RUIN THE FRIENDSHIP┆𝗣𝗥𝗘𝗩𝗜𝗢𝗨𝗦 ─ 𝗡𝗘𝗫𝗧

FROM YAN 🐰 ➤ for a bit more context, the mission: wony/n gc has been made the morning after jungwon wake up drunk so right around chapter O8 because riki finally FINALLY got jungwon's confession 😂 i cba to add it in slides because there's so much story to fit and i want to keep the chapters as low as possible LOL

PERMANENT TAGLIST  ➤  @mariegibeau @kristynaaah @ikeukiss @zerocoded @alex-is-sleeping @ntxs1 @angelhyuka @tsukheeshima @clxssy1997 @cripplinghooman @xoxo-seraphine @jakeycakeys @neozon3nha @jakeycakeys @vmpiricou @ja4hyvn @luv4dani @nightcat101 @wonkiipiilled

RUIN THE FRIENDSHIP┆𝗣𝗥𝗘𝗩𝗜𝗢𝗨𝗦 ─ 𝗡𝗘𝗫𝗧

FROM YAN 🐰 ➤ were u guys expecting this... Be Honest . also i hope this little twist makes sense !! y/n isn't completely stupid alksjdajlkds free my girl from the shackles of an emotionally constipated man!

PERMANENT TAGLIST  ➤  @mariegibeau @kristynaaah @ikeukiss @zerocoded @alex-is-sleeping @ntxs1 @angelhyuka @tsukheeshima @clxssy1997 @cripplinghooman @xoxo-seraphine @jakeycakeys @neozon3nha @jakeycakeys @vmpiricou @ja4hyvn @luv4dani @nightcat101 @wonkiipiilled

You did, of course. Because Jungwon wasn't just a random schoolboy.

The golden rule: don’t even fucking look at your brother’s friends like that. Before you had a chance to dream about it, it was off limits and off the damn market.

So you told yourself it was temporary. Just some hormonal, dramatic, dumbass teenage phase. You’d grow out of it. You’d wake up one day and he’d just be… normal. Not the guy who made your stomach flip like you were on a broken rollercoaster. Not the guy whose voice alone made your chest tighten.

Except you never grew out of it.

The day he introduced himself is still fresh in your mind. There was something guarded in his dark eyes, something carefully concealed behind a soft yet unreadable expression. He barely blinked, simply watching you as though he were committing your face to memory. At first, he wore a polite smile—gentle, almost too damned beautiful to be true. Being that attractive while standing in your own living room ought to have been prohibited.

Your heart nearly pounded out of your chest when you shook his hand. His palm was warm against yours, steady and firm. He held your gaze without wavering, and he didn’t let go immediately. The only thing that shifted was his smile—it faded slowly, as if he had caught himself revealing too much. The slightest smirk appeared before he withdrew, and you swear, you fucking swear you saw it.

Two years older. That was it. Only two. However, that felt enormous, mature, and dangerous at sixteen. You finally understand what "raw and older" actually means now that you're twenty. After four years of pretending you don't think about him in ways you really shouldn't, the phrase has a different impact.

It would remain a fantasy, you assured yourself. Finally, your desire to fuck him would only ever exist in your imagination. Every time he visited, you would push that filthy little thought to the back of your mind, that you would eventually find it funny. Fall in love with someone safer and easier. However, you are now twenty years old, still figuring things out, Still broke bruh. And still a total idiot when it comes to Jungwon.

Both of you grew up. His shoulders grew wider, his jaw sharpened, and his confidence became quieter. You also changed; you were no longer a child, and you no longer hid behind big hoodies and awkward silences.

What didn’t change? Your feelings.

They didn’t just stick around. They Deepened, got worse, man, way fucking worse. They grew up with you. Less teenage crush and more slow-burning obsession that crawls under your skin and refuses to leave.

It was driving you insane. He was driving you insane.

Because how the hell are you supposed to get over someone who looks at you like that?

The way his eyes stay on you for a second too long when you're wearing shorts. You notice even though it's not clear enough for others to notice. You're always aware. When you pass him on your way to the kitchen, his eyes follow the curve of your ass and hips. His clenched jaw gives the impression that he is physically stopping himself from fucking you on the kitchen counter.

He occasionally clenches his fists, too. As if he's preventing himself from snatching you and destroying everything else that stands between you both.

And the worst fucking part? Because what if it’s not just you? What if he feels it too? The tension in the air whenever you’re alone is thick enough to choke on. Every eye contact makes you lose your sanity.

You hate it. You crave it. You’re back to that hopeless stage of wanting a taste.

A nip. A lick. Anything.

You’ll take anything he allows you to have. Even if small, You’ll fucking gobble it all down and store it in that nook inside you that's disturbingly filled with him.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯—

It’s Friday night, and your brother’s friends are over again. At first, the house felt alive in that chaotic, boyish way—controllers clicking, loud debates over nothing, and the occasional shove that almost turned into wrestling. They were playing games, yelling over each other, arguing about scores like five years old. For a while, it was almost entertaining.

But now the energy has curdled. The pizza boxes lie open and forgotten on the coffee table, No one’s really talking anymore—just half-finished sentences and exaggerated sighs. The vibe has completely died.

Heeseung’s friends are a bunch of fucking weirdos—no surprise, considering your brother is one too. They’re loud, and somehow always sticky. They argue over the dumbest things, laugh like hyenas at jokes that barely qualify as humour and treat your house like it’s their personal headquarters. Half the time you swear they share one collective brain cell.

Still… you’re glad they’re around.

As irritating as it gets having them over 24/7—shouting down hallways, blasting music at ungodly volumes, at least your life isn’t painfully boring. There’s always something happening. Someone getting pranked. Someone fake-fighting. Someone dramatically announcing they’re “never coming back” only to show up again the next day. They’ve blurred into something more than just your brother’s friends. They’re like extended family now—annoying, invasive, loud family, but family nonetheless.

Except one person. Jungwon.

He doesn’t quite fit into the “extended family” category. Not in the way the others do. While they sprawl across the couch and treat you like a younger sibling they can tease, Jungwon keeps a certain distance. He’s there, but never fully tangled in the noise. He doesn’t look at you the way the others do.

He looks at you differently.

Jake bursts into the living room with a football tucked under his arm. “We’re going to the turf. Night match. Loser buys food.” Sunghoon is already halfway to the door. “Jungwon, you coming?”

Jungwon is sprawled back on the couch, hoodie on, head tilted against the cushion looking as if he hasn’t slept in days. He rubs the back of his neck. “I’ve had practice all week. I’m dead. I’ll pass.” Heeseung pauses, eyeing him. “You sure?”

“Yeah. I’ll just chill.” Heeseung shrugs, then looks at you. “Y/n, I’ll probably come late. Maybe morning. Lock the doors. And Jungwon—” his tone shifts, protective big-brother mode kicking in, “keep an eye on her.”

You roll your eyes dramatically. “I’m not a kid, you know.” Jake whistles low. “You kind of are, though.” You glare at him. “Shut the fuck up, dickface.” Jake gasps like you’ve stabbed him. “I raised you better than this.”

“You absolutely did not.” Laughter fills the hallway as they grab their shoes and head out. The front door shuts. Then the gate clicks.

And now there’s silence. Not the awkward kind, the heavy kind. The house is big, spacious enough to swallow sound, but it suddenly feels smaller. Tighter. Especially when you remember it’s just the two of you here.

That thought alone makes your thighs press together before you can stop yourself. And then the unfiltered thoughts start pouring in. Not new, Definitely not the first time.

This doesn’t usually happen. Well—maybe once. But your mom had been home that time, moving around in the kitchen, the clatter of dishes acting as some thin thread of restraint. This time, though? Your parents are out of town, celebrating Valentine’s Day somewhere by the beach. So romantic. So annoyingly wholesome.

Which leaves you here, Alone. With Jungwon.

He’s still on the couch, scrolling through his phone like nothing’s changed. Like the air hasn’t shifted. Like you’re not standing down the hallway fighting the urge to do something reckless.

That annoys the hell out of you.

You lean against the wall for a second, watching him. He looks calm, relaxed, completely fucking unaffected.

And you hate that. So you plan to change it.

This is it. If there’s ever going to be a moment where you figure out whether he feels the same way as you do, it’s now.

You walk off casually and change. You slip on a two-piece nightwear set. The top is a black tank top with thin straps. The bottom is a pair of black shorts with a drawstring waist and a white stripe around the hem that cling to your hips and ass and the curve around your thighs—no bra underneath. Innocent. Deadly.

When you walk back into the living room, he doesn’t look up at first. You sit on the opposite end of the couch. He scrolls. You shift slightly, tucking one leg under you. Nothing, This asshole.

You stretch your legs out slowly, crossing them at the knee. The fabric rides up just enough. He glances up.

And for a split second, Jungwon freezes—just long enough for you to catch it. It’s subtle, but you see it. His jaw tightens. His breath stutters. His eyes flick down to your bare legs, then snap back up like he’s just touched smth that burned him.

Your pretty legs out on display only for him to notice, he doesn’t know that though. He wants nothing more than to wrap those legs around his shoulders and fucking devour you.

And suddenly he can feel his jeans tightening, fabric going unforgiving in all the wrong ways.

Some people would think it’s fucking stupid to react to something so simple. Bare skin. A pair of shorts. An absentminded stretch. But they don’t understand. They don’t realize the effect you have on him. You don’t even try, and that’s the worst part.

Jungwon has always prided himself on control. On not wanting what he can’t have—she’s off-limits, she’s your friend’s sister, this is a bad fucking idea, don’t even go there. Anything other than reality feels like a sin.

But you mess with his head in ways he hates admitting.

You make him want to punch walls, To flip tables, To smoke more than he should just to dull the edge of whatever the hell this is. You make him clench his fists so hard his knuckles ache. You make him lose his cool, and he never loses his cool. Not over anything, Not over anyone.

And the worst, most terrifying part?

He has this sick, gut-twisting feeling that if you ever looked up at him, tilted your head just right, and said please—soft and sweet and unaware of what it’d do to him, he’d be fucked. Completely and utterly fucked.

He’d give you anything. Every damn thing.

Then he looks back down at his phone like nothing happened, always so fucking controlled. You almost smile at that.

You lean further into the couch, arm draped casually over the backrest, fingers brushing the fabric like you’ve got all the time in the world. “So you’re really that tired?”

“Yeah,” Jungwon says, still not looking at you. “Exhausted.”

“Mhm.” Silence settles again, You shift slightly, crossing one leg over the other. Very slowly, veryyyyy practiced. The hem of your shorts rides up, His scrolling falters for half a second. You tilt your head. “You don’t look tired.” He replies almost immediately, “I am.” He clears his throat.

It’s hot, watching him hold himself together like that. If you really wanted to, you could ruin it in seconds. You could stand up, close the distance, and straddle his lap. You could feel the way he’d tense under you, hands hovering in air, unsure whether to touch or push you away—Okay no.

“Is it hot in here?” you ask lightly. “No.”

“Feels warm.”

“It’s normal.” You hum, then lean forward slightly, reaching for the remote. The shirt shifts, revealing your waistline, Jungwon exhales slowly through his nose, setting his phone face down beside him. His gaze doesn’t leave you this time.

“You’re very bored,” he says. You smile, “Maybe.”

“So you’re going to annoy me?” You tilt your head. “Annoy you? I’m just sitting.” His gaze moves down to your thighs, slow, taking in the shorts. The way you’re sitting. The way you’re watching him watch you.

He leans back, eyes finally settling on your face—and fuck, you’re so fucking pretty it almost annoys him. There have been nights, too many, where he’s found some quiet corner of his house, door locked, jerking off at the thought of how you’d look between his legs.

“Jungwon..” How every muscle tightens at the whisper of his name. It sounds so sweet coming from your mouth, like it was the sound of salvation instead of ruin.

You were the only person who’d ever said his name like that. His hands curled. The icy blast of water pommeled his skin but did nothing to quell the desire raging inside him. The smell of honey and your perfume swirled in the shower.

You had seared so deep into his consciousness that you were all he could smell. All he could feel. And, even when he closed his eyes, all he could see.

The need in his groin pulsed harder, goddamit. He bit out a low curse before he reached and fisted his cock, It was hard and swollen and already dripping with pre-cum. His movements were rough, almost angry as he worked himself towards a much needed release.

All these years, he could’ve kissed you if he wanted. He could’ve fisted your hair and branded you with his mouth until he proved that there was nothing wrong about the dark fire that burned between you both.

The only thing that'd held him back was a fine thread of self-control, woven from fuck ass logic and the faintest shreds of his long-destroyed conscience. He was well aware of the fact that, should either of you break, Jungwon would be condemning not only himself but you to hell.

He would touch you with bloodied hands and kiss you with a deceiver's mouth and you, without realizing it—would crawl willingly into bed beside a monster.

Part of him wanted you so badly he didn’t give a damn what it cost. The other part, the one that still resembled something human, wanted to hide you somewhere far away. Somewhere even he couldn’t reach you. Because he knew himself too well. If he ever lost control—if he ever came looking—there wouldn’t be a place, a person, or a god capable of stopping him.

He would tear the world apart piece by piece just to get you back.

It was a paradox, as were all things in his life that related to you. But if the thread had snapped…like now. Jungwon closed his eyes, his grip tight and his breath hardened. You could’ve been beneath him now, your nails clawing his back and his name a moan in your mouth….

He swallowed, shaking the memory off before it got out of hand. He didn’t know if this was right, or when the right time would come to make a move, but if you kept testing him like this, he’d just show you because once he claimed you as his, he would do it so fucking thoroughly there wouldn’t be a shred of doubt in either of your minds as to who you belonged to…or who he belonged to in return.

“You think I don’t see what you’re doing?” Jungwon says, voice low, but there’s tension in it now. “But I’m not doing anything.”

“You changed.”

“I’m in my own house.”

“That’s not the point.” You uncross your legs slowly. “Then what is?”

He's leaning forward now, bent elbows propped against his thighs, hands clasped in front of his chin. There's nothing bored or stony about him right now.

No, he's in pure heat and restrained hunger, and you love that You’re the person who's put that look in his eyes.

His jaw tightens slightly. “You’re testing my patience,” he says.

You don’t deny it because that’s exactly what you’re doing. Jungwon’s always been a persistent bastard. Impossible to read. He never shows what he truly feels, never lets anything slip, and maybe that’s why your heart’s been stuck on him for so long. Maybe that’s why he never leaves your fucking mind.

It’s been four goddamn years. Four years of glances that linger too long, of tension that never breaks, of teasing comments here and there, of almosts.

He doesn’t blink and somehow that only makes the heat in your lower stomach burn hotter. “You think because no one’s home you can just… push?” He said in a perpetually tired voice, “Push what?” you ask softly, tilting your head. His nostrils flare slightly.

Jungwon stands up so suddenly the couch dips from the shift in weight. He walks around the coffee table and stops directly in front of you. The movement alone makes you straighten without thinking.

“Don’t play dumb,” he says quietly. You have to tilt your chin up to keep eye contact. “You know exactly what you’re doing.”

“That’s what you think?” You stretch back against the cushions, feigning boredom, though every inch of you is hyperaware of him. He’s so close you can feel the heat rolling off him, and it’s driving you insane. “Sounds like a you problem.”

“You changed on purpose,” he says quietly. You shrug one shoulder. “I wanted to be comfortable.”

“You weren’t wearing that earlier.”

“And?” He exhales sharply through his nose. You can see the restraint wearing thinner by the second. You shift again, just slightly, drawing one knee up onto the couch so you’re angled toward him. Your gaze drifts over his body slowly before returning to his eyes.

Jungwon was aware that your eyes wasn’t sexual—or maybe it was. His groin continued to tighten in spite of that. It was straining his pants so badly, it hurt.

You say softly, "If it bothers you, I can go change." You don't get up to stand. He presses his hand to the couch's back. "Stop," he commands. "Stop what?"

“Talking like that."

“Like what?"

“Like you don't know what you do to me.” The words are heavier than you anticipate. They are no longer teasing. Not sarcastic. Simply put, honesty. "Then tell me," you say softly, maintaining eye contact without breaking first. "What do i do to you?" That's it. His expression changes, He looks at you for a long moment, as if he's considering every potential result and consequences that could come later.

You open your mouth to press once more, to say something else that will make him snap. He cuts you off.

“Fuck it."

Low and final, the words escape him in a breath. Then he moves, His firm yet cautious hand moves from the back of the couch to your jaw harshly, forcing your face up, There’s no hesitation in his moments—You can tell, he’s been waiting for this to happen.

Jungwon slams his lips onto yours. You answered by meeting his kiss with a firmer one of your own. He felt your fingers curling into his hair, fingernails scraping along his scalp and everything inside jungwon relaxed and the nervousness uncoiled from his gut. A warm buzz of energy sunk through his flesh down to the very core of his soul. This was right. This was always where he needed to be.

He places his hands around your waist as he pulls you closer, goosebumps swarming every part of your body he touches. You throw your arm around his neck as jungwon pulls you up, Fingertips pressing under your top, drawing gentle circles against that small stripe of bare skin that makes you break the kiss with a gasp.

He claimed your lips in a punishing kiss again. Your blood burned at the onslaught, and when his tongue forced into your mouth, you yanked a fistful of his hair in retaliation until he hissed out a pained growl.

“Fuck,” he curses under his breath. “Jump.” Jungwon orders, rough and impatient.

And you do. Of course you do. Because you’ve waited too long to second-guess it now—years of longing, years of pretending, years of convincing yourself you didn’t love him. It was always him.

Love? You… loved him?

He catches you easily, like he knew you would leap. His hands drag down your back, slow and possessive, fingers spreading as they settle low on your waist. When your legs lock around him, He squeezes your ass, his grip tightens, spinning you once, holding you up like you belong there.

You make a soft, helpless noise when he pulls you closer, grinding into you while keeping you lifted. He walks you to your room without pulling away, breathing heavy through the kiss. He fumbles with the lock, pushes the door open, and once it clicks shut behind you, he pins you against it. The impact steals your breath, your gasp swallowed by his mouth.

Jungwon let out a low groan at the sound that slipped from you, the noise going straight to his head. Your gasping moan is all he needs to hear to devour you like he’s starving and your his Michelin-rated meal.

He cages you in with both arms, hands flat against the surface behind you, his body sealing you in. Then he moves closer, easing his thigh between yours, forcing them apart without breaking eye contact.

He leans in but stops halfway, like something invisible pulls him back. Maybe it’s the weight of what this is. Maybe it’s the way the world would look at the two of you and call it wrong. And maybe it is wrong.

But it feels right. Painfully right.

Jungwon exhales shakily, the breath uneven against your skin. His forehead brushes yours as he closes his eyes for a second, “We can’t… I can’t,” he says, voice strained. “Don’t you understand what this means? I can’t show you… I can’t want you.” The words sound like they hurt him to say.

Then lifts his hand to tilt your chin up with his thumb, forcing you to look at him. His eyes aren’t cold or controlled anymore—they’re conflicted, raw. “This can’t happen, y/n.”

“I know,” you whisper, your voice barely there. “But I don’t care what comes next.”

Jungwon’s eyes darken at your words as his hand comes up to grip your jaw. “God, you drive me so fucking crazy I can barely breathe sometimes.” His thumb drags down slowly, tugging at your bottom lip. “What I’d give to be the only man you ever looked at like this,” he rasps, fingers threading through your hair as he tilts your head back, exposing your neck like a goddamn offering.

He doesn’t kiss you this time. Instead, he leans in slowly, dragging his nose slowly up the soft curve of your neck, burying himself in the scent of your skin. “I terrify you?” he murmurs against your throat. You nod, small and shaky, and he breathes you in deeper, like that answer only fuels something inside him. “You have no idea what you do to me.”

Your fingers curl into his shirt. Your pulse is everywhere. “Tell me,” you whisper. His hand tightens slightly in your hair, keeping your head tilted back, his mouth hovering just above your skin. His breathing is uneven now, rough at the edges.

"I had so many chances, so many nights I should've said fuck it and taken what I wanted, and I blew every single one." His grip tightens in your hair as his forehead drops to yours and he breathes you in once more, like a dying man getting his last taste of heaven. "And now..."

Your lips parted, eyes nearly rolling to the back of your head when you felt his cock perfectly aligned against your wet core. “Now i’m gonna take exactly what i’ve been walking away from.” with that, his mouth is on yours—No softness, all teeth. It’s sloppy, messy, and so fucking hot.

You slip your hands down his body, feeling him, reaching exactly where you wanted to. His hard cock was straining against his briefs, and you stroked your hands along his length against the fabric. He felt so thick — the thought of him forcing that monster inside you, alone made you whimper. He leaned down, kissing you deeply as you continued to stroke him.

"Tell me what you want," Jungwon murmurs into the hollow of your throat, hands on your hips to urge you on, to grind your dripping cunt down harder against the muscle of his thigh. “argh, jungwon—” A broken cry leaves your lips as your back arches off the door as he slings your leg around his waist, thrusting up in process.

He pull back slightly so he can look into your eyes. When you don’t say anything, He shifts his hips again and demand, "Answer me, what do you want?” You moan and then says, “God please—fuck me—oh my god, Jungwon!” You whined, "Shit, i love the idea of being your god.” he groaned, pushing his hips forward.

You panted when his thumb pressed between your legs, brushing against fabric that was already dark and wet. You exhaled in a rush until there was no air left, embarrassment washing over you at the thought that now he must know exactly how much you wanted this.

“So fucking wet for me.” He says under his breath, hooking his fingers and dragging them along your clothed pussy. The slow, undulating thrust of his hips made you feel like you’re caught in a snare.

“Tell me what you want, y/n, come on, be a good girl.” He asked making you glare up at him slightly, “Why don’t you fuck me and we can find out?” You scrunched your nose.

Jungwon chuckles low under his breath before scooping you up again, and you yelp in surprise at the sudden movement. He carries you the few steps to the bed and tosses you onto it with more force than necessary, your body bouncing slightly from the impact. You glare up at him, hair a mess, heart racing.

Rude.

"Take off your underwear." He said, you blink, once, twice, then you slipped your hand into the waistband of your panties and shimmied them down until they pooled on the floor as you threw them. Heat rose to your cheek, because he could see how wet you really were.

Your panties completely drenched, Your thighs slick with your juices. Still, You were turned on enough to brush past your embarrassment.

He leaned over you, arms braced on either side of your head and for a second, it felt like the world had shrunk down to just this—his shadow, his heat, his steady gaze on your cunt.

His eyes ravenous as he soaked you in. Between his hungry stare and your current position, you felt so small. “Spread your legs wider, let me see that pretty pussy dripping for me.”

Heat rose up your cheeks at his words but you did what he asked. Spreading your thighs wider, He didn’t take his eyes off your face until you looked away, blushing. Only then did he allow his gaze to fall slide down to your cunt.

Wet, pulsing, throbbing, waiting to be filled. His cock strained even harder, snarling him to take you and make you his until it was clear to every single person who you belonged to. Me. Jungwon thought.

You shudder under his gaze because he was looking at you so intensely without doing anything. You closed your legs slightly, covering yourself but he stopped you with a grip on your wrist. “You don’t need to cover yourself infront of me.”

“I don’t…I’m not…” You sighed, your throat moved again with a visible swallow. “It’s been a while since someone saw me like this.” Possessiveness burned in his gut, ofc he knew you must’ve been naked infront of others men before—just as he knew he wanted to do nothing more than peeling their skin off and leave them to rot under the sun for daring to lay their eyes on you.

No one would ever be worthy of you.

“Define a while.” He said, “Years.” Jungwon tsked, he wanted to press further, demand the name of every fucking man who’d touched you so that he could pay them a follow-up visit.

Jungwon finally had you in his hands, and he wasn’t going to rush any stop along the way. “You’re fucking drenched, doll.” Lust rendered his voice and he dipped his hand under your thighs, spreading your legs wider before slipping his fingers through your wet folds.

Your head fell back and a moan slipped from you when he lazily played with your clit, circling and rubbing the swollen bud until your juices slicked his fingers.

Your moan is his new favorite melody as your orgasm floods your body, the taste of your energy tingling along his tongue like the sweetest sparkling wine. It nearly brings him to his knees, and he hasn’t even touched you yet, not properly.

Suddenly desperate for more friction, You grab Jungwon’s face and pull him into you, kissing him harder. You hear him groan, feeling him harden against your belly. "Jungwon," You whined, the last half of his name coming out with a shiver as he began to kiss your neck. Your hands dug into his hair, pulling him closer. "Stop toying with me."

"As you wish, pretty girl," He whispered into your ear as he slid his finger lower and into you. You were so damn hot and wet and perfect.

"Tell me this is all for me, Y/n.” He pleaded, stroking you while his palm grinded against your clit. Now that he could feel you, actually feel you, he needed to feel you come around his fingers as soon as possible.

“Tell me, y/n.” He growled, pressing a firm thumb to your clit, his touch as brutal as his command. “Yes—yes, Yours—It’s always been you.” The words exploded out of you, shaky, raw, filtered, followed by a needy moan when jungwon rubbed his thumb over you.

Jungwon smiled at that, dangerously beautiful before his mouth crashed over you, swallowing your gasp and ensuing moan when he fisted your hair hard enough to make your eyes water.

Jungwon pulled back enough so you could see him, and you watched as he shed his clothes, Broad shoulders, perfectly sculpted muscles, abs one could grate cheese on. Absolute masculine perfection. Your core pulsed as your eyes ate him up, biceps you’d like to bite on, a deep V-cut that led down his….Holy fuck.

Jungwon’s body could serve as the mold for greek god statue, his body was even more perfect up closer….and a long thick cock that looked like it could wreck you with little effort.

Fuck. Your mouth dried at the sight of it, thick, hard, with a bead of pre-cum glistening at its tip. The throbbing between your legs intensified until it was the only thing you could feel, hear. Jungwon moves to peck your lips, His grip on your hips tightens and he presses down, grinding his cock against your folds, rolling it in circles until your both gasping into each other's mouths.

“Y/n would be the death of me.” He thought, he’d had known it the moment he set his eyes on you and his prediction was playing in real life as he devoured you.

Four years of watching and waiting and wishing, None of that mattered when he tasted how sweet you were or felt how perfectly your curves fit in his palms, like you was tailor-made for him. It had all came down to this and it was better than he’d imagined.

Your arms wrapped around his neck, You tasted like honey and sugar, and at that moment, it became his favourite taste in the world. It wasn't a sweet kiss. It was hard, demanding, borne out of years of pent-up frustration and tension, but you matched him inch for inch.

“Fuck, look at you.” He says, rubbing his thumb over your bottom lip before trailing it down to the end of your shirt. Ripppp! Fabric gives way with a sharp, brutal sound, and you can only blink at him as he lets the ruined shirt fall from his hands.

“Before i take you, i need you to know one thing,” His one hand reached around and parted your thighs, slipping his fingers past your slippery folds. The other closed around your throat, He squeezed hard enough to cut off your breath for several beats before he loosened his grip. You gasped in a lungful of air.

Then he yanks you closer by your hair, a cry of pain leaving you until you felt his lips next to your ear, “Every inch of you…will be mine after i’m done with you.” Your cunt clenched around his fingers, “Yes.” You whisper.

You wanted to fill every inch of your soul with this man.

“Say it, who do you belong to?”

“You.” You moan out, “I belong to you.”

"That's right" Jungwon slipped his fingers out of your pussy and thrust them into your mouth. You could already taste yourself, the tension thick on your tongue. He hummed in approval when you licked your juices off without hesitation.

"I love how much you like your own juices. Maybe you'll lick them off my dick when we're done. Would you like that? Do you want to suck your come off my cock?

He could come just by watching this. There was a good chance he would say, “I want to worship you." You shuddered. And then he did, starting with your toes and working his way up your calves to your thighs.

Your fingers moved to his hair as he neared, and he stopped long enough to flick his tongue through the wetness there. You roll your eyes back so hard you almost see white.

Jungwon was taking his time—slow, painfully slow. You wanted him, Now. You wanted him inside you.

Without any warning, He slides two fingers over your clit, and then in one motion, he pushes one finger deep inside your pussy. Your back arches off the mattress and a strangled scream falls right out of you.

You try to close your eyes, but he grips your jaw harshly, angling your face so you have no choice but to look at him. “Eyes on me. Want to see you fall apart, want you to watch me finally fucking worship this cunt.” Jungwon pushed his fingers to the hilt and with-drew it slowly, yanking a loudest moan from you yet.

“Please…” You whimper, “I need….i need—” He pushed a second finger inside you, dragging them in and out. Enough to bring you to the edge but not enough to tip you over. “What do you need?” “I need to come—please, Won—”

You moaned, jungwon stilled. “What did you call me?” He lifted his head and you stared back at him, “Won…” You repeated in a whisper. Fuck. He exhaled a sharp breath before you dip your head back as he drags his fingers out and rubbed a lazy circle on your clit with his thumb before he slammed them back. You jolt, crying out. You hold the sheets while the other fisted his hair hard enough to sting.

“So hot and so fucking good for me.” You chase the building pressure. Rocking into his fingers and riding his hands with wild force until he pauses, leaving you breathless.

The wet, filthy sounds of his fingers pumping in and out of you told him what he needed to know. “That’s my girl, look how fucking good you’re taking me. Goddamn im proud of you.” He growled, looking down at the way his fingers disappear into your perfect cunt. “Come for me doll, Make a mess on my fingers, soak my hand.” You don’t hear him, because you feel like you could take his entire fist by now, that’s how wet you were.

And when jungwon curled his fingers just right—You clench around him hard, body tensed up as you go to close your legs but Jungwon’s other hand finds your thighs and prevents you from closing them. He slows down the pace of his thrusts and you physically wince when he pulls them out—You were so close.

He chuckles, and spreads your legs as open as he can get. He trails his wet fingers up your body before leaning down and spitting—right on your clit. Making everything slicker and dirtier, “Ask. Ask me to make you come. Beg for it.”

