins scattering like tiny metallic insects onto the polished wood of your dresser. soft fingers massaged your scalp, releasing the tension that had gathered there throughout the day. you stripped off your clothes replacing them with silk pajama shorts and a matching camisole. teeth brushed and bathroom light off, the bed dipped slightly as you eased yourself in, careful not to disturb san. he remained a dark, unmoving mass beside you, his breathing deep and even.

sleep, usually a welcome embrace, felt elusive tonight. your mind buzzed, a kaleidoscope of new faces, loud music, and unfiltered laughter. the freedom of it all, the raw, unpolished authenticity, contrasted sharply with the quiet, ordered life you had carefully constructed.

shifting restless, silk rustling against the sheets. the image of the girl's fuchsia hair, defiant and vibrant, flashed in your mind. her confident stride, her easy smile. what did she worry about? did she ever feel this profound, aching quietness? you turned your head, watching the gentle rise and fall of san's back. the moonlight, filtering through the gap in the curtains, painted a silver line along his broad shoulder, the muscle defined even in repose. he was strong, reliable, your rock. yet lately, the rock was a mountain you couldn't climb.

a pang of something sharp, something akin to longing, twisted in your gut. you wanted to feel. you wanted to be seen. not just as the wife who kept the house, who cooked the meals, but as you, again. the you who had laughed tonight, unburdened. the one you knew san had fallen in love with.

your hand, almost without conscious thought, slipped beneath the silk of your pajama shorts. the fabric parted, your fingers, tentative at first, found the soft mound of your grown pubic hair, then the slick, warm folds beneath. a small gasp escaped your lips, swallowed by the quiet room. your core, already sensitive, pulsed beneath your touch. you stroked, slowly, deliberately, soft pressure building.

subtly, your hips began to tilt, involuntary movement, pressing into your palm. your fingers worked with a quiet urgency, tracing the delicate ridges, circling the peak of your clitoris. a moistness spread, warm, slick rush that dampened the silk shorts beneath your hand. the sensation intensified, a delicious ache blooming deep inside you, spreading through your belly. your breathing hitched, growing shallow, ragged.

wake up, i'm here.

you closed your eyes, a torrent of images flashing behind your eyelids. san, the warmth of his touch, a vague, undefined hunger. you pressed harder, your thumb finding a rhythm, a steady, insistent pressure. a low moan, barely audible, escaped your throat, a sound of pure pleasure. your whole body tensed, arching slightly into your hand. the climax a sudden, exquisite release, wave of heat that cascaded through your limbs, leaving you trembling, breathless.

୨୧

the shrill ring of the alarm ripped you from a dreamless sleep. your eyes fluttered open, the room still shrouded in pre dawn gloom. a glance at the clock sent a jolt of panic through you. 6:45 am. san left at 7:30. you had overslept.

you scrambled out of bed, the silk shorts clinging briefly before you shed them. the floor was cool beneath your bare feet.

"san, wake up," you whispered, nudging his shoulder. he grunted and slowly, reluctantly, stirred.

you moved with practiced efficiency, a whirlwind of motion in the quiet kitchen. the scent of brewing coffee began to fill the air, mingling with the sizzle of eggs in the pan. toast popped, butter melted, and the rhythmic thud of a knife chopping fruit filled the space. san emerged from the bedroom, showered and dressed, his black hair still damp, clinging to his forehead. he looked tired, his eyes still holding the remnants of sleep, but his movements were precise, methodical.

"morning," he murmured, his voice thick with sleep. he poured himself a mug of coffee, the steam curling around his face.

"morning," you replied, already assembling his lunch. a neat stack of sandwiches, a small container of cut fruit, a handful of almonds. you wrapped it all meticulously, fitting it into his lunch bag.

"did you sleep okay?" he asked, taking a sip of his coffee. he leaned against the counter, watching you.

"yeah, eventually," you said, trying to keep your voice light. you packed a small thermos of tea. "i went to that thing last night, you know, the hangout thing?"

he nodded before picking up a slice of toast, spreading jam onto it. "how was it?"

"it was...different," you began, a small smile playing on your lips. you wanted to tell him everything, about the fuchsia hair, the tattoos, the unexpected warmth. "it was in this old building, kind of grungy, but everyone was so nice. there was this girl, sally, she had the most incredible hair, like, bright pink and her face was like a strainer, filled with piercings, it was so cool. and then i met anna, she had these dark intimidating eyes but she was actually really sweet. she’s a photographer for bands."

he turned to you with a slight frown. "y/n?"

"yeah?" you cleaned your hands with a kitchen towel.

"you're not... getting into anything dangerous, are you?"

you tilted your head, looking at him confused. "what? no, no. they were really nice people, they had this energy, like they just didn't care what anyone thought. it was kind of... inspiring."

"hmm..." he took a bite with a raised brow. "be careful y/n, you know how those types can be."

the warmth you’d felt, a flicker of shared experience, began to cool. "i am. but listen, there was also music, not like the music we usually listen to, more like a band sound," you continued, a little more emphatically, trying to inject some of the excitement you had felt into your words. "there was this guy, he had these huge arms filled with tattoos and he had a mohawk, i'd never seen one of those in real life."

he looked away again, finished his toast and wiped his mouth with a napkin. "just don’t get into anything foolish." he reached for his briefcase and lunchbox, already moving towards the door.

your shoulders sagged almost imperceptibly, there was so much you still wanted to tell him. but there was also no time, you knew. there never was. he was already halfway out the door, his hand on the knob.

"i'll make your favorite soup for dinner tonight," you offered, a last ditch effort to connect, to anchor him for just a moment longer.

he paused, turning his head slightly. a small, tired smile touched his lips, revealing the faint indentations of his dimples. "thanks, that sounds great, i'll try not to be too late. love you."

"love you," you mumbled as the door shut and he was gone, the click of the lock echoing in the now silent apartment. you stood in the kitchen, surrounded by the lingering scent of coffee and eggs.

y/n choi: hi, it's y/n, i had a really good time yesterday.

seonghwa park: hey, me too

seonghwa park: everyone loved u btw, they were all talking about how sweet you were when you left

y/n choi: really? that's so nice to hear

seonghwa park: ur coming next week, right?

y/n choi: again?

seonghwa park: yeah

seonghwa park: we hang out every weekend

seonghwa park: always at annas

seonghwa park: come ooon, ull have t come

seonghwa park: ur a part of the group now

the words, simple and direct, landed like a soft blanket on your exposed nerves. a part of the group now. the phrase resonated, a balm to the quiet ache san’s rushed departure had left behind. it wasn’t profound, not a declaration of affection, but it was an invitation, a recognition. it felt like a small hand reaching out in the growing expanse of your solitude.

y/n choi: i’d like that, thanks seonghwa.

the next week crawled by, each day a slow, methodical march of chores and quiet anticipation. the perfect bed, the planned dinners, the reorganizing of the linen closet. each task a meticulous attempt to fill the hours, to ward off the encroaching loneliness. but seonghwa’s words, hummed beneath the surface.

a part of the group now.

as saturday evening approached, nervous flutter stirred in your stomach. you pulled out a simple, soft cotton t-shirt, one you usually wore for lounging. then, a pair of well worn dark jeans. your fingers went to your hair, letting it fall, then found a simple black velvet hairband, pushing back the front strands.

the grungy building loomed, a concrete behemoth adorned with a tapestry of peeling posters and vibrant graffiti. the door stood ajar again, inviting light spilling onto the cracked pavement. but politeness, ingrained deep within you, compelled your knuckles to tap softly against it.

the door swung open further, revealing anna. her spiked hair, dark halo around her face, seemed to defy gravity. thicker eyeliner from the last time, you noticed. a cigarette dangled from her lips, thin wisp of smoke curling lazily into the air.

"well, look who it is," anna’s voice, raspy like gravel, held a surprising warmth. a slow smile spread across her face, revealing a glint of metal in her upper teeth. "you bring cookies this time, wifey?"

you laughed, unforced sound that surprised even yourself. "i didn’t, i’m afraid." faint blush touched your cheeks.

anna leaned against the doorframe, taking a drag from her cigarette. "shame. your hair looks good though, so i'll let you in." she winked, a playful glint in her dark eyes.

you stepped inside murmuring a small "thanks." she led you into the living room as seonghwa, who was meticulously cleaning something that looked like a round bottom flask, rose from the couch.

"hey, you. where's my hug?" he grinned, a flash of genuine pleasure in his expression. he offered a thight hug, quick squeeze that felt surprisingly comforting. "glad you came back."

"come on, i’ll show you my current obsession." anna, having stubbed out her cigarette in a makeshift ashtray, clapped you on the shoulder and led you to a corner of the living room, where a makeshift studio was set up. a flash unit sat on a tripod, and a black backdrop hung from a makeshift frame.

she showed you her new lighting techniques, her raspy voice softening as she spoke about her craft, explaining each of the series of prints tacked to the wall. the subjects, all punk, stared out with an intensity that pulled you in. low groan emanated from the other side of the room. mark, with his pants that perpetually threatened to slide off his ample frame, was getting another tattoo. the machine buzzing like an angry bee.

you watched, a strange mix of fascination and unease stirring within you. the raw intimacy of the moment, the deliberate pain, the permanent mark being etched into skin. it was so far removed from your carefully ordered world. visceral, unapologetic. you thought of san, of his disciplined body, his aversion to anything that might disrupt his carefully constructed order. a tattoo, to him, would be an act of reckless abandon, an unnecessary defacement.

anna exchanged a few words with the tattoo artist and you followed seonghwa and sally into the kitchen.

"tacos?" you asked, a sudden urge to ground yourself in something familiar, something productive.

"attempting to," seonghwa repeated, a wry smile playing on his lips. sally, armed with a knife, was making a valiant but clumsy effort to chop an onion. tears streamed down her heavily made up face.

"this is harder than it looks," she sniffled, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand, smearing eyeliner.

"i don’t even know if this is cooked enough. it still looks… pink."

you stepped forward with quiet confidence. this, you knew. this was your domain. "let me help," you offered, already reaching for the cutting board. you gently took the knife, demonstrating a quick, efficient chop that produced even dice.

you moved with an easy grace, hands finding their rhythm. chicken seasoned, a blend of spices from the overflowing spice rack that seemed to surprise even seonghwa. you showed sally how to properly dice tomatoes and shred lettuce, your voice soft but instructive. the kitchen, which had been a scene of mild culinary disaster, slowly began to transform into an efficient workspace.

"wow," sally beamed, her fuchsia hair bouncing. "seriously, my mom just nukes everything."

it was a simple thing, a small act of connection, of contribution. but you felt useful, appreciated. the feeling was a pleasant counterpoint to the quiet solitude of your own kitchen at home, where your culinary efforts often met with san’s polite, but often silent, approval.

the group gathered at the living room again, something being passed from hand to hand. you saw it before you recognized it, it wasn't tobacco.

the joint made it's rounds, anna took a long drag, her eyes closing in apparent contentment. seonghwa inhaled deeply, then exhaled a plume of smoke that dissolved into the dim light. sally giggled, her eyes a little brighter, her movements a little looser.

then, mark’s hand, big with his new tattoo, extended towards you, holding the burning joint. the tip glowed orange, small pulsating ember. a hush fell over the group, subtle, expectant. no one said anything, but their gazes, soft and encouraging, rested on you.

your breath hitched. your mind, usually so clear, swam with conflicting thoughts. weed. the word echoed in your head, sharp and disapproving. san’s voice, clear as day, cut through the hazy atmosphere.

disgusting. it’s not a gateway. it destroys lives.

his lectures, delivered with a quiet intensity, about the dangers of drugs, of anything that clouded judgment, that compromised control. he hated it. he hated all of it. smoking, drinking to excess, any form of escape that wasn’t productive, wasn’t measured.

your gaze flickered to mark’s hand, then to seonghwa, who offered a small, reassuring nod. a strange defiance, a tiny spark of rebellion, ignited within you. san, with his rigid rules and his unspoken expectations, felt miles away, a distant, fading echo. here, in this room, with these people, there was an unspoken permission, an acceptance of difference.

you thought of the quiet mornings, the unasked questions, the emotional chasm that had grown between you and san. you thought of the lingering loneliness, the slow, insidious fading of sparks. you thought of his hurried goodbye, his preoccupation, his casual dismissal of your small joys.

a small, almost imperceptible sigh escaped your lips. it wasn’t about wanting to get high. it was a quiet protest. a moment of reclaiming a sliver of yourself that felt lost, submerged under layers of wifely duty and unspoken disappointment. it was a fleeting, irrational thought, but it felt powerful in it's simplicity.

trembling fingers, usually so steady, reached for the joint. your eyes met seonghwa’s, then anna’s. they offered soft, almost imperceptible smiles.

the joint touched your lips. the paper felt rough against your skin. the smell, pungent and earthy, filled your nostrils. you hesitated for a fraction of a second, a silent battle raging within. then, you inhaled.

the smoke, harsh and acrid, scraped your throat. you coughed between involuntary gasps. tears sprang to your eyes. the group chuckled softly. your lungs burned, heat spread through your chest, then a dizzying lightness in your head. it wasn’t pleasant, not yet. but as the initial shock subsided, a curious sensation began to bloom. a loosening. a letting go.

the world around you, already vibrant, seemed to soften at the edges. the music, a low thrumming before, now seemed to pulse with a deeper rhythm. the faces around you, previously distinct, now blurred into a warm, accepting tableau.

you exhaled, a shaky, uneven breath. the smoke drifted upwards in a cloud, carrying with it a rebellious whisper.

the taco shell crumbled in your fingers, a warm, messy embrace of seasoned chicken and melted cheese. a laugh, sharp and high, tore from your throat. it wasn’t your laugh, not really, but it escaped anyway.

"y/n, these are..." sally kissed the tips of her fingertips at once. a piece of tomato, vibrant red, clung to her chin. you watched it, mesmerized, as it wobbled precariously. like a tiny significant event.

"no, for real. this is the best shit i've ever eaten," someone grunted as they took another bite, cheeks bulging. the sound of their chewing a symphonic rhythm, wet crunch that filled the room.

you smiled, you think, a wide, unbidden thing that stretched your face. your cheeks felt warm and tingly. the praise, usually a balm, now felt like a spotlight, too bright, too focused. you didn't need to respond. the air itself seemed to hum with approval.

seonghwa leaned in, his hair brushing your shoulder. the scent of his cologne filled your nostrils. it was a new smell, suddenly potent, a story in itself.

"you have to come over more often," he murmured. his words were slow, stretched out, like taffy. "we’d starve without you."

you nodded, or thought you did. the room swirled, a gentle eddy of color and sound. the soft glow of the fairy lights strung across anna’s living room became individual, shimmering points, each one a tiny sun.

anna, perched on the armrest of a worn armchair, watched you, her eyes unblinking. she held a half eaten taco, but she wasn’t eating. she was just watching. a flicker of concern crossed her face, or maybe it was just the way the light caught her smudged makeup.

you turned your head, the motion slow, deliberate, like moving through thick syrup. seonghwa’s face was inches from yours. his eyes liquid and half lidded. a tiny mole, small and innocent on his ear. you had never noticed it before.

"you know," he began, his voice dropping, a conspiratorial whisper meant only for you, "i actually lied to you."

the words themselves were like individual pearls, strung together on an invisible thread that made your breath hitch.

"about what?" you managed a reedy whisper. it sounded like someone else speaking.

he chuckled like it was obvious. "about keeping in touch with people from high school. i don't. not really. i just... wanted you to have a reason to come."

the confession ignited a fresh burst of laughter. bubbled up from deep inside, unrestrained, joyful. it felt like a new sensation, a freedom you hadn't known existed. the idea of him lying, out of all things, struck you as profoundly hilarious.

he smiled, a slow, knowing curve of his lips as his hand, warm and calloused, covered yours on the couch cushion. his thumb traced a slow, hypnotic circle on your skin. it wasn't unpleasant. it was just... there. a sensation.

"y/n, i know you’re unhappy."

unhappiness? that was a concept. right now, there was only the incredibly soft fabric of the couch, the taste of spices on your tongue, the intricate pattern on anna’s rug.

"you deserve so much more," he continued, voice thick and low, "than whatever you’re settling for."

you blinked. his face, so close, seemed to waver, like a reflection in water.

"i want you so bad," a whisper you didn't caught on the movements of his lips, his grip tightening on your hand. "i want to make you happy."

you don't know why he kept making sounds with his mouth. the words drifted past, like smoke. meaningless vibrations in the air. your mind, untethered, floated above them, observing.

then, the world tilted. a wave of warmth, heavy and comforting, washed over you. the trip slowed, the colors blending into a soft, indistinct haze. the universe faded into a gentle lullaby.

୨୧

rough wool blanket against your cheek, smelling faintly of incense and something vaguely sweet, covering you. your eyes fluttered open. the room was bathed in a dim, pre dawn light, a pale grey filtering through the blinds. you blinked, trying to orient yourself. the couch. anna’s couch.

a low snore rumbled from the floor. you peered over the armrest. mark, a lumpy silhouette, was sprawled on a pile of blankets, his mohawk flattened. sally was curled up near him, a splash of fuchsia against the muted tones. anna was nowhere in sight. seonghwa? you scanned the room. no.

dull throb resonated behind your eyes. your mouth felt like sandpaper. you pushed yourself up, the blanket slipping to your lap. the memories of the night were a jumbled mess, like a deck of san's numbers scattered on the floor. flashes of laughter, the taste of tacos, the feeling of warmth. but specific words, specific moments, they were gone, swallowed by the haze.

you fumbled for your purse, slung precariously over the back of the couch. chocolate. a small, dark bar, your emergency comfort. you tore off a piece, the rich, bitter sweetness a welcome shock to your tongue.

you pulled out your phone. three forty seven a.m.

your heart gave a sharp, painful lurch. san. you could almost hear the silence of your apartment, the empty space beside him in bed. a wave of guilt, cold and sharp, washed over you, chasing away the last vestiges of the warm fog.

as careful as you could be, you rose quietly to not disturb the sleeping figures. your movements quiet, deliberate.

the drive home was a blur of streetlights and silent roads. each turn of the wheel felt like a small act of atonement. the city was asleep, a vast, dark canvas. then you finally pulled into your parking spot, the apartment building quiet and imposing.

apartment dark, save for the faint glow from the digital clock on the microwave. you slipped off your shoes, the sink. a plate, crusted with dried sauce, sat precariously on the edge, a half empty mug beside it. san. he had eaten, gone to bed. done.

straight to the bathroom, you stepped under the spray, letting the hot water cascade over your skin. it wasn’t just the smell, but the night itself. the laughter, the forgotten words, the unsettling intimacy. you scrubbed, hard, as if you could scour away the memory, leaving your skin, and your mind, clean and blank once more. you wanted to emerge, refreshed, as if the night had never happened. as if you hadn’t tasted that strange, momentary freedom.