Then he gives you no time, no warning, again. And slams two—no maybe three fucking fingers inside you and starts pumping in and out, curling the tips upward, meeting every inch you alone couldn’t. “Oh—Please—gonna come.”

Jungwon’s mouth drops to your ears. “You’re gonna come for me, doll? I want to feel it. I want every second of your pleasure to belong to me. Say it. Tell me it’s mine.”

Your inner walls stretched around every delicious thick inch of his fingers. Your back arched off the bed, a moan spilling past your lips. Jungwon pulled out before shoving inside again, with the same maddening slow pace. His lips quirked with a smile as you lost all sense of everything around you, spreading for him, wide and eager. "Yeah, open those beautiful thighs. I want to see your pink cunt dripping for me. That's my girl."

Your breath hitched as he began kissing your inner thighs like they were your mouth, swirling his tongue, nuzzling his nose, making you open your legs wider. You grabbed one the pillows and moaned into it loudly. A hand reached from between your legs, grabbing the pillow and tossing it on the floor. “Look at me when i’m fucking your pretty pussy, doll.”

He increases the pace of his pumps while he lowers his head and sucks your nipple into his mouth. Jungwon groaned. You tasted even better than he’d imagined. He licked and sucked on your nipples while he savagely fucked in and out of your tight, clenching pussy. “No—please.” You beg, shaking your head, he’s been at it for god knows how long and you still hadn’t came a single time.

He grazed his teeth over your nipple. "You need to come? Hmm?" You whisper, "Y-yes." It came out as a half plea, half moan. You were wrecked. Hair a mess, your face streaked with tears, your skin slick with sweat and hot with arousal. His tongue, hot and wet, comes out and swirls around the pebbled flesh of your nipple, teasing you, and his fingers dig into your skin as he goes back for more, nibbling the whole breast.

Then he lifts his head and dragged his mouth on your neck until he reached your ear where he whispered, “Come for me like the slut you are.” Jungwon pinched your nipples and fucked his fingers into you with the hardest thrust yet, and you exploded, your mouth falling open in a soundless scream while your cunt strangled his fingers. Pulling him in more, he winced.

“Fuck—Cunt’s gripping me so tight like you don’t want me to let go. Yeah? Fuck, doll.” He watches as you shudder under him, your release slipping down your thighs and onto the mattress.

He didn’t give you any time to recover before he lowered his head again and gently scraped his teeth over your clit before he sucked on it. Between that and the finger fucking, You were dripping all down your thighs, and he lapped every drop up like a man starved. So fucking delicious.

Air fled your lungs when his tongue delved inside your slick heat as his head twisted, dragging a cry of pleasure from you as one fang grazed your sensitive nub of flesh. The strokes of his tongue were firm and determined.

He licked and sucked. “Shit, look at this, off-limits yet still dripping for me.” Then he feasted, feeding from you as desperately as he had at your throat. You were lost. Your body tried to follow, but the hands at your hips held you in place.

“Stay still. Let me eat, this is a twelve course meal—I won’t stop until i’m satisfied.”

Jungwon grabs your ass as he licks a stripe down from your hole, spreading them open with his tongue to find your clit. He rolls it between his lips, and finally finds a spot that had you bucking your face into his mouth. He pulls back just enough to say—“Want you dripping for me, soaked in every fucking drop.”

You whine loudly, “Gonna devour you, gonna kneel infront of you and eat you out until you can’t fucking remember how to breathe.” He growls into you, yanking your hips down onto the mattress with his strength, leaving you nowhere to go, all you can do is just lay there like a good girl and take what he gives you.

You screamed as white-hot pleasure blazed through you once more, Every thought and memory incinerated, leaving only mind-numbing pleasure in their wake. You come in a toe-shuddering state on his tongue, and jungwon wastes no time gulping it all down till his chin and nose is shoving into your hole, like he’s the one getting off of this. He pulls back to breathe, and gasps against your cunt so much you think he might actually suffocate. “Fuckfuckfuck, so fucking good—shit, baby.” Then goes back to dip his face into your pussy, enveloping all he can get with his mouth, You bet his chin is covered by your essence because he’s literally nuzzling his face into you. And your screaming so loud that you think you know your throat would be sore tomorrow.

You didn't get a chance to catch your breath before Jungwon draped your legs over his shoulders, went back to sucking hard on your clit, and you yelped at the overload of sensation. It was too much. You tried to pull away, but his hands clamped around your thighs like iron bands, forcing you to hold still until your body convulsed and came apart. "I said, eyes on me. All you need to do is watch me eat this beautiful fucking cunt until you understand just how much I want you—have wanted you." Jungwon growled.

All you could feel was how he was sucking on your pussy and thrusting his tongue inside you until your vision went hazy. You writhed and whimpered, sliding halfway off the bed—almost, until your legs on his shoulders and his crushing grip on your ass were the only things keeping you from falling apart.

You cry out—his name, you think and he groans against you like he needs this as badly as you do. He takes his time. Alternates teasing and giving. One finger inside you, Then two, Curled just right. His tongue never stops, never lets up. You’re shaking, begging, on fire. Your thighs tremble around his head.

As his tongue works you in destructive, tormenting circles, you feel his voice in your mind. “Am obsessed with this pretty cunt—Can’t—can’t stop, fuck—” Jungwon moans against you, drunk on you, the sound vibrating all over your body. He pumps his fingers with rhythm to his mouth, You’re close again—what the fuck—you don’t even know if your orgasm even stopped.

After another three orgasms courtesy of his mouth, You lose count, and even when you think you can't possibly come again, he wrenches even more from you.

"No more," You sob, unable to even prop yourself up on your arms to look down at him. Instead, you pull at his hair until he finally wraps his hands near your inner thighs, looking up at you, "But I felt you squeeze my tongue as you came, like you were milking it. My cock is jealous." He licks up the fluid on your thighs and groans. "Don't you want to feel me deep inside you? How hard and thick I am, stretching you, making you full?" Jungwon says, sucking your clit in a gentle suckle, and you cry out when you feel his teeth tugging your entrance, flicking and rubbing one last time before he pulls off of you with a wet pop after hollowing his cheeks around it at last.

Jungwon pulls back, finally releasing his hold on you, and the sudden absence of his touch makes your body feel weak. Drained. Like everything in you has been wrung out. You’re trembling slightly, breath uneven—from all the previous orgasms.

He shifts onto one knee above you, steady and composed in contrast to how wrecked you feel. Your vision is blurred with tears, lashes damp, the aftershocks of how good he fucked you still making it hard to focus. You can’t quite look at him properly.

“Eyes up here, doll.” Jungwon smiles wickedly, his stare burning into you and you meet his gaze. With one hand, he skims his thick tip, letting his hand slide over his cheft. He doesn't let you look away once as he works himself over. “Touch yourself, show me how you do it.” He smirks and licks your wetness off his fingers slowly.

You gulp and your fingers reach to your swollen pussy, you wince, You were so wet that your fingers were slipping. Then you slowly rub them in circles, the sound of your fingers working you open hits him first, then your scent—Fuck me. That smell—He can taste you in the air like he’s already inside you.

Your stomach ripples when he takes your panties from the floor, Jungwon grunts as he picks up the pace, angling his wrist and sliding the bunched-up panties up and down his shaft. “Tell me.” He grunted, “Who do you think of when your fingers fucking your tight cunt?” You shuddered as your head tilted back and your eyes fluttered close. “You.”

You hear jungwon moaning, the sound of his hands stroking his length up and down echoes in the room with your sound of whimpering. “What am i doing to you?” You moaned even louder, you don’t know when Jungwon closed the distance between you both and griped your chin in one hand, forcing your lips to part. “What. am. I. doing. to. you?” His voice only lowered further, “Fucking me.” you gasped. He was now close enough to smell your arousal and hear the slick sounds of your fingers sliding in and out of your pussy. “While I'm bent over the table and I can see you behind me in the mirror. Pulling my hair. Taking me from behind. Filling me with your cock."

You admit it, because it’s the truth. Every time Jungwon looked at you longer than he should, something inside you snapped tight. It made you want to cross the room and crash your mouth against his, reckless and unthinking, just to feel something real. That’s how far gone you were—crazy over him, crazy over this, crazy over whatever the hell he did to you without actually touching you.

It was humiliating. And intoxicating.

You never thought he’d drag it out of you like this, force the confession from your lips in such a raw, stripped-down way—but fuck, it was hot. The way he watched you unravel.

You didn’t care anymore. Not about pride. Not about consequences. You only knew that you wanted more. And more. And more. And fuck he wasn’t even inside you yet.

“You’ve got such a filthy mouth, maybe i should do something about it hmm?” Jungwon gripped your wrist, stopping your moments, forcing you still. “Get on your knees, now.” You did, who are you to disobey? You almost limp when you get and sink down the floor. Jungwon’s cock throbbed at the sight under him. You, kneeling on the floor with your legs tucked underneath you. Knees together, body upright. You looked so beautiful it made his chest hurt. God, he didn’t deserve you.

“I’m going to fuck you exactly how you need to be fucked.” He fisted your hair and tugged it back until you were staring up at him. “Tap my thigh if it’s too rough.” You nodded to which he said, “Open your mouth.” Jungwon slipped the tip of his cock inside your mouth, until he buried himself all the way down your throat.

“Fuckkkk.” His moan was rough, echoing through the room, Probably the whole damn house. He didn't care. The entire world centered on the feel of your mouth, the slide of your tongue as you kept moving your head, working him with artful perfection. But he kept myself still. he didn't tug on your hair. He didn't fuck your mouth. Not yet.

You blinked up at him, eyes watering at his size, he was so big you gagged with only half of his dick in your mouth. You trap him inside your mouth, flicking your tongue over the ridges of his digits, started licking and sucking—slowly at first, but quickly building up to a rhythm that had you bobbing your head up and down his dick. “That’s it, suck that cock like a good little whore.” He fisted your hair and used it as a leverage to yank you down on his length more causing you to gag as you hallow your mouth around his digits.

Slowly, he started thrusting himself into you, faster and faster until the only sounds were his ragged breath mixed with you chocked-gurgling. “That’s a good slut, good fucking girl—just there—shit.” He withdrew until just the tip remained and plunged down in one sharp thrust. You gagged again, new puddle of tears falling down your cheeks, the heat in your belly stoking hotter.

“Everytime i’m not with you, i want you to think about this.” He groaned, “You on your knees, gagging on every inch of my cock while i ruin your tight little throat.” You whimpered, your nipples and pussy were so sensitive and he started fucking your mouth so mercilessly, all you could do was try suck in breaths through your nose before jungwon bottomed out again. “Fuck doll, let me hear you struggle.”

You squirmed and tried to ease the ache in your jaw, but he was so big. Eventually, however, when your throat opened up, and he was able to slide even deeper into your mouth.

“That's it.” Jungwon rasped, “Every inch, just like that, i knew you could take it.” You moaned at the praise, You couldn't see properly through the tears clouding your vision, but the buzz between your legs had grown too loud for you to ignore. But you couldn’t as he slammed his hips forward so hard, your whole body jerked back at the impact.

You claw at his thighs, finally rolls his hips once, twice— and then, with one last powerful thrust, he lets go, coming inside your mouth. You choke, swallowing hard as his hips tremble against your face. “Good fucking girl.” Jungwon yanked himself out of your mouth.

"Your mouth looks so pretty full of my cum." He squats down, swiping two fingers across your tongue, dragging them over your chin and throat. He continues the descent down your chest, circling each one of your. nipples, leaving a glistening trail of moisture in his wake. "Bet your tight little cunt would look even better filled up."

He lifted you up and threw you on the bed, and pushed your legs wider with his knee. His hands come down to touch your aching, overstimulated pussy, and you jolt. Even the slightest touch of him is way too fucking much right now. You grip his biceps, “Please…” Jungwon laughs, low and vicious, “You want to serve me, doll? you want me to fuck you?” You barely nod, you catch a glint of smth dark in his eyes, as jungwon rubbed his thumb over your entrance, He smirked before his palm landed where his thumb had been. Delivering a sharp slap right to the centre of your aching core.

Your whole body jerked and you spiked with pain-pleasure so hard you instinctively tried to scoot away from his hold, but Jungwon yanked you to him by your ankles, glaring. “You’re so wet, baby. Did sucking my cock make you this wet? You filthy, filthy girl.” Jungwon removed his hand, “Who does your pussy belong to?” He asked, snd you whispered “You..” While griping the sheets so hard your knuckles turned white. “Say it again.” Jungwon said, and your voice broke out in a sob before he delivered another slap to your clit.

“Hmm yeah, That’s right, me.” Slap! “This is for all the times you ignored me.” Slap! “Fuck, you’re so wet, doll.” Slap! “All for me, yeah?” Slap! You were shaking, completely sobbing as razor sharp sensation spiked through you. “And this…” The hardest one of them all, the one which made you arch your back off the bed, Slap! “Is for driving me fucking crazy.”

A pleading sob fell out of your mouth when Jungwon yanked your head so that his mouth hovered near your ear “Tell me why i can’t stop thinking about you, hmm? What the fuck do you do to me, doll?” You shake your head, unable to form a response or make sense of the pain and pleasure ricocheting you.

“You’re mine, been mine since i saw you.” Slap! “You live in my head all the fucking time, even if i don’t want you to…And god, i want to punish you for driving me so damn insane. Every. Single. Day.” Jungwon’s low snarl rumbled down your spine and made your toes curl. You heard the faint tear of a foil wrapper, You didn’t say anything nor did you say a word when he positioned you over his cock.

You blink, looking down, your mouth sliding agape, gaze held where his cock is covering almost your entire stomach. “What the fuck…” You whisper, “Don’t worry, it’ll fit.” He gives himself a few long pumps, “Your tight pussy will take and love every second of it.”

He says then leans down to kiss your neck, “So, how much do you want, baby?” His lips brush past the corner of your mouth, “Seven inches, eight, or all nine?” He pushes inside slowly, the care and smugness in his voice sends a shiver through you. “All of it.” You say, your voice trembling with need. He slides in what feels like another inch, the stretch is so much it makes your head fall back.

“I can feel how wet you are, already soaking my cock with this perfect pussy.” He let you adjust first because Jungwon was so fucking big, it was literally painful. “Hold the sheets.” That was the last warning he gave you before thrusted inside, driving so deep and hard into your pussy with each upward thrust. You were so wet he slid in almost frictionlessly. He could feel your pussy stretching and struggling to take his size.

You cried out, Your mind emptying of any thoughts except the sensation of his cock pounding into you and the slide of his skin against yours. He captured your cry when he pulled you down and thrusted up. Your eyes snapped open, and your breath caught at the sudden stretch, pleasure.

The headboard of the bed banged against the wall with each thrust. Your eyes fluttered close from the sheer overload of sensation, “Gonna fuck you over and over until you’re so full of my cum, you can’t think about anything but me stretching you open.”

Your eyes flew open when jungwon gave your hair another sharp tug, “Open your eyes, Y/n.” His other hand gripped your throat harder. It felt horrifyingly right, like you were made to wear his fingers around your neck.

You were prepped enough yes, but nothing could've prepared you for what happened. He struck as fast as a viper, sinking his fangs deep into your throat at the same moment he thrust into you. The twisting shock of pain and pleasure stole your breath and fixed your wide eyes on the ceiling—his eyes burned through yours as he resumed his thrust, feeding his cock into you inch by inch until he was buried to the hilt.

He moved from your neck and tugged gently at yours earlobe with his teeth, “Whose cock, doll?” He asks, “Yours.” You whimpered and managed to say it , but even that faded into a string of moans when Jungwon picked up the pace and settled into a punishing rhythm. “Knew you’d take me beautifully, baby. You were made for this cock.” You’re close; He can tell by the way your writhing below him, by the way your breath hitches when the end of his cock brushes against your G-spot, by the way your face twists with ecstasy when he gets deeper.

He removed the hand cradling your head and slips it between you, thumb rubbing against your swollen bundle of nerves until your whole body is arching and your jaw drops. “Scream for me, sweetheart.” The wet and filthy sounds of his dick pumping into you was enough to let him know you were super close. But he wanted to hear you longer.

The volume of your moans grew louder, but you held back. “Come for me, doll.” His mouth grazed your lips, “And when i tell you to scream, I want you to fucking scream. Or i’ll bend you over and spank your ass raw until you beg me to let you scream.” A wicked smile replaces his expression when he feels you clench around his cock.

"You're such a greedy stut. Pushing me past my limits, making me fuck this cunt harder than I want to. You love this, don't you? Are you going to come all over my cock, Doll?” Jungwon snarls, You moan at the feeling of fullness, a small bulge visible on your lower stomach, poking out, Jungwon reaches and presses against it so hard, you cry out in pain. “Shit—look, so fucking full, stuffed full of my cock, you like this, don’t you?”

Your entire body tightens as you cry his name into his shoulders, nail sinking into his back so deep he’d be surprised if you hadn’t drawn blood. “Gonna fill you with so much of my cum it leaks out of your body—Fuck, you’re going to feel me tomorrow.” Jungwon pounded you into the mattress, his thrusts so rough the bedsprings squeaked.

A tingling sensation blossomed at the base of your spine. You reached up to play with your nipples, your breaths coming out in short pants. You were close. So close. You were going to—

Ring ring ring!

The ring of a incoming call stopped the both of you followed by a Jungwon’s voice. "Hello?" Your eyes flew open. You gaped at Jungwon, who stared down at you with a calm expression as he listened to whoever was on the other end of the call. “Yeah, what’s up? Yeah, No, she’s not here.” Your mouth falls open as realisation hits you—It was heeseung, your freaking brother and Jungwon was still inside you. On the other end, Heeseung’s voice is loud even through the speaker. “Why did it take you so long to answer?”

Jungwon runs a hand through his hair, forcing his voice to stay normal. “Was in the kitchen. Didn’t hear it.” This was wrong, so fucking god in so many levels but fuck you could feel every hard inch of him buried between your thighs. You opened your mouth to tell him to cut the call but he shot you a warning look and pressed the fingers of his free hand into your hip, silencing you.

“You guys good?” Heeseung asks. “She locked the doors?” Jungwon glances at you for a split second. “Yeah. All good.”

“And y/n?” Your stomach drops. Jungwon doesn’t even hesitate. “She’s asleep.” Your eyes widen instantly, and unintentionally you grinded your hips up, desperate for more friction. This was so wrong but you cursed your brother for calling at the wrong time, You were about to come. His eyes flared and his grip tightened before he slid out of you slowly. He muted his end of the call and hauled you off the bed with one arm while he carried his phone in the other.

"What are you doing?" You wrapped your legs around his waist while heeseung, on the other end of the line kept talking, Jungwon put you next to the couch. "Bend over and spread your legs.” Oh my god, why was this turning you on even more? You trembled but obeyed, placing your hands on the armrest, arching your back, and spreading your legs until every inch of you was backed up on him.

Satisfaction curled in your stomach when you heard his sharp intake of breath. There’s shuffling on the other end. “Already? It’s not even that late.”

“She was tired,” Jungwon replies smoothly. “Knocked out like twenty minutes ago.” Another pause, You could see your reflection in the large glass window opposite the couch, Face flushed, Your breasts hanging heavy and full, the bite mark he gave you, Behind you, jungwon stood, he tilted his head and gave your ass a squeeze.

Your soft moan turned into a squeal when he slammed into you hard enough that the couch scraped forward an inch. “Don’t make a sound.” He warned. Heeseung starts speaking again, “Alright. I’ll probably be late. Maybe morning. Make sure everything’s locked.” There was smth about this that was turning you on so much, maybe knowing that your brother had no idea what was happening on the other side of the call.

Jungwon’s thrusts picked up his pace until you were no longer gripping the armrest, your face buried in the cushions, your rock hard nipples and swollen clit rubbing against the fabric as he fucked you so viciously your feet lifted off the ground. All the while, he continued his call, taking it off mute only when he had to speak. “Yeah. Got it.”

You had no clue what they were another talking about anymore, too lost in a fog of lust to make sense of anything. An unbidden yelp erupted from your throat when he hit a spot that caused your back to bow. Jungwon fisted your hair and tugged your head back until you were half-upright again, looking up at him with tear-filled eyes while his other hand closed around your throat. A warning and a reminder rolled into one. Don't make a sound.

“And Jungwon?” You could hear heeseung’s voice, “Yeah?” You were trying your best to stay quiet, you really were. Another sob of pleasure, one that had Jungwon releasing your hair so he could cover your mouth and muffle your whines.

So wrong. This was so wrong, but you couldn't bring yourself to care as Jungwon grabbed your shoulder and arched your spine backwards, bending you nearly in half. “Mmhph pffh!” You moaned against his mouth before you hear your brother speaking again.

“If anything happens, call me.” A beat. “Nothing’s happening,” Jungwon says looking at the reflection of you in the mirror, Your cry of release drenched the air, but muffled by his hands as you came in a shuddering, toe-curling orgasm that vibrated against his body.

Heeseung hums suspiciously. “Okay. Night.”

“Night.” The call ends. The second the screen goes dark, he releases your mouth, “That’s the good girl, didn’t i tell you to not make a noise?” Jungwon fucked you harder, deeper, the couch screaming with protest—it had slid halfway across the floor by now, “Or did you want your brother to hear how good im fucking you.” When you couldn’t respond, he chuckled, “That’s right, i’m the only one who gets to hear how much you love my cock in this tight pussy.” Another louder whimper. Your cunt clamped around him even tighter than the first time, and a building orgasm ripped through him with such sudden, unexpected force it rendered him speechless for a moment.

“I’m the only one who gets to see you like this.” His voice turned harsh, “You.” Thrust! “belong.” Thrust! “to.” Thrust! “Me.” Thrust! He whispers low, You were on fire, skin blazing, tears and drool pooling on the couch beneath you, but it all burned so nicely you never wanted to stop and Jungwon didn’t, instead he kept fucking into you until your next orgasm rolled in. He feels so damn good, all hard and full and gliding in and out in confident thrusts that make you keen. Slower, then building up, up, up until it crashed over you.

“Such a good little slut, ass out, pussy filled just the way i liked it—damnit.” And when Jungwon finished with you, You’d come so hard so many times you were a boneless wreck at this point. You slumped forward on the couch, collapsing.

You both lay there, breaths heavy in the sudden quiet, before he pushed himself off you and tossed his condom in the nearby trashcan.

You watched him in silence, the whatever the fuck you did hitting you. You’d had sex with Yang Jungwon, Your brother’s best friend, your ultimate crush. Not just any sex, Hard, toe curling, brain-melting sex. Sex where you begged for more and more and still feel it in the after effects.

Oh my god. Your stomach dropped. What have i done?

The room is quiet in a different way now.

“She’s asleep?” you whisper harshly. He looks at you, then at the phone, then back at you. “What was I supposed to say?” he mutters. “That i’m buried balls deep inside your sister?” You shove his shoulder. “Yah!” He exhales slowly, tension creeping back in. “Exactly,” he says quietly. And suddenly the room feels ten times more dangerous.

After minutes of silence, The air feels different. The kind of silence where both of you are replaying what just happened, frame by frame.

You’re lying side by side, staring at the ceiling. Your fingers are loosely intertwined, almost absentmindedly, like neither of you consciously decided to hold hands. You clear your throat first. “So.” He huffs softly beside you. “So.”

You turn your head slightly to look at him. His hair’s messy, eyes still adjusting to the dim light, expression unreadable. “Do you regret it?” you ask, softer than you intended. He doesn’t answer immediately. Then he turns to face you fully. “No,” he says simply.

You study his face for signs of doubt. There aren’t any. “Do you?” he asks back. You shake your head. The silence that follows next is comfortable, surprisingly. Just two people lying too close, pretending their hearts aren’t beating a little louder than usual.

After a while, he nudges your shoulder lightly. “We’re still alive. That’s good.” You snort. “Barely.”He smiles faintly at that, and the tension eases.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯—

Morning comes too quickly and it’s worse. Not because you woke up alone. Wait. Alone? Was it a dream? Did you imagine the whole thing? What the fuck? Your eyes snap to the digital clock on the nightstand. 9:03. Shit. You’ve been out for too long.

You push the sheets off and sit up, moving slowly. You climb out of bed and head to the bathroom to wash your face, cold water helping you wake up. When you straighten and take a step, you immediately regret it. Because no—it wasn’t a dream.

The dull, aching soreness in your lower half answers that question for you. You try walking normally, but your legs feel weak, unsteady, so you end up limping slightly, putting more weight on the one that hurts less. Every step reminds you of last night.

Then you hear it—the faint clatter of dishes downstairs. And something smells good. Really good. You follow the sound and the scent, moving carefully down the stairs.

And there he is. Jungwon. In your kitchen. Shirtless. Cooking. Like he belongs there. You stop at the bottom of the stairs and just stare. Holy fuck.

Something shifts inside you—sudden. Like you’ve just unlocked a kink you didn’t even know you had. Because you can’t think of a single thing sexier than a man standing in your kitchen, bare chested, moving like he owns the fucking place. The slow roll of his shoulders, the flex in his back when he reaches for something—it does something filthy to your brain.

And it’s not just any man. It’s Jungwon. Which makes it ten times worse. Ten times hotter. Ten times more dangerous.

You shouldn’t be looking at him like this. Shouldn’t be imagining the heat of his skin under your hands while he stands there so casually, like he isn’t ruining you just by existing.

But fuck. He looks sinful.

The sculpted muscles of his back flexed as he reached for the salt beside the stove, every movement slow and deliberate without him even trying. His hair was more tousled than usual, soft strands falling over his forehead like he’d just rolled out of bed and decided to ruin you for the rest of the day. Sunlight streamed through the windows, washing over his skin and turning it into something warmer—bronzed, almost glowing.

A strip of black sweats sat low on his hips, just visible enough to be distracting. The fabric clung in all the wrong-right ways, riding low enough to make your imagination spiral straight into dangerous, very X-rated territory.

You watched him in silence, caught off guard by the quiet ease in the way he moved. There was nothing rushed about him—every motion smooth, almost effortless. You’d always imagined he survived on pizza and beer the way he did back in school, careless and lazy about anything domestic.

But this? This was different.

It was attractive. So fucking attractive. He was attractive. The kind that made it hard to look away, even when you knew you probably should.

Shamelessly, You ogled at his body, watching as the muscles worked beneath the skin. At least, it was shameless until he turned around and caught you staring.

He tilted his head when he caught you and let out a low chuckle. “Morning, doll.” Heat rushed straight to your face. “M-morning,” you managed, hating the way your voice betrayed you. Fuck my life.

His smile only widened at that—Slow. He raised a brow, eyes dragging over you in a way that made your stomach flip. “You look a little flushed, doll. You sick?” A pause. Then, softer—teasing. “Or was last night too much for you?”

The smirk that followed was downright criminal. God. This ridiculously hot, cocky, infuriating bastard. “Shut up,” you shot back, way too fast. “My vibrator does a better job on its lowest setting than you.” The words leave your mouth before your brain can catch them. Oh no.

Too much. Way too much information. And definitely too rude. Jungwon’s eyes blazed hotter, something sharp flashing behind them. “Oh yeah?” he says quietly.

He closes the distance in a few steps, stopping right in front of you. He looks down, fingers coming up to grip your chin, forcing your gaze to stay on him. “That so?” His voice dips lower. “Funny. I remember someone begging me let her come.”

Your eyes widen. Heat floods your face again as you swat his hand away and quickly move past him, hopping up onto the kitchen counter instead. You cross your arms like that’ll do anything to save your dignity. Jungwon just smiles. Not a big smile. Just that satisfied curve of his lips that clearly says, I win. God, he’s such a jerk.

He goes back to the stove like nothing happened, plates the food, and sets one in front of you before taking the seat across from you. The two of you eat in silence. He’s still shirtless. And you’re painfully, incredibly aware of it.

“So..” You start, breaking the silence. Heart beating too loud. “So,” he echoes. “That happened….” Jungwon snorts at that.

“Yeah.” You rub your face with your hands. “Okay, we need to talk.” His shoulders tense slightly. “About what?” He questions, placing his spoon down. “About the fact that you’re my brother’s best friend.” He winces. “Ah. That.”

“Yes, that.” He turns to face you fully. “I’m aware.”You gulp, “If he finds out, he will actually bury you somewhere.”

“Probably.” You nod seriously. “So we need… structure.” He blinks. “Structure.” You repeat, “Yes.”

“Are we starting a company?”

“Shut up.” You fidget with your fingers, trying to organize your thoughts, which are not cooperating. Because here’s the problem: You’re not pretending it didn’t mean anything. It did, obviously. And you’re far too gone to act like you can just go back to normal.

Because if this was what it took—if this was the price for him standing closer, talking to you like this, looking at you like you were something he wanted—then you’d take it. You’d take all of it. Even if it meant sneaking around. Even if it meant doing things you swore you’d never do. Even if it meant this could shatter you later.

You don’t care. Not when it’s Jungwon.

He’s been your crush for years, and somewhere along the way that harmless, stupid little crush twisted into something darker. Something heavier. You weren’t just into him—you were fucking obsessed. Obsessed with the way he made your stomach drop just by saying your name. Obsessed with the way his eyes lingered a second too long. Obsessed with the way he could ruin your entire mood—or fix it—with one look.

It screamed bad idea. It screamed don’t do this. It screamed you’re going to regret it. But you craved it anyway.

When did you get this far gone? When did wanting him turn into needing him? When did you start justifying every reckless thought with a quiet, desperate it’s worth it? Fuck. This is such a bad idea.

And the worst part? You’re the one that started this.

You finally turn back to him. “We should set rules.” He stares at you like you’ve just proposed a legally binding contract. “Rules,” he repeats slowly. “Yes.” He crosses his arms. “This sounds dangerous.”

Hey, don’t look at me like that. Yes, it was stupid. Obviously it was stupid. But “rules” after sex? That could only mean one thing, and you knew it. You knew it the second the word even formed in your head.

The only reason you were spiraling like this was because you didn’t want it to be a one-time thing. You didn’t want to wake up and have it reduced to a mistake. You wanted more. More of him. More of the way he looked at you like you were something he’d been holding back from touching for years. More of the way he made you feel wanted—like you weren’t just the annoying little sister in the background.

And the way he fucked you yesterday? That alone was enough to make your body crave him all over again. It wasn’t just physical. It was the intensity. The way he said your name. The way he lost control. That doesn’t feel like something casual. It can’t be.

But you can’t just walk up to him and ask him to be your boyfriend. God, you don’t even know if he actually likes you like that. Maybe it was just heat. Maybe it was just tension snapping after years of pretending it wasn’t there.

And then there’s the biggest problem of all. He’s your brother’s best friend. That fact alone should’ve been enough to stop you. Enough to make you back off, put distance between you, pretend nothing happened.

Instead, here you are, hoping these aren’t “rules.” Hoping he doesn’t tell you this can’t happen again. Because if he does? You don’t know how you’re supposed to go back to pretending you don’t want him.

You finally snap out of thought and reply back, “It’s practical.” He raises an eyebrow. “You’ve never been practical in your life.” You scoff, “Excuse me?” You raise your eyebrows, “You told Jake to shut the fuck up yesterday.”

“He deserved it.” He chuckles, shaking his head. “Fine. What are these rules?” You hold up a finger. “One. Only sex. Nothing else.” He studies you carefully at that. Just looking. “Okay,” he says after a beat.

“Two,” you continue, pretending your heart isn’t beating slightly faster, “no catching feelings.” That one lingers. Jungwon tilts his head slightly, then lets out a quiet laugh.

“You’d end up falling for me before I ever do, doll.”You narrow your eyes immediately. “In your dreams.” He steps closer, just enough to make it irritating. “You’re already halfway there.”

“You’re delusional.”

“You’re defensive.” You push his shoulder lightly. “Shut up.” He grins, but there’s something careful in his expression now. Because you both know the truth. This isn’t casual. It never was. You didn’t fight this hard for “nothing.” You didn’t spend weeks pushing and pulling just to treat it like a random accident.

Suddenly you blink at Jungwon and hold out your hand. “Pass me the pen and paper.” He frowns instantly. “What? Where did that even—why?”

You roll your eyes and click your tongue. “Just give it to me.” He reaches across the table and slides the pen and notepad over to you. His brows stay slightly furrowed as he leans back in his chair, arms folding over his chest while he watches you.

You don’t explain. You just start writing. Jungwon tilts his head, eyes narrowing as he tries to read it upside down. “What are you doing?” You ignore him, focused, lips pressed together in concentration as the pen moves across the page.

He exhales through his nose, half amused, half concerned. “Why do I feel like I should be worried?”

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯—

Friends With Benefits Rules (According to Two People Who Are Already in Too Deep)

1. It’s just physical.

(No lingering looks. No remembering the exact way he says “doll.” Strictly physical. Obviously. Sure.)

2. No catching feelings.

(They both caught feelings years ago. This rule is decorative.)

3. No jealousy.

(If Jungwon talks to another girl, y/n does not care. If y/n laughs at another guy’s joke, Jungwon absolutely does not glare.)

(They both will fail this immediately.)

4. No sleepovers.

Unless it’s “too late.”

5. No talking about the future.

No “what are we?” No “what if someone finds out?”

(Denial is key)

6. No bringing up the brother.

That topic does not exist. The word “Heeseung” is banned within a 5km radius.

7. No acting like a couple in public.

No subtle touches. Just here and there sometimes…..is fine.

8. Most important rule:

If either of them says, “This was a mistake,” The other one is allowed to kiss them mid-sentence.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯—

Jungwon stares at the list like it has personally offended him. His eyes scan each line slowly, jaw tightening for a second before he suddenly lets out a laugh—head thrown back, shoulders shaking. A real one. Not the smug little huffs he usually gives you. A genuine, unguarded laugh.

And even though you’ve heard it before, it still melts something inside you every single time.

It’s beautiful.

He looks back at you, eyes still bright from laughing. “God,” he mutters, dragging a hand down his face, “this is going to be fun.” The way he says it makes you bite your lips.

Jungwon pushes his chair back and stands. You track every movement without meaning to—every step he takes until he’s right in front of you again. Too close.

Before you can react, his hand comes up and grips your jaw, rough, tilting your face up toward him. He leans down slowly, until his lips hover near your ear. The warmth of his breath sends a sharp shiver down your spine.

“Then let me add one more,” he murmurs. His grip tightens slightly, possessive. “No other man than me is allowed to touch you.” His voice drops lower. Darker. “Let alone even fucking look at you.”

You’re two people standing in front of something that’s already too big to pretend it doesn’t exist.

“I swear to God, doll, if I find out you’ve let some man touch you, I will deliver his hands to you in a box.” His voice doesn’t rise. It drops colder.

“And I do not. Fucking. Bluff.” He means it.

There’s no playful edge to it, no teasing smirk softening the threat. The kind that settles heavy in your chest. Jungwon wasn’t the type to make empty promises. If anything, he undersold what he was capable of.

He was crazy over you—crazy enough to rip the eyes out of anyone who dared look too long, or who had the privileges to even look at you. You were his. You had been from the moment he first saw you standing in your own living room, too young to realize the weight of the way he stared.

From that day on, something in him decided and you never even noticed.

You didn’t know that he kept track of you. Not in an obvious way. Not in a way that would set off alarms. But he knew things, things like your schedule, your friends or the names of people you talked to. He knew about your past relationship—every detail of it. And when he found out your ex had put his hands on you the wrong way? Something in him snapped.

He had wanted to kill him, actually kill him.

Jungwon was obsessed. Far more than you ever were. What you felt was infatuation, craving, heat. What he felt was possession. It wasn’t just obsession. It was maddening.

You didn’t know there were eyes tracking your movements, memorizing your patterns, noting who stood too close. They were his. Always his. And in his mind, none of this was twisted instead he called it romantic because he cared. Because he protected what was his.

Jungwon was a very, very dangerous man. You just had no idea.

You tilt your head slightly, forcing a small smirk onto your face despite the way your pulse stutters. “Jealous?” you murmur. “I’m pretty sure I wrote a rule that said ‘no jealousy.’” You look up at him, challenging.

God, you have no idea what you’re stepping into. This is going exactly how he wants it to.

Jungwon bites his lower lip slowly, his tongue pressing against the inside of his cheek as he studies you. There’s something calculating in his gaze now. Darker.

“No one is allowed to touch what I’ll be touching,” he says quietly. “I don’t share.” Your stomach drops at the certainty in his tone.

“Mmh?” you hum, forcing lightness you don’t fully feel. “And how exactly would you know who’s touching me?” His lips curl. “I have my ways.”

You raise a brow, scoffing softly. “What are you, a stalker?” He steps closer. Too close. His shadow swallowing you whole. “I’m worse, y/n.” Jungwon replies, There’s no smile this time. Just truth. His grip on your chin tightens, enough to hurt.

“Till then,” he murmurs, voice low and steady, “you’ll be my dirty little secret.”

His thumb drags slowly along your lower lip, eyes locked onto yours like he’s memorizing the way your breathing changes, the way your pupils dilate. There’s something possessive in the way he looks at you—like he’s already decided your place and is just waiting for you to realize it too.

“A secret,” he repeats softly, almost to himself. “Hidden where no one can see. No one can touch.” His jaw tightens slightly. “They don’t get to have you,” he says, quieter now. “They don’t even get to know.” The air feels heavier.

“And when I’m ready,” he adds, leaning closer, his forehead almost brushing yours, “I’ll decide what you are to me.”

He presses a quick kiss to your forehead—soft, almost tender. Then another to your lips. And just like that, he pulls away, leaving you there, breath uneven, head spinning. What the fuck was that?

You’re still trying to process it when his voice cuts through your thoughts. “Oh,” he says casually, already halfway across the room. “Your brother will be here soon.” Your heart stutters.

He glances back over his shoulder, eyes glinting with something dangerous. “Wouldn’t want him knowing what I did to you, right?” His gaze drops pointedly to your neck. You follow it. And your breath catches.

Your skin is a mess of marks—dark, blooming bruises scattered across your throat and trailing downward. Some are deep purple, almost black at the center, fingerprints of his mouth pressed into you. Others are red and raw, teeth-shaped crescents that overlap and blend into flushed skin. Faint smudges of pink and angry crimson trace along your collarbone, disappearing beneath the neckline of your shirt.

They aren’t subtle. They’re possessive. Proof.

Your fingers hover over one of the darker bruises, and even the light touch makes your skin throb. The marks continue lower, scattered across the curve of your chest, layered like he couldn’t decide where to claim you first.

Jungwon watches your reaction with quiet satisfaction. “I look good on you,” he murmurs.

Then he turns away again, leaving you standing there with your pulse racing and his imprint burned into your skin.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯—

By afternoon, the house feels different. It’s 4:30 in the afternoon. The sun hangs low. Light stretches across the living room floor in long rectangles, catching dust in the air and turning it soft. The sun beginning to dip. Evening inching closer.

You’ve both freshened up—covered what needed to be covered, fixed your hair. The marks on your neck are hidden under a hoodie now, though you’re hyper-aware of them, like they’re still glowing beneath the fabric.

When the door swings open and Heeseung walks in with his friends, their noise fills the house quickly. Laughter, them kicking their shoes off. Familiar chaos.

You’re seated on the couch by then, legs tucked under you, time to act normal. Jungwon sits at the other end, relaxed, scrolling on his phone like he hasn’t ruined you less than twelve hours ago.

Heeseung drops onto the armchair. Jay and the others spread out—some on the floor, some leaning against the wall. The conversation flows easily. You join in, teasing, arguing.

It feels almost normal. Almost. Jay notices it first.

The way Jungwon’s eyes keep drifting toward you, glance when you laugh, then a slow look when you shift positions, faint tightening of his jaw when you lean too close to one of the guys to hear them better. Jay catches it.

And then he catches you doing the same thing.

The way your eyes flicker to Jungwon when he speaks, the way your posture straightens when he moves, the way there’s a split second too much eye contact whenever your gazes meet.

It’s subtle but not to him. It’s obvious to Jay. Probably obvious to everyone in the room except you and Heeseung. Jay leans back into the couch, eyes narrowing slightly as he studies Jungwon.

“Hey,” he says casually, cutting into whatever story Heeseung was telling. “Jungwon.” Jungwon doesn’t look away from you immediately. That’s the first mistake.

Then Jungwon blinks and shifts his gaze to Jay. “What?” Jay tilts his head. “You good?” Jungwon frowns faintly. “Yeah. Why?” Jay shrugs. “You look distracted.” There’s a beat of silence.

Sunghoon snorts. “He’s always distracted.” Jay doesn’t laugh though, His eyes stay on Jungwon. “Not like this,” he says lightly. Jungwon’s expression doesn’t change, but something in his posture tightens. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Jay’s lips twitch. “Means you’ve been staring at the same spot for the past twenty minutes.” Your heart skips. Heeseung looks between them, confused. “What are you even talking about?”

“Nothing,” Jungwon answers smoothly. Jay hums. “Yeah. Nothing.” There’s a challenge in his tone. Jungwon meets his gaze, a look which means stop it.

Jay raises a brow slightly, lowering his voice just enough that it feels private, even in a crowded room. “You wanna tell me what’s going on?” Jungwon’s jaw shifts. “Nothing’s going on,” he repeats.

Jay studies him for another second, then leans in a little closer. “Right,” he says quietly. “Because the way you’re looking at y/n is totally friendly.” Jungwon’s expression hardens just a fraction. “Careful.” Jay smiles faintly. Not scared. Never scared of him. “That’s what I’m saying,” Jay replies. “You should be.” He leans back again, satisfied, but his eyes don’t leave Jungwon’s face.

Jay was a royal pain in Jungwon’s ass. Not just because he wasn’t afraid to push him—but because he was observant as fuck. He read people too well. And he knew Jungwon better than anyone in this room.

Better than you. And right now? Jay knows something’s changed. I mean, come on.

Jay had spent years around the both of you. Years of late nights, shared houses, random hangouts, He wasn’t stupid. He knew when something changed. And something had definitely changed.

He’d known for a long time that Jungwon had a thing for you, never obviously tho but it was there—in the way he’d go quiet when you entered a room, in the way his mood shifted depending on yours, in the way he watched more than he spoke.

Jay never asked him why, never asked him how it started, never even confronted him about it. He didn’t need to cause he saw it.

And, lowkey? He’d wanted it to happen. Wanted the two of you to just stop pretending and get together already. It made sense in his head. The tension had always been there, simmering under the surface. But wanting it and it being possible were two very different things.

Heeseung was a persistent bastard. Protective to a fault. A good brother—too good. The kind who would smile and joke around but would lose his mind if he thought someone crossed a line with his sister, you.

And if he found out what was happening between you and Jungwon? God. Jay genuinely didn’t know how that would go. Heeseung might surprise them. He might try to understand or he might not. It could swing either way.

And that uncertainty? That’s what made this whole thing dangerous.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯—

Two Years Earlier — 5:40 PM

The café was warm, The soft hum of conversations and the hiss of the espresso machine filled the background. You sat across from Eunchae— Your bestfriend, your ride or die, your unpaid therapist, your brutally honest voice of reason. She was sharp-tongued but soft-hearted, the kind of girl who would drag you for your bad decisions and then hold your hand while you fixed them.

Eunchae watched you over the rim of her drink, “So,” she sang lightly, dragging the word out. “How’s your undying, embarrassingly persistent crush on Jungwon doing these days?” You shot her a glare. “Eunchae. My boyfriend is literally about to get here. Please shut up.”

She rolled her eyes dramatically and took another sip. “Girl. We both know you don’t love him for shit.” You exhaled slowly, staring down into your cup.

That wasn’t fair…but it also wasn’t wrong.

Your boyfriend—Soobin was perfect. Four years older, mature, handsome in that soft, comforting way. Polite to everyone, the kind of guy parents adored and the kind of guy girls envied you for having. Hey, you did like him. You did.

He was sweet, you know, remembered small details, held doors open, texted good morning every single day without fail. So why did your chest feel so heavy?

“Don’t say that,” you muttered. “I do like him.” Eunchae leaned forward. “Like isn’t love.” You swallowed.

The truth sat ugly in your throat. You felt pathetic. Truly pathetic. Because if you were honest with yourself, you hadn’t started dating Soobin because you were head over heels.

You started dating him because you were desperate, desperate to kill whatever you felt for Jungwon.

You thought maybe if you had someone else—someone good, someone safe—your stupid, reckless crush would finally die.

But it didn’t. It never did.

Jungwon still lingered in your mind at the worst times like a reminder, his stupid comments replaying in your head and every time you saw him, that spark never faded. Now you were stuck.

Stuck lying to Soobin, stuck lying to yourself. Playing the role of a good girlfriend while your heart was somewhere else entirely.

“I’m telling him today,” you said quietly. Eunchae blinked. “You’re breaking up with him?” You nodded once. She studied your face carefully. “Because you don’t love him?”

“Yes.” A pause. “…Or because you love someone else?” Your throat tightened. You didn’t answer.

Eunchae sighed softly. “You’re not a terrible person for feeling things. But you are if you keep stringing him along.”

“I know,” you whispered. “That’s why I have to end it. He deserves someone who actually loves him. Not someone who’s using him as a distraction.” The bell above the café door chimed.

You both turned. Soobin stepped inside, scanning the room until his eyes found you. His face immediately softened into a smile and the guilt hit you like a punch to the ribs.

Eunchae squeezed your hand under the table once. “Do it clean,” she murmured. “No half-truths.” You nodded, heart pounding as Soobin walked toward you. This was going to hurt him but dragging it out would hurt him more.

You couldn’t do it in there. Not with the café buzzing around you. Not with cups clinking and people laughing and Eunchae staring holes into the side of your head like she was trying to telepathically force you to grow a spine.

You sighed and shot her a look. Will you stop? She raised her brows innocently. I’m not doing anything. Just two best friends sharing the same dysfunctional brain cell. But this wasn’t something you could say with an audience.

So you stood up, forcing a small smile at Soobin. “Can we… talk outside?” He blinked, confused but agreeable. “Yeah, of course.”

You didn’t notice the two dark eyes watching you from across the street, didn’t notice the way they followed every step you took as you led Soobin out of the café and into the narrow alley beside it.

You stopped near a stained brick wall, the noise from the café muffled now. Your heart was pounding so loudly you were sure he could hear it.

You didn’t ease into it. You couldn’t. “Let’s break up, Bin.” The words landed heavy between you. Soobin frowned immediately. “What?” He let out a small laugh of disbelief. “Wha—why? What happened? Did I do something?”

Questions spilled out of him fast. You shook your head quickly. “No. You didn’t do anything. I just… I don’t love you anymore. And I don’t think this is right for me.” Silence.

You stared at the ground because you couldn’t look at him. You couldn’t bear to see the hurt. The disappointment. Then you heard it. A laugh.

Low, sharp, wrong, making your head snap up. He was laughing. “What the fuck is so funny?” you asked, confusion twisting into unease.

His smile didn’t reach his eyes. “You fucking bitch,” he muttered, the word landing like a slap. “Who said you get to break up with me, hm?”

Your stomach dropped. This wasn’t him. “What—” You didn’t get to finish. His hand shoved you back hard enough that your shoulders hit the brick wall. The impact knocked the air from your lungs. Before you could react, he planted both hands beside your head, caging you in.

“You don’t get to walk away like this,” he said, jaw tight. “After everything I’ve done for you?” Your pulse spiked. “Soobin, stop. You’re hurting me.”

“Oh, now I’m hurting you?” he scoffed. “After you’ve been playing me this whole time?” You grip his wrist, “I didn’t play you,” you shot back, panic rising. “I’m trying to be honest.”

“Honest?” His grip tightened around your arm. “Who is it?” Your brows furrowed. “What?”

“Who the fuck is it?” he demanded, leaning closer. “There’s someone else, right? That’s why.”

“There isn’t—” He cut you off by grabbing your jaw roughly, forcing your face to the side. His mouth pressed against your neck—not soft, not loving. His teeth sank into your skin hard enough to make you gasp.“Stop!” You shoved against his chest, but he was stronger.

Across the street, hidden in the shadow of a lamppost— Jungwon saw red. Literally.

His jaw clenched so tight it ached. His hands were fists at his sides, nails digging into his palms hard enough to break skin. Every muscle in his body locked.

He watched Soobin’s mouth on your neck. Watched the way you struggled. His breathing turned slow. “You don’t get to mark what’s mine.” Jungwon said in a whisper. The word mine didn’t even feel wrong in his head.

Don’t go. Not yet.

He repeated it in his head like a mantra.

Don’t go. Not yet.

He had been following you. Stalking you like a fucking predator. He told himself it was protection. That it was because he didn’t trust Soobin…. but standing there now, watching another man put his hands on you— He didn’t recognize himself.

You brought this out of him. This violent, possessive, unhinged part. You drove him crazy. He wanted to walk over there and drag Soobin off you, wanted to slam his face into the brick wall until his teeth shattered until no one could recognize him. And he would. Just not yet. Because he needed to see. Needed to know how far it would go.

Jungwon pulled a cigarette from his pocket with steady fingers and placed it between his lips. His eyes never left you.

He lit it. The flame flickered briefly in his dark eyes. He inhaled, once. Smoke curled from his mouth slowly as you finally managed to shove Soobin back with all your strength.

“Get the fuck off me!” you yelled, chest heaving. Soobin stumbled a step but didn’t fall. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, eyes wild.

“You think you’re better than me?” he spat. “You think someone else is going to want you?” Jungwon took another drag. Two. His gaze was no longer just angry, It was cold. His hands flexed at his sides when you stepped back.

“Oh baby… you’re gonna be mine soon.” The thought slid through his head slowly. He watched the way you tried to stay calm, the way you swallowed your fear and still chose honesty. God you looked beautiful.

“I’ll treat you so much better than he ever could”, he said darkly, eyes narrowing as Soobin’s hand grabbed your jaw. “Come to me, doll.”

He’d waited years. Watched you grow into yourself, watched how boys circled you like they had any right, watched you settle for someone safe when what you really needed was someone who would burn the world down for you.

Someone like him.

His gaze dragged over you like a claim already staked. “He doesn’t deserve to touch you. He doesn’t deserve to breathe the same air as you.”

‘I’ll give you everything’ he promised silently from across the street. ‘Everything you don’t even know you want. I’ll protect you. I’ll ruin anyone who tries to hurt you.’

Soobin stepped forward again, but this time you shoved him harder, panic giving you strength. “I said it’s over!” you snapped, voice shaking but loud. Across the street, Jungwon exhaled smoke slowly.

His eyes darkened further. That was enough. And finally—He started walking toward where you were.

Jungwon moves before he can think himself out of it. He pulls his hood up as he steps off the curb, the fabric shadowing his face. Halfway across the street, he slips a black mask over his mouth and nose, fingers steady despite the storm raging in his chest. You can’t know it’s him, not like this.

He takes one last drag from the cigarette, smoke burning down his throat, then flicks it away. It hits the pavement and dies out. That was the last clean second of his plan.

By the time he reaches the alley, Soobin’s hand is still gripping your arm. Jungwon doesn’t speak first. He grabs Soobin by the hair and yanks him back hard making you gasp.

Soobin stumbles, dragged off you so violently he nearly loses his footing. Before he can even process what’s happening, Jungwon’s fist connects with his jaw. The crack of it echoes against brick.

“Why are you harassing a girl?” Jungwon’s voice is distorted under the mask—lower, not recognisable. “Did your mom not teach you anything else?” Another punch.

Soobin’s head snaps to the side, blood already blooming at the corner of his lip. You’re frozen.

You don’t know who this man is. He has his hoodie up and mask on. He slaps Soobin once. Twice. Three times—sharp, humiliating, each one louder than the last.

Soobin lashes out blindly, kicking at his leg. “What the fuck—who are you?!” he shouts, panic breaking into his voice. The masked man chuckles darkly, “Your worst nightmare.”

The words drip with something that makes your stomach twist. For a brief second, his eyes lift, landing on you.

You can’t see them clearly under the shadow of his hood, but something about them makes you visibly tremble. There’s no softness there.

Just rage, His hand lifts again like he’s about to strike Soobin harder— And then it freezes mid-air. Because you’re looking at him. Not grateful but terrified.

His hand slowly lowers to his side. Inside his chest, something drops. Heavy.

You avert your gaze first, heart racing too fast, breath shallow. You don’t know why your body reacted that way. You don’t know why those eyes felt familiar. Jungwon stands there, fists clenched.

You are aware that you’re the only person in the world I’d never hurt, right?

The thought burns through him. He could ruin Soobin. He could break every bone in his face and feel nothing. But you? Your looking at him like he’s a monster.

And for the first time since he stepped into that alley— Jungwon wonders if maybe he is.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯—

The room smells like smoke and rust. Soobin is tied to a chair, wrists bound tight behind him, ankles secured to the legs. His head lolls slightly before he jerks awake again, struggling against the restraints, panic finally settling in his bones.

Jungwon stands a few feet away, back turned. He pulls out another cigarette with slow, deliberate movements. Taps it against the box once then twice. Jungwon slips the cigarette between his lips.

Thumb flicking the lighter until a small flame blooms. He leans in, the tip igniting orange, and takes a slow drag. His chest rises quietly, shoulders barely moving as he lets the smoke fill his lungs. He inhales deeply, eyes closing as the smoke fills his lungs. He exhales through his nose, smoke spilling out in thin streams that curl around his face before fading into the air.

Then the chair scrapes loudly against the floor. “What the fuck do you want from me?!” Soobin shouts, voice cracking. Jungwon’s eyes snap open.

He exhales slowly through his nose, wincing at the volume. “Lower your voice,” he mutters. “You’re giving me a headache.” Soobin thrashes again. “You’re insane! Do you know who I am?!”

Jungwon lets out a quiet tsk, turning around at last. He walks forward unhurriedly, cigarette balanced between his fingers, smoke trailing behind him like it does in movies.

“You touched what was mine.” The words are soft. Soobin freezes. “What—what are you talking about? She’s not yours!” Jungwon stops directly in front of him and tilts his head, the movement is almost curious.

“How dare you kiss her in front of me?” he asks, as if genuinely confused by the audacity. Soobin’s breathing quickens. “I didn’t even know you were there—”

“Exactly.” Jungwon crouches down so they’re eye level. He grips Soobin’s jaw suddenly, fingers digging into his skin hard enough to make him wince. The cigarette hovers dangerously close to his face.

“You didn’t even know I was there,” Jungwon repeats quietly. The lit tip presses lightly against Soobin’s cheek—just enough to sting, to sear heat into skin without fully burning. Soobin jerks back with a strangled sound. “You’re fucking crazy!” he gasps. Jungwon’s lips twitch faintly. “I know.”

He stands again, dragging Soobin up by the hair this time. “I swore to myself,” Jungwon murmurs, leaning down close to his ear, “that I’d wipe out anyone who misbehaves with her.”

His grip tightens. “No one deserves her.” His voice drops lower. “Other than me.” Soobin looks up at him—and finally sees it. The madness in his eyes, If looks could kill, he’d already be dead. Soobin’s eyes tremble. Jungwon studies the fear for a moment and mesmerises it.

Then, without warning, he yanks Soobin forward by the hair and drives his knee hard into his face. The crack echoes in the room as soobin goes limp.

Jungwon releases him, letting his body slump against the restraints. Finally, he breathes out, closing his eyes. And there you are, In his mind. Smiling, laughing, looking up at him with that expression you don’t even realize you wear around him.

Jungwon could literally feel his cock hardening at the thought of you, he drags a hand down his face. Fuck, Even now, Even here. Holy mother of lord, He needed help.

Any sane person would’ve looked at him and said it outright—get therapy, get distance, get a grip. But not even professionals would be able carve you out of him. You weren’t just a thought he could untangle or a habit he could break. You were too deep. Too deep in his bones.

You didn’t knock before entering; you made yourself at home, fucked him from the inside out. And fuck—he never once complained. If anything, he welcomed it.

He wanted to kneel at your feet and kiss the very ground you walked on, like a worshipper at the altar of something holy and destructive all at once. You weren’t just a girl to him. You were his religion, his obsession, salvation dressed as temptation.

You were his and not just his in the way boys say it when they’re jealous. His in the way blood knows blood.

In the way a pulse answers another pulse without hesitation. It wasn’t possession born from ego—it was something darker, older, carved into him like a birthmark he never asked for but would never remove. Jungwon didn’t want you beside him. He wanted you intertwined with him, breathing the same air, thinking the same thoughts.

And the worst part? He didn’t feel guilty. He felt certain. Because from the moment you stepped into his life— You were already under his skin and my bro Jungwon had no intention of letting you go. His control slips when it comes to you. He hates that, he loves that.

“You could never be anyone else’s,” he mutters under his breath. In his world, it’s already decided.

You were claimed long before you ever noticed. Claimed by the devil standing quietly in the shadows, watching, waiting. And one day— You’ll understand. You’ll thank him. Because he knows the way your eyes look at him. He knows the silent I want you that lingers there. And it’s torture, absolute torture to stand there and do nothing.

Jungwon opens his eyes again, jaw tightening as he looks down at the unconscious boy tied to the chair. He flicks the cigarette to the ground and crushes it slowly under his shoe.

“Stay away from her,” he says quietly to the still body.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯—

Present — 7:02 P.m

You’re sitting cross-legged on your bed, back pressed against the wall, fingers nervously twisting the hem of your oversized tee. Eunchae is sprawled across your carpet like she pays rent here, chin propped up on her hands, staring at you with wide, impatient eyes.

“Okay,” she says slowly. “You said you had tea. And not normal tea. Not ‘I tripped in the hallway’ tea. So speak.” You inhale. And then you tell her everything that happened in the past week.

Jungwon. The sex. The morning after. The stupid rules you wrote like it was some contractual agreement. The way he looked at you. The way he—Eunchae screams. “FINALLY.” You flinch. “Shut up!”

“No!” She bolts upright, pointing at you like you just confessed to a crime she’s been waiting years to solve. “I have BEEN waiting for this day. Do you know how long I’ve suffered listening to you pine over this man?” You bury your face in your hands. “It was not pining.”

“It was pathetic yearning,” she corrects. “With dramatic sighing.” You throw a pillow at her which she dodges it easily. “And wait—wait.” She squints at you. “You had sex. With him. And then you made… rules?” You groan. “It made sense at the time.”

“Oh my God.” She falls back onto the bed beside you. “You slept with your brother’s best friend and your first instinct was to draft a constitution?”

“It’s called emotional damage control!”

“It’s called you being insane.” You glare at her. “You’re supposed to be on my side.” You argue, “I am on your side!” she says, grabbing your shoulders. “I’m just saying this was inevitable. The sexual tension between you two could power a small country.” You try not to smile.

She studies you more closely now, expression softening. “Okay. Jokes aside.” Her voice lowers. “Are you okay?” You hesitate before answering, “…I don’t know.” She tilts her head. “Do you regret it?”

“No.” The answer comes too fast. Then she flicks your forehead lightly. “Okay first of all, if he hurts you, I will personally ruin his life. Second—” she narrows her eyes, “—does he like you?” Your stomach flips. “I don’t know.”

“Does he act like he likes you?” He does, yes. “…Yes.”

“Then congratulations,” she deadpans. “You are in a situationship with unresolved feelings and sexual chemistry. Welcome to hell.” You laugh despite yourself. She bumps her shoulder against yours. “Just promise me one thing.”

“What?”

“Don’t lose yourself trying to win him.” That makes you pause. Eunchae’s expression is serious now, protective in the way only someone who’s known every version of you can be. “You liked him first,” she says quietly. “Don’t let him make you feel small just because he finally caught up.” Your throat tightens.