୨୧

the sound pulled at your teeth. tremor in the soles of your new sneakers, premonition of the chaos within. this weekend, anna's apartment building pulsed with an unholy rhythm. this wasn't the hazy, languid hum of last week. this was a beast unleashed.

seonghwa’s band, the ruptured veins or something like that, thrashed in the living room. how they’d squeezed a drum kit, a full amp stack, and three guitarists into the already cramped space remained a mystery. mark, sweat plastering his mohawk to his skull, pounded the drums with a primal ferocity that threatened to crack the plaster. sally contorted over her bass, each pluck a sharp jab to your eardrums. seonghwa, all flailing limbs and guttural shouts was at the center. the sound wasn’t music. it was a wall of noise, an excuse of distorted guitars and ear splitting percussion that clawed at your sanity.

bodies, too many bodies, swayed and thrashed in the dim light, a sea of black leather and ripped denim. you felt like an alien even if you tried dressing in your darkest clothes. a hand, sticky and warm, brushed your arm, offering a glass. you instinctively recoiled, the smell of cheap beer and something cloyingly sweet, making your stomach churn.

seonghwa’s eyes flashed you a grin across the room, a feral baring of teeth, and gave a thumbs up. you forced a weak smile back, the corners of your mouth feeling stiff and unnatural. the volume intensified, a new wave of sound washing over you, drowning out thought, drowning out everything.

a bong, you learned, it's glass bulb milky with smoke, appeared before your face. a girl with tangled dreadlocks and eyes that swam in their sockets pushed it closer.

"hit it, y/n!" she slurred a shout, her voice a gravelly whisper against the roar.

you shook your head, a small, almost imperceptible movement. "no, thanks!"

she shrugged, apathetic, and passed it to the next person. another, a lean guy with a spiderweb tattoo crawling up his neck, who had earlier complained about the brownies you brought not being the "fun ones."

the words felt like pebbles in your throat. you had enough, you needed quiet, needed to escape the relentless assault on your ears. you navigated the throng, each step a battle against jostling elbows and oblivious revelers. you reached the bathroom and pushed open the door for the now muffled sound to lower, then you saw her.

sprawled on the cracked linoleum, half hidden by a discarded shower curtain, lay a woman. her head rested at an awkward angle against the toilet bowl, a thin stream of saliva tracing a path down her chin. she looked older than the others, perhaps in her early thirties, though the lines etched on her face spoke of a life lived hard, not necessarily long. two distinct scars stood out against her skin. her face, even in repose, held a weary resignation, map of battles fought and lost. she wasn't breathing right. shallow, ragged gasps punctuated the silence, each one a struggle.

panic seized you. you knelt beside her, your fingers fumbling for her pulse, finding a weak, thready beat at her neck.

"hey," you whispered, shaking her shoulder gently. "hey, are you okay?"

no response. her eyes remained closed, her lips slightly parted. this wasn't a drunken nap. this was something else, something far more sinister.

your hand instinctively went for your phone, pulling it from your pocket. 911. ambulance. you needed to call an ambulance. your fingers, trembling, navigated the screen.

"i wouldn't do that if i were you."

a hand, heavy and surprisingly strong, clamped around your wrist. your breath hitched. you looked up, startled. a man stood over you. he was burly, with a shaved head and a face like hammered iron. his eyes, dark and flat, bore into yours.

"unless you wanna be trouble," his voice cut through the residual band noise. it wasn't a suggestion. it was a command, heavy with unspoken threat.

your heart hammered against your ribs. you tried to pull your wrist free, but his grip was unyielding, almost bruising. "she needs help," you managed barely a squeak. "she’s not breathing right."

mirthless chuckle rumbled in his chest. "she’s fine. just had a little too much fun." his gaze flickered to your phone. "you call anyone, you’ll regret it."

the warning hung thick and menacing. you met his stare, a shiver running down your spine. the flat emptiness in his eyes, the casual cruelty in his tone, left no room for doubt. he meant it.

slowly, reluctantly, you let your hand drop, your phone clattering softly against the tiles. his grip loosened, then released. you scrambled backward, away from him, away from the unconscious woman, from the suffocating threat. he watched you, unsettling smirk playing on his lips, then turned his attention back to the woman, nudging her with his foot.

you burst out of the bathroom, the music now a mocking roar. you needed anna. anna would know what to do. anna would understand. you pushed through the bodies, eyes scanning the faces, a frantic desperation clawing at your throat. "anna!" you shouted, the word swallowed by the sheer volume. "anna!"

no one heard you. no one even seemed to notice your distress. they just continued to push each other, lost in their own discordant revelry. you spotted a doorway, half hidden behind a towering speaker, and instinctively veered towards it, hoping to find a quieter space, a less crowded corner where anna might be.

it led to a short, narrow hallway, mercifully less populated. at the end, another door, slightly ajar, spilled a soft, yellow light onto the floor. you pushed it open, a desperate plea for help forming on your lips.

the room contrasted to the chaos outside. a single, bare bulb cast a warm glow over a small, unmade bed. and there, on the floor, surrounded by a haphazard collection of worn stuffed animals and bright plastic blocks, sat anna, but she wasn't alone. a small figure, no older than five, sat nestled against her side, a book with brightly colored illustrations open in it's lap. the child, a boy with a shock of dark hair and wide, innocent eyes, looked up as you entered.

"mommy, who’s that?" his voice, clear and sweet, pierced the lingering noise in your ears like a needle.

mommy.

the word echoed, reverberated, then shattered something fragile inside you. anna’s head snapped up, her eyes widening in surprise. a flicker of something, guilt? embarrassment? crossed her face before she quickly composed herself.

"y/n," she said, her voice lowered as she gently pushed the boy behind her. "everything alright?"

everything alright? the irony tasted heavy. now, a child. her child, in this suffocating place. the realization hit you with the force of a physical blow. this wasn’t just a party. this wasn't just a group of friends messing around. this was a life. a harsh, brutal, unforgiving life that you had no part in. the music, which had been an unpleasant background noise, now felt like a blaring siren, screaming the truth. you didn't belong here. not even close. this wasn't edgy. this wasn't rebellious. this was dangerous. this was real.

you shook your head, unable to speak, your throat tight with unshed tears. the image of the passed out woman, the man’s cold eyes, the innocent child, all swirled in a sickening vortex.

"i..." you started, then stopped, the words catching. you didn’t need to explain. anna, with her sudden shift in demeanor, her protective stance over the child, understood.

you turned, a silent retreat, your feet moving on their own accord. you didn't say goodbye. you didn't look back. the door clicked shut behind you, a soft thud against the relentless thrum of the bass.

you navigated the hallway, then the living room, a ghost moving through the throng. no one noticed your departure. the band still roared, seonghwa still shrieked into the mic as he kicked the audience in the face in a blur of motion. you pushed past the last lingering bodies near the door, the cool night air hitting your face like a lifeline.

the street was alive with a different kind of noise. the band’s sound, though fainter, still pulsed through the asphalt, relentless reminder of what you were leaving behind. a group of figures huddled under a flickering street lamp, their movements jerky, unnatural. as you approached, their eyes, glazed and vacant, fixed on you.

"hey, pretty thing, all alone?" one slurred, his voice hoarse, lewd grin spreading across his face.

"where you going in such a hurry?" another whistled, a long, drawn out sound that made your skin crawl.

you kept walking, pace quickening, eyes fixed straight ahead. don’t look. don’t engage. don’t acknowledge. your heart hammered a frantic drum against your ribs. you felt exposed, vulnerable, felt the harsh reality of the street.

your car door shut like a beacon of safety at the end of the block. you fumbled for your keys, fingers clumsy with fear, gripping the steering wheel with knuckles white the whole drive back home, breath coming in ragged gasps. not daring to glance in the rearview mirror once. you drove faster than necessary.

this was not your world. this was not where you belonged. you would never come back. you promised yourself that, a vow whispered into the empty, echoing space of your car, a promise etched in the raw, aching fear still thrumming beneath your skin.

the click of the lock echoed. inside, the air heavy with scent of instant noodles and something sweet, like canned peaches. a white plastic container sat on the kitchen counter, half-eaten, a pair of chopsticks resting beside it. san had takeout. a cold knot tightened in your stomach. you forgot to make him dinner earlier. another layer to the evening’s sour taste.

san, shirtless, was just shrugging out of his work trousers when you entered the room, his back to you. he paused, one leg still in the pant leg, turning his head at the sound of your entrance. his brown eyes, warm and steady, widened slightly.

"you’re back early," he said, the words a quiet murmur in the hushed room. a flicker of surprise crossed his face. he finished pulling off his pants, tossing them onto the laundry hamper with an easy flick of his wrist.

you managed a weak nod, the muscles in your face protesting the effort, too tired to feign a smile. your gaze slid past him, landing on the bathroom door. escape. you moved towards it.

"y/n." his voice stopped you mid stride. you looked over your shoulder, hand hovering over the cool brass doorknob.

"what’s that smell?"

you didn't turn around, the lie already forming on your tongue, bitter pill. "i... i fell into a puddle earlier."

a beat of silence stretched, taut and thin. you watched him, standing there, his brow furrowed, processing your words. you waited for the follow up, the gentle probing, the concern that used to laced his questions. but it didn’t come.

"oh," he said, the single syllable flat, devoid of inflection. he picked up his shirt from the bed, pulling it over his head, then pulled back the covers.

you finally turned, gaze fixed on his retreating back, already settling in. your eyes traced the strong line of his shoulder, the curve of his neck. he was there, and he wasn't. is that all you’re going to ask? the words hovered on your tongue, sharp and desperate. you wanted him to push, to see through your flimsy lie, to demand more. you wanted him to care enough to unravel the carefully constructed facade. almost, you wanted him to know. to know about the music, the drugs, the woman, the fear, the suffocating loneliness that had driven you there in the first place.

"is that all you’re going to ask?" you heard yourself say.

he paused, his hand reaching for the bedside lamp. "is there something else i should know?'

your heart hammered against your ribs. this was it. the open door. the invitation. a single word, a sigh, a broken sentence, and the truth would spill out. you needed to test the boundaries, to see how far he would go, how deep he would dig.

"no," you said, the lie tasting like ash. your gaze held his, searching for a flicker of doubt, a hint of suspicion, anything that would tell you he wasn’t buying it.

he held your gaze for a moment longer, then his lips curved into a small, almost imperceptible smile. "okay then." he reached for the lamp, plunging the room into near darkness. he shifted, settling deeper into the pillows.

a choked sound, a low groan of frustration, escaped your lips. he hadn’t pushed. he hadn’t questioned. he hadn’t cared enough to look beyond the surface. you turned abruptly, stalking towards the bathroom, the door slamming shut behind you with a satisfying thud. the sound echoed, a punctuation mark on your silent fury.

san lay in the sudden darkness, his eyes wide open. the faint aroma of something acrid you brought and he couldn't quite place, still lingered in the air. a puddle, he thought. she fell in a puddle. it sounded plausible enough. you were clumsy sometimes, always lost in your own thoughts. he trusted you. he trusted you completely. a small smile touched his lips. it was good you were out, seeing old friends. you needed that. a small part of him felt a pang of guilt for not being able to provide more excitement, more spontaneity in your life. but he was working for your future, for your stability, to provide for you. he believed that was love, that was care. he rolled onto his side, pulling the duvet up to his chin. he heard the shower running, the sound a soft, comforting hum. he closed his eyes, his mind already drifting to tomorrow's spreadsheets, the complex equations that made perfect sense in a world that often didn't. everything was fine. you were having fun. it was okay if you forgot dinner sometimes. you could always order takeout. he was happy. he assumed you were too.

the next morning, the apartment hummed with the usual rhythm of your routine. you woke before him, the first rays of dawn painting the bedroom walls a soft grey. you made the bed, pulling the sheets taut, plumping the pillows with practiced ease. the scent of freshly brewed coffee soon filled the air, followed by the sizzle of eggs in the pan.

san emerged from the bedroom, showered and dressed in his crisp white shirt and specifically tailored pants. he kissed your cheek, a soft brush of lips, and then sat at the kitchen island, scrolling through his phone.

it became a monotonous cycle of routine.

you'd have your small talk, watch him eat, his movements precise, efficient, and then he was out the door. then, you'd wander into the bedroom, the perfectly made bed an ironic symbol of your life. you'd pick up your phone, cold blinding glass, and scrolled through social media. endless stream of meaningless shorts of nothing. you'd sink yourself in bed and let the hours melt. youtube videos, a reality show you cared about for two hours, articles about celebrity gossip. anything to fill the void, to drown out the insistent whisper of your own thoughts.

you woke him, prepared his meals, vaguely cleaned what was obvious. but the moments in between stretched, vast and empty. you spent them in bed, phone in hand, the world outside shrinking to the confines of your screen. at night, you wouldn't sleep. every shadow twisted into a threat, every creak of the floorboards a reminder of unspoken dangers. san had simply mentioned you seemed a little tired. you’d blame it on a bad dream, a headache. anything but the truth. the vibrant, productive life you once shared with san, the shared dreams, the late night conversations, they felt like a distant memory, replaced by this quiet, isolated existence.

one evening, san’s footsteps echoed in the hallway, the familiar jingle of his keys preceding his entrance. he walked into the kitchen, his briefcase thudding softly onto the counter. he paused, his eyes scanning the immaculate space. the stovetop was clean, the counters clear. no scent of cooking, no simmering pots.

"i ordered pizza," you said, voice flat, emerging from the living room where you sat on the sofa, scrolling through your phone. the thought of cooking, of meticulously chopping vegetables and stirring pots, felt like an insurmountable task. the effort, the pretense of normalcy, was too much. you simply couldn’t.

"okay," his voice quiet. you couldn't decipher his tone, surprise? confusion? whatever.

for once, he didn't immediately take his laptop. he watched you, his expression unreadable. he picked up a slice, silence punctuated only by the soft chewing sounds.

"i spoke to noeul today," he said, cutting through the quiet.

you froze, a slice of pizza halfway to your mouth. "oh?" you asked, trying to sound nonchalant, but your voice came out a little too sharp.

"she was wondering why you stood her up for lunch," he continued, took another bite of pizza, his eyes still fixed on you.

"i... i wasn't feeling well," you swallowed, the pizza suddenly tasting like cardboard.

he paused, chewing slowing. his dark eyes, usually so placid, held a new depth, a subtle intensity. he studied your face, his gaze searching, probing.

"is everything okay, y/n?" he asked, the question soft, gentle, yet it hit you with the force of a blow. this was the first time in weeks, months even, that he had truly looked at you, truly asked.

you felt a wave of conflicting emotions wash over you. relief that he was finally seeing, finally asking. fear that he would see too much. anger that it had taken him this long. a desperate, clinging hope that he might actually understand.

you opened your mouth, but what could you say? no, san. everything is not okay. i’m lonely. melancholic. i’m lost. i’ve been hanging out with people who smoke weed and threaten me. i lied to you. i don’t know who i am anymore. the truth felt too vast, too overwhelming, too ugly to articulate.

you closed your mouth, nodding slowly. "yes," you whispered, the lie a refuge. "everything’s fine."

he didn’t push further. he simply nodded, a slow thoughtful movement. he finished his pizza in silence, his eyes occasionally flicking towards you. he didn't know what to do. he thought he was doing everything right, providing stability, working hard. but he felt that something wasn't actually right. he could feel it. and for the first time, the thought that his stability might not be enough began to gnaw at him.

୨୧

"well, well, well," you couldn't see seonghwa's face through the phone but you just knew a smile stretched across his face, all teeth and charm. "look who finally decided to give signs of life."

you took a breath, "i’m sorry about that. i felt a little... overwhelmed."

"overwhelmed?" he chuckled a sound that grated. "we had a blast, though. sally was asking where you went."

a forced light laugh came out of you. "i'm sorry, it's just... don't take this the wrong way but, i don't think it's my scene."

the seconds of silence made you more nervous than you liked to admit. "oh? why’s that? did anna scare you off? she’s all bark, no bite, you know."

"it’s not anna." you walked to the window, staring out at the streets. "it’s just not... it’s not for me." you chose your words carefully.

"not for you, huh... too much for the perfect little housewife?"

you didn't know what to say, or even if you should reply. this is not the way you had wanted to come off.

"come on, y/n. " his tone shifted again, becoming almost playful, seductive. "you can’t just ditch us. we were just getting to know you. and you, me, we had a connection, didn’t we?"

you closed your eyes and sighed. "i appreciate the invitation, seonghwa. but i really don’t think it’s a good idea."

"wait, wait, wait." his voice was quick, slightly desperate. "don’t hang up. this saturday. it’ll be different. i promise."

"different how?"