“…You really think this could be something?” Oh, you had no idea. She smiles, softer this time. “I think it already is.” Then she grins again. “But also? If he fumbles you after all this buildup, I will expose him spiritually.” You shove her. “You’re so dramatic.”

“And you,” she says, pointing at you again, “are finally living your Wattpad dreams.” You both burst into laughter.

Your phone buzzes against the table, the vibration loud in the quiet of the room. It skids slightly against the wood before settling, screen lighting up. You don’t even have to look properly to know who it is. You unlock your phone, Jungwon’s name sits at the top of your notifications, Eunchae leans closer, practically vibrating with curiosity. “Well?” she whispers loudly. You shake your head, chuckling under your breath as you open the message.

Jungwon : Tonight, my place. Midnight.

You’d agreed to keep your communications short, to the point, and vague enough that if anyone saw them, You could explain them away with a creative excuse. His text met all three criteria, but still. What bappened to a good old-fashioned hey, how are you first?

You : Can't. I'm busy.

It was true, You were with Eunchae after all, you can’t just leave her alone here.

Jungwon : Too busy for an orgasm?

You : Your fragile ego

can’t take a no?

Jungwon : love how you keep running your pretty mouth, you know what i’d do if i was there.

You bite back a smile the second you read it. Your tongue presses against the inside of your cheek as you reread it, heat creeping up your neck. Eunchae watches your expression change, her grin widening instantly.

Jungwon : Tomorrow, 10 pm. My place.

Jungwon : PS. Your gonna pay for the fragile ego comment .

Then you see it, your phone lit up a new notification, your brows pulled together when you read the message.

Unknown : Hey y/n.

The area code indicated a Seoul phone number. No, it can’t be.

You : Who is this?

Hope, a bit of fear, and anticipation curled in your stomach. Maybe it’s an old friend. An eternity passed in the next ten seconds for the next reply to pop up, and it nearly made you drop your phone.

Unknown : It's Soobin.

Soobin. Your ex-boyfriend. How did he get your number? Why was he contacting you now after almost three years of radio silence? You never saw him after that incident in the alley.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯—

You shouldn’t have agreed to this. That’s the only thought looping in your head as you sit at the small corner table of the café down the street from campus. Your fingers wrap around a cup of coffee that’s long gone cold, condensation dampening the cardboard sleeve. You check your phone again. Three years. Three years of silence, and then suddenly— Can we meet? Just once.

You don’t know what he wants. Closure? Apology? The bell above the café door chimes and your mouth goes dry as you watch Soobin stepping inside. He looks… older, obviously. Broader shoulders, sharper jaw, his hair is styled differently than you remember, longer in the front. He scans the room, and when his eyes land on you, something unreadable flickers across his face before he walks over.

You force yourself not to shrink. “Hey,” he says, pulling out the chair across from you. “Hey.” Awkward silence stretches between you both, “You look good,” he says finally. “So do you.”Another pause, “How’ve you been?” he asks, leaning back slightly. “Fine,” you answer too quickly. “Busy, collage and life…you know, the usual.” He nods. “Yeah. Same.”

He studies your face in a way that makes your skin itch. “So,” he says slowly, fingers tapping the table, “heard you’ve been… around different company lately.” That makes you tilt your head, where did this come from? why does he care? “What does that mean?”

He tilts his head too. “Just heard you’ve been spending time with someone.” You stiffen. “That’s not really your business.”

A faint smirk touches his lips. “Just saying. Be careful who you trust. Some guys don’t show their real face until it’s too late.” Now he was getting under your nerves, surely he didn’t call you here to say this bullshit now, did he? Your nails dig into your palm under the table. “And you would know?” you ask quietly. His jaw tightens at that.

Before he can respond, the bell above the café door chimes again. You don’t look at first, bad idea, but then you feel it. You glance toward the entrance—And your breath catches.

Heeseung walks in first, laughing at something Jay says. Behind them—Jungwon. Jungwon finds your eyes meet instantly. They always do.

For a split second, his expression is soft, the expression he always gives you. Like he didn’t expect to find you here but isn’t unhappy about it.

Then—His gaze drops. To the man sitting across from you. Soobin’s back is to him so Jungwon can’t see his face but he sees enough. You’re with someone else, someone else.

You watch it happen in real time—the soft look drains from his eyes and smth darker replaces it, you watch as his jaw sets.

Your pulse starts pounding in your ears for no reason. “Soobin,” you say suddenly. “Yeah?” He blinks, “You need to go.” He frowns. “What? Why—”

“Just go,” you whisper urgently, standing up slightly. “Please. And don’t look back.” He stares at you like you’ve lost your mind. “What the hell is wrong with—” You shove his shoulder, harder this time. “Just go.” Your eyes flick past him.

Heeseung is scanning the café but Jungwon isn’t cause he’s busy staring at Soobin’s back like he could burn a hole straight through it. Soobin finally exhales in frustration and stands. “You’re unbelievable,” he mutters. “Go,” you repeat.

There’s another exit near the back of the café. Thank God. He hesitates for half a second—Then turns and heads toward it. And he doesn’t look back. You sag in relief, cause if Jungwon had seen his face—more importantly if Heeseung had seen his face—You know exactly what would’ve happened.

Heeseung would drag him down the street without thinking twice. Punch first, ask questions later and Jungwon? You don’t even want to imagine it.

You turn back toward the entrance just as they fully step inside. Jungwon’s eyes lift to yours again. Dark. Possessive, it reminds you of what he said that day. ‘I don’t share.’ You were supposed to meet him today anyway. Just not like this.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯—

You barely get a foot inside his house before Jungwon’s hands are on your waist, immediate, pulling you fully in as he shuts the door behind you. A small yelp leaves you, cut short when your back meets the door with a dull thud as the click of the lock follows. His body cages you in, one knee sliding between your thighs, spreading your legs apart with quiet insistence as he keeps you pinned there.

Jungwon buries his face in the crook of your neck, inhaling slowly, His breath is warm against your skin. Then his hand slides up, fingers wrapping around your throat, rough as they tilt your head back slightly, then he squeezes it, Your breath catches, lashes fluttering as the pressure builds for a second.

“Who was that guy, doll?” Jungwon asks quietly, His eyes catch the dim light, Your lungs burn just enough to make it thrilling, and when he finally loosens his grip, you pull in a shaky breath. Adrenaline rushing through your veins. This is exactly what you wanted.

You swallow, looking up at him through half-lidded eyes, feigning innocence even though you’re already falling apart under his touch. “What guy?” you ask lightly, provoking on purpose. Jungwon chuckled quietly and slid his hand down your body, feeling every curve. He's not doing anything yet, and you're already drenched.

"I'm not in the mood to play right now, doll," he said in your ear before gently biting your earlobe. Your eyes sparkled with amusement as you teased, "Jealous much?" However, your playful tone turned into a soft whine as you felt Jungwon's clothed hard-on pressing against you, causing you to instinctively lean back against the wall. His hands held your hips in place as he lifted your leg, positioning you so that you were practically grinding against him, unable to contain the moans escaping your lips.

"Yeah, I'm jealous, fucking hell, I've told you before — you're mine. No one is allowed to even look at your beautiful face," Jungwon said, pulling you close and deepening the kiss. Both of you moaned as he nibbled on your bottom lip. "This face belongs to me. It's mine to admire.” he said, moving his hips against you with each word. Thrust! “mine to kiss.” Thrust! “mine to fuck.” Thrust! “Mine to make a goddamn mess of anytime.” Thrust! "Mine to love and protect." You would’ve asked him what he meant by ‘love’ if you weren’t so soaked up in the moment of his hips as they quickened, bringing you both closer to the edge, you gasped, "Jungwon, please..." the friction of his cock pressing up against you feels so fucking good, feeling a mix of pleasure and punishment, he pinched your clothed nipples, intensifying the sensation.

"Every curve of you is made to fit into my hands. My hands and my hands only.” He lowered his mouth to your shoulder, trailed moist lips to the nape of your neck. "Don't worry," he whispered. "I'm made for your hands, too."

Jungwon then puts both of his hands firmly around your waist, his nails digging into your flesh so painfully that you know you will feel it the next day. He then quickly swings you around, slams your face against the wall, and his whole body is pressed on your back. You could feel him massaging your inner thighs with his cock. He was so damned hard, my god. There is nowhere more excited than the spot between your legs that's freaking pulsing. A small cry escapes your mouth due to the sudden jerk in your head as his hands grabs your hair and pulls you back.

“I should fuck you right here against the wall. Everyone thinks you like it nice but i know better. You’d rather have me tear you apart with my cock.” Jungwon’s voice is raw as he grinds into you. “That’s exactly what you fucking deserve. Maybe then, everyone would know it’s mine.”

He rasps, picks you up, pressing you even harshly into the wall. And this position…..his hands are hooked securely beneath your thighs, lifting you with steady strength. You’re pressed against the wall as your feet leave the ground, and your palms flatten against the surface for balance. You cling to it, fingers splayed, because the only thing holding you up is him — and the wall, which, you’re almost kissing by now.

After that, you feel him harden even more on your ass as he pulls you down on him. You let out a moan. "This shit is turning you on, huh?" He tosses you over his shoulders before you can even react. “Get on the fucking bed, your pussy’s been neglected for too long.” He drops you against the pillows, the impact knocking the air from your lungs slightly, then follows, bracing himself above you, gaze locked on yours.

Without wasting any more time, With quick hands, You find his belt and undo it, throwing it to the ground. He lifts your hips to tug your jeans and panties down your thighs.

He grabbed the back of your neck, pulled you close, and crushed his lips to yours. You wrapped your arms around his neck, your body warm and pliant against his as he plundered your mouth. Jungwon’s heart was a loud drum in his chest, beating in time with the throbbing in his cock. The smell of your perfume and the sounds of your little whimpers filled the room as you clung to him like you both were drowning and he was your last lifeline.

He parted your thighs with his knee, reached between your legs and hummed in approval when he found you slick and wet for him. Jungwon frowned the second you caught his wrist, stopping him mid-motion.

Then you moved, pushing yourself up slowly, pressing a hand flat against his bare chest and forcing him back onto the bed. He let himself fall, more surprised but went with it, eyes tracking you the entire time. You swung a leg over him and settled on his stomach, straddling him, your weight and your juices soaking his hips.

Jungwon blinked, not expecting it. A low, dark laugh slipped out of him, rough around the edges. “Shit,” he muttered, dragging a hand over his face before letting it fall beside him. His eyes trailed up your body, slow and shameless. “You drive me so fucking crazy, doll.” You held his gaze.

There was something about him like this — laid back against the sheets, looking up at you instead of towering over you — that hit different. His jaw tight, eyes darker than usual, lips parted just slightly. You can tell he’s controlling from fucking you so bad right now. But tonight, you wanted to be in control.

You tilted your head slightly, fingers brushing down his chest in a slow line, testing him, Jungwon swallowed. “Don’t start something you can’t finish,” he warned quietly. You smiled down at him, all innocence and sweet composure. Jungwon’s head tilted slightly against the pillow, eyes narrowing in quiet amusement as a slow smirk pulled at his mouth. He didn’t say anything.

Instead, his hand slid down, settling on your ass. His fingers spread, warm and possessive, before giving it a slow, squeeze and—Spank! His palm landed on your ass with such harsh slap it made your whole body jerk upward, your tits bouncing.

"My dirty angel," he said gruffly. "Created to please and torture me. My heaven on earth." Spank! This one made your pulsating pussy throb even harder. “Look how pretty your ass is all rosy from my hand.” Spank! Jungwon said while looking at your reflection in the mirror placed infront of the bed.

Then his free hand slid down to your ankles, fingers wrapping around them before he gave a sudden tug. You let out a small yelp, your balance tipping as you nearly fell backward, but he was quicker—his hands moving to your back, steadying you before you could slip. In one smooth motion, jungwon adjusted his grip and lifted you, holding you securely as your body hovered above his.

You’re flushed a deep crimson, your pulse drumming in your throat as you realize there’s nowhere left to hide; because now he could see how fucking wet you were, Your legs shake, barely holding your weight, as your hair spills over your shoulders.

You look down, hair falling and you swear you just came right there on sight. Jungwon’s gaze is fixated on your dripping cunt like a man starving, like your his fucking meal. He looks hungry, lips already parted, tongue darting out to lick his lips before holding your legs, “Sit on my face, Y/n.”

He says licking your thighs, you whimper, “Sit that sweet pussy down on my mouth. Wrap those pretty thighs around my head and fuck my face, come on doll.” He growls,his breath gently caressing your bare cunt, you slowly lower yourself giving him time but jungwon holds your hips and yanks you down on him. And suddenly his mouth is everywhere— tongue pressing flat against your dripping slit, licking a stripe up and then down your clit, slurping in your pussy, sending your head back, whining.

He licks into you, tongue fucking you deep as he groans, You swear ur seeing stars. Your body tenses and melts and fucking bursts into flames because it feels so goddamn good, you don't even know what you’re feeling. But you’re feeling good, too good. Jungwon's tongue circles around your cunt, his grip on your ass tightening.

You were so close already. He slowed the thrusts of his mouth so he could reach and stroke your clit with his hand. You could feel his smile because his mouth was still buried in you, when your head fell back and your lips parted at the touch.

You were shaking, Completely sobbing as razor-sharp sensation spiked through you. "Who does your pussy belong to?" Jungwon removed his fingers from your pussy and squeezed your thighs. "You," You gasped, clutching the headboard so hard your knuckles turned white.

"Say it again." He said, Demanding. "You! My pussy belongs to you." Your voice broke in a sob as he delivered a stinging slap to your clit. "That's right. It belongs to me, and don't you ever forget it." Slap! He pulls back just enough to breathe, mouth shiny and swollen with your juices. He kept the pressure of his thumb against your clit and slid a finger inside your tight, wet heat.

Your mouth turned into a scream as his tongue licked against your aching center, from your entrance up to your clit, his mouth slowly engulfing your bud, sucking hard before slowing down again. "Did this pussy miss my mouth, baby?" You exhaled roughly. Jungwon flattened his tongue and licked you in a slow swipe.

You can't take it. The pleasure rolls through you; a pleased grumble vibrates in his throat as his tongue pierces you, sending you tumbling over the edge, crying his name. Jungwon’s breathes in you, “Can feel how wet you are for me. Such a pathetic little whore, wanting me to fuck you again. Was last time too gentle for you?" He flicked on your clit—"Jungwon—im gonna—" You cry out, arching your back as much as you’re able to, nearly pulling yourself forward out of the other Jungwon’s grip. “Come on my face, baby. Let go.”

Your mouth opens but no sound comes out but a silent cry. Every single muscle in your body is tensed up, like a metal coil getting wound up way past its breaking point—and your coming—squirting all over him—gushing down on his face as Jungwon growns and moans, nuzzling his nose in your clit. “That’s the girl, that’s my good fucking girl.” Jungwon coos proudly, his voice muffled as he drinks and laps every fucking drop.

Jungwon smiled against your wetness, his hot tongue twisting and circling over your pussy as he took a moment to catch a breath, moving his mouth from you to lick his lips. But jungwon? He doesn't stop, dips his head back into your pussy, your orgasm soaking his nose and chin, but he doesn't care.

Another lightning strike shoots right through you, as jungwon keeps fucking you through your orgasm with his tongue. Your cunt is fluttering around his mouth, still releasing your juices, as he slurps up all the liquid till half of his face is covered in your essence. His tongue moves with more intensity now, flicking over your clit in rapid, circular strokes before sliding down to your folds, his tongue pressing gently against your entrance, You shake your head, it was way too much.

“No—wonnie—too much.” Slap! Jungwon’s hand touched your heat in a smack again. “You take what i give you, you fucking bitch.” You let out a ringing wail, trying to scramble away and push back harder against him at the same time. You couldn't focus on anything, you only knew that you were dripping and burning and every inch of your nipples against the wooden board sent another jolt of heat straight to your throbbing clit.

"You taste so fucking good." Jungwon growled, You choked back a moan, still entirely too sensitive from your previous orgasm, Jungwon let out a string of curses as his teeth pulled on your cunt, “fuck fuck fuck, all mine—Can’t—so good—” Jungwon whimpers, actually whimpers. The overstimulation was finally starting to kick in and tears formed at the corners of your eyes as you cried out Jungwon’s name over and over, too dumb on his mouth on you to say anything else. When your words turned to silent screams and your pussy fluttered around Jungwon’s mouth, You look down at him, panting, trembling, his lips and chin are shiny with your orgasm and he brings his fingers to rub aggressively over your overstimulated clit.

He ran his finger through your folds a couple of times, thrusting against your clit and laughing at how your whole body jolted from the sensitivity. “Come for me, baby—” You flew forward with a startled yelp, coming so hard your whole body went numb. “Shit baby shit, so good, so beautiful. That’s it.” He praised, literally speaking while lapping up every drop. You’re full on sobbing now, but you can't hold back the way your hips twitch up and chase every filthy flick of his warm tongue.

“Yeah baby, grind on my face like a slut, ruin my mouth, doll—oh my—” Jungwon’s voice turns muffled when you sink yourself on his mouth all the way down to the point his nose and whole face is covered in you. He grips your ass, whimpering. “Fuck, y/n—Please—” jungwon whines while you ride your high again on his face, leaving him gasping for air and wanting for more because you’re both greedy and ruined.

Till the time you’re done, he’s fucked out. Breath uneven, eyes rolled back, tears at the corner of his eyes, mouth covered in your essence. He looks beautiful. You lift yourself slowly, legs shaking, your back arching as you lean down toward him. Your lips meet his in a slow kiss, and the faint taste of you lingering there makes heat rise through you all over again. Jungwon whimpers in your mouth—he’s ruined and so entirely yours.

You let your fingers wander over his chest, tracing idle patterns against warm skin before dragging them lower, over the firm lines of his abs. You stay seated on his stomach, legs hooked on either side of his thighs, keeping him exactly where you want him.

His hands come up quickly, gripping your hips like he’s about to take control again, fingers pressing into your skin. You catch his wrist mid-motion and slap his throbbing cock. Jungwon freezes for half a second — then a long, helpless whine leaves him, low and frustrated, his head falling back against the pillow. “Fuck,” he breathes, jaw tightening as he looks up at you. “What’s the hurry, baby?” You ask, a hard strike from your hand came in contact with his aching cock which bobbed at the impact, making him groan.

“Shit—please, doll.” Another slap to his member. A silent moan left his lips as jungwon started to grind his cock in your hand, the base of his erection rubbing on the bridge of your palms. Jungwon’s orgasm was approaching quickly. “Shit, baby—need to be inside you—doll.” You noticed the tell tale signs, with jungwon’s heavy breathing, his mouth hung open as he whimpered and whined, and how his cock twitched often.

“You wanna come inside me, hmm?” Your hands speed up your moments, he gasps, trying so hard to move away from your hands as you relentlessly stroked his cock, grabbing your wrist but having no strength to push you away entirely. "Fuck, doll—What are you doing to me?" You mock, "Making you work for it." He twitches at your touch, head rolling to his side.

“Tell me—wha—what I can do" you don't stop your strokes, "You can be a good boy and beg for me." He looks up with half-lidded eyes, “I want it. Need to be inside you so fucking bad. Need to feel how wet you are for me. Want to—shit want to see how you look when you come. And I swear to God, if you don't let me see those perfect fucking tits, I'm going to lose my mind." Your hairs were covering your breasts, you raise your eyebrows, “You didn’t say the magic word.”

Jungwon groans, “Fuck—i-i’m gonna cum, baby, please—” he rushed out to warn you. You smile wickedly, Something about him like this — under you, actually melting beneath your touch was turning you the fuck on in a way you hadn’t expected. He was usually the one in control. But right now? He looked wrecked, following every small movement of your hands.

The fact that you could make him lose it like this — make him whine, make him curse under his breath, make him grip the sheets instead of you sent heat straight to your cunt. You dragged your fingers lower on his tip just to see his reaction. The power shift was intoxicating. “Need to be in-inside—you, ffuckkk.” He chokes out a long whimper, “Say it like you mean it, wonnie.” You teased, hands wrapped tight around his dick to stop hin from coming. His voice cracks and he whimpers, eyes pleading.

“Need you—baby right now….need to make you come over and over again. Need you to ride me until I'm a fueking mess beneath you. Lemme feel how tight you are, how wet your cunt is—please” He chokes up, his cock clenching around your hands, milking him again with a loud, broken sob. “Let me taste you until you're shaking and screaming. Let me fuck you until I'm so deep inside you that we both forget who we are. Use me. Let me ruin you—or just ruin me. I don't fucking care. Just let me in."

“You can do more better, pretty boy.” Jungwon cries out, fucking cries out—a raw, guttural sound ripped straight from his chest, as his knot swells and locks him in place. “Please—please let me inside you please please—miss—please, i can’t ffuck—” You moan softly at his begging, his whines sending you to subspace. “Please please pleaseeee—wan-wanna cum inside you. Need you in me, d-doll please.” He sobs out between ragged breaths. “Fuck me, you’re gonna fuck me so well, doll—please—aren’t you?” Getting too impatient yourself, your tight pussy finally sinks down onto his cock in one powerful thrust.

Jungwon screams, stars shooting behind his eyes at the raw feeling of his dick inside your cunt. It was so good. You moan softly at the feeling of fullness, “Umm—wonnie—” You say, sitting up and arching your back to give him the view of a lifetime. Then slowly, you pull yourself up, he watches the way his dick spills out of your sweet cunt and you slam down in one thrust, your breasts flying up cus of the impact. “Shi—yes, Ride my dick baby.” He says with half parted lips, hands holding your hips while you start bouncing on his cock. Up. down. up. down.

Jungwon was so big and filled up your tight hole so well, your hands balanced themselves perfectly on his toned chest as you quicken your pace. Your mouth finds his chest, sucking and nibbling at his nipples, ripping the most pathetic whine you have ever heard out of him. His hips thrust upwards, looking for friction when you slow down. He looks up, eyes watering. You reached for his hand, resting it on the bulge on your stomach as you moved on him, the sight was driving him closer to his release, “Fuckk—look at those pretty tits bouncing for me—wanna breed you baby, pleaseee.” Jungwon lets out a low groan, nails digging into your hips so he can keep you there.

You roll your hips like a pro, thrusts get sloppier, moans louder, and when your mouth crashes into his, you slow down, shuddering and cursing as he throbs inside of you as Jungwon comes in thick spurts of cum inside you, his feet and legs shaky from his release. “Wonnie—!” You mouth opens in a whine as he holds your hips up and drags you down on him again and again and again until your seconds away from coming all over once, until your arousal was splattering over Jungwon’s stomach.

“Shit—yeah gonna breed this pussy—doll.” He moans as his lips latch on one of your nipples, sucks on it for god knows how long and lets go with a wet pop. You lifted your hips until you were halfway up his cock slowly, body shaking the entire way. Jungwon thrusted upwards so he was fully inside you again.

At the same time, he straightens abruptly, one arm wrapping behind your back as he turns you over in a single fluid shift, reversing your positions, flipping the balance of control effortlessly. He shoves your head down onto the mattress, yanks your ass up in air only to push your knees forward, bending you in half. Jungwon watch you from behind, fucking mesmerized.

“Such a tight little pussy this is, Y/n. All for me.” He pants near your ear, sliding back until the tip remains and plunged back in, Sweat beaded his skin, falling on your back. Your pussy clenched around him involuntarily, still pulsing from your release, He set a brutal pace. His hips pistoned forward relentlessly, the bed creaks under you both, along with banging of the headboard—thud, thud, thud. “Did you like me begging for you, hmm? You think you can get under my skin, huh?” You clutch the sheets, “hngh-oh my-God, please—Jungwon.”

The sound of skin slapping echoes the room, “Please what? want me to go harder? want me to breed this cunt? want me to fuck you so deep you feel me in your fucking throat?” He rasps, pounding into you as each thrust of his hips makes your body go up, up, and up. Jungwon leans down, his weight pressing you deeper into the mattress, as he reaches around to rub your clit.

“Going around meeting other guys, do you think i don’t know what game you’re playing?” You shake your head before you could form a coherent response his cock drags along your g-spot, making both of you moan out. You were in such euphoria that all of the pleasure almost hurt. Your hips bucked wildly on their own towards jungwon.

“It's my cock you come all over. Even when you wanna meet other guy’s. It's my name you fucking scream.” Every word makes you grip his hands behind tighter, the angle, the frustration, the control, he's destroying you. “And don’t let me find out who he was in the wrong way, doll. You won’t like what that’ll turn me into.” Jungwon growled. His hips never faltered, pistoning forward with that relentless force, thick shaft dragging along your inner walls.

Every withdrawal pulled a whine from you, your pussy clenching greedily around the retreating length, only to be slammed back full when he buried himself to the hilt. “Would fuck you anywhere in this house. Every room, even your brother’s…You’d probably enjoy that, wouldn’t you?” his arm wrapped tightly around your waist, “Answer me, doll.”

“Yes—Jung—wo-won, please…wanna c—cum, cum inside me, wanna be full.” Jungwon’s expression turns feral, God he loves you so much. “Yeah? can’t even talk properly, so cock hungry on my dick, you forgot how to speak huh? Fucking slut.” You nod, and when he hits your g-spot again, you both come at the same time, his seed spilling inside you, dripping down your thighs as he pulls back then says, “All mine.” before shoving his cum back inside you till he’s satisfied you’ve taken all of it.

Jungwon pulls out, the sudden loss of him making your body tip forward. Your arms give out as you drop onto the bed, sheets twisting beneath you while his grip slips from your skin. The mattress dips as he shifts back, leaving you sprawled there, breath uneven, warmth lingering where he’d just been.

Jungwon waits until your breathing steadies, the he gets up from the bed, He disappears briefly, returning with something warm and damp, kneeling beside you on the bed. His touch is careful as he cleans you up. He doesn’t say much, just a quiet “Hold on,” when you shift.

The contrast almost makes you laugh because minutes ago, he was rough, fucking you like a beast now he’s gentle. That’s why you love him.

No matter how he is with everyone else, how rough around the edges whether it’s the way he talks, or the way he takes over when he wants something — he’s never careless with you when it matters.

There’s a difference, with everyone else, he’s confident….almost intimidating you could say. But with you, in the normal moments — the in-between ones, he’s careful, he checks in. Jungwon has always payed attention to small things. He adjusts without you asking.

God. You love this man and he doesn’t even know it. Not yet.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯—

This went on for days. Then weeks and within a blink of an eye, a month had passed. A whole month of Jungwon.

A month of tangled sheets, late nights, rushed kisses against closed doors. A month of him fucking you like he’d memorized every inch of your body. A month of sex that didn’t just feel good in the moment, it stayed in the aftereffects, in the way you walked the next day.

Everything felt right but wrong in a way you couldn’t fucking explain. It was good, duh, obviously it was good. Yet something underneath it all felt off. Jungwon wasn’t distant exactly.

He still replied when you texted. Still showed up when you asked him to come over. Still met you halfway when you both decided to sneak out for late drives or stupid midnight convenience store runs but he never texted first anymore, not once.

At first, you told yourself you were overthinking it. Maybe he was busy, maybe smth was stressing him out or maybe he just wasn’t the texting type. But a week passed, then another. No random “what are you doing?” No teasing messages. No late-night “come over.”

Almost like a ghost and that’s when it started crawling under your skin. Did he get bored already? No. That couldn’t be it.

You refused to let your brain settle on that explanation cus hey….you knew what you had. You felt it every time he touched you, every time he pulled you close and muttered “good girl” against your ear, everytime he whispered that you were his, that you belonged to him. People don’t say shit like that and just… get bored. Right?

You still felt him sometimes, phantom touches, his hands on your waist, the weight of him behind you. The feel of his length hitting every spot inside you that curled your toes, the sound of his voice low in your ear.

Fucking bastard, all those promises said in the dark, just to pull back like this? No. He didn’t disappear. He’s just busy. You repeated it so often it started sounding believable. Your brother, on the other hand, wasn’t buying any of it.

Heeseung had been watching you sensed it when he looked between the two of you more now, or the way he’d go quiet mid-conversation if the two of you stood too close.

Fuck he even confronted yoy about it one evening when you were sprawled across the couch scrolling while your mom moved around the kitchen, the smell of dinner filling the house. Heeseung dropped down on the armrest beside you, crossing his arms.

“So,” he started casually. You didn’t look up. “So what?” You said, “What’s going on between you and Jungwon?” Your head snapped up so fast you nearly choked on air. “Wh—what? Nothing’s going on.” He stared at you, unimpressed. “Yeah,” he scoffed. “Sure. And I’m a ballerina.”

“You’re actually insane.” You rolled your eyes, trying to look offended instead of exposed. “Am I?” he shot back. “Because you two look at each other like you’re hiding a body somewhere.”

Your stomach dropped. God please don’t catch on. “That’s dramatic,” you muttered. He leaned closer, lowering his voice just enough so your mom wouldn’t hear. “If he’s fucking around with you, I swear to God—”

“Relax,” you cut him off quickly, heart pounding for a completely different reason now. “Nothing’s happening.” He studied your face, “Don’t forget that you grew up infront of me, y/n. We both know you can’t lie for shit.” He said flatly making you force a laugh. “You’re paranoid.”

But when he finally stood up and walked away, the room didn’t feel normal anymore. Because if Heeseung was noticing? Then something had definitely changed. And you had no fucking clue whether Jungwon was pulling away… or preparing to walk…away??

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯—

On the other side of this mess, Jungwon wasn’t handling it any better. If anything, he was spiraling. The silence he forced on himself felt like withdrawal. His mind wouldn’t shut the fuck up. Every quiet second was filled with you — the absence of your touch, the absence of your laugh, the absence of the way you’d look at him like he was something worth choosing.

He hadn’t realized how used to you he’d gotten. Used to you sitting too close, used to your hands on him, used to your voice softening whenever you moaned his name, used to the way your eyes would blink up at him — beautiful in a way that made his chest tighten.

He was starving, starving to see you, starving to hear your voice, starving in ways that had nothing to do with sex — though God knew he missed that too, missing being inside you, missed the way you’d fall apart under him, the way you’d cling to him like he was the only solid thing in the room but it wasn’t just physical.

It was you and that was the fucking problem. He knew the second he crossed that line with you — really crossed it — that there was no heaven waiting for him, not after the things he thought about when it came to you, not after the way he wanted to keep you, posses you, mark you as his in ways that went far beyond logic.

If he was going to hell, fine, as long as you ruled beside him. That was the sick part. But this feeling growing in his chest now? It wasn’t just lust or anything nor was it ego. It was something heavier.

He realized it when Jay said it out loud. “Bro, I think you should stop meeting y/n.” The words hit harder than expected. Jungwon had told Jay everything, not the details but enough. Enough to admit he liked you, that it wasn’t just messing around. That it had gone too far. Jay didn’t judge him. If anything, he looked almost serious.

“You need to tell her,” Jay had said. “Before it turns into something ugly. If you love her, say it.” Love damn the word stuck…and then Heeseung made it worse cause Heeseung didn’t yell or threaten. That would’ve been easier. He just looked at him.

“Stay away from my sister.” How the fuck was he supposed to ignore that? Heeseung wasn’t just your brother, He was his hyung, his friend, the person who had trusted him enough to bring him into his house, into his family.

“Y/n is too good for you,” Heeseung said quietly. “Too innocent for this world. You know she’s different than us.” Jungwon’s jaw clenched so tight it hurt. “Yes, hyung.”

He saw it then — the way hope drained from his own reflection in Heeseung’s eyes, the way something darker replaced it. Heeseung sighed, running a hand through his hair. “As much as I hate admitting it… she’s never been as happy as she is with you. Do you get what that means?”

He did. He understood the second you told him you trusted him with everything, the second you fell asleep against him without hesitation, the second you looked at him like he wasn’t dangerous.

“Jungwon,” Heeseung continued, softer now. “I’m not trying to tear you apart. But she’s too real for this world. Too sensitive.”

Jungwon nodded. He knew. That was exactly why he was stepping back. Because you weren’t built for half-love. You weren’t built for secrecy and control and the darkness that followed him around like a shadow. You were made to be loved—and he did, honestly. But jungwon was dangerous.

He was selfish, Obsessive, possessive in ways that scared even him. He closed his eyes and there you were again. Always there, in every fucking thought, in every quiet moment, in every decision he tried to make without you.

How was he supposed to stop? How do you stop loving someone after four years of watching them grow? After memorizing their habits? After noticing the way they frown when they’re concentrating or the way they laugh when they’re actually happy?

There was no going back from a girl like you.

Jungwon was dangerous. He knew that. He carried darkness comfortably throughout his entire life that he could live with it.

You, on the other hand, felt like smth untouched. Not weak, but genuine. Soft in the ways that mattered, honest in ways he had forgotten how to be.

Two worlds that were never meant to collide. And yet you did like fate didn’t give a damn. You walked into his life and ruined him without even trying.

Now he was stuck between two choices: Let you go and feel like he was tearing his own skin off. Or keep you and risk destroying something pure with his own hands. The worst part? He didn’t know which option was more selfish cause no matter how much he tried to convince himself he was protecting you… Every night, he still reached for his phone, still typed your name only to erase it before hitting send.

And tonight, Jungwon was going to confront you. He was going to stand in front of you and finally say every fucked-up, buried, aching thing he’d been swallowing for years. He was going to tell you how you ruined him in the best and worst ways, how loving you felt like setting himself on fire just to keep you warm and then he was going to walk away from your life… probably.

Probably. Because even as he rehearsed the goodbye in his head, he knew he was a liar.

Walking away didn’t mean disappearing. It didn’t mean not knowing where you were, who you were with, whether you were smiling or crying. He’d still keep track of you, quietly, from a distance. Making sure you were safe, making sure no one ever hurt you. He’d never stop watching over you — even if he had to do it in silence.

He told himself it was for your own good. That you deserved something softer. Someone who wouldn’t drag you into the dark with him.

But God, the thought of you moving on — of you laughing with someone else, letting someone else hold you made something feral twist inside his chest.

Tonight he’d confess, tonight he’d break both your hearts. And tomorrow… he’d pretend he could survive it.

It had been raining since evening.

The news had predicted it in the morning, so you stayed in all day, curled up in your room while the sky turned darker by the hour. By midnight the rain hadn’t slowed. It poured even more, tapping against your windows, sliding down the glass in restless streams. The whole house smelled like wet soil drifting in through the cracks — your favorite smell in the world. Earthy.

Heeseung was out, probably yelling at his screen while playing his shitty Valorant with his friends. It was almost 12:30. You yawned, rubbing your eyes, staring out at the streetlights blurring under the rain. For a second, you wondered what Jungwon was doing.

And then the doorbell rang making you frown, “Who the hell…?” You didn’t think much of it. Probably Heeseung, forgetting his keys like always. You walked downstairs slowly, the house dim and quiet. You unlocked the door and pulled it open.

You blinked. Once. Twice. Thrice. Your mouth fell open, there he was—Jungwon stood there.

Soaked, his hair plastered to his forehead, his shirt clinging to his skin. Rain dripping from his jaw. His chest rising slowly, heavily but it was his eyes that made your stomach tighten. Dark under the rain.

“Jungwon—” Before you could finish, his hand wrapped around your wrist and he pulled you outside. The door shut behind you with a sharp click. The rain swallowed the world.

You stood there, breath caught, as his hands slid to your waist. Like if he loosened his grip for even a second, you’d disappear. Rain soaked through your clothes instantly. You didn’t move, didn’t protest. You missed him, you missed him so goddamn much.

His fingers traced up your arms slowly,sending shivers down your spine. Even through the cold rain, his touch burned. Jungwon pressed his forehead to yours, his breath ghosting your lips.

He inhaled deeply, like he could still smell you through the storm. “Tried…” he muttered. You swallowed, gripping his wrists. “Jungwon, we need to get inside—” His hand tightened around your wrist just enough to make you hiss. “Tried so fucking hard to stay away from you.”

The rain fell harder, as if the sky wanted to drown the moment. You both stood there like a tragic love story with no ending written. His heart pounded so loud you could feel it through his chest. He looked at you like he was memorizing you — like this was the last time.

“Then why are you avoiding me?!” you demanded, voice shaking. He let out a breath that almost sounded like a laugh, bitter, broken. “Because I can’t have you,” he said. “I’m forcing myself to keep away. Starving myself of you because I’m not good enough. Even though all I want— all I need— is for you to run into my arms… I have to keep my distance.”

Your chest cracked open, you looked at him in his eyes, the ones you found beautiful and fell in love with shimmered with tears before they hardened—and your hope died.

“You’re selfish.” The word hit you harder than the rain. “What?” you whispered, where did this even come from? “You’re selfish,” he repeated, eyes burning. “Because you look at me like I’m something worth saving and you keep choosing me when you deserve better and how you’d follow me straight to hell if I asked you to. That’s selfish. You don’t get to throw your life away on someone like me.”

What the fuck was he saying? After weeks of no contact, this was the first shit that came out of his mouth? That was his grand return? Not an apology, or an explanation, not even a simple “I missed you.” Just this cryptic, self-sacrificing bullshit that didn’t even make sense.

You stare at him like he’d lost his damn mind. He disappears, leaves you checking your phone like an idiot, leaves you replaying every touch, every word, every “you’re mine” he whispered against your skin and now he stands in front of you acting like he’s some tragic hero trying to save you from himself? Save you from what? From loving him? From choosing him?

You felt your chest tighten, anger mixing with hurt until you couldn’t tell which one was stronger.

“Me? Selfish?” you shouted, tears mixing with rain. “I choose you. I always choose you. I’m still choosing YOU! I gave up everything for you — because of you! and you’re calling me selfish?!”

“I didn’t tell you to,” Jungwon snapped. Silence crashed down between you….His words made you laugh— a broken, disbelieving sound. if he was going to walk away, fine. At least have the guts to say it straight. Don’t act like you’re doing this for me when you’re the one who pulled me into this mess in the first place.

After everything — after the way he held you like you were the only thing keeping him sane, this was what you got?

Jungwon stood in front of you, still holding your hands in his. His heart pounded so violently it felt like a drum echoing through the storm, and for a second he swore he could hear yours too — matching it, beat for beat. Maybe you were the same rhythm, maybe you were the same damn heart split into two bodies, forced to stand on opposite sides of a line neither of you drew.

Well at least he knew you were the beat to his heart. You were in his blood, beating in his fucking chest like you owned it. The only way you’d ever leave was when that heart stopped. You were his gravity, his entire fucking planet, the force that kept him from drifting into the dark. Without you, he wasn’t just lost — he was nothing.

His thumb pressed into the curve of your hip, His wet hair clung to his forehead, messy, making his eyes look even more unreadable. But his touch betrayed him. His hand on your waist trembled — barely.

Rain streamed down his face, but he didn’t blink. Didn’t flinch. His hands trembled where they slid from your fingers to your waist, gripping you.

You could feel the heat of him even through the cold. Water ran down your face, over your lips, down your neck, but he didn’t look away, didn’t blink. He simply stared at you, stared your lips, your eyes, took in every detail of yours like this is the last time he’d be meeting you.

His grip on your waist tightened, pulling you flush against him until there was no space left. Until you felt him on your inner thigh, you gasp but swallowed when both of your lips grazed eachother—electric. A whisper of a touch that sent heat rushing through you both. His hand on your waist tightened instinctively. Your noses nudged again as you adjusted, forehead touching.

Then his lips pressed to yours properly, moving against yours slower, this wasn’t rushed like you both do when you’re having sex. It had a deeper meaning, his tongue nibbled at your bottom lip making you whimper, memorizing the shape of your mouth.

Your noses brushed again, rainwater slipping between your cheeks, but neither of you pulled away. His thumb traced against your side while his other hand kept yours locked with his, fingers tightening whenever you moaned into his mouth. When you parted your lips slightly, he exhaled into you, shaky, breath before kissing you deeper.

When he finally pulled back, a string of saliva connecting you both. His forehead rested against yours, lips still brushing yours as his chest rose up and down.

“This is a sin,” he whispered, voice barely audible over the storm.

“Then drop to your knees and worship me,” you shot back automatically, aching desperation cause you would follow Jungwon anywhere. To the edge of the world, to the fiery gates of hell. You’d burn beside him if he just reached for your hand and asked.

Your breathing faltered when jungwon let loose of your waist, your heart sinking down as you realised what this meant. You bit your lips, finally shooting out the words you thought you’d never say to him.

“Jungwon… go home,” you said softly. “As you said, this is over. Go home. We’re done.” Your vision blurred, you wanted to cry, Though not like this, not with him standing infront of you, staring. But you couldn’t, as you’d never really been able to hide who you truly were from Jungwon.

His eyebrows pulled together like you’d stabbed him. “Home?” he repeated.

“You’re my home.”

Two people standing in the rain, hearts beating the same rhythm, pretending they could survive apart.

Another week passed. No Jungwon. No texts. No No “are you okay?” Nothing, lol, silly you. What’d you even expect?

At first you told yourself you wouldn’t cry over him again, how can you not? That man was your everything. You cried in the shower so no one would hear, you cried into your pillow at 2 a.m, you cried quietly while staring at your phone, hating yourself for still hoping it would light up with his name.

By the end of the week, the tears weren’t dramatic anymore, they became exhausting. Your lungs felt heavy. You weren’t heartbroken in a loud way , you were hollowed out. A walking, blinking fucking zombie.

Heeseung noticed, of course he did. He always notices Your mom tried cooking your favorite food. Your dad awkwardly suggested a movie night, Heeseung even brought his friends over, hoping the noise and chaos would pull you out of your head for a bit. Laughter filled the living room, loud teasing — all of it deliberately exaggerated just to get a reaction out of you.

And he was there too. The second you heard Jungwon’s voice in the room,smth inside you snapped.

“Y/n! Come on, why is our princess so sad? What for?” Sunoo called sweetly from the couch, trying to make you smile. You stepped into the hallway just in time to see Jungwon walk through the door behind the others, hands in his pockets, like he hadn’t ripped your heart out and left it bleeding for seven fucking days.

Your vision blurred, this fucking bastard. You hated the way he still made your heart race. So, you stood up so abruptly your chair scraped harshly against the floor. No one even had time to react before you were walking away up the stairs, into your room, slamming the door shut hard enough to shake the walls.

A minute later there was a knock. “Y/n,” with Heeseung’s voice following it. “Why are you like this? Talk to me.”

You yanked the door open, eyes red, chest heaving. “Not like you’d fucking understand, Heeseung. Get the fuck out of my room.”

The words came out sharper than you intended venomous, even but you were drowning and he was the closest thing to blame. You saw it immediately. The way your brother’s expression cracked.

Heeseung had never hurt you, never let anyone hurt you. He’d always been your shield. But this time… he knew. He knew what he’d said to Jungwon, knew the conversation that had happened behind his back and watching you fall apart because of it was eating him alive.

“Y/n, if this is about—” he started, You grabbed the nearest cushion and threw it at him. “Get. The. Fuck. Out.” Your voice broke on the last word.

For a second, he just stood there. Guilt pressing into his lungs, wishing he could rewind time and take back the warning, take back the brotherly protectiveness that might’ve cost you your happiness.

He swallowed, nodded once, and stepped out, heading downstairs, the atmosphere shifted the second he returned . His friends looked at him expectantly.

“What’d she say?” Sunghoon asked. Heeseung let out a humorless breath. “Told me to get the fuck out.” Ni-ki clicked his tongue. “Oh. Damn.”

There was an uncomfortable silence before Jake leaned forward, rubbing the back of his neck. “Hyung… there’s a party the day after tomorrow. You know, at Minjae’s place? Bring her. Maybe she just needs a distraction. A change of scene.”

Heeseung hesitated, he didn’t want to push you. But he also couldn’t stand watching you fade like this. “…Yeah,” he finally muttered, nodding slowly. “Maybe.”

Upstairs, you sat on the floor with your back against the door, listening to the muffled sounds of laughter below and hating yourself because even now, even after everything, the only thing you wanted was to hear Jungwon come upstairs and knock.

The day of the party rolled in faster. You had said no to your brother. But Heeseung had the persistence of a mosquito.

“Please,” he had groaned for the tenth time, leaning against your door. “You’ve been rotting in here for a week. Just come. If you hate it, we’ll leave.”

“I do hate it,” you muttered from your bed.

“Y/n.”

“What.”

“Don’t make me beg.”

“You’re already begging.” Eventually, purely out of annoyance and not because you wanted to go, you agreed just so he’d shut up.

You texted Eunchae. Now she was in your room like a stylist, aggressively flipping through your closet. “Nope. Too sad. Too ‘I still cry at night.’ Absolutely not.”

“Eunchae—” You voice cuts in, “Nuh uh,” she cut you off, gasping as she yanked out a dress. “We need something hot. Like revenge-hot. Make-him-regret-everything hot.” She held it up like it was a sacred artifact, the dress was Black, tight, Halter neck, backless, high slit on the side.

You’re insane.” You said while staring at the dress, she narrowed her eyes. “Exactly.” Ten minutes later, you were in it. The fabric hugged every curve. The slit showed just enough leg. Your heels clicked sharply against the floor as you stepped out. Eunchae froze mid-sentence. “…Oh.” You raised an eyebrow. “What?”

She placed a hand over her heart. “If I wasn’t straight, this would be my villain origin story.” You snorted and then you laughed which startled even you. Eunchae exhaled dramatically, shoulders sagging in relief. “There she is. That’s my best friend. You look so pretty when you smile, you idiot.” You rolled your eyes but your chest felt lighter than it had all week. When you walked downstairs, Heeseung looked up from his phone — and visibly melted. “That’s it,” he muttered, shaking his head. “You should smile more.”

“Shut up,” you said, but you were smiling. He patted Eunchae’s shoulder. “Take care of my sister.” Eunchae flashed him her middle finger. “I always do.”

The party was loud, Music vibrating through your ribs. Heeseung’s friends immediately hyped you up. “Okay, who is she?” Jay said as he saw you walking towards their gang. “Y/n?? Since when do you look like that?” Jake clutch his heart, “You trying to kill someone tonight?” Sunghoon said while passing you a drink. You laughed, brushed it off, accepted the drink. For a while, you forgot.

Until your eyes did what they’d been trained to do, you look for him across the room, then you found him.

Jungwon. Across the room. With a girl. She was laughing at something he said, her hand resting lightly on his arm. Your stomach dropped so fast it felt like freefall. Wow. It’s been a week and he already replaced you?

You scoffed, grabbed the nearest drink, and downed half of it. Eunchae followed your line of sight. “…Oh wow. What a fucking asshole.”

“I don’t care,” you said flatly, rolling your tongue. She looked at you. “Yeah, sureeee.”

“I literally don’t.” You finished your cup. “He can do whatever he wants.” Eunchae nods, “Mmhm.”

“He’s irrelevant.”

“Right.”

“He’s looking at you, by the way.” Your hand paused mid-reach for another drink. “What?” You questioned, Eunchae smirked before replying. “Glanced at you like five times already.” You didn’t turn but as soon as she said it, you felt his stare burning into your back.

The alcohol started to warm your veins. Each gulp grew easier, the noise of the party soon blurring at the edges, bass vibrating through your heels, through your bones. Your fingers tightened around the plastic cup as condensation dripped down onto your knuckles.

Fine. If he could move on in a week, so could you. You let a guy pull you into the crowd. He was decent-looking, smelled like cologne and bad decisions. You danced with him, swaying yours with his. He moved behind you, hands resting on your waist. At first, it was fine. Then his hands slid lower to your hips till they settled behind and squeezed your ass. You stiffened. “Hey— don’t.”He leaned closer, breath hot near your ear. “Relax. I know you’re enjoying this.”

“I said don’t.” You tried to move forward, but his grip tightened. From the corner of your eye, you saw Jungwon, but he was alone, the girl was gone. He was leaned back against the wall, cigarette rested between his fingers, the tip glowing orange every time he inhaled. Smoke curled slowly from his lips, dissolving into the air. His gaze never left you.

Not once. He dragged in another slow inhale, cheeks hollowing lightly, eyes dark. The smoke left his mouth in a steady stream as he tilted his head, watching you dance with another man.

The guy’s hand squeezed your ass again, you shoved harder. “Let go.” You glared, “Don’t act shy now—” Suddenly his body jerked backward.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing, you fucking dickface?” Jungwon’s voice cut through the music like a blade. The guy stumbled, regaining his balance. “Bro, chill. She was dancing with me.” He clarified. “Touch her again,” Jungwon said low, terrifyingly calm, “and I’ll break your fucking hands.”

“Who even are you?” the guy snapped, trying to shove him, wrong move. Jungwon shoved him back harder. “The one telling you to keep your filthy hands off her.” Then the other guy swings his arm first, big mistake lol. They crashed into a table. Their body falling down with a loud thud as music faltered. Jungwon moved — fist connecting with the guy’s jaw.

The guy staggered, cursing, swinging once more but Jungwon ducked, drove his shoulder into him, forcing him against the wall. His cigarette dropped from his fingers but he caught it again between two knuckles, still lit. The guy cursed. “She was dancing with me!”

“And she told you to stop,” Jungwon growled. Then in a horrifying second, Jungwon pressed the burning tip of his cigarette to the guy’s cheek.

“She’s mine,” he muttered, voice dark. “Get your filthy fucking hands off her.” He pulled the cigarette away and punched him again, this time harder. The guy collapsed to the floor, clutching his face. People were shouting now…Someone tried to grab Jungwon’s shoulder but he shrugged them off. He stood over the guy, chest rising slowly, knuckles smeared red, smoke still curling from the cigarette between his fingers.

“Stop it, will you?” Your voice wasn’t dramatic, not yelling the way girls did in movies. Jungwon’s eyes lifted and locked on you. Your eyes were blank almost emotionless.

Heeseung pushed through the crowd. “What happened?” Then he saw Jungwon’s knuckles. Blood smeared across them. “…Okay, what the fuck?” Heeseung breathed. Eunchae appeared beside you. “Oh my god.”

“I’ll take her home,” Jungwon said, not taking his eyes off you. You frowned. “The fuck?”

“I’m not going home,” you snapped. “Who said I want to go home? Especially not with you.”

“She’s tired,” Jungwon cut in smoothly. “I’m taking her.” He looked at Heeseung. There was smth in his expression which was probably why heeseung said yes. “O-okay,” Heeseung muttered. “Yeah. Take her home.” Your head whipped toward him. “The fuck? I’m not going home!”

Jungwon looked at you and glared as his voice dropped lower. “You’re not staying here.” Who is he to decide that? “And you don’t get to decide that.” His jaw tightened. “He touched you.”

“So? I handled it.”

“No, you didn’t.” Your eyes flashed the second Jungwon’s fingers wrapped around your wrist. His grip was tight— firm enough to make you wince as he pulled you forward without asking, The warmth from the fight was still radiating off him, knuckles raw, jaw clenched so hard a muscle ticked beneath his skin. “Jungwon—” you tried, digging your heels slightly into the floor.

This asshole didn’t stop, dragged you through the crowd, bodies parting instinctively at the look on his face. Music thumped, people whispered, but none of it mattered. His hand stayed locked around your wrist. You tried to twist free once. It was useless and soon gave up as you were no match for jungwon. Not when adrenaline was still pumping through his veins.

His grip tightened again when you resisted, warning you. Behind you, Heeseung blinked slowly, rubbing a hand down his face as he watched you both push toward the exit. “…Here goes nothing,” he muttered under his breath, already bracing himself for whatever might happen.

“Arghh, let me go! Jungwon—” you hissed, trying to dig your heels into the pavement as he dragged you across the parking lot. The cold night air hit your flushed skin, His grip never loosened. If anything, it tightened every time you resisted.

His car was parked all the way at the end of the lot, away from the lights and all people. When you reached the passenger side, he finally stopped only to push you lightly towards the door, angling his head at it. “Get in the car.” You stared at him in disbelief, chest heaving. “The fuck did you just say?” His jaw flexed. “Get. In.”

You scoffed, almost laughing. “Are you insane? You’re the one who told me to stay away from you. You disappear for a week. A whole fucking week. And now you think you can just— what? Drag me out here and order me around?”

You could feel the rain from that night still lingering in the air, the asphalt smelling faintly wet. “A full week of crying over you,” you continued, voice cracking despite yourself. “A full week of feeling like I wasn’t enough and….and now you want me to listen to you? Just because you snap your fingers?”

Your heart was racing, not just from anger but eve from him, from the way his voice had dropped inside ur head when he said she’s mine. The words echoed in your head whether you liked it or not. She’s mine. It hurt.

Because he didn’t act like you were his when he walked away, instead he decide to be a coward, didn’t act like you mattered when he ignored you. Didn’t act like you were “his” when you were alone in your room crying into your pillow. And yet— The way he looked at you. The way he couldn’t take his eyes off you in that dress. Your chest tightened painfully.

“I’m not something you can pick up when it suits you,” you said more quietly now. “You don’t get to disappear and then show up acting possessive.” He stepped closer. His hands braced against the car door on either side of you, caging you in. "You don't own me," you said staring into his eyes. He lowered his voice, almost reverently. "No... but you own every part of me." His breathing was still uneven from the fight, knuckles scraped and smeared faintly with blood.

“You think I wanted to stay away?” he asked, voice low. “Then why did you?” You said, looking up and saw the way his eyes looked at you as if you were everything. “That’s exactly why you’re getting in the car.”

And for a second — you hated how your heart betrayed you by racing harder at the thought of being alone with him. “No. I’m not getting in the car—” Your voice came out steady at first, but it broke at the end from Jungwon’s fingers closed around your throat, pulling you closer to him by your neck, thumb resting just beneath your jaw as his grip tilted your face up toward him.

“Get inside or i’m fucking you out here in the parking lot.” Your breath hitched and your insides throbbed at his words. How dare he? how dare he say that—You moaned when jungwon pressed his knee to your pulsating center, already soaked. He kept the pressure of his knee, rubbing it until you were gasping near his ear. "If I want to, I could fuck you right now, and you'd walk into your house with my cum dripping down your leg and a goddamn smile on your perfect little face. You got me?"

His lips crashed into yours, rough and desperate, his mouth moving against yours. His hand slid up to the side of your face, fingers tight in your hair as he pulled you closer.

“Fuck…” he breathed against your mouth, barely pulling away before kissing you again. “Tried so hard— tried so fucking hard to stay away from you.” The words came out broken between kisses, His forehead knocked against yours for a second, breath warm against your lips, eyes completely wrecked. “But I couldn’t,” he muttered, voice rough. “Could never stay away from you.”

You barely had time to breathe before he kissed you again, tongue slipping inside your mouth as he claimed you for the hundredth time, biting down on your lower lip, drawing a small sound out of you. His grip on you tightened instantly.

“I love you, y/n,” he said suddenly, the confession spilling out of him like it had been trapped there for years. “I can’t fucking pretend anymore… can’t stand there and watch anyone else touch you.” Your chest felt tight, too full, like your heart had nowhere to go with all the relief and disbelief crashing through you at once.

Jungwon let out a shaky breath and pressed his forehead to yours again, hands still holding you. “I should’ve said it a long time ago,” he murmured. “But I’m saying it now and I’m not taking it back.” His thumb brushed along your jaw before he leaned in again, “I love you, doll… baby, fuck,” he said softly against your lips. “The rest of the world can go to hell.”

Jungwon leaned down, pressing his mouth against your neck, leaving a trail of wet, messy kisses along your skin. His lips dragged slowly over the spot beneath your ear before he sucked at it, breath warm and uneven against you. “Shit—” he muttered under his breath, voice rough, almost impatient. “Say something, baby…” he whined—actually whined in ur neck, pressing another kiss there. “Say it back.”

"Do you love me, baby?” he asked.

"You...you love me?" You asked, still unsure."You doubt this?" He put your hand over his heart dramatically. "I have loved you since the moment I first saw you. You looked at me and you smiled." He grins. “But it was a smile that promised you would gut me if I crossed you. That was when I knew my heart was no longer mine."

The never-ending ache of love and sorrow, “So do you love me baby? cus i do. if I could buy you the stars, I would. If I could pull the moon down for you, l wouldn't hesitate. If I could give you a million suns, I would do it in a heartbeat." He smiles sheepishly at you. "But I can't do any of that….yet, so I'm asking if I could give you my heart instead."

Perhaps in some other life you could have refused, could have torn your hair and screamed, and made him face his choice alone. But not in this one. Jungwon would go and walk in the fire and you’d follow, even into death. "Yes," you whispered. "Yes….yes, god. Yes, i love you, you jerk." Relief broke in his face, and he reached to kiss you.

You smiled at him when he pulled back and watching you smile made his heart feel oddly warm and... glowy. Like he could stand here and soak up your happiness forever.

That sounded a little bit like heaven.

“You’re my heaven and i’m your hell.” your lips curved in a quiet laugh, the sound melting his heart in such a way he thought he’d fucking drown. "You're impossible." He nods, "Impossible not to want you.” Jungwon says as he holds your waist and kisses down your collar bone. You whimper when you feel his teeth bit down on the area above your chest, “Jungwon—we should go—” your whisper turned into a soft moan when he licks up the bite mark, “Go here?” He kisses your shoulders, glancing up at your reaction. “Or here?” then slides his hands down and touches you exactly where you needed him to.

“Hmm—” You shake your head. This was crazy, you weren’t about to have sex in public place, nah that’d be—“Look at you, already shaking at my touch.” He says, rubbing fingers in circulation motion at your dripping pussy,

“Won—oh my—we need to go—we can’t do it here.” You say between ragged breaths, jungwon chuckles, "What do you want me to do baby? You wear that little dress that shows off your legs, making me fucking crazy and jealous and then you look at me like you want me to fuck your pretty little cunt. Like you want me to fill you up. That would be crazy, though, because then you'd be sitting through the whole ride with me dripping out of you."

He leans over to kiss you, harder this time. “You taste like cigarettes.” You pant, he looks into your eyes, “I’ll quit.” He says like its smth easy to do, keeping his body hovering above yours till you feel his clothed hard-on rub you. You moan into each other’s mouth.

“You danced with another man just to make me fuck you like this, didn’t you? you dirty girl.” He hummed, “Been a bad girl, haven’t you? making me jealous….bad girls get punished and there’s nothing more than i love punishing.” his hands find your hips, lifting you up so fast you half scream. Before you could even protest, he had you lifted—Your back met the hood of his car a second later, the metal shockingly cold against your skin, stealing the air from your lungs as you dropped flat against it. The night air only made it worse, the chill of the steel pressing through the thin fabric while the warmth of his body hovered over you.

Your hands instinctively grabbed onto him as your legs came up around his waist. Thank god no one was around. The parking lot was almost completely dark, the few distant streetlights barely reaching this far, leaving the two of you tucked away in shadows.

"Jungwon—” Your voice was half-breathless surprise, hands flying to his shoulders for balance. He didn’t reply, just slipped his hands under your dress, cursing at how wet you were for him. You gripped onto him for dear life. His hands were now pressing against you in deliberate pressure which only made you grow wetter second by second. “Hmm—please.” You pleaded, hips bucking into his hands for more friction.

Jungwon cursed, “fuck, look at you. Bent over the hood of my car and dripping for me. This looks like my teenage dream.” In a second, jungwon lifted up your dress, pulled your panties down to your ankles, revealing the perfect pink flesh to his eyes as a groan followed. His fingers work to spread your pussy lips open, and out of nowhere, he pushes a finger inside your dripping cunt. You moaned at the sudden stretch, you close your eyes so hard it hurt. The way his fingers slipped so easily inside cause of how wet you were, you bet it's dripping by ur thighs by now.