"no loud music. no... overwhelming crowds." he mimicked your earlier word with annoyance. "it’ll be at my place. daylight. we’ll just chill. listen to some records. maybe sally will bring her new bass. anna her camera, snap some pictures. it’ll be... a real hangout. no pressure. just us."

a day hangout. at his place. no crowds. the thought of seeing anna, of making sure she was okay, flickered. and sally. you’d genuinely liked sally. you chewed on your lip, disappearing without a trace, even from people who were clearly not good for you, felt... rude. you were not rude. you prided yourself on your manners, on leaving things tidily. this would be your last clean exit. a proper goodbye.

"it'll be calm? no substances?" you asked with a small voice.

"yeah. we'll just chill."

you sighed, a long, slow release of air. "fine. but if it gets crazy, i’m leaving."

"deal!" his voice triumphant. "i’ll text you the address. saturday. two o’clock. don’t be late, y/n."

you hung up on him, the silence of the kitchen pressing in on you. a mistake? probably. but you had to make things right. you had to say goodbye. properly.

the next few days were a flurry of quiet preparations. you found a well loved cookbook at a second hand store, it's pages dog eared and stained with flour. sally had seemed genuinely interested in your chicken tacos, you remember her bouncing as she peered over your shoulder. a small childish bunny stuffed animal, soft and grey, caught your eye in a boutique window. anna’s son. he deserved a little softness in a world that seemed so hard. you wrapped the gifts carefully, a futile attempt to infuse them with the warmth you wished you could offer.

saturday afternoon, the sun bright in the sky. you drove, the directions seonghwa had texted leading you through unfamiliar streets, past industrial parks and forgotten warehouses. the address finally brought you to a hidden nook, tucked away behind a row of dilapidated auto shops. a trailer park. a small, unexpected community of metal boxes, each with it's own patch of scraggly grass and faded plastic lawn ornaments. you hadn’t known such a place existed in the heart of the city.

seonghwa’s trailer, a faded blue, stood at the end of a gravel path. your stomach twisted. you clutched the gifts tighter, the paper rustling. you knocked, a soft tap that felt too polite for the setting. the door creaked open, revealing him. his hair looking a little disheveled, as if he’d just woken up. a faint smell of something herbal, not entirely unpleasant, wafted from inside.

"oh, you actually came." he grinned as he rubbed the weariness out of his face.

"i said i would." you offered a small smile, trying to ignore the sudden awkwardness that settled between you. "i brought some things." you held up the wrapped gifts.

"oh, for me?" he reached for them, but you pulled back slightly.

"no. for sally and anna’s son."

his hand dropped, a flicker of something unreadable in his eyes. "right. well, come on in. you’re the first one here."

the trailer was small, surprisingly neat but dim. a worn couch, covered in a faded floral sheet, dominated the living area. a small television flickered silently in the corner, displaying a nature documentary. a guitar leaned against the wall. it felt... lived in.

"make yourself at home," he gestured vaguely at the couch. "the others should be here any minute. mark’s always late. sally said she had to pick up some new strings. anna… well, anna’s anna." he laughed, a short, nervous sound.

you sat on the edge of the couch, placing the gifts carefully beside you. the cushions sagged beneath you, smell of old fabric rised to meet you. the silence, punctuated only by the chirping of unseen birds on the television, was deafening. you felt a sudden urge to fill it, to chatter, to ask about his band, about anything. but you couldn't.

"want something to drink?" he asked, already moving towards a small, cluttered kitchenette.

"just water, please." you watched him, his movements surprisingly graceful for someone so wiry. he pulled out two glasses, poured a clear liquid from a plastic bottle into one, and then, to another one that was already sitting on the counter. he didn’t seem to notice your gaze.

a tiny, insistent voice in the back of your mind, screamed. you took the glass, your fingers brushing his, skin rough. you brought the glass to your lips, pretending to take a sip, letting the rim touch your mouth, but not letting any liquid pass.

"so," he said, settling beside you on the couch, much closer than you would have preferred. "how’s... housewifing?"

you stiffened. "it’s good. i like it."

"yeah? seems a little... boring for someone like you." he leaned back, his arm brushing yours. the contact made your skin prickle.

"it’s not boring,”°"you said, maybe a little too quickly. "i like taking care of things. taking care of san."

"san." he said the name slowly, like tasting it. "busy guy, huh?"

"he works hard," you defended automatically. "he provides for us."

"yeah, i bet." he turned his body fully towards you, knee touching yours. his gaze dropping to your hands, clasped tightly in your lap. "but does he... pleasure you?"

you looked at him in shock, offended. your cheeks flushed crimson, a wave of heat rushing through you. shock, outrage, and a deep, mortifying embarrassment tangled together. you stared at him, mouth agape, unable to form a single word. the flickering television, the stale air, his proximity, it all coalesced into a suffocating pressure. "what did you just say?"

he didn’t flinch, didn’t look away. his eyes held yours, unwavering. "i mean, you’re bright, y/n. you’re smart. you’ve got this... spark. yet you spend your days fucking, polishing silverware and waiting for some suit to come home. does he ever even make you feel good?"

your heart hammered against your ribs. "i like polishing silverware. i like making a home."

"do you?" he reached out, his fingers tracing a pattern on your arm, just above your elbow. "or do you just tell yourself that because it’s what you think you’re supposed to do?"

you flinched, pulling your arm away. "i don’t appreciate that, seonghwa."

"just being honest. that’s what friends do, right?" he leaned closer, his breath warm against your ear.

the small, dusty clock on the wall pointed at four, you glanced at it, then at the door, wishing that your eyes could pierce a hole and reveal other people, anyone. yet no one else had arrived. the pit in your stomach deepened. "maybe i should call sally. or anna."

"nah, don’t bother." he waved a dismissive hand. "they probably won't even come. you know how it is." he paused, a predatory glint appeared in his round eyes. "guess it’ll be just us."

the words rang heavy and suffocating. it clicked. a cold, sickening realization washed over you. there was never "others." you had been tricked. the gifts, the polite goodbyes, all of it a naive delusion.

"oh." you stood up abruptly, the movement jarring. "i... i think i should go. maybe i should come back when the others arrive." your mind raced, scrambling for an excuse, anything to get out. you tried to infuse your voice with a calm you didn’t feel, to make it sound like a reasonable suggestion, not a desperate plea.

"don’t be stupid, y/n. you just got here." he stood and pulled you towards him. the close proximity of his body, the insufferable smell of weed making you almost gag. "you’re lonely, aren’t you? i see it in your eyes. the way you just exist and he doesn't even notice."

"i don’t know what you mean." your voice trembled.

"why? you don’t want to admit it?" he leaned closer, breath warm against your ear. his insidious words pricked at the spots. the truth of them, despite the venomous delivery, stung. but the way he was using them, twisting them, made your skin crawl.

you tried to push past him, a surge of adrenaline making you bold. “let me go.”

he grabbed your arm, his fingers tightening around your wrist. "no." he pulled you back, hard, sending you stumbling onto the couch. the gifts clattered to the floor. he pinned you there, his face inches from yours. "i know you don’t love him. you're goddamn pathetic with him and everyone sees it."

you felt a surge of adrenaline, a pumping desperate need to escape. “you don’t know anything about me. or san.” you pulled harder, twisting your body, trying to create distance.

he didn’t let go. instead, his other hand came up, resting on your arm, his thumb stroking your skin. "i know you don't love him. i know you’re unhappy." the accusation, so utterly false, ignited a furious spark within you. "why else would you keep coming back here?"

"you’re wrong!" sharp and venomous, your voice cut through the fear. "you’re completely wrong. i love san. i love him more than anything. and i would never, ever be unfaithful to him. especially not with... with someone like you!" the last words, raw and unfiltered, spilled from your lips. the thought of betraying san, of allowing this man to even suggest such a thing, filled you with a righteous anger.

a vein throbbed in his temple. for a terrifying moment, you thought he might strike you. his face contorted, a mask of rage. primal scream ripped through your mind, though no sound escaped your lips. a sudden, visceral revulsion surged through you, a raw, untamed force you hadn’t known you possessed. you didn’t think, you reacted. with a guttural cry that was more gasp than sound, you twisted your body, yanking your arm free from his grasp with a strength born of pure terror. you stumbled back, tripping over your own feet, but you caught yourself, your eyes wide, fixed on him.

"hey, y/n, calm down. let's talk-" his face a mask of something ugly. he took a step towards you, his hand still outstretched.

"don’t you touch me!" you shrieked, the words finally tearing free holding a fierce conviction.

with a desperate lunge, you pushed past him and found the doorknob, fingers clumsy with terror and heart pounding against your ribs. please, please be unlocked. the knob turned protesting a squeal. a small miracle. you yanked it open, the weak sunlight blinding you for a moment.

you didn’t look back. you ran. the gravel crunched under your shoes, the faded blue trailer shrinking behind you. you didn’t stop until you reached your car, fumbling with the keys, your hands shaking so violently you could barely push the button. you threw yourself inside, locking the doors, lungs burning. the engine roared to life, and you sped away, leaving the trailer park, the sickly rose bush, and the terrifying encounter in a cloud of dust. the gifts lay forgotten on the floor of the trailer, naive hope, now shattered.

୨୧

"i ran into someone today."

"at the market?"

"an old friend. from high school. apparently some of them still hang out and, i was invited."

"that's good, you should go."

"really? you don't mind?"

"why would i mind? it's good for you to see people, you're always here. you should get out more."

"i mean... i haven't seen them in years. since graduation, probably."

"people change, that's okay. it'll be nice to reconnect. you've been cooped up, it's good to have plans."

"i guess so."

knees drawn to your chest, the phone thrown to the cushion next to you. you had to call him, you really had to, and he did leave. cheeks damp, tiny ragged sobs caught in your throat, you barely registered when the door swung open. he stood at the doorway, crisp button down now slightly rumpled, his tie loosened. his eyes scanned the room, then landed on you. he didn't say anything, just kicked the door shut with his heel and moved towards you deliberately.

"san," you choked out a fragile whisper, "i'm so sorry. i'm so, so sorry i made you come home."

he didn't answer with words, simply sunk onto the couch beside you, the springs protesting faintly. his strong arms wrapped around your shaking shoulders, pulling you into his chest. the clean, subtle cedar scent of his cologne filled your senses, chasing away the lingering stench of smoke and fear. you buried your face in his shirt and let the dam break.

hot and stinging tears streamed down your face, soaking into his shirt. each sob tore through you, tearing sounds you hadn't realized you were holding back. his hand moved to the back of your head, fingers tangling in your hair, holding you close. he didn't try to stop the tears, didn't offer empty platitudes. he just held you, a silent comforting presence.

"it’s okay," he murmured, his voice a low rumble against your ear, "it's okay, y/n. i'm here."

fingers fisted in his shirt, the fabric stretching taut. the world outside the circle of his arms ceased to exist. there was only the steady beat of his heart, the warmth of his body, the gentle rhythm of his breathing. time stretched and blurred. you cried until your throat ached, until your eyes felt swollen and raw, until the tremors in your body slowly began to subside.

when the sobs dwindled to quiet sniffles, you pulled back slightly, your head still resting against his shoulder, your gaze fixed on the intricate weave of his shirt. a deep, shuddering breath hitched in your chest.

"i… i need to tell you something," you whispered.

he squeezed your shoulder gently. "take your time."

the silence stretched, heavy with unspoken things. you needed to say it, all of it. the truth, ugly and raw, demanded to be set free.

"i haven’t been... i haven’t been doing well, san," you began, your voice still hoarse. "not really. i mean, i love being home. i love our apartment, i love cooking for you, taking care of everything. i really do. but" you carefully searched for the right words, the words that wouldn’t sound like an accusation. "it got... lonely. really lonely."

at his arm tightening around your waist, you glanced up at his face. his brow was furrowed, his eyes filled with a deep, quiet concern, but no judgment.

"i know you work hard," you continued, rushing the words out before you could lose your nerve. "i know you do it for us, for our future, and i appreciate it, san, i really do. sometimes, i just... i just want to talk. to someone. about anything. about my day, about a stupid show i watched, about a new recipe i found. just... to talk. and you're not there."

he didn’t interrupt, just listened, his gaze steady on your face.

"and then… i met seonghwa again."

the name plastered, foreign and sharp. san’s head tilted slightly, a flicker of confusion crossing his features.

"seonghwa?" he repeated, the name unfamiliar on his tongue. "who is... i thought you said you were meeting anna? your old classmate?"

your heart sank at his innocence, at how you had let him assume with unclear conversations.

"no, anna is... seonghwa’s friend,” you explained, the words tumbling out. "she’s part of his group. he was my classmate in high school. not a close one, but... yeah. he’s the one i ran into at the supermarket."

san’s placid eyes held a hint of something unreadable. he still didn’t speak, just waited.

"i didn’t mean for any of it to happen," you confessed, your voice cracking again. "i just... i just wanted to be included. to feel like i was part of something. they seemed so... free. and easy. and i was so lonely." you paused, drawing a shaky breath, preparing for the hardest part. "at first it seemed harmless. they were just... different than me, something new. but then it escalated. the parties. the noise. the... the smoke.” you hesitated, then forced yourself to say it. "i... i smoked weed, san. once. i know, i know it was stupid. i’m so sorry."

tears welled up again and you squeezed your eyes shut, bracing for his reaction. but he still didn’t say anything, just held you closer, so you continued and everything spilled. the memories flooding back, sharp and vivid. from the hazy afternoons to the girl, her unnatural stillness and anna's so, so young son yet already involved into such a chaotic world. your voice broke with the image behind eyelids. then today, at seonghwa's. reliving the terror, the helplessness, made you shiver with a torrent of fear and disgust and self reproach.

you dissolved into fresh sobs, the weight of the confession crushing you. you waited for anger, for disappointment, for the distance to grow between you even more. but instead, his arms tightened around you, pulling you even closer.

"y/n," he said, his voice deeper than usual, a quiet intensity in his tone. "look at me."

you reluctantly lifted your head, tear streaked face meeting his gaze. his eyes were now clouded with a raw pain that mirrored your own.

"you have nothing to be sorry for," he stated, his voice firm, unwavering. "not for feeling lonely. not for wanting connection. and not for trying to find it." he paused, his thumb stroking your cheek, wiping away a tear. "i’m the one who should be sorry. i let you feel that way. i let you feel so alone that you had to look for it somewhere else. i was so caught up in work, in making sure we had everything we needed, that i forgot to give you what you actually needed. me."

fresh tears pricking your eyes, you shook your head. "no, san. that’s not fair. you work so hard. you provide everything. i should have just told you. i should have talked to you. i just... i didn’t want to cause conflict. i didn’t want to seem ungrateful."

"conflict is part of a relationship, y/n," he countered softly. "it’s how we grow. and you are never ungrateful. i know you. i just... i wasn’t listening. i wasn’t seeing. i was so focused on building a future, i forgot to live in the present. with you." his gaze was intense, full of regret. "i saw you, every morning, making the bed perfectly. i saw the dinners you planned. i saw the baked goods you made, and gave away. i thought... i thought you were happy. i thought that was just you, being you. i didn’t realize it was... a symptom. i thought stability meant happiness. i thought if i provided for everything, you wouldn’t have to worry. i thought that was how i showed you i loved you. but i forgot to show you i loved you with my time. with my presence. with my words."

"but i should have said something," you insisted, your voice still thick with guilt. "i let it fester. i bottled it up. i smoked weed behind your back. that’s not okay, san. that’s not okay."

"and it’s not okay that i left you feeling so emotionally neglected that you felt like you had to," he countered, his voice gentle but firm. "we both made mistakes, y/n. mine was in being absent. yours was in not speaking up. but none of that changes how much i still love you."

he pulled you back into his embrace, holding you tightly, his chin resting on the top of your head. you could feel the steady beat of his heart against your ear. a comforting, familiar rhythm.

"i love you, y/n," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "more than anything. and i am so, so sorry that you went through all of that. that you were scared. that you were hurt. that you felt alone. i promise you, you will never feel that way again. not with me."

you clung to him, tears still flowing, but these were different. these were tears of relief, of release, of a profound love finally understood. you felt the tension that had been coiled in your chest for months slowly unwind, dissolving into the warmth of his embrace.

"i love you too, san," you sobbed, the words muffled against his shirt. "i love you so much."

held for a long time, the only sounds the quiet sniffles, the soft rustle of clothes, the steady rhythm of two hearts beating in unison. the city outside grew darker, the streetlights casting long, pale shadows through the window. but inside, in the circle of his arms, a fragile light had begun to glow. it wasn’t a solution, not yet. but it was a new beginning.

୨୧

morning rays painted stripes across the duvet. you stirred, the warmth beside you a comforting anchor. san’s arm, heavy and solid, rested across your waist. his breath, slow and even, feathered against your neck. you turned your head, watching the gentle rise and fall of his chest. the memory of yesterday, the raw vulnerability, the shared tears, a fragile precious thing.

quiet sigh escaping your lips, you stretched with a yawn. the bed felt different today, lighter, like a burden had lifted. you eased yourself from his embrace, careful not to wake him, and padded into the kitchen. the choreography of making coffee began. the gentle hum of the machine, the rich aroma blooming in the air. you poured two mugs, placing san’s on his bedside table before returning to your side of the bed, he still slept.

you traced the line of his jaw with your finger, the slight stubble rough beneath your touch. his eyelashes, thick and dark, rested against his skin. a small, almost imperceptible smile touched your lips.

"morning," his voice, deep and gravelly with sleep, startled you. his eyes slowly opened, finding yours.

"morning, sannie," you whispered, leaning in to press a soft kiss to his temple.

he stretched, his big arms flexing, the muscles taut beneath his skin. he reached for you, pulling you closer until your head rested on his shoulder. "i’m not going to work today."

you blinked, pulling back slightly to look at him. "what?"

"i said, i’m not going to work today," he repeated, his thumb stroking the skin of your arm. "or tomorrow. i took the weekend off."

a small, disbelieving laugh bubbled out of you. "you did not. you never take the weekend off. you have that big report due monday."

he shifted, propping himself up on an elbow, his gaze steady. "i called lee at like 3 am. he’s covering. the report can wait. we can’t."

your heart gave a small, hopeful flutter. the words, simple and direct, resonated deep within you. you reached up, cupping his cheek. his skin felt warm against your palm.

"really?" you asked thin with emotion.

he nodded, a soft smile gracing his lips, revealing the faint indentations of his dimples. "really."

the weight that had pressed down on your chest for so long began to ease, replaced by a lightness you hadn’t felt in months. you leaned into him, burying your face in his neck, inhaling the familiar scent of his skin, a mix of sleep and his subtle leftover cologne.

"what are we going to do?" you murmured, the question laced with a hesitant joy.

he held you tighter. "whatever you want. show me your world, y/n."

a lump formed in your throat. you pulled back, a small, genuine smile blooming on your face. "okay," you breathed. "okay."

the morning unfolded slowly for once, no rush to get ready, no frantic dash for him to find a parking spot. you made a more elaborate breakfast than usual, eggs scrambled with herbs, crisp bacon, and slices of avocado. he watched you, perched on a stool at the kitchen island, his phone conspicuously absent. he simply watched, gaze attentive, as you moved with a quiet efficiency.

he ate with a quiet appreciation, savoring each bite. the silence between you was no longer heavy with unspoken words, but comfortable, filled with the soft clink of forks against plates, the distant chirping of birds.

after breakfast, you led him to the bedroom and demonstrated your bed making routine, movements precise and practiced. he watched, his head tilted, an expression mixed with amusement and curiosity.

the hours melted into a gentle rhythm. you showed him your small rituals. the way you organized the pantry, grouping spices by frequency of use. the careful sorting of laundry, whites, colors, delicates. the methodical scrubbing of the bathroom, each surface gleaming. he followed you, your silent observer, occasionally offering a helping hand.

you found yourself talking more than you had in months, explaining the logic behind your choices, the small satisfactions you found in these mundane tasks. he listened, truly listened, his eyes never leaving your face. it was no longer how are you? but why do you do this that way?

lunch was a rather simple affair, sandwiches and fruit, eaten at the kitchen counter. you found yourself telling him about a new recipe you wanted to try, a complicated japanese stew you’d been researching. he listened, asking questions about the ingredients, the cooking process. it felt like a real conversation, not just a series of perfunctory exchanges.

as dusk began to settle, casting a soft, blue hue through the apartment, you found yourselves in the living room. you moved the large, plush couch, pushing it closer to the wide window that overlooked the street below. the city lights began to twinkle a distant murmur from the streets.

you sat side by side, the comfortable silence settling around you once more. he reached out, his hand slowly finding your arm. his fingers traced a gentle path from your wrist to your elbow, a soft reassuring touch. you leaned your head against his shoulder, inhaling his scent, feeling the steady beat of his heart against your ear.

the silence stretched, not empty, but full of unspoken emotions, of rediscovered intimacy. you watched the cars pass below, their headlights cutting through the growing darkness.

after a long while, he stirred. his hand tightened on your arm, then he slowly, gently, pulled you onto his lap. your legs tangled with his, your body molding against his hard frame. he shifted, adjusting you until you were nestled perfectly, your back against his chest. his lips found your shoulder, pressing a soft kiss, then moving to the delicate skin of your neck. a shiver ran through you, a small, involuntary gasp escaping your lips. he kissed the sensitive spot just beneath your ear, and a soft giggle bubbled up from your chest.

"you okay? is this okay?" he murmured.

you nodded, your head resting against his shoulder. "more than okay."

he pulled back slightly, turning you so you faced him, his hands resting on your hips. his brown eyes held a tenderness that made your breath catch.

"y/n," he began, his voice soft, almost hesitant. "do you... do you ever think about kids?"

୨୧

effortlessly, he laid you gently on the bed, following you down, his body a warm weight against yours. his lips found yours, soft at first, then deepening, hungry desperation underlying the tenderness. your mouth opened beneath his, inviting him in. his tongue tangled with yours, a slow, sensual dance, tasting of coffee and him.

"mine," he murmured against your mouth, pulling back just enough to whisper the word. "you’re mine, y/n. no one else’s."

his hands, large and strong, moved to the hem of your shirt, slowly, deliberately, pulling it up and over your head. the cool air brushed against your skin for a moment before his hands were there, warm and firm, stroking your sides, your ribs, the soft skin of your belly.

you arched into his touch, a soft moan escaping your throat. you reached for his shirt, fingers trembling slightly. he helped, peeling the fabric from his broad shoulders, revealing the taut muscles of his chest before he reached around, touch gentle, unfastening the hook of your bra. the lace fell away, revealing your breasts, full and soft in the dim light. he stared, his gaze lingering and before you knew it, he leaned down, lips closing over one nipple, drawing it into his mouth. a jolt of pure pleasure shot through you. he sucked, softly at first, then harder, his tongue swirling around the sensitive peak. your breath hitched, your fingers tangling in his dark hair, holding him closer. he moved to the other breast, suckling with equal fervor, his free hand stroking your side, making goosebumps rise on your skin.

"so beautiful," he breathed, pulling back to look at your flushed face. "so fucking beautiful."

rough with desire, igniting a fire deep within you. you reached for the button of his jeans, eager to shed the remaining barriers between you, pushing them down his hips, along with his boxers. his cock sprang free, already hard and engorged, glistening in the dim light. you reached for him, your fingers wrapping around his heat, stroking the soft skin. he groaned, his head falling back against the pillow.

"baby," he gasped, his voice strained. "god, y/n."

you continued to stroke him, feeling the pulse of his arousal against your palm. your own desire mounted, a burning ache between your legs. he reached for your shorts, pulling them down with your panties. the cool air kissed your bare skin, a fleeting sensation before his hand was there, warm and knowing, finding the wetness between your thighs.

his fingers parted your folds, gently, slowly, exploring the slickness, the delicate curves of your clit. you gasped, your hips arching instinctively. he dipped a finger inside you, then another, preparing you. you were already so wet, your body aching for him. a soft squelching sound accompanied his movements, a wet, intimate symphony.

"so wet," his voice husky, eyes never leaving yours. "for me."

he watched your face, gauging your reactions, thumb circling your clit, drawing out whimpers and soft cries from deep within your throat. you writhed beneath his touch, your body trembling, on the precipice of release.

"please," you pleaded, your voice hoarse. "san, please."

he shifted, kneeling between your legs. his heavy cock, slick with your wetness, brushed against your opening. you gasped, a desperate sound. he hesitated, looking into your eyes, a possessive fire burning in his gaze.

"say..." he whispered, slightly overwhelmed already. "say you’re mine."

"yours," you choked out, tears stinging your eyes, a heady mix of pleasure and raw emotion. "i’m yours, san. only yours."

he entered you then, slowly, pushing past the soft resistance, filling you completely. a deep groan rumbled in his chest as he buried himself within you. you cried out, a sound of pure, unadulterated pleasure. he paused, letting you adjust, letting your body stretch and encompass him. the feeling was overwhelming, profound sense of fullness, of belonging.

he began to move, slow, deliberate rhythm at first, his hips rocking against yours. the friction was exquisite, the sound of your bodies joining, a wet, rhythmic shlicking. he pulled back almost completely, then drove back in, deep and hard, a sigh escaping his lips. your legs wrapped around his waist, pulling him closer, urging him deeper.

"mine," he repeated, each thrust punctuated by the word. "no one will ever... have you like this, only me."

the pace quickened, becoming more urgent, more primal. he pounded into you, each stroke sending waves of pleasure through your core. your nails dug into his back, leaving faint red marks on his tanned skin. your hips rose to meet his, matching his rhythm, your bodies a blur of motion in the dim light. the bed creaked beneath you, a testament to the intensity of your passion.

he leaned down, capturing your mouth in a bruising kiss, his tongue plundering yours, tasting your desire, your cries muffled against his lips. your climax built, a tight coil in your belly, spreading outwards, consuming you. you bucked against him, your body convulsing around his cock. a guttural cry tore from your throat as you shattered, waves of pure bliss washing over you.

the thrusts got deeper, harder, his own climax building quickly on the heels of yours. groans and bodies tensing, hips slamming into yours one last time as he emptied himself deep inside you. his hot cum flooded you, warm thick rush that made you gasp.

collapsed and slick with sweat, your legs were still wrapped around him, intimately entwined. he buried his face in your neck, his breath hot against your skin.

"mine," he whispered the promise again. "forever."

fingers tangling in his damp hair, you held him close. the noise outside, the loneliness, the fear, all faded away, replaced by the overwhelming presence of him, of this rediscovered connection. you felt utterly safe, utterly loved, utterly his.

he shifted, pulling back slightly, propping himself on his elbows, his eyes soft, heavy lidded. he kissed your forehead, then your nose, then your lips, a tender exploration.

"i love you, y/n."

the words, so rarely spoken, so deeply felt, resonated through you. a fresh wave of tears pricked your eyes, but these were tears of joy, of relief, of a profound sense of peace.

"i love you too, san," you whispered back. "more than anything."

a new chapter had begun. a chapter filled with soft reassurances, intentional conversations, and a love that, though tested, had found it's way back home. the question of children lingered, a new seed planted in the fertile ground of your renewed intimacy, a promise of a future you could now, finally, envision together.

each day a thread re-stitched into the fabric of your life together. no longer a frayed edge, but a strengthening seam. the silence shedding it's heavy cloak of unspoken expectation. now, it held the hum of shared understanding, a quiet comfort that didn't demand filling. some days you still spent less time together than you'd wanted, yet, even then, the goodbye no longer felt like a hurried escape.

you learned to speak your needs, not with the tremor of a plea, but with the steady beat of a declaration. he listened, brow furrowing in concentration, his eyes soft with an empathy he’d struggled to articulate before. you saw the effort, the conscious wrestling with words that didn’t come easily to him. it was a language you were both learning, halting at first, then gaining fluency with each shared vulnerability. he’d ask about your day, not as a formality, but with genuine curiosity, sometimes even calling during his lunch break, a rare occurrence that made your heart do a little skip. love rediscovered, a future being built, one honest word, one tender touch, at a time.

your phone still buzzed with notifications from instagram. you scrolled past anna’s stories, a flurry of candid shots from her son’s fifth birthday party. a lopsided cake, sticky fingers, a wide, gap toothed grin. you tapped the little heart icon, then saw sally’s latest transformation, her hair now a vibrant neon green. she’d posted a picture of a sizzling pan, tagged with a question about your secret to perfectly crisp tofu. you sent back a detailed message, outlining marinades and pan temperatures, a smile touching your lips. you knew, and they knew, that the physical space between your worlds had widened, perhaps irrevocably. there was no expectation of meeting up, no casual invitations to late night gigs. seonghwa’s shadow still stretched too long, too dark, across that part of your memory. the thought of stepping back into that haze, even for a moment, made your stomach clench. you had found your way back to the light, and you were fiercely protective of it.

this morning, however, began with no alarms. skin to skin, a perfect fit. he had begged for five more minutes and how could you say no when his mouth was already moving in between your thighs? lazy swipes, you felt your muscles tense slightly, then relax, his hand finding your hip, drawing you closer, before moving your legs over his shoulders. his tongue stroked the soft skin of your pussy, a slow, hypnotic rhythm.

time dissolved. the soft rustle of sheets, the faint thumping of your heart against his. the world outside your bedroom, outside this intimate cocoon, ceased to exist. you were just two bodies, intertwined, rediscovering a forgotten language.

when your third orgasm of that morning alone hit, you pulled your head back, accidentally looking at the clock and freezing, a gasp escaping your lips. he pulled back slightly, his eyes still clouded with passion, then clearing with the dawning realization. a groan, this one of frustration, escaped him.

"shit, shit, shit," you cursed under your breath. "oh, san. you're going to be late."

a deep sigh, rueful sound laced with disappointment escaped him. you pushed yourself up, pulling the sheet with you, a sudden chill striking your skin. he ran a hand through his hair, dishevelled from sleep and your shared passion. "i know." he sat up, stretching, his muscles rippling, a sight that still made your breath catch. he threw his legs over the side of the bed, the sheet falling away, revealing the strong lines of his back, the curve of his shoulders and his half erect dick.

"go, go," you urged, though a part of you wanted to pull him back, to steal a few more precious minutes. you threw off the covers, padding naked to the closet, already mentally planning his lunch.

he glanced back, a wry smile on his face. "you’re not exactly helping." his eyes lingered on your retreating figure, a spark of lingering desire in them.

"i’m making your lunch. that’s helping." you laughed shyly, a clear sound before pulling out a crisp white shirt, a dark tie, laying them out on the bed for him.

when the sound of the shower starting grounded you, you moved with purpose, opening the fridge, pulling out containers. yesterday’s leftover bulgogi, a side of kimchi, some fresh fruit. you packed it all neatly into his bento box, arranging the colours, making it appealing.

now dressed in his dark suit trousers, he emerged from the bathroom, his shirt still unbuttoned, revealing a glimpse of his chest. his hair was damp, slicked back, making him look even more handsome, more put together. he came up behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist, pulling you back against his solid frame. chin rested on your shoulder, breath warm against your ear.

"i love you," he murmured, the words no longer feeling forced, but a natural outflow.

you leaned into him, closing your eyes for a moment. "i love you too," you replied, your voice thick with emotion.

he squeezed you gently, then released you, picking up his jacket. you followed him to the doorframe, a familiar ritual, but one that now held a deeper significance. he turned, his eyes searching yours, then he leaned down, his lips finding yours in a deep, lingering kiss. it was a kiss that spoke of hurried passion, of regret for lost time, and of promises for the future. his hand found your butt, giving it an extra, firm squeeze, a playful, intimate gesture that made you giggle.

"sannie, you have to go." you laughed against his lips.

"i know, just let me-"

he pulled you back in, tongues dancing against each other as he opened the door.

"you gotta... go... leave..." despite your protests, you were leaning into the kisses as well.

finally, when he pulled back, a wide grin appeared on his face, those dimples on full display. "i left something for you on the counter." his eyes twinkled.

your eyebrows rose in surprise. "oh?"

he just winked, then stepped out into the hallway. "have a good day," he called over his shoulder, already halfway down the corridor.

"you too." you watched him go with a warmth spreading through you, chasing away the morning chill. your cheeks burned pleasant blush. you closed the door, leaning against it for a moment, the echo of his kiss still on your lips.

a curious smile played on your lips. you turned, walking back into the kitchen, your eyes scanning the clean, uncluttered surface. amidst the neatly stacked mail and the fruit bowl, an envelope lay, pristine white, tucked beside the coffee maker.

your heart gave a little flutter. you picked it up, fingers tracing the simple, elegant script of your name. you recognized his handwriting, though it was slightly more rushed than usual, a testament to his morning scramble. you glanced back at the lace box that sat on your dresser. finally, a new companion piece awaited. you carefully tore open the seal, your breath held in anticipation.

you pulled out a single sheet of paper, folded neatly. it wasn’t a thick expensive stationery, but a page torn from a small, spiral bound notebook, perhaps one he kept for jotting down notes at work. the paper felt thin, slightly rough urough under your fingertips. the words were penned in his familiar, slightly cramped hand, some of them a little smudged, as if he’d written it quickly, probably during a stolen moment on his break.

you began to read, a soft smile blooming on your face.

my y/n:

you know how i am with words, they get stuck somewhere between my heart and my mouth. it’s frustrating. for both of us, i know. i think about that first letter i wrote you. it was bad. really bad. i cringed just thinking about it. but i tried, i guess, even if it doesn’t look like it. these past few weeks... they’ve been good, better. i hope it's the same for you. seeing you smile again, truly smile, it’s like the sun coming out after a long winter. i never want that winter to come back. i never want you to feel that coldness again. i was so blind. so stupid. i thought providing was enough but i was wrong. you taught me that. you always teach me things, even when you don’t mean to. i want to be better. for us. for you. i want to learn how to say these things out loud, not just write them down when no one’s looking. i’m sorry for the pain i caused. i’m sorry i let you feel alone. i promise to keep trying. to keep learning. to keep loving you, in all the ways you deserve. you are my home, y/n, my everything, my wife, and i will never ever let another man think they got a mere chance with you, never again. you're mine and i'm yours.

you're stuck with me, always.

san.

୨୧

With how often Yunho was around, you got to know the slightly older man as well. You formed a bumpy friendship–jealousy preventing you from getting too close at first. Over time, you got over it and accepted him as a part of your life with Mingi, falling into a routine with the two of them. 

The three of you would often hang out in the apartment you shared with Mingi, whether it was to play video games, watch movies, or just sit around. It started out with small actions that made you feel seen by Yunho. Your favorite snacks brought without you having to ask, explanations of inside jokes when he saw confusion on your face, and small unexpected gifts like he would get Mingi when he had bad days. 

Mingi didn’t think anything of it, knowing Yunho would do the same for him. In fact, he became thrilled at the idea of the two of you getting closer. He even encouraged you to turn to Yunho if he was ever too busy to answer. He didn’t see how he could be upset at the idea of his two favorite people becoming friends. Even when Yunho started to tease you like he would, Mingi didn’t think anything of it. 

As harmless as it was at first, you didn’t miss the small smirks Yunho would send your way. The glances when he believed Mingi wasn’t looking, or even the small brushes when walking past you. A tension growing between the two of you, that you weren’t sure what to do with. 

Coming home from work one day, you couldn't help but tense up hearing both of their voices as you entered your shared apartment. You kicked your shoes off and dropped your bag down on the kitchen table, exhausted after the long day. 

“Hey, baby. How was work?” Mingi called from the living room. He was enthralled in some game you didn’t care to learn about with Yunho, the two clearly battling. 