Your back arches off the hood and Jungwon pins you down in place, you can't do anything but take it. "Keep those legs apart for me." he whispers, curling his fingers just right, each one of them hitting the spot that makes you cry out. “Do you like this? Being spread open and finger fucked where anyone could see you?” No one would, and if they did, jungwon would kill them first before they even walk away after seeing you like this, you were only his.

You clench tightly around his fingers and he grunts, "Jesus, fuck, baby. You know how to make a man lose his mind." He blows out a sharp exhale against your swollen lips. You fist his hair tighter. "Not just any man. You." You whimper out, “Not just any man," he repeats with a blinding possessiveness. "Me. Only fucking me.” You nod, and roll your eyes back when his fingers are pumping in and out of you at a torturous pace.

"Say you're mine," he orders and it's such a low blow when he's trapped in the cloud of lust. “Yours.” You choke out in a heartbeat, his thumb pressed on your clit, and another finger slipped inside. The extra pressure sent you over the cliff. Your vision blurred, while you caught your breath and he didn't pull his hand away until he wrung the last pulse from you. Both of his fingers start to work inside your mesh walls, finding your g- spot so quickly.

“You like that, don't you? You're sweet, and light, and good." He breathes into your ear. Before you can say anything, he leans down and spits right onto your cunt, then slides it in between your folds with his fingers and slams them in—making everything thicker and dirty as you whine you loudly. “But you like the darkness. You need it, crave it. And I'm going to give it to you."

You gripped at his hair, unable to do anything but rock your hips against his hand to stroke the fire. "Are you gonna come for me, doll?" His skilled fingers lift you higher, the orgasm curling low in your stomach. You barely nod, Jungwon smiles.

You tightened your arms around his neck and pressed a soft kiss to his jaw that made his heart twist in the strangest way.

Then again, nothing about his life had been normal since you came into it.

His lips press deep kisses on your neck, sucking and biting as his fingers don’t slow down their pace. “Soak my fingers like a good girl, doll.” He says, "Jungwon--fuckk-" You whine out his name, You finally let go, screaming his name out like it's the only thing you ever know, soaking his hands completely. Your legs are shaking so violently over his waist that you're glad he's holding you still.

And suddenly his mouth is on you—tongue flat, licking and sucking a stripe you as jungwon drapes your legs over his shoulders. He gasps as your liquid falls down on his face, and he holds you by the hips and pulls you down onto his face more. “Fuckfuckfucck—missed this pussy so much.” Lapping and gulping down all he can manage to. Moving his tongue up and down, tasting the mess you've made, and when his teeth tugs on your sensitive bud with his mouth—you try to get off, "No—” You shake, and try to get off. “Wonnie—baby, you’re—fuck, you’re making me feel so good.” You mange to say it out loud.

God, this woman. He thought, You had no idea the things he would do for you.

He sucked hard on your clit, your breathing grew choppier. His hands gripped your hips tighter, holding you in place as he feasted on you. He was lost in it, completely pussy-drunk. “So sweet—hmm—mine, this cunt is only mine to fuck.” He pulled away to breathe before eating you out again.

His lips sealing around your clit as he sucked hard then releasing with a wet pop only to lap your juices coating his tongue, tasting every inch, every drop of slick on his tongue. His lips moved against you, his tongue inside you—fucking you with it in slow, deep thrusts and pulling back to circle your clit, hollowing his cheeks around your flesh, flicking up and down and the sharp graze of his teeth scraped the bundle of nerves. The sensation echoed in the healed bite mark on your neck. It was too much. you screamed as you shattered into his mouth—only for him to gulp down every single drop of your come.

“Shit—you always taste so fucking good.”

Again, you barely made it through his door before Jungwon grabbed you, hauling you up over his shoulder, the room spun for a second as he carried you across it. A moment later he dropped you back onto the bed.

The sheets rustled beneath you while he loomed over the edge of the bed, the air in the room suddenly feeling tighter.

Impatiently, you rushed to pull your dress over your head, fingers fumbling in your hurry. Jungwon stopped you before you could get it off completely, his hand closing around your waist, he was already naked, his shirt and pants and boxers pooled at the floor. Your mouth watered when your gaze flicked down to his cock—already hard, flat up against his stomach.

“You don’t take this off.” He said it while tugging your dress back down your body, the fabric sliding back into place. At the same time, Jungwon bent to grab one of the heels you’d kicked off earlier. The other was still hanging from your foot, barely on, and he caught the loose one from the floor before straightening.

He carefully lifted your leg up, one hand steady under your ankle as he just held it there before leaning down, pressing a soft, lingering kiss against your skin. Then he slid the heel back onto your foot, guiding it into place.

“You wanted to make me jealous in this? then i’ll fuck you in it.” Jungwon muttered out, your heart jumped at his words and you bite back a smile.

His hands came down to part your legs apart, no underwear this time, he told you to sit through the entire ride home with your come dripping down your legs and you did. His gave his dick a few pumps up and down, eyes never leaving yours as he settled between your legs, dragging his tip against your bare, slick folds with every forward motion. Both of you moaned, jungwon was taking this too slow and you were dying to have him inside you. It’s been too long.

The friction was maddening; intentional pressure guiding over your clit in desperate need, head nudging right where you ached most without pushing inside. “Please—want you inside.” His only response back was a guttural moan when he felt you grind into him, chasing the pressure. Already shaking, hands fisted at the sheets.

Jungwon yanked your dress a bit up till your stomach, groaning each time you pulsed around his leaking tip. He was humping you like a desperate dog in heat but not thrusting inside yet. “You want me inside you? want me to breed your pretty pussy until you can’t walk? until your whole stomach is filled with my load, hmm?” He gripped your jaw, forcing your gaze on him. “Don’t worry, doll. Gonna fuck you. Gonna be inside you—” Jungwon grabbed both of your wrists and had them pinned above your head. His other hand rested at your hips as he pulled your body down on him, leaning down and pressed his forehead to yours.

“Need to feel you’re mine but I need it to mean something. No more running. No more disappearing. I want you to take me, knowing it's us. That we don't break again." Precum mixed with your slick in thick, sticky ropes as he rocked his hips forward again, the tip of his dick going inside before pulling back. This was just pure torture.

“Want to fuck you with those heels digging into my back.” After—what felt like half an hour of grinding and teasing and torturing, Jungwon finally pushed inside you in one thrust, sinking to the hilt in a shuddering motion. You screamed, and he moaned your name, “That's my girl, you take what i give you and you like it."

My girl. Heaven was a place and it was yang jungwon’s bed.

You can't even get words out anymore—just broken and desperate moans, screams. You shake your head, sniffling, half sobbing. "Gonna bury my cock in so deep you won't be able to sit tomorrow without wincing." His hands tightened digging into your flesh, urging you to take what you wanted.

Your walls fluttered and clenched around him as he pulled out slowly, letting you feel every thick inch dragging out of you with torturous friction. “Your pussy always grips me so tight like it doesn’t want me to let go, fuck—gonna breed you, gonna fill myself so deep in you and you’ll take it like a good girl. Yeah? Fuck…i love you.”

He said, patting your cheek with his free hand. Your head goes blank under it, every thought stripped away until all that's left is the way his dick is poking the most sensitive parts of you. “Oh my—goddddd—jungwon.” He scoffed like he expected it, “Just me, doll, just me.” The feeling of him inside you is addicting, having jungwon fill you up so good, like every inch of his cock was made for your cunt, and your cunt only.

His hips snapped forward so hard, your body shoved higher up the mattress. The wet, filthy slap of skin on skin rang out louder than anything else in the room—other than your moans and his groans. Jungwon caressed the bare curves of your ass before spanking you.

Jungwon drives himself hard now, fingers digging into your thighs as he thruts himself so deep inside you that you fear you'll explode with the perfection of it. "Fuck," He says, eyes on you, "Look at you. Look at how perfect you are under me." he moved his thumb to press down on your clit, rubbing and rolling on it. "uunngh—” you moaned softly, teething at the double pleasure you were receiving.

He holds your right leg and pulls it over his shoulders, withdrawing to the tip only to slam it back in, The position splayed you open wider, changing the angle just enough to sink even deeper. You arched off the mattress, he could feel everything; slick walls clinging to him, your insides clenching around his hard cock trying to keep him inside.

Your heels dug into his back, the sharp tips pressing into his skin, dragging as they scratched against him with every thrust. You close your eyes, tears threatening to fall because of the overwhelming pressure of his cock poking your every inch. You were close. “Scream for me, tell me how much you love my cock in you.” he growls against you, voice thick with hunger, the vibration dragging another cry from your throat.

Obliterated in the way he stretches you open, In the way he groans as another wave of slickness coats his fingertips when he grazes his thumb over your overstimulated cit, giving you just enough pressure to bring you closer to the edge. Jungwon finally pulls your dress over your head, tossing it to the side.

Revealing your perfect round breasts he’d been dying to see before leaning down and sucking one of your nipples into his lips, whining at the taste of you. He keeps sucking, rolling your nipple in his mouth as his other hand fondles with your other boob, then he bites down on the swell of your breast so hard you scream as he pounded into you so mercilessly it would've been painful had it not felt so good.

"Oh, God, I..." You sniffle. “I-I can’t—” You said as exhaustion burned through you, "You've taken worse than this. You can handle me, y/n." Your pussy fluttered wildly around jungwon’s cock and his harsh thrusts that he refused to soften. You felt like putty in his arms, fully moldable for him, and he knew it—that was the worst part. He grunted with effort, his balls slapping wetly against your ass on every plunge. Spank! Your body jolted at the sudden sharp sensation, “That was for making me jealous.” More tears fell down your cheeks as you felt his cock throb inside of you.

Jungwon lifted you again, your legs wrapping instinctively around his back as he held you up and pulled out before slamming your body down on his shaft all that while walking. In a few quick steps he carried you to the nearby window and pressed you back against it, the glass cool behind you as your body hit it with a soft thud. His grip tightened to keep you in place.

His hands clamped firmly against your back, holding you up off the ground while he adjusted his grip. In one rough motion he pulled your legs higher, wrapping them around his neck. For this fucking angle felt insane, like the both of you might crash down if his hold slipped even a little. You were completely suspended on him, trusting his strength to keep you there.

Jungwon kissed you then, harder, his mouth claiming you and his hands mapping your most sensitive zones as he fucked you towards your orgasm on the window. "I'm sure we look like a sweet couple, just enjoying the view...but they can't see your gorgeous cunt dripping pretty cum down the inside of your thighs the way I can, and they can't hear the sweet sounds you make when till you up, hmm—fuck.”

You clung to him, legs on his shoulders as he thrusted into you, hitting every part of yours as you could do nothing but moan against him and take him as deep as he can go. "For two fucking weeks, I have been losing my mind." He pulled out, “I have not held you in my arms, I have not seen you, touched you, heard your voice….god, you have no idea what you do to me, doll.” He chuckles because obsession is weird, at first you just want a glance, a touch, taste. Then greed takes over and you can’t get enough.

Your reply turned into a hoarse scream when he slid his hands on your wet folds and pinched your clit, his arm moved from where it was and ran along your breasts and up your throat to grab your chin in a vice grip. Jungwon pulled your mouth open before sliding two fingers down your tongue slowly, “Suck.” He demanded, and you exploded without warning, hard, sudden, long, ears buzzing, knees buckling, as he didn’t slow down, kept fucking you towards another orgasm.

“Scream all you can, doll. Gonna make you so sore you won't know if it's from the screaming or the fucking.” He works you with his cock, his hands gripping your hips to hold you steady, and you have to bite down on his biceps from crying out loud.

Jungwon runs his palm across your stomach, his gaze fixed where his cock is disappearing in and out of you, your come dripping down your thighs falling to the floor making his dick glisten under the light. “Hmmm—too much.” He doesn’t look up, instead, he presses his palm flat on your stomach. The pressure is so much it makes you arch your back off the window. One hand comes up to grip your jaw and force your gaze down on his dick,

“Look, look how perfect you take me, goddamnit, you’re made for me, doll.” Your vision whited out for a second as he pressed down harder, caressing the bulge of his cock poking out. “Fuck, gonna breed you—wanna put a baby in you. Shitttt, you’d look so beautiful…stomach round with my kids.” He choked out, throbbing inside your cunt, Jungwon’s hips rose to meet yours and you nearly blacked out from how good he felt inside you.

“Yeah? you want that? want me to breed you so deep you forget your own name? Want me to fill you with my kids, hmm?” Your hips jolted towards jungwon and a whine left your lips. “Yess—please.” his hand moving from your hip so he could rub circles in your swollen clit with his thumb. “Fuck, so drunk on my cock you don’t even know what you’re asking for—fuckkfuckkk.” You thought that you were all stretched out already, but Jungwon always managed to prove you wrong.

“You’d look so beautiful—belly getting round, shit i’d take care of you—both of you. Fuck, let me breed you baby, You’re all mine now, yeah?” He whined, legit. Jungwon pulled you to him so you were chest to chest, your tits meeting his bare chest, He leaned down so his lips were at your ear, his thumb at your clit not stopping its mission to help overstimulate you more. “would kiss your bump everyday….shitshit, baby, please—I love you, love you so much, please—” He moaned.

Jungwon didn’t even know what exactly he was begging for anymore. The words kept leaving his mouth before he could think them through. All he knew was the feeling clawing inside his chest — If you asked for anything, he’d give it. Anything you looked at for more than two seconds would somehow end up yours. He’d tear the world apart before letting anything make you cry.

His mind was running faster than he could control, thoughts messy. The image hit him out of nowhere, of you laughing somewhere in a kitchen, sunlight on your face, your stomach round with his child. You’d look so fucking beautiful like that, glowing, complaining about cravings while he hovered around you like a lunatic.

He could almost picture the way your hands would rest there absentmindedly, rubbing the curve. Your body would change and he knew it would drive him insane in a completely different way. Your tits would become heavier, spilling against soft fabric, the weight of it obvious when you moved. The faint lines along your stomach, the stretch marks spreading across your skin like proof of something the two of you made together.

He imagined standing behind you, hands spread over that stomach, feeling movement under his palms.

“Fuck,” he muttered under his breath, almost angry at himself for thinking that far ahead, his hand just got tighter around your throat, squeezing at just the right places that made you feel extra cloudy and like you were floating.

Your hips bucked wildly on their own towards jungwon’s hand and that motion nearly made you black out with his cock pistoning into you, your back hitting the window behind with a thud everytime he thrusted inside. He moaned when your pussy tried its hardest to completely suck in his cock.

Now it was worse. Now he couldn’t imagine a version of his life where you weren’t tangled in it. He couldn’t stop now moreover he wouldn’t stop. Not until you were tied to him in a way that no one else could touch, not until every part of you knew you belonged with him and nowhere else.

Till death did you both apart.

Your hips still bucked, trying to get as much stimulation as possible despite it already being entirely too much. You needed more of him, needed his cock pounding into you harder. Jungwon laughed in your ear, “Fuck, gonna catch you fucking pregnant, doll. You want me to? Tell me you do, shit baby, answer me—please.” He pleaded, “Yes, won—please, fill me up—” That was enough for him to slam forward one last time, burying himself to the hilt as he came violently inside you, cock pulsing as thick ropes of come filled your insides, flooding you rope after rope of his cum. “Fuckkkkkk—baby, shit.” His whole body jerked forward with each spurt, hips shoving his seed deep inside your stomach.

You came right after him, walls fluttering and clenching around his entire length that was buried in you, a broken cry leaving your lips as he kissed your neck. Jungwon kept fucking you again and again and again until you were a real life worn out doll, your one leg now wrapped around his waist as he did what he promised he will.

Now you were both lying there, the tension from earlier finally settling. Your legs were tangled together under the sheets, Jungwon had one arm tucked beneath your head, his other hand tracing slow lines over your bare hip. His fingertips moved back and forth, memorizing the shape of you.

Back in his arms again.

Somehow you always ended up here. It didn’t matter how angry you got, how dramatic things became. You always found your way back to Jungwon, like some stupid gravitational pull neither of you could escape.

He leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to your forehead, lingering there for a second longer than necessary. When he pulled back, he was smiling—an actual relaxed smile, not the cocky one he usually wore.

You looked up at him. “I love you.”

Jungwon tilted his head slightly, needing to make sure he heard that right. He let out a slow breath through his nose. “Say that again.” he needed to hear those three words again that he’s been dying to hear all these years.

You leaned up and kissed him slowly first, dragging it out on purpose before murmuring against his lips, “I love you, Yang Jungwon.”

The second time it hit him harder. For a moment he just stared at you. If Jungwon had a little less control over himself he probably would’ve burst into tears. “I love you too, doll,” he said quietly, brushing his thumb along your side. “So fucking much.”

He paused, searching your face, wanting you to understand exactly what he meant. “Because what I feel…” he continued, voice rougher now, “it’s more than love. It’s obsession. It’s every thought dragging me back to you no matter how hard I try to walk away. Every sleepless night. Every damn heartbeat.” His mouth twitched faintly. “And that kind of thing doesn’t just disappear, baby, That lasts forever.”

Your heart sped up at his words, heat creeping into your face. “You’re insane,” you said, shaking your head while a laugh slipped out of you.

That small sound made something in his expression soften instantly. “And you’re mine,” he replied, grinning now. “So what does that make you?” You rolled your eyes but couldn’t hide the smile pulling at your mouth.

Looking at you like this—eyes bright under the dim light, hair a mess, still smiling at him—Jungwon felt something dangerously close to peace.

Then your expression shifted slightly, becoming serious. You grabbed both his hands suddenly. “Promise me something.” His brows lifted. “What?” He asked, “That I don’t have to worry about you leaving again.” The question sat between you for a second.

Jungwon’s thumb brushed over your knuckles before he answered. “I promise.” You narrowed your eyes slightly. “Do you promise that you promise?” He let out a short laugh, shaking his head. “Jesus Christ.” Then he squeezed your hands. “I promise that I promise.”

The grin that spread across your face was ridiculous. Your cheeks started hurting from it but you didn’t care. You pointed a finger at him dramatically. “If you ever pull that disappearing bullshit again I swear to fuck I will lock you in a room with me and throw away the key.”

Jungwon didn’t even hesitate as a slow smirk spread across his face. “Too bad, doll,” he said. “I’d probably enjoy that.”

You groaned and shoved his shoulder, but he pulled you closer to him, tickling your sides. You laughed, breathless.

All his dreams came true tonight.

And for a while the rest of the world stopped existing.

Epilogue

Five months with Jungwon—the absolute love of your life. Five months since that night where every line that used to exist between you both snapped. The very next day he proposed properly, right in front of your brother. Jungwon standing there like he had nothing to lose, holding your hands. Heeseung’s jaw literally hit the floor as he just stared infront of him, blinking like his brain had short-circuited. Then he scoffed, ran a hand through his hair and started laughing.

“Are you serious right now?” he said. “You two are fucking insane.” Jungwon didn’t even flinch. “Yeah,” he replied calmly, squeezing your fingers. “But she’s still saying yes.” You were blushing so hard your face hurt, swatting Jungwon’s arm while Heeseung groaned dramatically.

“I knew something weird was going on, Niki muttered. “The tension was disgusting.”

Your brother was glaring but still pulled Jungwon into a hug right after, clapping his back. “Take care of her or I swear to god—”

“I will,” Jungwon said, serious in a way that shut the joke down instantly and….that was that.

When you told your parents later, it somehow turned into an even bigger mess. Your mom screamed the second the words left your mouth.

“I KNEW IT!” she shouted, pointing at you, “You couldn’t stop staring at him every time he came over!”

“Mom!” you groaned, hiding your face while Jungwon tried not to laugh beside you. “Oh my sweet babies,” she continued dramatically, grabbing both of your hands. “You have my deepest condolences.” Your dad just leaned against the counter, shaking his head with a smile.

“Honestly, good for you, honey,” he said, kissing your forehead. “Jungwon’s a good man. He’ll keep you happy.” You remember looking down shyly then, heart doing that stupid fast thing it always did around him.

Because he already was your happiness.

Now here you are months later, lying beside him in the quiet grass with nothing but the night sky above you. Thousands of stars scattered across black. The air is cool, and Jungwon’s arm is tucked behind your head while your legs are tangled together. His thumb traces lazy circles over your arm.

Jungwon quit smoking the night he promised you he would right there against your lips. That was how stupidly, hopelessly in love he was with you. Nothing in this world was allowed to hurt you, not even something as small as the smell of smoke on him.

His hyungs didn’t believe it at first.

Sunoo practically gasped when Jungwon waved off a cigarette one evening. “Wait—don’t tell me you actually quit smoking for her?” he said, staring at him, though the grin on his face gave him away.

Jungwon just laughed, smug, patting Sunoo on the shoulder. “Trust me,” he said, shaking his head lightly.

“You can only handle one addiction at a time.”

Back to present, “You’re staring again,” he murmurs. “At what?”

“Me.” You scoff softly. “Shut the fuck up.” He laughs under his breath, the sound low and warm in his chest. “You totally are.” You turn your head toward him anyway. His eyes reflect the starlight and for a second you swear your heart trips over itself.

“Maybe I am,” you mumble. “What about it?” Jungwon watches you, Your fingers drift up to his hoodie strings, playing with them. Twisting them around your fingers. “You’re cute,” he says. You groan instantly. “Don’t start.”

“What? can’t i appreciate my beautiful girlfriend?” You chuckle, “Yeah, sure.”

He leans closer suddenly and presses a quick kiss to your cheek. You shove his shoulder lightly. “Dude.” He frowns at the nickname, “What?”

“You’re annoying.” He hums, not believing you at all. His hand slides a little higher on your back, pulling you closer against him until your chin is resting on his chest.

Above you, a shooting star streaks quickly across the sky. Your eyes widen. “Holy shit—did you see that?”

“Yeah.” He says, his eyes never leaving yours. “Make a wish.” He replies immediately, “You first.” You close your eyes, squeezing them shut, hoping that’ll somehow make it work better. Jungwon watches you with the dumbest smile.

“What’d you wish for?” he asks. “I’m not telling you or it won’t come true.” You scrunch your nose up at him. “Liar. You definitely just wished for food.” You gasp. “Fuck you.” He smirks, “Now or later?” You slap his arms, He laughs again, and leans down to press a slow kiss to your forehead.

Your heart does that stupid fast thing again. “You’re staring,” you mumble. “Yeah,” he says easily. You lift your head slightly. “Why?” He shrugs a little, because come on, the answer is obvious.

“Because you’re mine.” You roll your eyes but you can’t stop smiling. “That’s cocky as hell.”

“Am I wrong?” He asks, “…unfortunately no.” He grins, victorious, and tilts your chin up with his fingers before kissing you properly this time. Slow, soft, the kind of kiss that makes your stomach flip even though you’ve kissed him a thousand times already.

When he pulls back, your noses brush. “I’m gonna marry you one day,” he says. You blink, heat rushing straight to your face. “Yeah?” you whisper, smiling.

“Yeah, doll.” He kisses you once more, this time, sealing the promise into the quiet night. Your fingers slide into his hair while you rest your forehead against his.

Above you the stars keep shining like nothing in the world could ever go wrong and right now, it honestly fucking feels like it won’t.

RUIN THE FRIENDSHIP┆𝗣𝗥𝗘𝗩𝗜𝗢𝗨𝗦 ─ 𝗡𝗘𝗫𝗧

FROM YAN 🐰 ➤ early update for the 2.5k milestone !! < 3 anyw, can we get some Ws in the chat for the ultimate goat nishimura riki. as usual, please lmk what u guys think. i < 3 talking to y'all in the replies bc u guys crack me the Fuckkkk up 😭🙏

PERMANENT TAGLIST  ➤  @mariegibeau @kristynaaah @ikeukiss @zerocoded @alex-is-sleeping @ntxs1 @angelhyuka @tsukheeshima @clxssy1997 @cripplinghooman @xoxo-seraphine @jakeycakeys @neozon3nha @jakeycakeys @vmpiricou @ja4hyvn @luv4dani @nightcat101 @wonkiipiilled

RUIN THE FRIENDSHIP┆𝗣𝗥𝗘𝗩𝗜𝗢𝗨𝗦 ─ 𝗡𝗘𝗫𝗧

FROM YAN 🐰 ➤ shit tonne of typos mistakes here . pls bare w ur stupid author LASDAKLSDJA also they're both starting to gain consciousness... y'all know what that means!! 😝😝😝 also if ur in the taglists pls lmk if its working on ur end :( ty!!

PERMANENT TAGLIST  ➤  @mariegibeau @kristynaaah @ikeukiss @zerocoded @alex-is-sleeping @ntxs1 @angelhyuka @tsukheeshima @clxssy1997 @cripplinghooman @xoxo-seraphine @jakeycakeys @neozon3nha @jakeycakeys @vmpiricou @ja4hyvn @luv4dani @nightcat101 @wonkiipiilled

He checked his watch—the elegant Patek Philippe you'd given him on your six-month anniversary. "I have an early meeting. I'll grab something at the office."

You nodded, expecting this answer. Despite your chef preparing an elaborate breakfast spread every morning, Jungwon rarely sat down to eat it. You'd long since stopped taking it personally, instead viewing it as simply another aspect of your peculiar marriage.

"Madame," came a soft voice from the doorway. Your personal maid stood waiting respectfully. "The blue gown has been pressed for tonight's charity auction, and Mrs. Yang called to confirm your appointment at the salon at two."

"Thank you. Please tell the chef I'll be down shortly."

Jungwon's expression softened momentarily with what might have been gratitude. "The blue gown is a good choice. It matches the sapphires."

The brief warmth in his eyes vanished so quickly you questioned whether you'd imagined it. He dressed efficiently, selecting the navy suit you'd suggested earlier in the week. You busied yourself reviewing the day's schedule on your tablet, giving him space while maintaining the illusion of comfortable domesticity.

"I'll send the car for you at six," he said, adjusting his tie in the mirror. Perfect Windsor knot, as always. "The auction starts at seven, but your mother-in-law suggested we arrive early to greet the host committee."

"I'll be ready," you assured him. "The blue complements the sapphires your family gifted me last Christmas—perfect for the society photographers."

He nodded approvingly. "Perfect. The Yangs must maintain appearances."

The phrase hung in the air between you, a reminder of what truly bound you together. Not love or passion or even friendship, but appearances. The Yang family name and reputation, upheld through generations and now entrusted to Jungwon—and by extension, to you.

Before leaving, he stopped at the bedroom door. "The new arrangement in the grand foyer—the one with the peonies and orchids. My mother asked for the name of your florist."

"I'd be happy to share their contact information," you replied, surprised that he'd noticed the flowers at all.

He hesitated, as if considering saying something more, then simply nodded and left. Moments later, you heard the soft purr of his car starting in the circular driveway below.

The suite fell silent, save for the continuing measured tick of the antique clock.

By eleven, you had completed your morning inspection of the household: reviewing the dinner menu with the chef, approving the landscaping plans for the east garden, and confirming that the linens for Friday's dinner party had been properly pressed. The mansion operated with clockwork precision under your supervision, a showcase of domestic perfection that visitors frequently praised.

Your phone chimed with a text message from Mrs. Yang—your mother-in-law.

The charity auction tonight is a perfect opportunity to connect with the Singhs. Their daughter returned from Oxford and has taken over their foundation. Jungwon could use their support for the new community project.

You typed a gracious reply, assuring her you would make the introduction. This was part of your unspoken role: social facilitator, network cultivator, the charming counterbalance to Jungwon's more reserved demeanor in public. Mrs. Yang had explicitly voiced her approval of your social graces during the marriage negotiations, though she'd phrased it more delicately at the time.

In the solarium, you sipped tea and reviewed correspondence on your tablet. The household staff moved efficiently around the estate, their presence indicated only by the occasional distant voice or the soft closing of a door. This cocoon of luxury and service had become your domain—a gilded cage, perhaps, but one you managed with impeccable skill.

The charity auction venue sparkled with crystal chandeliers and the gleam of expensive jewelry. You stood beside Jungwon, your hand resting lightly in the crook of his arm as he conversed with an important international investor. Your blue gown complemented the subtle blue in Jungwon's tie, a coordinated detail that Mrs. Yang had encouraged early in your marriage.

"And what do you think of the market's new direction?" the investor asked, unexpectedly turning to include you in the conversation.

Without missing a beat, you offered a thoughtful response based on fragments you'd gathered from Jungwon's rare comments about business. Your husband's arm tensed slightly beneath your hand—in surprise or approval, you couldn't tell.

"You've got yourself a perceptive wife, Yang," the man laughed, clearly impressed. "Better be careful or I'll recruit her for my advisory board."

Jungwon smiled, a genuine expression that transformed his handsome face. "I'm very fortunate," he agreed, turning to look at you with apparent pride.

For a moment—just a moment—the warmth in his eyes seemed real. Then a passing waiter offered champagne, and the connection broke as he reached for two glasses.

The evening continued in this manner: introductions, small talk, strategic conversations with selected guests, and the careful maintenance of the image you projected as a couple. Jungwon's hand occasionally rested at the small of your back, guiding you through the crowd with gentle pressure. To anyone watching, the gesture appeared intimate and caring.

"Your work with the children's literacy foundation has been inspirational," commented Ms. Singh as you were introduced. "My father is quite impressed."

You played your part flawlessly. Laughed at the right moments. Showed appropriate interest in business discussions. Made mental notes of important names and connections to record later in your planner. You orchestrated the introduction to the Singh family that appeared completely spontaneous, fulfilling your mother-in-law's request with such subtlety that even Jungwon seemed unaware of the manipulation.

During a lull in the event, you excused yourself to visit the ladies' room. Standing before the mirror, you studied your reflection: perfectly applied makeup, not a hair out of place, the picture of a successful young wife. Other women came and went, exchanging pleasantries, complimenting your gown or asking about upcoming social events.