“Fine, just long.” You answered as you grabbed a drink from the fridge. Entering the living room, you waited beside the arm of the couch, not wanting to interrupt their match. Mingi sat closest to you, Yunho was in the arm chair on the other side of the couch. 

“How’d the project go?” Yunho asked, glancing at you out of the corner of his eye. 

“Good, finally got the one executive to drop his impossible idea.” 

“Told you, he’d come around. My baby’s too pretty to argue with.” Mingi spoke with a proud smirk causing you to chuckle. 

“Yes, I’m sure he changed his mind cause he thought I was pretty.” You couldn't help but roll your eyes at the thought.

“Do we have competition with your coworkers now? We’re-Mingi’s gonna have to show them you’re off limits.” Yunho spoke, trying to correct himself quickly. 

Your eyes widened at his insinuation, the innuendo not lost on you. You felt yourself tense up as you glanced at Mingi, who was now biting his lip–at Yunho’s words or just in concentration you didn’t know. His eyes hadn't left the screen in front of him as far as you had seen.

Yunho glanced at you again, a red tinge to his ears. His eyes strayed from the screen just a second too long, giving Mingi the advantage he needed to end the match. Mingi let out a cheer at finally winning, before placing his control down and extending his hand out to you. You set your drink down, placing your hand in his. 

“Come here, baby.” He spoke softly, eyes meeting yours as you did as he asked. You moved to sit by Mingi, your legs across his lap as he gently massaged your calves. You didn’t glance at the other man as you closed your eyes and relaxed into your boyfriend’s massage.

Yunho cleared his throat before you heard him stand. “She’s clearly had a long day, I’ll leave you two be.” You opened your eyes to see him gathering his stuff, avoiding eye contact with either of you. 

“You don’t have to, we can play another round, right, baby?” Mingi asked, looking at you for a moment before turning back to Yunho. 

“I’m sure, take care of your girl.” He answered before you could even open your mouth, eyes drifting to you at the end. There was something in his look, it was familiar to you, but not from him. 

Desire. A muted fire as he clearly fought to push it down.

You stayed still until he finally made his way to the door and made a swift exit. 

Mingi glanced between the two of you, biting his lip. He couldn’t deny the attraction building between the all three of you, but just like you, he didn’t know how to act on it. He didn’t know what to say or how to address what was happening. He wasn’t sure it was something you wanted, let alone Yunho. 

You entered a standstill where Yunho continued to push further and further. Tension building with each visit he had to your apartment. You weren’t sure how to approach the subject, not wanting to upset Mingi with the interest you now held for his best friend, or vice versa. 

Enter Wooyoung. 

Wooyoung wasn’t around as often as Yunho, but had become a more frequent guest recently. Often joining the two in the gaming sessions, or some other random hang out. However, the few encounters that the three of you had with him were enough for him to grasp an understanding of your dilemma. 

He had a perceptiveness as he watched the three of you interact. Something akin to a hawk watching his prey. He caught on to your attraction to both men. 

The adorable embarrassment that broke out as Yunho mercilessly enjoyed teasing you. The seemingly lack of care that Yunho had for Mingi or anyone else being in the room when he did it. He also caught on to Mingi’s excitement at watching the two people closest to him not only get along but thrive in each other's presence.

Wooyoung could tell you wanted to say something, to quit walking the tightrope between the two. However, what he didn’t know is where the line was drawn only having an outside perspective of the situation. 

“So, have you three fucked or something?” Wooyoung asked one evening after following you into the kitchen. 

You almost choked on your drink at the blatant question. “What?! No!” 

“Oh, don’t be like that. You three are thirsting after each other like a fucking camel in the desert.”

“I don’t–”

“Spare me the denials. Everytime Yunho flirts with you, I swear Mingi gets a fucking hard on and you make heart eyes at both of them more than San does to Yeosang.” He spoke with his arms crossed, leaning on the counter next to you. A knowing smirk was on his face as a heat rose to your cheeks. 

You felt pinned to the spot, the hair on the back of your neck standing on edge. Your eyes glanced at the exit from the room, wondering if he would block you from taking it. 

“Woo, just drop it please.” You pleaded after a moment dropping your head so as to not see his face. 

“Oh, I can see why they tease you…” He spoke and you snapped your head back up to meet his eyes. “You’re so pretty when you beg.” 

“Not you too.” Your head fell, avoiding eye contact once again. 

“Not sorry, you’re just too cute.” 

Rolling your eyes, you attempted to head back to the living room. As you passed Wooyoung, his hand caught your wrist. 

“I can help, you know? I see what you want, I can be that final push.” He told you, smirk on his face as he glanced between your eyes and lips. 

“Why would you do that? What's in it for you?”

“A night of fun if I play my cards right, and the bonus of getting rid of the weird tension between you three.” He answered honestly, dropping your wrist with a shrug. 

The gears in your head started to turn at his idea. Your boyfriend wasn't the easily jealous type, not with his friends anyway. Yunho though? Different story. Could Wooyoung really be the catalyst to get one of them to act–to admit to what they truly want?

“How do you want to do this?” You finally asked after a moment.

“You're down?” 

When you nodded he couldn't stop the laugh that spilled from his lips. 

“Orai! We'll do it naturally. Just storm out of here like you were going to after I teased you. Trust me to take care of the rest.” 

Giving him a nod and taking a deep breath, you moved to leave the kitchen with a huff.

You planted down on the couch next to Mingi, burying your head in his chest with a groan. Your cheeks red, with embarrassment, and you held a disbelief in your actions. Were you really trusting the younger man to push you all together, just like that? 

You felt Mingi chuckle before you heard it. “Everything okay, baby?” He asked as his hand dragged through your hair. You moved to glance up at his face. 

“Yeah, just Youngie being a menace.”

“Ah so nothing new.” Yunho joked as he continued the video game he was playing from the armchair next to you. 

“It’s not my fault she looks hot when she blushes. I mean look at ‘er” Wooyoung spoke, now leaning on the wall separating the kitchen and living room. His arms were crossed as he bit his lip, eyes not leaving your form. You felt Mingi tense under you as Yunho let out a chuckle of disbelief, pausing his game and placing the controller down. Wooyoung’s eyes flitted between the three of you, watching the reactions with a playful smirk. 

No one spoke for a moment, an awkward silence filling the void.

“Well, that’s interesting. So Yunho can flirt all he wants but the minute I do, you get all tense?” Wooyoung asks with a scoff, a hand coming to rest on his hip. 

“I don’t–”

“He doesn’t–”

“Bullshit.” Wooyoung stopped the older men’s arguments before they could even start. You sat up to give Mingi space as he started to fidget under you. 

“Don’t try to deny it when I could cut the tension in here with one of your shitty knives.” 

Mingi scoffed and readjusted himself. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

“So you’re not hard right now?” 

Wooyoung had him, caught red handed. Mingi stayed silent, ears turning red as everyone turned to face him. 

“Wait, you’re really–”

“Shut up!” Mingi barked before Yunho could finish his question. 

“Dude, it’s okay. Had you– I would've– We could’ve–” Yunho struggled with his words until Mingi cut him off.

“Could’ve what?” He gave a slight chuckle in disbelief. 

“Could’ve fucked.” Yunho answered bluntly, eyes locking with Mingi's.

“Dude, I don’t just want a one night stand.” 

“Then what do you want?”

“I– Fuck I don’t know, which is why I never said anything. How can I explain what I want when I don’t know? Let alone what you two want.” 

“We can work that out, man. Just let me–” 

“Just fuck already.” You had almost forgotten Wooyoung was there until he approached. However, you remember his words–his reason for still being here.

“Why so you can watch?” Yunho fired back with a smirk. 

“You gonna let me?”

“That's not for–” Yunho trailed off as he glanced at Mingi. Mingi who was back to biting his lip. A desire burning in his chocolate orbs as he met Yunho's gaze once more. 

“Well, that just leaves you, baby girl. What do you think?” Yunho asked, eyes not leaving Mingi's, as if locked in a silent conversation only those two understood. 

“I'm open to it, so long as both of you are.” You answered, glancing between the two.

“Yeah? You want all of us? Want us to share you?” Mingi asked softly, eyes searching your face. 

Biting your lip, you nodded, eyes not leaving his. 

“Words baby girl, or this goes no further.” Yunho spoke up, causing your eyes to snap to his. 

“I want this. All of it, whatever it is.” 

Mingi darted forward lips capturing yours in a searing kiss. Closing your eyes, you leaned into him. His hand coming up to cup the side of your head as his tongue teased your lips. You let him in, tongue barely fighting back as Mingi dominated the kiss. Desire burned through your veins and you moaned into his mouth.

“Fuck, that’s hot.” Wooyoung spoke and Mingi pulled back with a chuckle. 

“Just wait, you ain’t seen nothing yet.” His eyes glanced between the other two men in the room. 

“Should we take this somewhere more comfortable?” Yunho asked and earned nods from across the room. 

“Bedroom, baby. Be ready for us. We’ll be there shortly.” 

You stood and felt Mingi tap your ass on the way past as he watched you make your way to the hallway. Entering your shared bedroom, you quickly stripped down to just your underwear before sitting in the middle of the bed. 

Your thoughts drifted as you fiddled with the bed sheets beneath you. It only took a moment for doubt to claw its way into your thoughts. Doubt that maybe they didn’t want this, didn’t want you, that maybe they figured out Wooyoung's plan and found it off putting. 

However, those thoughts were quickly pushed back as the doorway filled with the familiar bodies. 

“Look at that, she listens so well.” Yunho commented as he brushed past Mingi to enter the room. He went to the far side of the bed while Mingi moved to kneel on the edge closest to him. 

“Told you she’ll be good for us.” Mingi spoke, eyes meeting yours as his hand came to rest on your ankle. “Want a run down for what’s about to happen?”

“Yes, please.” 

“Thought you would,” He chuckled as he rubbed soothing circles into your ankle. “Yunho’s gonna lead tonight, what he says goes, he knows your safe word but may also use the stop light system. You remember both?” 

“Yes, twilight or red for stop, yellow for slow down, and green for keep going.” You answered, earning a hum of delight from Yunho who was working his way behind you on the bed. Wooyoung made his way into your line of sight at the end of the bed. 

“Good girl.” Mingi praised with a smile. “Ready?” 

“Yes.” You answered softly. A hand came up from behind to softly cup your jaw. Yunho's chest pressed into your back as his legs came to rest on the outside of your own.

“Yes, who?” Yunho asked, causing you to tear your eyes from Mingi’s. 

“Yes, sir.” You quickly corrected seeing the dart glint in the older man’s eyes. He chuckled with a nod as he let go of your jaw. 

His hands trailed down your sides, moving to your thighs to pull them over his legs and expose you to the two in front of you. The dark spot already spreading on your thin panties doing little to hide the desire filling you. Mingi’s hand started to drift up, but didn’t get anywhere near where you wanted him, causing a whine to fall from your lips. 

“Don’t whine, baby.”

“Fuck, she’s soaked.” Wooyoung spoke as he moved lower to get a better view. 

“Oh, yeah? Dirty girl, we haven’t even touched you yet.” Yunho spoke as his hand drifted to the top of your panties. 

Hooking his fingers into the thin material, he carefully pulled them off your legs, groans leaving the men in front of you as they stuck to your core for a moment. Leaning into Yunho, you felt how affected he was, his hard cock pressing into your back.

“Look so pretty, I wanna taste.” Wooyoung spoke up, moving on to the bed. His hand rested on your other ankle. 

“Yeah, wanna prep our girl for us?” Mingi asked with a smirk. 

“Get your little slut ready?” Yunho added, as his hands slid up and down your sides. His eyes locking with Mingi’s for a second. 

Wooyoung glanced between the two taller men, eyes holding a silent plea for permission from either one. Yunho's legs stretched yours open just a little more, giving him a slight nod. 

Wooyoung moved quickly, as if afraid Yunho would steal you away. He crawled up to lay himself between your legs. His eyes met yours, a smirk on his face as he dove in. Flattening his tongue he lapped at your clit before wrapping his lips around it and sucking. He then slowed down, his tongue exploring more, as he tried to find the spots that would make you a mess. His tongue moves down, pushing its way in, lapping up your essence as his nose bumps your clit.

A moan tumbled from your mouth, head falling back on Yunho's shoulder. 

“Oh, she liked that… Hmm, imagine riding his face, bet you she'd look hot.” Yunho spoke with a smirk, glancing at Mingi.

“Maybe some other time.” He answered and you turned your head toward him. 

Some other time? 

With all three of them?

Wooyoung's words rang around your mind, just a night of fun. This wasn't the same for him as the other two in the room. Either they didn’t know that, or didn’t care. 

Before you could think too much about the implication of his words, Wooyoung used his hands to spread your lips and teased a finger at your entrance. Slowly pushing his finger in, you moaned as he curled it a few times. Pulling it out, a second finger joined shortly, beginning to thrust, creating a pace to push you closer to the edge.

“God, she's so tight.” Wooyoung mumbled, glancing at Mingi. His thumb replacing his mouth for a moment. 

“Yeah? Just wait till she’s wrapped around you.” 

Wooyoung bit his lip, a deep groan muffled by it as he began a scissoring motion. 

Yunho's lips found your neck, sucking the sensitive skin as his hands moved to unclasp your bra. He then slowly dragged the straps down your arm, hands brushing down your arms. Throwing the material on the floor, his hands dragged themselves back up, leaving goosebumps in their way. His hands soon found your breasts, kneading the sensitive mounds. 

Moans continued to pour from your mouth as Wooyoung’s fingers brushed the spot he had been searching for.

“There it is.”

“‘Bout time.” Mingi chided, rolling his eyes as he moved closer to your head. His lips meet yours in a sloppy kiss. His tongue enters your mouth and easily takes control of the kiss. He soon pulled away, moving to your sensitive neck opposite of Yunho, before kissing down to your chest. Your hand moved to his belt, attempted to free the bulge growing as he sucked a nipple into his mouth.

Wooyoung hummed into your pussy, winding the coil in your core tighter as your other hand found his hair. Tugging him closer, he groaned again as he felt you clench. Your other hand grips around the outline of Mingi's cock, sending his groan through your chest.

Your eyes clenched shut as you crashed over the edge. Wooyoung's fingers gave a couple more thrusts before slipping out of your slowly. His mouth not leaving you as he slurps up the rest of your cum. 

You lost track of whose hands were where as they moved you to straddle Yunho. Legs on either side of his, you couldn't stop yourself from grinding into his growing desire. Your eyes crack open to watch his reaction.

Yunho’s eyes slip shut as he groans. His hands hold your hips still as the other two move behind you. You could hear clothes being removed, but kept your eyes on the man under you. 

“So greedy, you just came and you already want more?” He teased, slowly opening his eyes once more. His pupils wide as they stare into you. “Give me a color, baby girl.”

“Green, so fucking green, sir.” You spoke, desperation clear in your voice.

Your hands moved to his shirt, pulling at the obstructing material. He chuckled and moved to pull it off, throwing it to the floor. His lips then captured yours in a fierce kiss. He moved to lay on his back, pulling you with him. Your hands found his belt and began to unbuckle it. Making quick work of it and the button of his pants.

Yunho pulls away from the kiss to help you remove the obstructing materials. His erection curvses toward his abs, precum already leaking from the tip. You couldn’t stop the gasp that left your mouth. Wrapping your hand around his length, your finger tips didn’t quite touch. While his length was right there with Mingi’s you were definitely concerned about him fitting. 

“Is it bigger than you expected?” Yunho asked softly, wrapping his large hand around your own. He guided your hand to lightly pump him a few times as his other hand moving to your waist. You found yourself nodding as you moved closer to him. 

“It’s okay, he’ll go slow.” Mingi spoke now behind you. “He’ll fit, you can handle it, baby.” Mingi’s lips found your shoulder as he urged you closer to his best friend. 

“I’ll be slow, sweet girl. Still green?” Yunho asks as Mingi raises you up. You give him a nod as you untangle your hand from his letting him guide himself to your entrance. You leaned into Mingi, letting him hold you up as you slowly sunk onto Yunho’s length. The stretch causes your eyes to shut in pain, your hands finding Mingi’s and grasping tightly.

“Almost there, doll. Just a little more.” Wooyoung spoke from beside you, his hand moving to touch your clit. His lips kiss your cheek, pulling your attention away from the stretch for a moment. 

You moaned softly as your hips finally became flush with Yunho’s. You gave yourself a moment before moving your hands to his chest to lean forward. 

“Ready, baby girl?” Yunho asked and you nodded. “Use your words for me.”

“Yes, sir, please fuck me.” You begged, eyes meeting his dark orbs. He smirks as his hands replace Mingi’s on your hips. 

Raising yourself up, you moan as you sink back down. Yunho helps you create a rhythm as you move your hands beside his head. Your breasts bouncing with each rough thrust.

Mingi's hands move to your neck and slowly trail their way down your back. Upon reaching your ass, he gave it a light smack, jolting you forward and dragging a loud yelp from your throat. 

“Woo, hand me the lube. Top drawer.” Mingi spoke softly, and Wooyoung pulls away from you to open the nightstand and give Mingi what he requested. 

Hearing the lid pop open, you glanced over your shoulder to see your boyfriend smirking. 

“Gonna try something new, baby.” He tells you, gently pushing you forward. Your chest presses into Yunho’s. Yunho’s hands move to grip your ass, using it as leverage to move you, but also spread you open. You felt Mingi drip a good amount of lube down your back and to your other hole. The cool feeling causes you to clench down.  

“Oh fuck, so tight… I think you're forgetting someone though, baby girl.” Yunho spoke, bringing your attention back to him. His head tilted to bring your attention to Wooyoung.

He sat next to Yunho, biting his lip while slowly rubbing his hard on. His eyes followed your movements, hand moving in tandem with every lift of your hips. 

“Why don't you help him out while Mingi gets you ready?” Yunho suggested with a smirk. You nodded, your hand moving to replace Wooyoung's. 

You feel Mingi's middle finger start to make its way to your other hole, gently entering and earning a groan from Yunho as you tense once more. Your eyes meet Wooyoung's as you move your mouth to the head of his erection. 

Your tongue swirls around the tip before you lower your head to take him in your mouth. Hollowing your cheeks, Wooyoung groans as your nose brushes the hair around his base, his cock hitting your throat. His hand tangles in your hair creating a makeshift ponytail, as one of yours grips his tense thigh. You let him guide your head as you lose yourself in the sensations. 

“Look at her, already cock drunk.” Wooyoung spoke with a groan. 

“Mmm, so perfect like this, taking me so well. Such a perfect little slut.” Yunho whispered in your ear, dragging a moan from your throat. 

“Oh, fuck.” Wooyoung groans, throwing his head back once more.

A second finger thrusts into your ass causing you to pull back and suck in a deep breath. The pain of the stretch mixed with the pleasure of Yunho hitting the spot that had you seeing stars. Your eyes roll back for a moment, as Yunho's thrusts become harder. 

“I'm close, baby girl. Where do you want me?”

“Inside, please, inside.” You beg as Wooyoung's hand tightens around your hair. He taps your lips with his tip, prompting you to open your mouth again. 

“Yeah, dirty girl? Want me to fill you up? Have you stuffed full by the end of the night? Give it to me then, cum for me.” Yunho growls into your ear. You moan around Wooyoung's length as his pace increases. Yunho then began thrusting up harder into you. With Mingi still working you open, your eyes slide shut, thighs shaking as you crash over the edge.

Yunho wasn’t far behind. After a couple of thrusts, you felt him pulse as his release coated your walls. Wooyoung’s moans grew louder as he tumbles over as well, his cum pouring down your throat. He then slowly pulls out, telling you to swallow what was in your mouth. You do so, sticking your tongue out as proof. 

You then collapse onto Yunho’s chest. Mingi sucks in a breath as he pulls his fingers out and Yunho spreads you open for him. Glancing back at your boyfriend once more, you see a smirk spread across his face. A whine leaves your lips as Yunho gently pulls out with a light pop. You feel his cum start to pour out until Mingi quickly scoops it up with a finger and pushes it back in. 

“Is she good and prepped?” Yunho asked after a moment, looking over at his best friend. 

“Yeah, she’s ready.” Mingi spoke. His hands move to wrap around you, pulling you up and into his chest. He angles your head to capture your lips, noisily kissing you. You smile into the kiss, letting him take control and enjoying the feel of his plush lips against yours. There was a dopey feel to your movements, as though you were up on cloud nine.

“Wooyoung, you want next?” 

“Do you really need to ask?” Wooyoung scoffed as Yunho slipped out from under you, allowing the younger man to take his place. His cock was already hard again, hitting his abs as he positioned himself at your entrance.

“Calm yourself or you won't be cumming again.” Yunho ordered. A dark glint now in his eyes as he stared Wooyoung down. Wooyoung's pupils dilated as he left out an involuntary whimper. He bit his lip as he stared up at Yunho. The noise causes you and Mingi to break apart. 

“Oh, you like that? Like when I put you in your place, you little brat?” Yunho taunted, hand moving to grip Wooyoung’s chin. A smirk spread across his face as Wooyoung could only nod. 

“Fuck.” Mingi cursed as he gripped himself. 

“You like that, too?” Yunho asks as he glances at his best friend. He let out a small laugh almost in disbelief. “All three of you are gonna be my subs? I'm spoiled.” Biting his lips he moved away from Wooyoung and closer to Mingi. 

The two shared an intense moment as Yunho tilted Mingi’s face toward his. Your boyfriend’s hands loosen around your body, carefully letting you lower yourself into Wooyoung’s embrace. You turned around in Woo’s arms to watch the two taller men. 

Mingi’s hand came up to grip the back of Yunho’s neck, their foreheads meeting. Their lips then crashed together like a tidal wave, a groan leaving Mingi as Yunho bit his lip. You couldn’t stop the whimper that left your own mouth at the sight of the two. 

“How hot is that? And you get to have both of them to yourself. How lucky are you, doll?” Wooyoung whispers in your ear, as his hands begin to trail down your body. His hand soon comes into contact with your clit causing you to moan and throw your head back against his shoulder.

“Did I say you could touch?” 

Wooyoung moved his hand away instantly as if burned, placing them just above your hips. Snapping your head up, your eyes met Yunho’s. His eyes then dragged down your body leaving a burning desire in its wake. Mingi’s eyes stayed locked on Yunho, all three ears waiting on his commands. The three of you were like puppets, Yunho your puppeteer, controlling the show. His attention turned back to Mingi. 

“Since you’ve been so good for me, I’ll let you choose. How do you want your girl?” 

“Let me have that tight pussy, please Yunho.” Mingi begged, causing your eyes to widen. 

You had never heard him beg before, at least not in the bedroom. He was always your dominant, making you beg and follow his instructions. You found yourself clenching around nothing and biting your lip in anticipation. 

“Take it. Take our dirty girl.” Yunho ordered, releasing Mingi. Despite everything around you, you noted that this was the first time Yunho had called you theirs and not just Mingi's. An omission that you would’ve thought about longer if not for Mingi moving in between your legs. 

Mingi’s left hand went to your hip while his right fisted his cock. He rubbed his tip through your folds a couple of times, coating himself in your juices before pushing in with a groan. You moaned, eyes meeting his as your hands moved to his arms at the overwhelming sensation. 

You became lost in the sensation—in him. There was no care in you as to whose hands were where, or that more than one person was touching you. Hands began massaging your chest, while someone else rubbed at your clit. Your thoughts only on the man in front of you as he set a fast tempo pace. Mingi bit his lip, focusing on the spot he knew would have you coming undone quickly. Only to be stopped by a hand on his chest. 

“Gonna finish her so soon? You didn’t forget about Woo again did you?” Yunho asks as he wraps himself around Mingi, eyes finding yours over his shoulder. 

Unable to find your words, you shake your head.

“Didn’t think so, our good girl. Woo, you gonna take her ass?” Yunho spoke, tone slightly condescending as his thumb continued to circle your clit slowly.

“Fuck yeah I will.” The youngest man answered, thrusting his hips to rub his erection against your back, where it was still pressed. 

“Then do it already, she’s close.” As Mingi ordered the younger around, you found yourself clenching down once more. “Shit, baby girl. You’re choking my dick, not gonna last if you keep that up.” 

Wooyoung grabbed the lube from where Mingi left it on the bed. You heard him pop open the lid, moving you forward to coat his member in a decent amount. He then aligned himself with your puckered hole. His hands guiding and helping you sink down on his member. 

“Fuck! So tight, gotta relax for me, doll.” 

“Breathe, baby. Let him in. Fuck can feel him filling you.” 

“Gonna take them so well, our good girl.” 

They whispered sweet words in an attempt to distract you from the burning stretch. Mingi had never taken your ass before, preferring the feel of your pussy’s tight velvety walls. He only now second guessed that decision, seeing the bliss on Wooyoung’s face before he was even fully flush with your body. Upon finishing sliding in, the two gave you a moment to adjust as you lean yourself fully into Wooyoung.

“Shit, can’t hold back anymore.” Wooyoung spoke after a moment, beginning to thrust up into you, his nails carving mini crescents into your hips. His thrust pushed Mingi in deeper, causing him to groan as he leaned over you a little more. 

“Look at her taking both of you. Sucking you both in, like she doesn't want to let you go.” Yunho teased. 

The two soon found a rhythm, moving so one was always filling you. Moans continued to tumble from your mouth as your eyes shut in pure bliss. You felt yourself sink into the feeling coursing through you, becoming somewhat unaware of what was happening around you. Body tingling from the pleasure coursing through it. 

“Wanna try something.” Yunho mumbled and Mingi suddenly stilled inside of you letting out a loud groan. 

Your eyes snapped open to see what was happening, noticing Yunho still behind Mingi. 

“Oh, fuck.” Mingi groaned as you heard the snap of Yunho’s hips. 

“Fuck, you’re so tight. Relax, Mingi.” It wasn’t hard to figure out what was happening, your eyes rolling back at the thought. The image of Yunho fucking your boyfriend being enough to push you over the edge, body spasming as you come undone.

“Shit, baby. Gonna… cum.” Mingi groaned into your shoulder as Yunho continued to thrust into him, jolting him into you more. Your sensitive walls clamping down around him. 

“Yeah, gonna cum for us, Min? Fill our girl up?” Yunho spoke into his ear, causing Mingi to groan more. 

“Holy shit, she's so tight. Fuck.” Wooyoung cursed as he tried to force himself to slow down, not wanting to come undone too early.

Curses tumbled out of Mingi's mouth as he all but collapsed on top of you. Your hypersensitive walls feel him pulse with each rough thrust from Yunho. It didn't take long till he was spilling inside you with a loud groan. Wooyoung's curses joined his as he tumbled over the edge as well. Their ropes of cum, covering your walls in white once more. 

Yunho stopped his thrusts, groaning as he slowly pulled out of Mingi to savor the feeling. Taking a moment to breathe, Mingi stayed where he was. His hands rubbing your sides, to soothe you or himself you couldn't tell. 

After a moment, Mingi pulled himself up and out. He helped to pull you off Wooyoung and you could feel the mess between your legs spilling onto the sheets. You couldn't find it in you to care though as you spotted Yunho sitting on the edge of the bed. A burning desire still in his eyes and he fisted his cock to the sight of you. 

“Color?” He questioned, noticing your eyes on him. 

“Still green, sir. Just sensitive.”

“Still want more? Even after all that?” He asked and you nodded, biting your lip. Your eyes dart between his clearly still hard cock and his eyes. You would do anything to help him with his problem once more. 

“Damn, insatiable.” Wooyoung spoke with a smirk as he laid to the side, seemingly spent. 

Mingi's eyes trailed your body, biting his lips as he looked at your swollen pussy. His cock twitched at the thought of going again, knowing your walls would wrap around him so well as sensitive as you were.

His eyes then moved to Yunho, taking in his form. His best friend had never looked more attractive. Pupils blown wide, biting his lips, with a hand wrapped around himself. Mingi was tempted to get a taste, but had a better idea as he looked at you once more. 

“Wanna take her pussy together?” He asked, voice rough. He wanted to feel both of you as he came undone. To have you wrapped around both of them like they were around your fingers.

Yunho's eyes reluctantly pulled away from yours to meet Mingi's. A smirk pulled at his lips as he released his lower lip from his teeth. A brow raised at the idea, seeing the hopeful desire on Mingi's face.

“Think she can handle it?”

“Know she can. Right, baby?” Mingi asked, looking at you once more. 

“Yes, please. I can take it.” The plea leaving your mouth without much thought. The two shared a look before moving. 

Mingi was now behind you, maneuvering you to your knees. Yunho moved in front of you, taking your arms and wrapping them around his neck. You clung to him as Mingi aligned himself with your entrance once more. 

Your eyes slid shut as you felt him push in. A moan fell from your lips as your nails dug into Yunho’s back. An overwhelming pleasure consuming you as he rubbed against your sensitive walls once more. Once his hips met yours, Yunho’s hand cupped your jaw. Your eyes blinked open, meeting his dark chocolate orbs. 

“Color?”

“Green.” You answered without hesitation. 

“You sure baby, you’re gripping me pretty tight.” Mingi questioned, almost teasing as he rested his head on your shoulder. His arms wrap around you completely, holding you to him. 

“Yes, please. Ruin me.” You begged. 

Yunho hesitated for a second before placing his tip at your entrance. His eyes glanced between yours and Mingi’s, as if trying to drag out this moment. 

“Give her what she wants, Yuyu.” Wooyoung spoke, resting on his elbows, eyes just taking in everything in front of him. 

Yunho cursed and began to push inside. You couldn’t help but tense up at the new intrusion, your breath hitching. The stretch feeling almost too much, like they were going to tear you in half. Mingi cursed and groaned, the feeling of you clenching around him with Yunho rubbing up against him, having him closer to the edge than he expected. Yunho’s head fell forward, resting on your shoulder. 

“Relax, baby girl or I won’t get a chance to ruin you.” Yunho growls, holding on to what little control he still has.

“I’m trying.” You whined, feeling overwhelmed. The color yellow at the tip of your tongue. Discomfort and sensitivity almost too much for you to handle. Mingi’s arms being the steady anchor, grounding you.

“Don’t whine, baby. You wanted this.” Mingi growled into your ear. “You know what to say to make us stop.”

You stayed silent, not wanting to say it—wanting to see how this would go.

“Just take me,” Yunho muttered, not hearing anything from you. He continued to shove his way in. “Take us.” 

His hips snapped flush with yours. Your eyes rolled as you collapsed back into Mingi, hands still gripping Yunho’s shoulders. If you weren’t in a daze, you would be sure that you broke his skin. An overwhelming feeling of fullness washed over you. Your sensitive walls pulsing around them. 

Yunho and Mingi’s eyes met over your shoulder, the two giving you and themselves a moment to adjust to the feeling. Mingi’s arms loosen around you as his hand grabs the back of Yunho’s head, crashing their lips together again. 

Their kiss seemed to break you from the daze you fell into. You met Wooyoung's eyes, a lazy smirk on his face as he watched the three of you together. He moves to kneel next to you, fisting himself as his lips find yours. Your eyes widen, not expecting this from him. He pulls back and turns your attention back to pillars holding you up.

Watching as Yunho bit Mingi's plush lip, forcing them open so he could get a taste. Their lips dancing together in a beautiful mess. Wooyoung’s lips find your tender neck, abusing the skin there for a moment. 

Breaking apart, Yunho turned his attention to you. His lips crashed into yours and you felt more than heard the moan Mingi released. Wooyoung’s lips leave your neck as he moves closer to Mingi, giving his neck similar attention to yours. Mingi then gave an experimental thrust. Your moan spilling into Yunho's mouth, granting him access to your mouth. His tongue explored freely, his level of control to be admired as he soon joined Mingi. The two soon creating a rhythm that had you seeing stars.

You felt the daze return, the pleasure making you numb to everything else. Yunho pulled away from your mouth, allowing your whines and moans to spill freely into the air. 

“Gripping us so tight, fuck. What a perfect pussy. Not gonna last.” 

“Gonna ruin you for anyone else, just like you wanted. You're ours. Only ours.” Mingi growled into your ear. 

“Say it, say that you're ours.”

“I'm…your's!” You managed to gasp out, causing them to groan.

Your orgasm came crashing into you like a wave, quicker than any you'd ever experienced before. It felt like a dam had broken open as you squirted around their cocks, drenching the sheets below you. 

“Oh shit, she's gone.” Wooyoung spoke from over Mingi’s shoulder. 

“Oh fuck, gonna cum.” Mingi groaned. 

“Do it, cum with me.” Yunho commanded, their thrusts growing in intensity as he neared his peak. 

The two came crashing seconds apart, spilling into you, coating your walls in white once more. Your mind went blank as your body shook from the intensity. 

You weren't sure when they pulled out or who left to grab a towel, conscious only returning as Mingi carefully cleaned your legs from your mixed orgasms. A wince leaving your lips at the feeling. 

“There you are, had us a little worried for a moment.” He spoke when he noticed your eyes registering him. 

“Yunho? Wooyoung?” You questioned, not having the energy to look around. 

“Right here, baby girl, already miss me?” Yunho teased as he leaned over Mingi’s shoulder. He planted a kiss on his shoulder before resting his chin in the same spot.  

“Still here, doll.” Wooyoung spoke, head popping into your field of view. However, he was in the process of getting dressed, attempting to find his shirt in the different piles on the floor. His sweatpants hung low on his hips, v-line still on display for your viewing pleasure. 

“Leaving already?” You croaked out, voice rough.

Wooyoung hummed, pausing his search for a moment as he thought on what to say. “You three have some things to discuss, I’m just gonna give you the space to do so.” He spoke softly, finally finding his top and putting it on. 

A frown formed on your face as he then walked over to the bed and leaned over. “This won’t be the last you see of me, don’t worry.” He gave you a wink and then placed a kiss on your forehead, nodding to the other two as he left the room. 

After the door shut, the three of you sat in silence for a moment. Your eyes glanced between the two men as Mingi finished with the towel, throwing it toward your laundry bin. 

“Do you want a bath? We can start one for you.” Mingi offered, but you shook your head. 

“We should probably talk about this.” Yunho spoke softly, eyes glancing between the two of you. 

You hum in acknowledgement, moving to sit up slightly so as to be at the same level. 

“I think… I know what I want now.” Mingi spoke hesitantly, eyes down, looking at the bed. 

“And what’s that?” 

“I want both of you... I want you both to be mine, whatever that looks like.” He spoke, eyes glancing tentatively at Yunho. 

“And you baby girl? You want the same?” Yunho asked, eyes moving to you. 

You nodded, “Yeah, it sometimes already felt like I was with both of you. I just want the confusion and tension gone.” You admitted with a small smile. Mingi’s hand moved to yours, thumb rubbing over your knuckles as if apologizing for putting you through that. His eyes met yours and held a loving softness to them that had your heart melting all over again.

“I want you both too.” Yunho spoke, bringing your attention to him. “I used to think I was jealous of Mingi, thinking I just wanted you, but then there were times where I wanted to be in your place as well. I had thoughts of both of you, but after what Wooyoung did tonight, I realized I wasn’t necessarily jealous of either of you, I just wanted in. I just wanted both of you.” Yunho confessed.

“Fuck, we coud’ve done this so much sooner.” Mingi cursed, causing you to laugh. 

“Let’s not think about that too much. Now come cuddle.” You spoke, opening your arms to both of them. 