"You and Jungwon always look so happy together," sighed a fellow socialite as she applied fresh lipstick. "My husband can barely remember which events are on our calendar, let alone coordinate his tie with my outfit."

You smiled politely. "Jungwon is very attentive to details."

When you returned to the main hall, you spotted your husband across the room, engaged in conversation with the Singh patriarch as you had arranged. His posture was relaxed, confident, his expression animated as he discussed something that clearly interested him. You rarely saw that expression at home.

As if sensing your gaze, he looked up and met your eyes across the crowded room. For a brief moment, something unreadable flickered across his face. He excused himself from the conversation and made his way to your side.

"Is everything alright?" he asked quietly.

"Of course," you assured him. "Mr. Singh seems interested in your project."

He nodded. "Yes, thank you for the introduction. He mentioned you'd spoken highly of the initiative."

"That's what wives do, isn't it?" you replied, the words emerging more wistfully than you'd intended.

Jungwon studied your face, his brow furrowing slightly. "Are you tired? We can leave if you'd like."

"No," you said quickly. "Your mother would be disappointed if we left before the final auction lot."

The mention of his mother was enough to settle the matter. Jungwon nodded and offered his arm again, leading you back into the social whirl. The rest of the evening passed in a blur of smiles and small talk, your practiced responses on autopilot while your mind drifted elsewhere.

The mansion was quiet when you returned just after midnight, though a few lights remained on for your arrival. The night butler opened the door as the car pulled up.

"Welcome home, Madame, Sir," he greeted with a respectful bow. "May I bring anything before you retire?"

"No thank you," Jungwon replied, loosening his tie. "That will be all for tonight."

As the butler disappeared, Jungwon turned to you in the grand foyer, its marble floors gleaming under the soft chandelier light. "Successful evening," he commented, his voice echoing slightly in the vast space. "The Singhs have invited us to their summer compound next month."

"That's wonderful," you replied, slipping off your heels with a small sigh of relief. "Your mother will be pleased."

He set down his keys and looked at you directly, something he rarely did at home. "You don't need to keep mentioning my mother. I'm capable of recognizing business opportunities on my own."

The unexpected sharpness in his tone surprised you. "I didn't mean to suggest otherwise."

He sighed, running a hand through his perfectly styled hair, disheveling it slightly. "I'm sorry. That came out wrong."

The apology hung awkwardly between you. Jungwon rarely expressed irritation, maintaining the same polite distance whether discussing dinner plans or household accounts.

"It's late," you said finally. "We're both tired."

He nodded, the momentary crack in his composure already repaired. "I have some work to finish. Don't wait up."

You watched him retreat to his home office, the door closing firmly behind him. In the kitchen, you found the chef had left a covered plate of small desserts and a pot of tea keeping warm. The thoughtful gesture—understanding your tendency to skip dinner at formal events—brought an unexpected lump to your throat.

The mansion was beautiful—spacious, elegantly decorated, with every luxury and convenience. The marriage looked perfect from the outside: handsome, successful husband; accomplished, supportive wife; respected families united through a beneficial alliance. You wanted for nothing material.

And yet.

Upstairs, your nightwear had already been laid out and the bed turned down. In the adjoining bathroom, you methodically removed your jewelry and makeup, the familiar routine requiring no thought. Your reflection stared back, younger without the carefully applied cosmetics but somehow sadder too.

When you finally slipped between the cool sheets, Jungwon's side of the bed remained empty. You knew from experience that he might not come upstairs for hours. Sometimes you woke briefly in the night to feel the mattress dip as he joined you, maintaining a careful distance even in sleep.

As exhaustion pulled you toward unconsciousness, you wondered—not for the first time—what thoughts occupied your husband's mind during his late-night work sessions. Whether he ever questioned the arrangement that had brought you together. Whether he ever wished for something more than this immaculate, empty performance you both maintained.

Outside, a gentle rain began to fall against the panoramic windows, drops catching the moonlight like silver tears against the darkness.

-

The first anniversary dinner had been your mother-in-law's idea.

"A small celebration," she'd said during your weekly tea. "Nothing extravagant, of course. Just family to commemorate the successful first year."

You'd nodded and smiled, playing your part. "I'll coordinate with the chef for a special menu."

A successful first year. The phrase echoed in your mind as you supervised the staff arranging peonies and orchids in the dining room—Jungwon's mother's favorites. The crystal gleamed under the chandelier light, the silver polished to mirror brightness, the napkins folded into perfect swans. Success measured in appearances, in business connections forged, in social obligations fulfilled.

Not in moments of genuine connection, in shared laughter, in the casual intimacy of a hand brushing hair from your face. Those metrics of success remained conspicuously absent from your marriage ledger.

"The wine selection has been brought up from the cellar, Madame," said the butler. "And the chef has prepared the appetizers exactly as you specified."

"Thank you," you replied, adjusting a place setting minutely. "Mr. Yang will be home by seven, and his parents will arrive at seven-thirty."

The butler nodded and withdrew, leaving you alone in the perfect dining room of your perfect mansion in your perfect marriage that was, somehow, entirely empty.

Jungwon arrived precisely at seven, as predictable as the sunrise. You heard the familiar sound of his car, followed by his measured footsteps in the foyer. When he appeared in the doorway of the dining room, he was already dressed in the suit you'd laid out—the charcoal gray Tom Ford that his mother once commented made him look distinguished.

"Everything looks lovely," he said, surveying the room with appreciative eyes. "You've outdone yourself."

"Thank you," you replied, accepting the compliment with practiced grace. "Your mother mentioned Mr. Kim might join them. I've set an extra place just in case."

Something flickered across Jungwon's face—annoyance, perhaps. "He wasn't mentioned to me."

"He's the family attorney. Perhaps there's business to discuss."

"On our anniversary dinner?" The edge in Jungwon's voice surprised you. "Some things should remain separate from business."

You studied your husband's face, wondering at this unusual display of emotion. "Would you prefer I call your mother and inquire?"

"No," he said, composure returning like a mask sliding back into place. "It doesn't matter."

But it did matter, and the tension in his shoulders told you so. This was new—this momentary crack in the facade. You wanted to press further, to understand what had triggered this response, but years of social conditioning held you back.

Instead, you said, "There's time for a drink before they arrive. Would you like something?"

He nodded, following you to the sitting room where the bar cart awaited. You poured him two fingers of the Macallan 25-year he preferred, your movements precise and practiced. When you handed him the crystal tumbler, your fingers brushed his—an accidental touch that shouldn't have felt significant but somehow did.

"One year," he said quietly, staring into the amber liquid.

"Yes," you agreed, pouring yourself a small measure of the same. "It's gone quickly."

The silence between you stretched, filled with all the words neither of you knew how to say. Jungwon seemed on the verge of speaking when the doorbell rang, announcing the arrival of his parents.

The moment, whatever it might have been, evaporated.

Dinner progressed with the same choreographed precision as every family gathering. Mrs. Yang complimented the decor, inquired about your recent charity work, and dominated the conversation with updates on various family connections. Mr. Yang, stern and reserved like his son, contributed occasional comments about business or politics. And Mr. Kim, who had indeed accompanied them, observed it all with the calculated interest of someone evaluating an investment.

"The first year is always the most challenging," Mrs. Yang declared over the entrée, smiling at you and Jungwon with evident satisfaction. "And you two have managed it beautifully."

"Indeed," agreed Mr. Kim, raising his wine glass in a small toast. "The Yang family's standing has only strengthened. Your partnership has proven most advantageous."

Partnership. Not marriage. The distinction wasn't lost on you.

"And the foundation gala last month," Mrs. Yang continued. "Several board members commented on how impressive you both were. The Choi family was particularly taken with you, dear." She directed this last comment at you. "Mrs. Choi mentioned how fortunate Jungwon is to have found such an accomplished wife."

"I am fortunate," Jungwon agreed smoothly, the response automatic. He didn't look at you as he said it.

"Now, about the expansion into renewable energy," Mr. Yang began, turning to his son. "The board is meeting next week to discuss the proposal."

Business at the anniversary dinner, just as you'd predicted. You caught Jungwon's eye across the table, a silent acknowledgment passing between you. For once, it felt like you were truly on the same side, united in your recognition of the situation's irony.

As the men discussed business, Mrs. Yang leaned closer to you. "You know, dear, I've been meaning to ask... it's been a year now. Any news you'd like to share? Any... expectations?"

The delicate emphasis made her meaning clear. You felt heat rise to your face, embarrassment mingling with a deeper discomfort.

"Not yet," you replied quietly, maintaining your composure despite the intrusive question.

"Well, there's still time," she said, patting your hand. "Though of course, an heir is important for the Yang legacy. My husband's grandmother used to say, 'A tree without new leaves withers.'"

You nodded politely, taking a sip of wine to avoid having to respond further. Across the table, you noticed Jungwon's shoulders tense, though he gave no other indication of having overheard.

The rest of the evening passed in a similar vein—discussions of business, thinly veiled inquiries about family planning, and reminiscences about the wedding that focused primarily on its beneficial outcomes for the Yang family interests.

Not once did anyone ask if you were happy.

After seeing his parents and Mr. Kim to the door, Jungwon returned to the sitting room where you were nursing a final glass of wine. The house felt unnaturally quiet after the departure of the guests, the air heavy with unspoken thoughts.

"My mother was pleased," he said, loosening his tie and pouring himself another whiskey. "She said the dinner was perfect."

"Of course she did," you replied, a hint of bitterness seeping into your voice despite your best efforts. "Everything about us is perfect on the surface."

Jungwon looked at you sharply. "What does that mean?"

The wine, the emotional strain of the evening, the accumulation of a year's worth of silences—something inside you finally cracked.

"It means this," you gestured between the two of you, "isn't a marriage. It's a business arrangement with living quarters."

His expression hardened. "That's unfair. I've given you everything you could want."

"Everything except yourself," you countered, your voice rising slightly. "We live in the same house, sleep in the same bed, but you might as well be a thousand miles away."

"I don't know what you expect," he said stiffly. "We both understood the nature of this marriage from the beginning."

"Did we? Because I didn't agree to a lifetime of politeness and distance. I didn't agree to be nothing more than the perfect hostess and social coordinator for your business connections."

Jungwon set down his glass with careful precision. "You've never complained before."

"When would I have complained, Jungwon? During the three minutes of conversation we have each morning? Or perhaps during our public performances where we pretend to be a loving couple?"

He ran a hand through his hair, disheveling its perfect arrangement. "I thought you were satisfied with our arrangement. You manage the household, attend the events, fulfill your responsibilities—"

"Responsibilities?" The word struck like a match against your accumulated frustration. "Is that all I am to you? A set of responsibilities to be fulfilled?"

"That's not what I meant."

"Then what did you mean? Please, enlighten me about my role in this arrangement, since clearly I've misunderstood."

His jaw tightened. "You're my wife."

"Your wife," you repeated, the word suddenly sounding hollow. "And what does that mean to you? Because from where I stand, I might as well be your assistant or your housekeeper for all the genuine connection between us."

"You're being dramatic," he said dismissively. "Perhaps you've had too much wine."

The condescension in his tone was the final straw. A year of suppressed emotions—loneliness, frustration, yearning—erupted like a volcano too long dormant.

"Don't you dare dismiss me," you snapped, rising to your feet. "I have spent a year of my life walking on eggshells, trying to be perfect, trying to please you and your family, and for what? A thank you when I select the right tie? A nod of approval when I make the right business connection?"

Jungwon stared at you, clearly taken aback by your outburst. "I don't understand where this is coming from."

"Of course you don't! You've never bothered to see me as anything more than a convenient addition to your perfectly ordered life. Wake up at five, ignore wife, go to work, come home, work more, sleep. Repeat until death."

"That's not fair," he protested, but his voice lacked conviction.

"Isn't it? When was the last time you asked me about my day? Or shared something personal about yours? When was the last time you looked at me—really looked at me—not as the 'Madame' of this house or as an accessory at a business function, but as a woman? As your wife?"

The color drained from Jungwon's face, but you were beyond stopping now. The floodgates had opened, and a year's worth of unspoken thoughts poured forth in a torrent.

"We haven't even consummated our marriage, Jungwon! One year, and you've never once reached for me in the night. Never once kissed me with anything resembling passion. Do you have any idea how that feels? To lie beside someone night after night, wanting to be touched, to be desired, and meeting nothing but polite distance?"

His eyes widened in shock at your bluntness. "I—I thought you preferred our current arrangement. You never indicated—"

"Indicated?" You laughed, the sound brittle. "Would it have mattered if I had? You barely look at me when we're alone together. You keep yourself locked in your office until I'm asleep. Tell me, Jungwon, are you repulsed by me? Is that it?"

"No!" The vehemence of his response surprised you both. "That's not it at all."

"Then what? What keeps you at arm's length? Because I can't live like this anymore—this half-life of appearances and politeness with nothing real beneath it."

You moved closer, anger giving you courage you'd never had before. "How do you satisfy your desires, Jungwon? Do you have someone else? Some mistress in an apartment downtown who gets to see the real you? Who gets to feel your touch, your passion?"

He looked genuinely shocked. "There's no one else. I would never—"

"Then what?" Your voice broke slightly. "Are you simply that cold? That disconnected from your own body, your own needs? Because I refuse to believe a healthy man in his prime feels nothing, wants nothing."

Jungwon's jaw tightened. "This conversation is inappropriate."

"Inappropriate?" You were nearly shouting now. "We're married! This is exactly the conversation we should have had months ago! Do you have any idea what it's like to wonder if there's something wrong with you? To lie awake wondering why your husband never reaches for you? To start believing that maybe you're fundamentally undesirable?"

"That's not—" he began, but you cut him off.

"I've started inventing stories in my head, Jungwon. Elaborate scenarios to explain why my husband treats me like a porcelain doll. Maybe you're secretly in love with someone from your past. Maybe you prefer men. Maybe you have some medical condition you're too embarrassed to discuss. I've considered everything because the alternative—that you simply feel nothing for me—is too painful to bear."

His face had gone pale. "It's none of those things."

"Then help me understand," you pleaded, anger giving way to raw vulnerability. "Because the silence is killing me. The wondering is killing me. Are you like this with everyone? This... removed? This contained? Or is it just me you can't bring yourself to touch?"

Jungwon paced away from you, his composure cracking visibly. For a moment, he looked like he might retreat to his office—his usual escape—but instead, he stopped at the window, staring out at the darkness.

"I live in my head," he said so quietly you almost missed it. "Always have. Physical... intimacy... doesn't come naturally to me."

"Have you ever let yourself feel something?" you asked, your tone softer now. "With anyone?"

He was silent for so long you thought he might not answer. When he did, his voice was strained. "There was someone in college. It ended badly. I lost control, became... emotional. My father said it was embarrassing. Unbecoming of a Yang."

The confession surprised you. This tiny glimpse into his past felt like more intimacy than you'd experienced in a year of marriage.

"And since then?"

"Since then I've learned to be careful. Controlled." He turned to face you. "I thought I was respecting your space. Your independence."

"Respecting my space?" You stared at him incredulously. "There's a difference between respect and indifference, Jungwon."

"I'm not indifferent to you," he said quietly.

"Then what are you? Because from my perspective, I might as well be living alone for all the emotional connection between us."

He turned away again, his shoulders rigid with tension. "I don't know how to do this."

"Do what?"

"This." He gestured vaguely. "Marriage. Intimacy. I wasn't raised for it."

"Neither was I," you countered. "But I'm trying. I've been trying for a year while you've been hiding behind work and politeness and duty."

You moved to stand beside him at the window, close but not touching. "Do you ever look at me and feel anything, Jungwon? Anything at all? Because sometimes I catch you watching me when you think I won't notice, and there's something in your eyes that disappears the moment I turn toward you."

He swallowed visibly. "I notice everything about you," he admitted, the words seeming to cost him. "The way you arrange flowers according to your mood. How you always leave the last bite of dessert. The small sigh you make when you're reading something that touches you."

The revelation stunned you. "Then why—"

"Because wanting leads to needing," he interrupted, his voice suddenly raw. "And needing makes you vulnerable. My father taught me that. The moment you need someone, you've given them the power to destroy you."

The silence stretched between you, heavy with the weight of truths finally spoken aloud. When Jungwon finally turned back to face you, his expression was uncharacteristically vulnerable.

"What do you want from me?" he asked, and for once, the question seemed genuine.

The simplicity of the question momentarily deflated your anger. What did you want? It was a question you'd asked yourself countless times during sleepless nights.

"I want a husband, not a housemate," you said finally. "I want to know the man behind the perfect facade. I want to feel wanted, desired, known. I want the possibility of love, even if it's not there yet."

Your voice cracked on the last words, and you felt tears threatening. "Sometimes I think if I sleep with you once and let you get me pregnant, at least I won't be so damn lonely. At least I'd have someone who needs me, truly needs me, not just for appearances or social connections."

"A child deserves better than to be born from desperation," Jungwon said softly, surprising you with his insight.

"And a wife deserves better than emotional abandonment," you countered. "I look at other couples sometimes—even the arranged marriages in our circle—and I see moments of genuine tenderness. A hand on a shoulder. A private smile. Small intimacies that say 'I see you, I choose you.' We have none of that, Jungwon."

He flinched as if struck. "Is that what you think? That I only see you as a means to an heir?"

"How would I know what you think?" you demanded. "You barely speak to me about anything that matters. For all I know, you've mapped out our entire future in that methodical mind of yours—the optimal time for children, their education, their role in continuing the Yang legacy—all without once considering what I might want, what I might need as a woman, as a person."

"That's not true," he protested, but his voice lacked conviction.

"When have you ever shared your fears with me, Jungwon? Your hopes? Your dreams beyond the next business deal or family obligation? When have you ever asked about mine?"

He had no answer, and his silence was damning.

"I can't do this anymore," you said, suddenly exhausted. "I can't keep pretending that this empty performance is enough. I need more than politeness and perfect appearances. I need connection. I need intimacy. I need to at least feel that there's the possibility of love someday."

"And if I can't give you that?" he asked, his voice barely audible.

The question hung in the air between you, a challenge and a plea at once. You met his gaze directly.

"Then this marriage is already over, regardless of what we show the world."

The words fell like stones into still water, ripples of consequence expanding outward. Jungwon's face paled, and something like genuine fear flickered in his eyes.

"You would leave?" he asked, the question revealing more vulnerability than he'd shown in a year of marriage.

"Not in body, perhaps," you replied. "The scandal would devastate both our families. But in spirit? I'm already halfway gone, Jungwon. Every day of polite distance pushes me further away."

He sank onto the sofa, looking suddenly lost. This wasn't the composed, controlled man you'd lived alongside for a year. This was someone else—someone real and raw and unsure.

"I don't know how to be what you need," he admitted finally.

"I'm not asking for perfection," you said, your anger giving way to a profound sadness. "I'm asking for effort. For honesty. For the chance to build something real together, even if it's difficult. Even if we don't know exactly how."

Jungwon stared at his hands, his wedding ring catching the light. For a long moment, he said nothing. When he finally looked up, his eyes held a complexity of emotion you'd never seen before.

"I need time," he said. "To think. To... process all of this."

The request was reasonable, but it still stung. Even now, faced with the potential collapse of your marriage, he couldn't give you an immediate response.

"Fine," you said, suddenly bone-weary. "Take your time. You know where to find me."

You turned to leave, your body heavy with emotional exhaustion, when his voice stopped you.

"Where are you going?"

"To the blue guest room," you replied without turning. "I think we both need space tonight."

He made no move to stop you as you left the sitting room, your anniversary dress rustling softly with each step. The grand staircase seemed longer than usual, each step an effort. Behind you, you heard the clink of glass—Jungwon pouring another drink, perhaps, or simply moving restlessly in the silent house.

The blue guest room was immaculate, as was every room in the mansion, but it felt cold and impersonal. You sat on the edge of the bed, still in your evening dress, too tired even to cry. The confrontation had drained you completely, leaving nothing but a hollow ache where hope had once resided.

From the nightstand, your phone chimed with a message. Mechanically, you reached for it, expecting perhaps your mother-in-law with some post-dinner comment.

Instead, it was Jungwon.

I do want you. I always have. That's what frightens me.

You stared at the screen, the words blurring slightly as you read them over and over. A text message—that was what it had taken to finally glimpse the man behind the mask. Not a conversation, not a touch, but characters on a screen.

Another message appeared below the first.

I'm sorry. I should have said this to your face.

I'll be in the study when you're ready to talk. No matter how late.

The formality, even now. The careful distance maintained even in apology. You placed the phone back on the nightstand without responding, a weariness settling over you that went beyond physical exhaustion.

For a moment, you sat motionless on the edge of the guest bed, the weight of the past year pressing down on your shoulders. The perfect house with its perfect furnishings suddenly felt suffocating—every object a reminder of the performance your life had become.

You rose and moved to the window, pressing your palm against the cool glass. Outside, the rain had stopped, but the night remained dark and close. The mansion grounds, usually so meticulously maintained, seemed oppressive in their perfection. Even the garden paths were laid out with mathematical precision, every plant and stone exactly where it should be.

Like you. Exactly where you should be. The proper wife in her proper place.

The realization came suddenly, with absolute clarity: you couldn't stay here tonight. Not in this guest room, not in this house, not with Jungwon waiting in his study for a conversation that would likely end with more careful words and measured promises.

You needed air. Space. A place where you could remember who you were before becoming Mrs. Yang.

With deliberate movements, you changed out of your evening dress and into simple clothes. Packed a small overnight bag with essentials. Found your personal credit card—the one not connected to the Yang family accounts.

You hesitated only when it came time to write a note. What could you possibly say that wouldn't be misinterpreted or dismissed? In the end, you kept it simple:

I need space to breathe. Please don't follow me. I'll contact you when I'm ready.

You left it on the bed, where it would surely be found when someone came looking for you. Then, silently, you made your way down the service stairs and through the side entrance—avoiding the main foyer where you might encounter Jungwon.

The night air hit your face as you stepped outside, cool and clean and startlingly fresh. You took a deep breath, perhaps the first real one in months, and felt something inside you loosen just slightly.

You didn't call for the driver. Instead, you walked down the long driveway and past the gates, your heartbeat quickening with each step that took you farther from the mansion. Only when you reached the main road did you order a rideshare, giving the address of an old friend—one who predated your marriage, who had no connection to the Yang family circle.

As the car pulled away, you glanced back at the house—a magnificent silhouette against the night sky, lights burning in the study window where Jungwon waited for a conversation that wouldn't happen tonight.

Tomorrow would bring complications, explanations, perhaps reconciliation. But tonight, for the first time in a year, you were choosing yourself.

Your phone buzzed with a message from Jungwon.

Are you coming down?

You turned off the notifications and watched the mansion recede in the distance, growing smaller until it disappeared from view entirely.

-

The city lights blurred through your tears as the car wound its way through the quiet streets. The driver, sensing your distress, maintained a respectful silence, occasionally glancing at you in the rearview mirror with concern. You kept your face turned toward the window, watching as elite neighborhoods gave way to more modest surroundings.

When the car finally pulled up outside Leah's apartment building, you sat motionless for a moment, suddenly uncertain. It was past midnight. What if she wasn't home? What if she had company? What if—

"We're here, ma'am," the driver said gently, interrupting your spiraling thoughts.

"Thank you," you managed, gathering your small bag and stepping out into the night.

Leah's building was nothing like the Yang mansion—a six-story pre-war structure with a faded charm that stood in stark contrast to the sleek modernity you'd grown accustomed to. You hesitated at the entrance, then pressed her apartment number on the intercom.

After a long moment, a sleepy voice answered. "Hello?"

"Leah," you said, your voice cracking slightly. "It's me. I'm sorry it's so late, but—"

"Oh my god!" The sleepiness vanished instantly. "Are you okay? I'm buzzing you up right now."

The door clicked open, and you made your way to the third floor, each step feeling heavier than the last. Before you could even knock, Leah's door swung open, revealing your oldest friend in mismatched pajamas, her curly hair wild around her face.

"What happened?" she demanded, then stopped as she took in your appearance—the elegant makeup now streaked with tears, the designer clothes hastily exchanged for whatever you'd grabbed, the overnight bag clutched in your trembling hand.

"Oh, honey," she said, simply opening her arms.

Something inside you broke. You stumbled forward into her embrace and the tears you'd been holding back for months—perhaps for the entire year of your marriage—finally erupted. Great, heaving sobs that shook your entire body, that made it impossible to speak or breathe or think.

Leah didn't ask questions. She simply guided you inside, closing the door behind you, and held you while you fell apart. Her apartment was cluttered and lived-in, books stacked on every surface, half-finished art projects leaning against walls—the complete opposite of your sterile perfection at the mansion.

"I can't—" you tried to speak, but the words dissolved into more tears.

"Shh," she soothed, leading you to her worn but comfortable couch. "Just breathe. That's all you need to do right now."

You don't know how long you cried—long enough for your eyes to swell, for your throat to grow raw, for Leah's shoulder to become damp with your tears. Eventually, the storm subsided enough for you to become aware of your surroundings again. Leah had wrapped a soft blanket around your shoulders and was pressing a mug of hot tea into your hands.

"Small sips," she instructed, settling beside you. "It has honey for your throat."

You obeyed, the warmth spreading through your chest, momentarily calming the chaos inside you.

"I left him," you said finally, your voice hoarse from crying.

Leah's eyebrows shot up. "Jungwon? You left Jungwon?"

"Just for tonight. Maybe a few days. I don't know." You shook your head, struggling to articulate the tangle of emotions. "I couldn't breathe there anymore, Leah. In that perfect house with its perfect things and its perfect emptiness."

"I always wondered," she said cautiously, "if you were really happy. You stopped talking about the real stuff after the wedding. It was all charity events and dinner parties, but never... you know. The actual marriage part."

"There was no marriage part," you confessed, fresh tears threatening. "That's the problem. We live side by side like strangers. Polite, distant strangers who happen to share the same address."

Leah reached for your hand, squeezing it gently. "Did something specific happen tonight?"

You nodded, the evening's confrontation flashing through your mind in painful fragments. "We had our anniversary dinner with his parents. And after they left, I just... broke. All the things I've been holding back for a year came pouring out."

"Good for you," Leah said firmly.

"Is it?" You looked at her, uncertain. "I said terrible things, Leah. I accused him of seeing me as nothing but a showpiece, a means to an heir. I asked if he was repulsed by me. If he was sleeping with someone else."

"And what did he say?"

"He was shocked, mostly. I don't think anyone's ever spoken to him like that before." You took another sip of tea, gathering your thoughts. "But then he said something about... about wanting me but being afraid of needing someone. Of being vulnerable."

Leah nodded thoughtfully. "That actually makes a strange kind of sense. Your husband always struck me as someone who keeps himself under tight control."

"You've met him twice," you pointed out with a watery smile.

"Twice was enough." She grinned briefly, then grew serious again. "So what happens now?"

You shook your head, feeling utterly lost. "I don't know. I just knew I had to get out of there tonight. To remember what it feels like to be... me. Not Mrs. Yang, not the society hostess, just me."

"Well, you came to the right place," Leah said, gesturing around her chaotic apartment. "Nothing perfect or polished here. Just real life in all its messy glory."

For the first time that night, you felt a small laugh bubble up. "I've missed this. I've missed you."

"I've been right here," she reminded you gently. "You're the one who got swept up into the Yang universe."

The observation stung because it contained truth. After the wedding, you had gradually withdrawn from your old friendships, immersing yourself in the role expected of Jungwon's wife. It hadn't been a conscious choice, but rather a slow submersion into a new identity that had eventually consumed the person you used to be.

"I don't know who I am anymore," you confessed, the realization dawning as you spoke it. "I've spent so long being what everyone else needed me to be that I've forgotten what I actually want."

"Then maybe that's what this time away is for," Leah suggested. "To remember."

You nodded, exhaustion suddenly washing over you. The emotional release had drained what little energy you had left after the confrontation with Jungwon.

"The guest room is a disaster area right now—art supplies everywhere," Leah said apologetically. 

"The couch is perfect," you assured her, overwhelmed.

"Shut up, you'll sleep next to me,"

-

Jungwon sat in his study, crystal tumbler of whiskey untouched beside him, as he stared at his phone screen. The message showed as delivered, but not yet read. He refreshed the screen again, a gesture he'd repeated dozens of times in the last hour.

Are you coming down?

The timestamp mocked him. It had been nearly two hours since he'd sent it, and still no response. Unease had gradually transformed into concern, then alarm when he'd finally ventured upstairs to find the blue guest room empty, save for a handwritten note on the perfectly made bed.

I need space to breathe. Please don't follow me. I'll contact you when I'm ready.

The words had hit him with physical force. He stood there staring at the note, reading it over and over as if the sparse sentences might reveal some hidden meaning. Space to breathe. Had he really been suffocating you all this time without realizing it?

Now, back in his study, Jungwon fought against his instinct to act—to call security, to track your phone, to send drivers searching the city. You had asked for space. Following you would only prove that he couldn't respect your wishes, your independence. The very thing he'd convinced himself he'd been protecting all this time.

The irony wasn't lost on him.

Jungwon picked up his phone again, debating whether to try calling. His thumb hovered over your contact information before he set the device down with a sigh of frustration. What would he even say if you answered? The right words had eluded him for an entire year of marriage; they weren't likely to materialize now, in the middle of the night, after the worst fight of your relationship.

A relationship. Was that even the right word for what you had? You had called it a "business arrangement with living quarters," and the brutal accuracy of the description had left him speechless.

Jungwon ran a hand through his hair, disheveling it completely. The careful composure he maintained at all times had crumbled the moment he'd found your note. Now, alone in his study, there was no one to witness his distress, his uncertainty, his fear.

Fear. That was the emotion he'd denied for so long, burying it beneath layers of control and duty. Fear of needing someone. Fear of being vulnerable. Fear of repeating his father's cold, loveless existence.