“You heard her.” Yunho joked as he moved. They wrapped themselves on either side of you, Yunho being a big spoon around you as you curled into Mingi’s chest. You knew by the end of the night he would end up the little spoon though, unable to resist having your arms around him.

Closing your eyes, you felt yourself start to drift to sleep. 

“I think we’ll need to properly thank Wooyoung, you know?” Yunho mumbled into your hair. 

Nights like this just felt right — your warm hand in Yunho's much larger one, fingers locked between one another’s. City lights blurred in the night sky almost like stars as Yunho sped down the highway. The windows rolled down just a bit, enough to feel the wind whip across your cheeks. Your joint playlist floated from the car's speakers, setting the mood further.

You could smell the dinner he'd picked up in the back seat, as well. The aroma of pan-fried dumplings wafted to your nose, promising a delicious meal later in the evening.

You were having a hard time taking your eyes off of your boyfriend, not that you wanted to. He was always insanely attractive, but seeing him under the flashing glow of the street lights, you felt your heart fluttering more than usual.

"What are you thinking about, pretty?" His thumb rubs the back of your hand gently as he brings you back from your thoughts.

"Just,” you sigh, gathering your thoughts, “how much I love you. And how much I miss doing this."

Yunho feels warmth spread to his cheeks. He glances over at you with a smile before returning his attention to the road. "Me too."

"You love me or you miss doing this?"

"Both. Definitely both." You hum contentedly and relax against your seat, noticing that you're approaching the destination -- Yunho's apartment parking garage.

It wasn’t uncommon for you and your boyfriend to wind up on the top floor of the parking structure. It was a quiet, often neglected space, with a view overlooking the city. There, you had spent countless hours together, watching the blue sky morph into blends of yellows and oranges and purples. Tonight, though, you wanted nothing more than being in each other's company and staring out at the city, or staring at each other, as close to the stars and moon as possible.

It was an autumn night. The temperature was perfect—not stuffy after the sun had gone down like summer, not bone chilling like the winter. A light breeze kissed your skin as you sat atop the hood of his car side by side.

“Are you hungry yet?” He asked.

“No, not yet,” you reply, voice barely above a whisper. Something about the silence was comfortable. You were almost afraid of speaking too loudly. “We’ll eat soon, before it gets cold.”

Yunho looked so soft under the glitter of the moonlight and warm yellow lamps. The slight blush on his nose and round cheeks, his soft round eyes, and perfectly plush lips. His black hair a bit mussed from both the wind and his nap two hours earlier. You looked up at him and he swore that he could see the reflection of each and every star in your eyes.

Without much thought, you reached up and raked your fingers through his hair, pushing it away from his face. He’d been letting it grow longer, and it often fell into his eyes, brushing his lashes. As your hand came down, you cradled his cheek. Melting into your touch, Yunho's gentle brown irises met yours.

"I love you," he whispered. You knew that was coming. Before he could say it out loud, you’d known that he had been thinking it, simply from the way he was looking at you. As if you were the only thing that mattered to him. As if the shining moon above you both was your doing, hung by your delicate hands. As if he could stay there forever with you and enjoy every second, happy for the rest of his life.

You couldn't help but smile as you leaned in toward him, your reply getting lost on his lips. As your lips met, Yunho's fingers settled on your hips, pulling you in closer. You clutched the soft sweater that he wore, feeling the fabric balled up in your palms.

The kiss started passionately — slow and deep. You took his face into your hands, cupping his cheeks as your teeth clicked together.

Without breaking the kiss, Yunho pulled you onto his lap. You lifted one leg to the other side of his hip so that you straddled his hips. Yunho leaned back onto the windshield, pulling you down with him.

While one of his hands held you in place, the other slid to your thigh. Yunho wished so badly that he could feel the skin that was hidden beneath your yoga pants. You felt his grip on your soft curves, leaving a warm sensation where his fingers pressed into you.

Soft smacking sounds filled the air as you brushed your lips together, now slick with saliva. One of your hands traveled from his jaw, down his neck, to his chest while the other played with the hair at the nape of his neck. You gave a light tug, a grunt escaping from his throat.

Your chest pressed to his, as if you were melting into your boyfriend. Yunho’s large, warm palms began to roam your body, feeling your hips and ass and back. Slowly, almost regretfully, he pulled back, breathless. Your lips were just barely touching, still breathing each other’s air. You felt dizzy, intoxicated from his lips. A second later, Yunho was pulling you into a crushing kiss, sucking your bottom lip into his mouth.

The kiss had grown hungrier, more heated. You felt Yunho’s hand tug at your waist, urging you to roll your hips together. He loved the feeling of having you on top of him. Your thighs settled over his. Yunho slips his tongue between your parted lips.

Your hands explore the planes that you’re all too familiar with — your boyfriend’s solid chest, his wide shoulders, and his long neck. Soft moans escape you, muffled against his mouth. He groans in response, low as you roll your hips, seeking more friction. Yunho’s lips leave yours to press warm, open-mouthed kisses down your jaw, to your neck. You arch into him, gasping, your fingers tightening in his hair.

“We can’t get carried away up here.” He pressed his forehead to yours, heart hammering in his chest.

“I know.” You pause for a breath and nuzzle your nose against his. “It’s just been too long since we did that.”

“I agree.” He hums. His opens his eyes to meet yours already taking in his features. You hold Yunho’s gaze for only a moment before his reddened lips start to curl into a smirk. “Wanna do it some more?”

You giggle and nod in response, slotting your lips against his once more.

Your only witnesses, the stars.

✎ᝰ.

next fic dedicated to the loml, jeong yunho. WHERE MY HOTTEOKS AT?!

if even one person enjoys this, then it was worth posting. thank you for reading ♡

In a dark room full of men in expensive suits, sharp and undeniably charming faces, a projector is showing information about their next prey, someone who will make them wealthier, heck, maybe rank their gang up.

"Ahn Y/N, our treasure."

Standing in front of the humongous table is Kim Hongjoong, captain of the Hala Clan, stating their next mission. He has been told that Seojun will be marrying you, the precious daughter of the Ahn Clan. Hala and Seojun have a bad history.

A few years ago, Hongjoong and Seojun were actually allies. Their clans worked together on a major operation that could have made both organizations extremely powerful. Hongjoong trusted Seojun completely and even considered him a friend.

During the operation, however, Seojun secretly sold information to a rival organization. When everything went wrong, Hongjoong's men were ambushed.

The worst part? Hongjoong's older brother was killed because of the information leak.

Seojun escaped unharmed because he was the one who orchestrated it. Everyone believed the rival organization was responsible, but Hongjoong eventually discovered the truth.

Since then, revenge has become personal.

His plan is simple. Track Y/N's routine, kidnap her at the right designated time, hold her hostage for some countable days, just enough time to make Seojun realize her disappearance, make some calls and threats, lure Seojun into his trap, get his revenge, and maybe steal from him. Easy work, or so he thought.

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The day of your marriage is near, you could count the days. Each day passes, and you've been stressed, locking yourself in your room, trying to figure out how to get out of this shitty condition of yours.

You don't live with your family, you have a penthouse on the outskirts of Seoul, living by yourself. Being in the same ground with your father made you feel like trash, sure, you obey him and all, but that doesn't mean you like him.

You just finished your shower, and your white robe tightly wraps your body as you make your way to the balcony. Cigarette in between your lips as smoke flies away with the wind of the night. You were deep in your own thoughts, completely dissociating from the world. You think about your mother, about the things Seojun will do to her. Just thinking about it made your blood boil, you truly despise that man.

The door leading to your bedroom is widely open behind you, the white dress they have prepared for you can be seen from your peripheral view, and you're sick of it. Sometimes you just want to burn it and throw the ashes at Seojun, or throw it from the balcony and have someone pick it up or something, so you wouldn’t have to be reminded of the marriage every time you see it.

You were about to take another cigarette from the pack until you heard something from outside your room. It's not something loud, it's something that an untrained ear would miss. Your instinct immediately kicked in telling you that there is someone in the house, you carefully went back to the bathroom to wear something, then swiftly grabbing a gun and a knife underneath the sink, you strapped the knife to you thighs and covered it with your clothes.

You make your way silently to the door, your ear pressed to the wood to listen for something, anything.

You open the door after hearing nothing, carefully twisting the knob, revealing the dark hallway leading to the center of the penthouse. The only source of light is from the moon, illuminating the hallway, making it unnecessarily creepy. You're moving like a feather, no sound can be heard each time you step on the ceramic floor. As you reached the living room, you were once again greeted by the dark.

"Fuck why did I leave every light off?" You curse under your breath.

You had left your phone somewhere in the bedroom, and you're not risking your life by turning on the lights. So when you feel like there's no one in the living room, you silently make your way back to the bedroom with your gun steady in your hand, pointing to every corner in the house. Once you get there, you close the door and lock it. You immediately went to search for your phone somewhere in the mess of your bed.

"shit, where is it?!" You curse as you silently and carefully dive into the mess, looking for your phone.

You were fully invested in looking for your phone to realize that the door to the balcony was widely open, the wind blowing from outside made you shiver, making you hyper aware of the balcony. And that's when you heard it, something, or rather someone, landed on the balcony. It was too dark to see, only a silhouette could be seen standing under the moonlight, his clothes swaying from the winds blowing. You immediately pointed your gun at the silhouette of someone standing tall on the balcony. The moon behind him made him look eerie.

That silhouette make his way slowly to you.

"Don't move," you command. But he doesn’t listen and keeps moving carefully towards you.

You don’t want to shoot anyone, so you quickly make your way out of the bedroom. Your instinct told you that he is not alone, someone else is in the house.

You went to another room that is connected to another balcony. Your initial plan is to jump and land on top of a roof or something, then make your escape. But once you open the door leading to the balcony, no roofs are in sight, you immediately go back inside and go to another room.

You open the door quietly, once again meeting with the dark, praying nobody is in this room. You enter the room carefully, listening for any movements of breathing, until something cold touches your temple. You know very well what it is, you didn’t dare to make a move.

"Don’t move. Put your gun down." A heavy voice said.

You did what he told you to, you carefully put your gun down on the floor, and put your hands up. That man grabbed the back of your clothes and led you forcefully to the living room, where three other men were waiting. This time you could see them clearly, they were wearing black suits and shining silver watches, looks expensive.

They eyed you up and down, like some wolves eyeing their prey.

"What do you want from me?" You asked, eyes glaring at them, trying not to show any weakness. They didn’t answer you, they only keep glaring at you as if you’re going to jump at them out of nowhere.

One of the men comes up to you with a rope in his hand to tie your hands. But they didn’t know a knife was still strapped securely on your thighs, hidden by your oversized tee.

Just before he could tie your hand, you grabbed the gun pointed at you and kicked the man in front of you, immediately catching him off guard and fell down. With super speed, you pinned his hands with your feet, making a cringe crunch sound. You then grabbed the man beside you and pointed your knife dangerously close to his throat as your other hand pointed the gun at the other two.

"Answer me, what do you want from me?!" You repeated. As you press your knife to the man’s throat, resulting in some blood drips down from his neck to your hand.

You could see the panic on the other two faces, trying to figure out what to do, and it seems like they didn’t expect you to fight back, they were super wrong.

"Fuck. Okay, calm down." One of them said, trying to make up some words, or ways to tackle you down, probably.

You eyed them one by one, trying to figure out who they are, and who they work for. You scanned their suits, carefully searching for something, a clue perhaps, to whoever they are. Until something small and shiny caught your attention, a pin on their collar, with an ‘A’ logo, that's when you realize they are the Hala.

"Hala… I see what you’re trying to do."

You knew the history between Seojun and Hala, and you figured that they are here to kidnap you and lure Seojun to give him their revenge. And for once you thought maybe being kidnapped is actually not bad, considering Seojun will have a hard time.

But your thought immediately drifted to your mother, if you played along and let them kidnap you, you couldn’t imagine the things Seojun would do to her.

You were deep in thought while still keeping your eyes on them, but you didn’t realize that the man you’re pinning with your feet right now is making a move, biting your calf. You jolted at the sudden pain and lost balance, which made the man you’re holding take advantage of it and turn the tables. You are now the one with a knife to your throat. You gripped his arms tightly, trying to break free, but he was too strong. The other men also regained their composure. The gun you dropped is now theirs again. You have to figure out something smart and quick, that's when a plan comes up in your mind.

"Okay, listen, I know your plan is to take revenge on Seojun. Look, I hate him too, even more than you guys do." You said steadily, eyes scanning for their reaction.

"What if we work together? I can help you guys get your revenge, or even better, kill him. I’ll even pay you guys as much as you want to get rid of that bastard." You try to persuade.

They look at one another, probably considering your offer.

"Well, we still have to take you to our captain, try to persuade him with your offer when we get there," the one holding you said. He dragged your body and make their way out to the car. At this point, you’re giving up on trying to break free already, due to their strong grip.

"Could you at least be less forceful or something? I’m literally coming with you guys of my own will." You protest.

"Shut up and get in already." He said as he shoved you inside the car.

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The drive to their base was long, of course, since you lived on the outskirts of town. You also had learned their names as they were yelling and blaming each other while you tried to have a peaceful drive. Mingi, the one who eerily walks to you from your balcony, and the one who is driving right now. San, the one you kicked and bit your calf. Wooyoung and Yeosang, who basically did nothing. Your hands are tied now since they don't trust you

After some time, the car stopped in front of a gigantic rusty gate. A security guard comes up to the driver's window to check the car, and once he sees Mingi, he immediately opens the gate to let the car through. After the gate is a humongous mansion looking deliberately haunted for some reason, but actually, you're not that surprised, the mansion totally screams Hala for sure. Once Mingi stopped the car right in front of the entrance, Wooyoung grabbed you and pulled you out of the car.

"Dude, you need to chill. I'm not going anywhere. Geez." You once again protest. The way they keep pushing and pulling you really piss you off, you're literally coming either way.

They all led you through the hallway, making turns until you spot a big wooden door, perhaps the captain's room, you thought. Once you get inside, you are greeted with four other people, and one of them has this vibe that screams leader; his hair is slicked back, shoulder broad, and his suit is spotless. The way he stands is just very intimidating, and the smile on his face seems smug.

He makes his way to you, striding graciously toward you. You're not going to lie, he is one of the best sights you've ever seen, and you couldn't help but stare at him.

"Ah, Miss Y/N?" He purred, his voice sounded like the sweetest honey that can kill you slowly.

You were too mesmerized to even form a word and reply to him. Your eyes are stripping him slowly, taking every detail of him into your memory.

He chuckled, sounding majestic for some reason, it hypnotized you further away from reality. As he comes even closer to you, you can feel your heart beating hard under your skin, trying to escape your body and jump right into his hands.

"I have been informed that you have a great deal to give me. Could you emphasize?" He asked, as he stopped right in front of you, eyes searching yours, eager for an answer.

The proximity made you realize the situation you're in right now. You immediately regained your composure and cleared your throat, opening and closing your mouth, trying to find the right word.

"I know your history. You're trying to take revenge on Seojun, Right? And I'm sure my role here is as a trap, luring him into your cage." You explain, voice trying to sound steady and confident.

"So I have an offer. We work together, you hate him, and so do I. I don't want to be married to a cocky prick and trapped with him my whole life, I'd rather die."You continued.

"Hmm... I see. But aside from getting my revenge on him, what do I get? You get to be free from him and all, but me? Only a revenge wouldn't be fair, isn't it?" He emitted.

"I'll pay you as much as you want. I want him erased from this world if you will." You added.

His expression shows that he is intrigued by your offer, and your hope increases as you search his eyes looking for answers.

"Okay, can you fight?" He asked, tilting his head like a puppy's first time hearing foreign sounds. Gosh, how is this man the captain of Hala? You thought it was going to be someone super big and scary-looking. But instead, you are met with a charming and super handsome looking man.

"I... Know how to throw punches?" You mumbled.

He laughed at your reply. " Yeah, no. I want you to participate in taking him down, and throwing punches won't help, darling. You'll need some more training." He beamed.

"We need to take him down fast! He's going to hurt my mother, and the wedding is in literally less than two weeks." You fumed.

"Oh, don't worry. I guarantee your mother's safety. My men will take care of her. While we get ready to take that son of a bitch down." He smiled, the way he said we feels like he's flirting with you, especially with that face of him.

He later introduced his name as you guys make plans to take down Seojun. Kim Hongjoong, his name matches him really well. He took you all into a meeting room, getting straight to making plans.

Hongjoong doesn't play around when it comes to Seojun. In fact, he does not play around with anything. You've learned that he takes everything seriously, and he probably has anger issues or something, because throughout the meeting, he would yell at his men, mostly Wooyoung, because he plays too much. But one thing is for sure, he's undeniably scary when he's angry, and somehow, you found it super hot.

After some time discussing the best plan, you all finally agreed on this plan

You will not be held hostage by him, which is a great thing because being hostage is not fun at all. You will be his eyes, since you get to be around Seojun a lot, and then give important information to Hongjoong so he can tell the others about their parts. Some of them will keep an eye on your mother, ensuring her safety. And the rest, will back you and Hongjoong up when taking him down.

The plan is that you will be acting like nothing happened and bear being with Seojun until the day of the wedding, and at the ceremony, Hongjoong, and all of the rest will move and execute. It needs to be silent, and you will be acting shocked when Seojun gets shot. And just in case things go south, you will be joining the battlefield. Hongjoong had given you a super thin knife that can be hidden in your dress, and you will fight using that.

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It has been almost a week since you got 'kidnapped' by them, and since that day, you have been closer to basically everyone in the mansion.

There's Hongjoong, Captain of Hala. He carried himself like a king who had built his throne from blood and ambition. He wasn't the tallest man in the room, nor the most physically intimidating, yet every head turned when he entered. His sharp eyes seemed capable of dissecting a person within seconds, always calculating, always planning. Neatly styled hair framed a face that was unfairly handsome for someone so dangerous.

There was elegance in everything he did, from the way he adjusted his cufflinks to the way he delivered threats with a smile.

Most people feared his anger. You feared how calm he became when he was angry.

Seonghwa, Hongjoong's right hand. Seonghwa looked more like a luxury magazine model than a criminal. His appearance was always immaculate; not a single wrinkle dared touch his suit, and his dark hair remained perfectly styled no matter the situation.

His gentle smile often fooled strangers into believing he was harmless. They usually learned otherwise.

While Hongjoong was the storm, Seonghwa was the silence before it. His voice rarely rose above a calm tone, but when it did, even seasoned members straightened immediately.

Yunho, the trainer. He was impossible to miss. Towering over nearly everyone, his broad shoulders and long limbs made him look intimidating from afar. Yet the moment he smiled, every ounce of danger disappeared.

His laughter came easily, loud and genuine, often filling entire hallways. You quickly learned that beneath his friendly personality was a terrifying fighter capable of dropping a man twice his size without breaking a sweat.

Yunho was proof that kindness and strength could exist in the same person. You would come over a lot, for training or to evaluate plans, and sometimes you would help with some errands. It feels like you're one of them already.

Yeosang, the Sniper. He had the unsettling habit of appearing out of nowhere. One moment a room would be empty. The next, he'd be standing in the corner silently observing.

His sharp features and calm demeanor made him seem almost detached from the world around him. He spoke only when necessary, and every word felt deliberate.

Unlike the others, Yeosang never wasted energy. Never wasted movement. Never wasted bullets. His unreadable expression often made people uncomfortable. Which he secretly enjoyed.

San, the Enforcer. He looked dangerous. There was no better way to describe him.

Everything about him radiated intensity—from the sharpness of his gaze to the way his jaw clenched whenever he was annoyed. His emotions sat close to the surface, making him explosive and unpredictable. Despite his reputation as Hala's attack dog, those closest to him knew his anger stemmed from fierce loyalty. If San cared about someone, he would walk through hell for them.

If he hated someone, he'd happily drag them there himself.

Mingi, the Driver and Weapons expert. He was chaos disguised as a human being.Tall and impossibly energetic, he moved through life as if consequences simply didn't apply to him. His loud voice echoed through every room he entered, usually followed by someone yelling at him to shut up.

His playful nature made him seem careless.That assumption usually lasted until people saw him behind the wheel.Or holding a gun. Then they understood why he was one of Hala's most trusted members.

Wooyoung, the Infiltration Specialist. He was trouble. The kind of trouble that smiled beautifully before ruining your entire day.

He possessed an almost supernatural ability to get under people's skin within minutes of meeting them. Charming, flirtatious, and endlessly dramatic, he thrived on creating chaos for his own entertainment.

Nobody could ever tell when he was joking. Sometimes not even Wooyoung himself. Behind the constant teasing, however, was someone exceptionally observant.

He noticed everything. And forgot nothing.

And there's Jongho, the Medic. Jongho was perhaps the most terrifying member of Hala.

Not because he was loud. Not because he was aggressive. But because he wasn't. His quiet demeanor often made people underestimate him.

A mistake.

Beneath his calm exterior hid strength that bordered on ridiculous. You once watched him lift a grown man as if he weighed nothing. Jongho preferred actions over words. If he cared about you, he'd patch your wounds, bring you food, and make sure you survived.

If he didn't... You'd know.

Today, you came by the base because Yunho told you to come train and box with him. As you make your way down the training ground, you can hear someone punching the punching bag. You thought it was Yunho, after all, he is the one who asked you to come. But once you make it there, you are met with Hongjoong instead.

Sweat runs down from his temple to his chin as he keeps punching the bag. The black tank top he wears reveals his big, sturdy biceps glistening with sweat. His hair is tousled from running his hand through it. It was truly a sight.

You didn't realize that you're literally frozen in place, eyes obviously striping the man in front of you, until his voice disturbs your day dreaming.

"You like what you see?" He chimed as he made his way to you, running his hand through his hair with a smirk plastered smugly on his face.

"Huh, no. Where's Yunho?" You tried to change the topic, trying to hide how flustered you are by averting your eyes, searching for the said man that is nowhere to be found in the training ground.

"He's not here. I've sent him to do some errands, important ones. So you'll be training with me today." He cheered. You couldn't help but think he purposely sent Yunho out so he could train with you.

"Hmm, that's suspicious, but I'll let it slide." you replied as you stretched, getting ready to train for today.

The two of you walk into the ring, preparing to fight each other.

You strike first, throwing a fake punch to his head, and then kick the side of his body. You thought you could trick him, but he is way faster than you thought. He immediately grabs your foot and pulls it, making you lose your balance and fall on your back.

"Fuck, that hurts." You agonized, rubbing the back of your head as you tried getting up. Hongjoong only chuckled and repositioned his body. You did the same thing. This time, you wait for him to strike first, trying to read his movement.

He raised his foot to kick you, but you thought it was a fake one, so you shielded your head instead. But Hongjoong is way ahead of you, it was actually not a fake. He actually kicked you, sending you to the side of the ring. Oh, you are fuming, and he could see it.

"C'mon, is that all you got Y/N?" He trilled.

That question made you rage. You got up and immediately launched at him, straddling him down. Just as you were about to throw a fist at his face, he pulled you and changed position. He is now on top of you, and both of your hands are locked above your head.

You groaned in annoyance. Hongjoong, on the other hand, seems to enjoy this, he is grinning like he got the best reward ever.

Once you realize the position you're in right now is very questionable, if someone suddenly walks in on you guys. You got flustered when realizing that your face is inches away from his. Upon realizing you're flustered, Hongjoong leans even closer, and your noses are touching already. You were frozen, too afraid to breathe and move at all.

"You need more training darling." Hongjoong whispered, and you could feel his breath brushing your face. Then he got up, grabbing his towel to wipe away the sweat like nothing had happened. While you lay motionless on the ground, heart beating too fast, mind hazy. You could still feel his touch lingering on your skin.

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Seojun was not a man who ignored details. In his line of work, overlooking the smallest inconsistency often meant a bullet between the eyes. It was why your recent behavior bothered him more than he cared to admit.

A week ago, you had looked like a trapped animal whenever he was around, tense shoulders, sharp tongue, eyes filled with nothing but resentment. Yet lately, something had changed.

You were still rude. Still stubborn. Still looked at him as if you wanted to shove him off a cliff.

But there was something different beneath it all.

Hope.

It was subtle enough that nobody else would notice. A slight ease in your posture. The way your gaze no longer seemed permanently exhausted. The way you occasionally disappeared into your own thoughts and returned with the faintest hint of satisfaction hidden behind your expression.

Seojun noticed. And Seojun hated things he couldn't explain. The first report landed on his desk three days later.

"Miss Ahn has been leaving her penthouse more frequently." Seojun skimmed the paper without much interest.

"So?"The man standing before him shifted nervously.

"She visits the western district several times a week." That made Seojun pause. The western district.

Hala territory.

His fingers stopped tapping against the desk. "Continue."

"We followed her as far as we could, sir, but she kept disappearing. We couldn't determine who she was meeting." Silence settled across the office. The man lowered his head, awaiting punishment for the incomplete report.

Instead, Seojun leaned back in his chair.

Interesting. Very interesting.

The following week, more reports arrived. You were spending less time at your penthouse. Your schedule had become unpredictable. You often turned off your phone for hours at a time. And every trail somehow led back toward territory controlled by Hala.

Coincidences existed. Seojun simply didn't believe in them. That evening, he watched you from across the dinner table. You sat comfortably in your chair, scrolling through your phone while pretending not to acknowledge his presence.

For a brief moment, the corner of your lips twitched upward.

A smile. Small. Gone within seconds. But he saw it.

His gaze darkened.

"Something amusing?" Your head immediately snapped up.

"What?" You questioned.

"You seem happier lately." He stated.

Your smile vanished. A flicker of alarm crossed your face before you recovered. "No idea what you're talking about."

Seojun hummed thoughtfully. Maybe you truly believed you were hiding it well. Maybe you thought he wasn't paying attention. The realization almost made him laugh.

You had spent so many years around criminals that you should have known better.

Everyone lied. Everyone betrayed. Everyone hid secrets. And Seojun had built his entire life around finding them.

As you returned your attention to your phone, unaware of the eyes studying your every movement, he silently made a decision.

Double the surveillance. Track every route. Monitor every contact. Because one thing was becoming painfully clear. You were hiding something.

And Seojun intended to find out exactly what it was.

.✦ ݁˖.✦ ݁˖.✦ ݁˖

As the wedding day approached, everything seemed to be falling perfectly into place, almost too perfectly. The morning of the ceremony, Hongjoong received an urgent report from Yeosang.

Something felt off. There were more guards than expected, unfamiliar faces lingering around the venue, and security routes that had been changed without explanation. Trusting his instincts, Hongjoong stepped away to investigate, leaving the others to proceed as planned.

What was supposed to be a quick check turned into a chilling realization, Seojun wasn't walking into their trap. He had already discovered it. By the time Hongjoong rushed back toward the ceremony, his heart pounding with dread, it was already too late.

On the other hand, Mingi notices another sniper aiming at him. If he shoots first, He dies. The mission collapses.

He hesitates for one second. And that's all Seojun needs.

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You were walking down the aisle, your mind drifting somewhere in your own world, when you suddenly heard a gunshot. You look at Seojun, who is standing in front of you, he is holding a gun, pointing it at you. That's when you feel it, something warm oozing from your abdomen, your white dress is stained with red. Seojun had shot you.

The air in your lungs emptied suddenly, and the striking pain from your abdomen made it worse. You fell down, clutching your abdomen, trying to grasp oxygen to your lungs, and you can see black dots in your eyes. You're slowly fading away.

"Did you really think I wouldn't notice?" Seojun said. He has kneeled down to talk to you, tracing your face with his fingers. Silently mocking you with his smug and cocky face.

That's when you realize, he knew all this time. Of course, he knew, how could you be so stupid? Why did you underestimate him?

Your mind was scrambled, you thought about Hongjoong, where is he? Has Mingi been caught? Why didn't he snipe Seojun?. Did your mother see you get shot? Is she safe? You question everything, you didn't even care about that prick kneeling over you, saying bullshit, you don't even care.

Your ears are ringing, the sound of your surrounding slowing fading away, replaced by the intense ringing. And all you can see is Seojun's face, mumbling words you can't make out anymore. At this point, you've given up, thinking this is probably your shitty fate, dying in the hands of the most notorious prick ever lived.

That's when you saw a ginger haired angel, standing behind Satan himself. Hongjoong swifly slits his throat, finishing him thoroughly. It is the end for Seojun, and perhaps, for you too. Your consciousness is fading away.

You feel Hongjoong lift you up, holding you like you might break if he moves erratically. You can see the tears and panic in his eyes, his mouth moving like he's trying to say something to you as he runs as fast and gently as he can.

Then you hear him, faintly. His voice sounded sad, broken.

"Stay with me Y/N, please. keep your eyes open for me, darling. I've got you." He pleaded.

He took you in a car, and everyone is there. You can see Mingi's hair on the driver's seat. He's driving us somewhere. Then you feel Jongho's warm hand on your stomach, putting some pressure on it, probably to stop the bleeding. It hurts like hell, but you're too tired to even react. It feels like you're losing the ability to move your body.

Then, the dark finally consumes you. You couldn't hear Hongjoong's voice, no more pain in your abdomen. Nothing.

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The first thing you heard was the steady beeping beside your bed. Then came the ache.

A dull, burning pain spread across your abdomen, making you wince before your eyes had even opened. Your body felt heavy, like someone had poured concrete into your veins.

You slowly blinked against the bright hospital lights. The room was quiet. Too quiet.

Your gaze wandered around until it landed on a figure slumped beside your bed.

Hongjoong.

His head rested on folded arms near your hand, his ginger hair messier than you had ever seen it. Dark circles sat beneath his eyes. His suit jacket had long been discarded, his shirt wrinkled and sleeves rolled up carelessly.

For a moment, you simply stared. The mighty captain of Hala looked exhausted. Broken, almost.

You shifted slightly. The movement was enough. Hongjoong's head immediately shot up. For a second, he simply stared at you like he wasn't sure if you were real.

Then his chair screeched against the floor.

"Doctor!" he shouted, standing so quickly he nearly knocked it over. "Get the doctor-"

"Joong." Your voice came out weak, raspy. But it stopped him instantly.

His entire body froze. Slowly, he turned back around. The look in his eyes made your chest tighten.

Relief. Disbelief. Fear. All mixed together.

"You're awake," he whispered.

You offered a small smile. "That's usually how surviving works."

The joke was terrible. Yet Hongjoong let out something between a laugh and a sob. He sat back down immediately, reaching for your hand as if afraid you would disappear again.

His grip was warm. Tight and desperate.

You frowned. "How long?"

"Four days."

Your eyes widened. "Four-"

"You weren't waking up." His voice cracked. The words hit harder than they should have.

You stared at him. Really stared. The man before you looked like he hadn't slept properly in days. His eyes were bloodshot. His hair was a mess. Even his hands trembled. Hongjoong was trembling.

"I thought..." He swallowed hard. "I thought I lost you."

Silence settled between you. Heavy. Painful. You squeezed his hand. His jaw tightened immediately.

"I should've known," he continued quietly. "The extra guards. The changes in security. The missing routes. The signs were there."

"Joong-"

"I was arrogant."

His eyes finally met yours. For the first time since meeting him, he looked completely vulnerable.

"I thought I was smarter than him." The confession sounded bitter. Like poison.

"I brought you into this."

"You didn't force me."

"I should've protected you."

"You did."

His head shook immediately. "No." His voice cracked again.

"I promised you."

The room fell silent. Hongjoong lowered his head, staring at your joined hands.

"I heard your heartbeat stop." The words barely rose above a whisper. Yet they shattered something inside you.

"I heard the machine go flat for three seconds." His fingers tightened around yours.

"I've been shot before." A bitter laugh escaped him. "I've been stabbed." Another. "I've had guns pointed at my head more times than I can count." He finally looked up.

"But those three seconds were the most terrified I've ever been in my entire life."

Your breath caught. Because he wasn't speaking like a captain. Or a leader. Or a man seeking revenge. He was speaking like someone in love.

You reached up slowly. The movement hurt, but it was worth it. Your fingers brushed through his hair.

Immediately, his eyes closed, leaning into your touch. Seeking comfort.

"I'm here." His shoulders trembled. "I'm here, Joong." A tear escaped before he could stop it. Then another.

You had never seen him cry. Never. Not once. Yet now, with your hand in his hair and your thumb brushing his cheek, he looked utterly defenseless.

"I love you." The confession slipped out before he could stop it. Raw. Honest. Terrified. As if he had spent four days holding those words hostage.

Your heart squeezed painfully. You smiled softly. "I know."

Hongjoong huffed out a laugh. "That wasn't the response I was hoping for."

You rolled your eyes. Even that small movement hurt. Then you tugged weakly on his sleeve. He leaned closer immediately. Closer, until your foreheads touched.

"I love you too, idiot."

For the first time in days, Hongjoong smiled. A real smile. Not the captain's smile. Not the manipulator's smile. Just Hongjoong.

And as he pressed a gentle kiss against your forehead, you realized something. For the first time in your life, you weren't fighting alone anymore.

The moment Hongjoong finally calmed down, the room felt strangely still—like the world outside had stopped existing entirely. The only sound left was the steady beeping of the monitor and his quiet breathing as he refused to let go of your hand.

Then, the door slammed open.

“Y/N!” Wooyoung was the first to burst in, loud enough to make the nurse outside immediately shush him. He froze halfway into the room when he saw you awake, eyes widening before his face twisted into relief.

“OH MY GOD, she’s alive.” Behind him, Mingi shoved his way in. “Move, you idiot.” He stopped mid-sentence, staring at you like he couldn’t process it properly. Then his shoulders dropped, and he let out a breath that sounded too shaky for someone who usually never stopped talking.

San followed next, quieter than usual, but his eyes immediately locked onto you like he was confirming you were really there. His jaw tightened, and he looked away almost instantly as if he hated the fact that he had been worried.

“Don’t do that again,” he muttered, voice rough.

Yeosang stepped in after him, silent as ever. He didn’t speak at first, just stood by the doorway, watching you carefully. Then, after a long pause, he gave a small nod.

“Good,” he said simply. One word. But it carried more relief than anything else.

Jongho came last, pushing past the others with a medical bag already in hand out of habit. He scanned you quickly, eyes sharp and focused, before letting out a small exhale.

“Vitals are stable,” he confirmed, as if he hadn’t been worried at all. But the way his fingers tightened around his strap gave him away.

Seonghwa appeared behind them, composed as always, but his expression softened the moment he saw you awake. He didn’t rush in like the others. Instead, he stepped closer slowly, like he needed to make sure the sight was real.

“You caused quite a mess,” he said gently. But his voice wasn’t annoyed, it was relieved.

For a moment, the room was chaos. Wooyoung talking too loudly, Mingi pacing, San pretending he wasn’t shaken, Jongho checking monitors unnecessarily, Yeosang watching quietly, Seonghwa trying to restore order.

And Hongjoong, he still hadn’t let go of your hand. You looked around at all of them. At the noise. At the concern. At the way none of them had actually left your side. And something in your chest shifted.

Because this wasn’t just protection. It wasn’t just a mission anymore. This was family. Messy, loud, dangerous.

But real.

Wooyoung suddenly pointed at you. “I swear, if you scare us like that again, I’m personally-”

“Shut up,” San snapped immediately.

“Make me!”

“Both of you, quiet,” Seonghwa sighed.

You let out a weak laugh before you could stop yourself. The room went silent. All eyes turned to you. Even Hongjoong froze slightly, glancing at you like he was memorizing the sound.

And for the first time, You didn’t feel like you were surrounded by criminals.