And in trying to avoid his father's mistakes, he had made his own. Different in method, perhaps, but identical in result: a wife who felt unseen, unwanted.

The grandfather clock in the hallway chimed two in the morning. Jungwon hadn't slept, had barely moved from his position at the desk. The silence of the mansion pressed in around him, no longer the peaceful quiet he'd always preferred, but an emptiness that echoed your absence.

On impulse, he rose and left the study, walking through the darkened house toward the master suite. Inside the bedroom, everything remained exactly as you'd both left it hours earlier—your perfume bottle on the vanity, your book on the nightstand, your robe draped over a chair. He moved to your side of the bed, sitting down carefully on the edge, and picked up the book you'd been reading.

A collection of poetry. Jungwon hadn't even known you liked poetry.

What else didn't he know about the woman he'd married? What interests, dreams, fears had you kept hidden—or worse, had tried to share only to be met with his characteristic reserve?

He opened the book to where a silk bookmark held your place. The poem was circled lightly in pencil:

Between what is said and not meant, And what is meant and not said, Most of love is lost.

The simple lines struck him with unexpected force. Jungwon stared at the words, wondering how many times you had tried to tell him what you needed, how many signals he had missed or misinterpreted.

From his pocket, his phone buzzed with an incoming call. His heart leapt as he fumbled to answer, but the caller ID showed his father's name, not yours.

"Father," he answered, struggling to keep his voice even. "It's very late."

"Where is your wife?" Mr. Yang's voice was sharp, cutting through the pretense of pleasantries.

Jungwon tensed. "How did you—"

"Mrs. Park saw her getting into a taxi. Alone. After midnight. She naturally called your mother with concerns."

Of course. The gossip network never slept. "She's visiting a friend," he said carefully.

"In the middle of the night? Without you?" His father's skepticism was palpable. "Do you take me for a fool, Jungwon? What's going on?"

A familiar pattern attempted to reassert itself—the urge to placate his father, to maintain appearances, to ensure the Yang family reputation remained unsullied. For a moment, he almost slipped into the expected response.

But the circled poem caught his eye again. Most of love is lost. He couldn't lose any more.

"We had a disagreement," Jungwon said finally, the admission feeling like ripping off a bandage. "She needed some space."

"A disagreement?" His father's tone grew icier. "Serious enough for her to leave the house? To risk being seen by others, creating speculation? What were you thinking, allowing this?"

The word "allowing" ignited something in him—a flicker of the same defiance he'd felt when his father had demanded he end his college relationship.

"I wasn't 'allowing' anything, Father. She's my wife, not my subordinate. She made a choice, and I'm respecting it."

The silence on the other end of the line was deafening. Never in his adult life had Jungwon spoken to his father with such open opposition.

"This is unacceptable," Mr. Yang said finally. "You will resolve whatever childish spat has occurred and bring her home immediately. The gala next week—"

"Is not as important as my marriage," Jungwon interrupted, surprising himself with the firmness in his voice.

"Your marriage? Suddenly you care about your marriage?" His father's laugh was without humor. "For a year you've treated it exactly as I advised—as a beneficial arrangement. Now you're telling me you've developed feelings? Become sentimental?"

The contempt in the older man's voice was unmistakable, but instead of cowering as he might have in the past, Jungwon felt a strange calm settle over him.

"Yes," he said simply. "I have feelings for my wife. I always have. And I've been wrong to hide them."

"This is disappointing, Jungwon. I expected better from you."

"I'm beginning to think your expectations are precisely the problem, Father." Jungwon took a deep breath. "I need to go now. It's late, and I have some thinking to do."

"Don't you dare hang up on—"

Jungwon ended the call, staring at the phone in mild disbelief at his own actions. Then, with deliberate movements, he silenced the device and set it aside.

Returning to the poetry book, he carefully noted the page number of the circled poem, then moved through the house to your closet. There, among the designer clothes and accessories, he searched for some clue to the woman behind the perfect facade—the woman he'd married but never truly allowed himself to know.

In the back of a drawer, he found a small wooden box, simple and clearly personal. For a moment, his ingrained respect for privacy warred with his desperate need to understand you. Privacy won—he couldn't begin rebuilding trust by violating it—but the box's existence gave him hope. There were parts of yourself you'd kept separate from your arranged life, a core identity preserved despite the pressures of being Mrs. Yang.

Jungwon returned to the study, his earlier paralysis replaced by a growing resolve. He wouldn't chase you—you'd asked for space, and he would respect that. But he could prepare for your return, could begin the work of becoming someone worthy of a second chance.

The task seemed monumentally difficult, decades of conditioning standing in opposition to what he now knew he needed to do. He had no model for the kind of husband he wanted to become, no example of vulnerability balanced with strength.

But for the first time since you'd walked out, Jungwon felt something like hope. If you gave him the chance, he would find a way to be better. To be real. To tear down the walls he'd built over a lifetime of emotional suppression.

Dawn was breaking outside the study windows when he finally drafted a message, simple and without expectation:

I understand you need space, and I respect that. I'll be here when you're ready to talk—whether that's tomorrow or next week. I'm sorry for a year of silence. I'm listening now.

He sent it before he could second-guess himself, then set the phone down and moved to the window. Outside, the gardens were beginning to emerge from darkness, the first light revealing dew on the perfectly manicured lawns.

For once, Jungwon didn't see the perfection. Instead, he noticed how the morning light caught in a spider's web between two branches, transforming the fragile structure into something beautiful and strong. Perhaps there was a lesson there, in vulnerability's unexpected resilience.

As the mansion gradually woke around him—staff arriving, coffee brewing, the day's preparations beginning—Jungwon remained at the window, watching the light change and wondering if you, wherever you were, might be watching the same sunrise.

-

The mansion felt impossibly silent as Jungwon moved through the darkened hallways, your poetry book clutched in his hand like a lifeline. Sleep had become not just elusive but impossible, the vast emptiness of your shared bed a physical manifestation of what had been missing between you for a year. The sheets still carried your scent—a subtle perfume that he'd never properly acknowledged until now, when its absence made the fabric seem cold and lifeless.

He couldn't bear to remain in that room, surrounded by the ghosts of a thousand nights spent in careful distance. Instead, he found himself back in his study, the room that had been his refuge from intimacy for so long. Now it felt like a prison of his own making, walls lined with business achievements that suddenly seemed hollow.

With trembling hands, he placed your book on his desk and opened it once more to the marked page, the one with the circled verse that had first pierced his carefully constructed armor:

Between what is said and not meant,

And what is meant and not said,

Most of love is lost.

His fingers traced your handwriting in the margin—small, delicate notes that revealed more about your inner thoughts than a year of careful conversation had. Next to this poem, you'd written simply: Us? with the question mark trailing off like a fading hope.

One word, followed by a question mark. So much longing contained in those three small letters. Had you written this recently, or months ago? Had you been silently questioning the emptiness between you while he maintained his facade of contentment?

Jungwon turned the page, discovering more of your markings. Some poems had stars beside them, others had entire stanzas underlined. Some had exclamation points, others question marks. It was like finding a secret language, a code he should have deciphered long ago.

A poem about two rivers running parallel without ever meeting carried your annotation: This is what marriage feels like. So close yet never touching.

His breath caught. When had you written that? While lying beside him in bed, bodies carefully not touching? While sitting across from him at breakfast, exchanging polite comments about the day ahead?

He continued reading, unable to stop himself now. Each page revealed more of your hidden inner life. A poem about seasonal changes had reminds me of childhood summers before expectations written in the margin. Another about distant mountains carried the note wish we could travel together somewhere without his family or business associates.

Each annotation was a window into desires you'd never expressed, dreams you'd kept hidden. Why had he never asked what you wanted? Where you longed to go? What made you happy?

The night deepened around him, but Jungwon barely noticed. He was falling into your world, glimpsing for the first time the woman behind the perfect wife he'd taken for granted.

Then he found a page with the corner folded down, a poem about physical love:

I want to do with you what spring does with the cherry trees.

Your handwriting beside it was more hurried, almost feverish: too much to hope for? would he ever lose control enough?

Jungwon's throat tightened painfully. All those nights lying beside you, maintaining a careful distance, while you marked poems about passion and wrote desperate questions no one would see. How many nights had you lain awake, wanting him to reach for you? How many times had you considered reaching for him, only to retreat in fear of rejection?

He turned more pages, finding increasingly intimate selections. Next to Pablo Neruda's words:

I want to eat the sunbeam flaring in your lovely body, the sovereign nose of your arrogant face, I want to eat the fleeting shade of your lashes

You'd written: I dream of his mouth on my skin. Would he be disgusted by such thoughts?

The pain that shot through him was physical. Disgusted? How could you think that? But then, what else could you think when he'd maintained such careful distance, when he'd retreated to his study each night rather than face the vulnerability of desire?

Another poem, this one about hands tracing the geography of a lover's body, carried your note: I've memorized the shape of his hands during dinner parties, imagined them on me instead of on his wine glass.

Jungwon looked down at his own hands, remembering all the times they'd almost touched you—passing dishes at dinner, handing you into the car, the brief contact when giving you a gift—and how he'd always pulled back just slightly too soon. What would have happened if he'd let his fingers linger? If he'd given in to the urge to trace the line of your jaw, to feel the softness of your skin?

Hours passed as he lost himself in your secret thoughts. Some poems had tear stains, barely perceptible wrinkles in the paper where droplets had fallen and dried. Those broke him most of all—the tangible evidence of your solitary tears, shed perhaps just feet away from where he sat working, oblivious to your pain.

One poem about loneliness had simply: I am disappearing inside this house, inside this marriage, becoming nothing but "Mrs. Yang" scrawled across the bottom in handwriting that shook with emotion.

Dawn found him still at his desk, eyes burning from reading and from tears he hadn't realized he was shedding. The morning staff moved quietly through the house, shocked to see him disheveled and unshaven, the immaculate Yang heir looking like a man undone.

He ignored their concerned glances, your poetry book still open before him. But it wasn't enough. One book couldn't contain all of you. He needed more.

"Sir," the housekeeper approached hesitantly as Jungwon emerged from his study, still in yesterday's clothes, "would you like your breakfast now?"

"No," he replied, his voice hoarse from a night without sleep. "I need to see all of Madame's books. Every book in this house that she's ever touched."

The housekeeper exchanged a worried glance with the butler. "All of them, sir?"

"Every single one. Novels, poetry, anything with her handwriting in it. Bring them to the library."

He moved with feverish purpose to the library, pulling books from shelves himself—any that showed signs of your touch. Dog-eared pages, bookmarks, the slight cracking of spines that indicated frequent opening to favorite passages.

Throughout the day, the staff delivered more and more books—novels from your nightstand, reference books from the sunroom shelves, journals from your writing desk. Jungwon created careful piles around him, transforming the library floor into a map of your mind.

He found a travel book about Greece with dozens of Post-it notes marking specific locations. The private cove where no one would expect Mrs. Yang to swim naked read one note that made his heart race. Another, beside a picture of a small village: No social obligations, no family expectations—heaven.

You'd been dreaming of escape. From the mansion, from the Yang name, from him? The thought was unbearable.

In your copy of Jane Eyre, he found your underlining of Rochester's passionate declaration: "I have for the first time found what I can truly love–I have found you." Beside it, your handwriting: To be truly SEEN by someone. What would that feel like?

"Oh god," he whispered, the words escaping involuntarily. "You've never felt seen."

How could he have failed so completely? He, who prided himself on his attention to detail in business, had missed everything that mattered about the woman who shared his home, his name, his bed.

As afternoon turned to evening, Jungwon discovered a small leather journal tucked between larger books on a bottom shelf. He hesitated, knowing this was crossing a line from reading your notes to reading your private thoughts. But his need to know you, to understand what he'd missed, overrode his sense of propriety.

The journal wasn't a diary but a collection of poems you'd written yourself, clumsy in places but raw with emotion:

I practice conversations with you in my head

Witty things I might say that would make you look at me

Really look at me

But when you enter the room

My words evaporate like morning dew

And we speak of dinner parties and business associates

Never of stars or dreams or why your eyes

Sometimes follow me when you think I don't notice

Jungwon felt his careful composure—the mask he'd worn his entire adult life—shatter completely. You had seen him watching you. Had known there was something beneath his polite facade. But he'd never given you enough to be sure, had never been brave enough to let you see his wanting.

Another poem, dated just two months ago:

Your fingers brushed mine as you handed me a glass

Accidental touch that burned through my skin

I wonder if you felt it too

That current between us, electric and dangerous

Or if I imagined it, desperate for connection

For any sign that beneath your perfect suit

Beats a heart that could want me

As much as I want you

He had felt it. Every accidental touch, every brush of your hand, every moment when you stood close enough that he could smell your perfume. He had felt everything and denied it all, retreating into work and duty and the expectations drilled into him since childhood.

The worst entry was the most recent, written just days before your anniversary:

One year of marriage

Three hundred sixty-five nights of lying beside him

Listening to his breathing

Wondering if he's awake

Wondering if he ever thinks of touching me

Of breaking through the invisible wall between us

One year of perfect Mrs. Yang While the woman inside me slowly suffocates

Sometimes I think if I just reached for him once

If I was brave enough to cross that divide

But what if his rejection destroyed the last piece of me

That still believes I'm worthy of being

Wanted.

Jungwon closed the journal, his vision blurred with tears. You had been silently begging for him to reach across the divide while he had been congratulating himself on respecting your independence. The magnitude of his failure crushed him.

He didn't eat that day. Didn't change clothes. Didn't acknowledge the increasingly concerned staff who hovered at the library's periphery. Instead, he immersed himself in your hidden world, learning you through the books you'd loved, the passages you'd marked, the words you'd written when you thought no one would see.

Dawn arrived, but Jungwon had lost all sense of time. The library floor was covered with open books, each one containing fragments of your soul. He had read himself into a state of emotional exhaustion, discovering more and more evidence of your loneliness, your desire, your gradual loss of hope.

A desperate energy seized him. Reading wasn't enough. He needed to act, to change, to create physical evidence of his awakening before you returned—if you returned.

He summoned the head gardener, ignoring the man's shocked expression at his disheveled appearance.

"I need every peony on the estate moved to the front garden," he announced, his voice rough from disuse. "Every single one. From all the gardens, the greenhouse, everywhere."

"Sir, that would be hundreds of plants," the gardener protested. "And the formal design—"

"I don't care about the design," Jungwon interrupted, thinking of a note he'd found beside a picture of a wild garden: Why must everything be so ordered? So perfect? I long for beautiful chaos. "I want them arranged naturally. The way they would grow if they chose their own placement."

"But sir, your mother's landscape plan—"

"Is no longer relevant." Jungwon's eyes flashed with an intensity that made the gardener step back. "The peonies were always her choice, not my wife's. I want a garden that reflects what she loves."

"This will take all day, possibly longer," the gardener warned.

"Then start immediately. And I need something else. The bookshelves from the east parlor—bring them to the east garden. All of them."

The staff exchanged alarmed glances, but Jungwon was beyond caring about their concerns. He continued issuing instructions, driven by the need to transform the mansion—to break the perfect mold that had trapped you both.

"Sir," the butler ventured cautiously when the others had gone to carry out these strange orders, "perhaps you should rest. You haven't slept or eaten—"

"How can I rest?" Jungwon's voice broke with emotion. "Do you know what I've discovered? She's been living here for a year, lonely and unfulfilled, while I congratulated myself on being a proper husband. I've failed her completely."

The butler, who had served the Yang family for decades, had never seen the young master in such a state. "Sir, if I may... it's never too late to change course."

Jungwon looked at him sharply. "Have you seen her? Has she contacted anyone?"

"No, sir. But knowing Madame, she's not one to leave matters unresolved."

With renewed determination, Jungwon returned to the library. He selected dozens of books containing your most revealing notes and had them brought to the east garden. As the shelves were positioned on the grass, he began arranging the books, creating a physical testament to what he'd learned.

The gardeners worked throughout the day, transplanting hundreds of peonies to the front garden in a naturalistic arrangement that would horrify his mother but, he hoped, would speak to you. The once-formal approach to the house transformed into an explosion of your favorite flowers, arranged with the organic randomness of nature rather than the rigid precision of Yang tradition.

By late afternoon, Jungwon had created an outdoor library in the east garden—the private corner of the grounds where you often walked alone. He placed books on the shelves and opened others on the grass around him, creating a circle of revelations.

He had sent the staff away, needing to be alone with the evidence of his awakening. His phone buzzed repeatedly—his father, his mother, business associates all demanding attention. He ignored them all.

Instead, he picked up your poetry journal again, reading and rereading your most vulnerable confessions. The precise handwriting becoming more jagged with emotion. The careful Mrs. Yang breaking through to the woman beneath.

As sunset painted the sky in shades of pink and gold, Jungwon sat amidst the books, surrounded by the fragments of you he'd collected, feeling more alive and more terrified than he had ever been. What if it was too late? What if you had already decided that the year of emotional solitude was too high a price for the Yang name and fortune?

He wouldn't blame you. How could he? He had offered you everything except himself.

Night fell, and still he remained in the garden, under stars you had once described in a margin note as witnesses to all our silent longings. He read your words by the light of lanterns the staff had silently provided, losing himself in the labyrinth of your unspoken desires.

In the faint light, he reread the poem that had started his journey—the one about love lost between what is said and not meant, what is meant and not said. He traced your question mark with his finger, feeling the slight indentation in the paper where you had pressed the pen, perhaps harder than you intended, the physical evidence of your frustration.

"I see you now," he whispered to the empty garden, to the books that held pieces of your soul. "I see you, and I'm terrified it's too late."

The night deepened around him, but Jungwon remained among the books, keeping vigil, waiting, hoping you would come home—and fearing you would not.

-

Five days since you'd left. Five days of freedom from the perfect imprisonment that had become your life. Five days to remember who you were before becoming Mrs. Yang.

On the morning of the sixth day, as you sat on Leah's small balcony with a chipped mug of coffee, your phone lit up with a text from Jungwon's personal assistant.

Mr. Yang has canceled all appointments for the foreseeable future. The household staff reports concerning behavior. If you could contact them, they would be grateful.

You stared at the message, rereading it several times. Jungwon never canceled appointments. Even when he'd had the flu last winter, he'd conducted meetings by video rather than reschedule. His schedule was sacred, immovable.

"What's wrong?" Leah asked, noticing your expression.

You handed her the phone. She read the message and raised her eyebrows.

"Sounds like someone's having a breakdown."

"Jungwon doesn't have breakdowns," you said automatically, then paused. The man you'd confronted before leaving—the one who'd admitted his fear of vulnerability, who'd texted you his feelings rather than say them aloud—perhaps that man did have breakdowns after all.

"Are you going to go check on him?" Leah asked.

You sighed, setting down your coffee. "I have to, don't I? At the very least, I need to get more of my things." You'd left with only a small overnight bag, having no plan beyond escape.

"Want me to come with you?"

"No," you said, more decisively than you felt. "This is something I need to do alone."

As you showered and dressed, you tried to prepare yourself for what awaited. Would Jungwon be coldly angry, his moment of vulnerability already locked away? Would he have summoned his parents, ready for a united front to convince you of your duties? Or would he simply be absent, buried in work as a shield against emotion?

In the rideshare on the way to the mansion, you rehearsed what to say. You would be calm but firm. This wasn't about blame anymore but about whether a real marriage was possible between you. You needed honesty, vulnerability, true partnership—not just the performance of marriage you'd endured for a year.

But as the car approached the gates of the estate, your carefully prepared speech evaporated. The formal gardens that had always greeted visitors with mathematical precision had been transformed. Instead of the orderly rows of seasonal blooms, there was a riot of peonies—your favorite flower—planted in natural, wild groupings that looked almost as if they had grown there spontaneously.

"Wait here," you told the driver. "I may not be staying."

As you walked up the long driveway, your heart hammered against your ribs. The front door opened before you reached it, the butler appearing with an expression of profound relief.

"Madame," he said, bowing slightly. "Thank goodness you've returned."

"I'm not staying necessarily," you clarified, stepping into the foyer. "I just came to—" You stopped, noticing more changes. The formal floral arrangements that always occupied the entryway tables had been replaced with wild, exuberant bouquets of peonies and wildflowers. "What's happening here?"

"Mr. Yang has been... making adjustments to the household," the butler replied diplomatically. "He's in the east garden. He's been there nearly two days now."

Two days? "Is he... is he all right?"

The butler hesitated. "I believe he's waiting for you, Madame."

You made your way through the house, noting more changes as you went. Books that had always been perfectly arranged on shelves now sat in haphazard stacks on tables, many open to specific pages. Your books, you realized, from your private collection.

When you reached the doors leading to the east garden—your favorite part of the grounds, where you often walked alone—you paused, gathering your courage.

Nothing could have prepared you for what you found.

The garden had been transformed into an outdoor library. Bookshelves stood on the grass in a semicircle, filled with books—your books—many open to display specific pages. And in the center, sitting cross-legged on the ground surrounded by open volumes, was Jungwon.

You'd never seen him like this. His usually immaculate appearance was completely undone—hair disheveled, several days' stubble on his jaw, clothes rumpled as if he'd slept in them. He was reading intently from what you recognized as your private poetry journal, his expression a mixture of pain and wonder.

He looked up as your shadow fell across the page, and the naked hope and fear in his eyes made your breath catch.

"You came back," he said, his voice rough as if from disuse.

"What is all this?" you asked, gesturing to the surreal scene around you.

Jungwon carefully closed your journal and set it aside. He rose slowly to his feet, a man moving carefully so as not to shatter something fragile.

"I've been trying to find you," he said. "The real you. The one I should have been looking for all along."

You stepped closer, picking up one of the books from the grass. It was your copy of Neruda's love sonnets, open to a page where you'd scribbled Would he ever touch me like this? in the margin.

Heat rose to your face. "You've been reading my private notes?"

"Yes." Jungwon didn't try to justify or excuse it. "I needed to understand what I'd missed, what I'd ignored. I needed to see you—really see you."

You should have been angry at the invasion of privacy, but something in his broken expression stopped your protest. This wasn't the controlled, perfect Jungwon Yang you'd married. This was someone else entirely—raw, desperate, real.

"Do you have any idea," he continued, taking a step toward you, "how much you've wanted? How much you've needed? All these books, all these words you've underlined, notes you've written—they're full of longing I never acknowledged."

You remained silent, unsure what to say as he moved closer, stopping just short of touching you.

"I found your poem about lying beside me at night, wondering if I was awake, wondering if I ever thought about touching you." His voice broke slightly. "I did. Every night. I lay there wanting you, terrified of reaching for you, convinced that maintaining distance was the same as showing respect."

Your heart pounded so hard you were sure he must hear it. "Why are you telling me this now?"

"Because I almost lost you." The simple truth hung in the air between you. "Because I realized that the thing I feared most—vulnerability, need, the possibility of rejection—was nothing compared to the emptiness of letting you walk away without ever knowing how much I want you. How much I've always wanted you."

To your shock, Jungwon suddenly dropped to his knees before you, looking up with eyes that held none of his usual composure.

"I don't deserve another chance," he said, his voice raw with emotion. "I've been a coward, hiding behind duty and family expectations. But if you're willing—if there's any part of you that believes we could start again—I swear I will spend every day trying to be worthy of you."

You stood frozen, overwhelmed by his declaration, by the sight of Jungwon Yang—heir to an empire, always in perfect control—on his knees before you, walls finally shattered.

"I want to build a life with you," he continued, the words spilling out as if he couldn't contain them any longer. "A real life, not this performance we've been trapped in. I want mornings where we don't pretend to sleep through each other's routines. I want to hear about your day and tell you about mine. I want to take you to that cove in Greece where no one would expect Mrs. Yang to swim naked."

Your cheeks flamed at the reference to your private note in the travel book.

"I've read every word you've written in the margins," he confessed, his voice dropping lower. "I've memorized your poetry. The ones you circled, the ones you starred. Neruda's words—'I want to do with you what spring does with the cherry trees'—I understand them now. I feel them in my veins."

His eyes locked with yours, their intensity almost unbearable.

"I dream of you. Of being inside you. Of knowing nothing but the depth of your eyes when you look at me. Of drowning in your skin until my mind forgets every lesson in restraint I've ever learned." His voice shook slightly. "All those nights I lay beside you, rigid with control, while you wrote of desire in book margins—it was never indifference. It was fear. Fear of how completely I would surrender to you if I allowed myself a single touch."

You couldn't breathe, couldn't speak as he continued, years of suppressed desire breaking through the dam of his composure.

"I found where you wrote 'would he ever lose control enough?' The answer is yes. God, yes. Every moment of every day I've wanted to lose myself in you. To press you against walls, to taste every inch of your skin, to hear my name in your voice when I'm buried so deep inside you that we can't tell where I end and you begin."

He trembled visibly now, hands clenched at his sides to keep from reaching for you.

"I want children who know their father can feel, can love," he went on, his voice breaking. "I want to be the man you deserve—not the perfect Yang heir, but a husband who sees you, hears you, wants you exactly as you are."

Tears welled in your eyes, but you blinked them back. This was what you'd wanted—wasn't it? The real man beneath the perfect facade. But now that he was here, raw and vulnerable, you found yourself terrified of your own power to hurt him, to be hurt again.

"I don't know if I can trust this," you admitted softly. "What happens when your father calls? When your mother visits? When business demands return? Will you retreat back behind those walls you've built over a lifetime?"

Jungwon nodded, acknowledging the fairness of your question. "I already told my father I won't be controlled by his expectations anymore. I hung up on him—" He gave a small, disbelieving laugh. "I actually hung up on him when he tried to order me to bring you back for appearances' sake."

Your eyes widened. In the Yang family hierarchy, defying the patriarch was unthinkable.

"I can't promise I'll never struggle," Jungwon continued. "A lifetime of conditioning doesn't disappear in a week. But I can promise to try. To talk instead of withdraw. To let you see me—all of me, even the parts I was taught to hide." He swallowed hard. "And I can promise that no business meeting, no family obligation, nothing will ever be more important to me than you are."

The morning sunlight filtered through the garden trees, casting dappled light across his face, highlighting the exhaustion in his eyes, the vulnerability in his expression. In that moment, all the trappings of wealth and status fell away, leaving just a man asking a woman for another chance.

"I love you," he said quietly, the words clearly strange on his tongue. "I think I have from the beginning, but I didn't know how to show it, how to say it, how to let myself feel it without fear."

Your carefully constructed walls began to crumble. The honesty in his eyes, the tremor in his voice—this wasn't another performance. This was real in a way nothing between you had been before.

You took a deep breath, making a decision that would change everything.

"Stand up," you said softly.

Jungwon rose slowly, uncertainty in every line of his body. He stood before you, not touching, waiting.

"I need time," you said finally. "Not away from you—I think we've had enough distance. But time here, together, building something real. Day by day. No quick fixes, no grand gestures, just... honest effort."

Relief washed over his face. "Anything. Whatever you need."

You reached out slowly, your hand trembling slightly as you placed it against his cheek. The stubble was rough under your palm—a tangible sign of his unraveling, his transformation.

"We start again," you said. "As equals. As partners. As two people choosing each other every day, not just fulfilling an arrangement."

Jungwon covered your hand with his own, his eyes never leaving yours. "Yes," he agreed simply. "That's all I want. The chance to choose you, and to be chosen by you, every day."

You stood there in the garden surrounded by the evidence of his awakening—the books, the wildflowers, the breaking of perfect order that had defined your lives together. Nothing was resolved yet, not really. The real work of building a marriage would take time, patience, courage from both of you.

But as Jungwon's fingers tentatively interlaced with yours, you felt something you hadn't experienced in a very long time: hope.

Not the desperate hope that had led you to mark passages in poetry books, dreaming of connection. But a quieter, stronger hope built on the foundation of truth finally spoken, of walls finally breached.

A beginning, at last, after a year of beautiful emptiness.

-

The transformation didn't happen overnight. Real change never does. But it began with small, deliberate steps—each one a silent promise, a brick in the foundation of what you both hoped would become something genuine and lasting.

The first week was tentative, both of you navigating an unfamiliar landscape of honesty. You moved back into the master bedroom, but Jungwon slept on the chaise lounge across the room, respecting your need for physical space while closing the emotional distance. Each night, you talked—sometimes for hours—about everything and nothing. Your childhoods. Your dreams. The books that had shaped you. The places you longed to visit.

"I never knew you wanted to see Greece so badly," Jungwon said one evening, sitting cross-legged on the chaise, looking younger and more relaxed than you'd ever seen him. "We could go. Whenever you want."

"It's not just about going," you explained, hugging your knees to your chest as you sat against the headboard. "It's about going somewhere simply because we want to, not because it's expected or beneficial to the family business."

He nodded, understanding dawning in his eyes. "A trip just for us. No schedules, no business meetings disguised as vacations..."

"Exactly."

Two days later, you found a travel guide to the Greek islands on your pillow, with a note in Jungwon's precise handwriting: Pick the places that call to you. No expectations. No time limit. Just us.

-

The second week brought the first real test. Mrs. Yang arrived unannounced, sweeping into the foyer with the authority of someone who had never been denied entry.

"I've heard disturbing reports," she announced, eyeing the wildflower arrangements with thinly veiled distaste. "The garden completely rearranged. Appointments canceled. Your father says you're not taking his calls. And now this..." She gestured to the informality of the house, the books scattered on surfaces, the general disruption of the perfect order she'd helped establish.

In the past, Jungwon would have immediately adjusted his behavior to appease her. You braced yourself for his retreat back into the perfect son role.

Instead, he surprised you.

"Mother," he said calmly, "we're in the middle of some changes here. I should have called to tell you it's not a good time for a visit."

Her eyes widened. "Not a good time? Since when do I need an appointment to visit my own son's home?"

"Since now," Jungwon replied, his voice gentle but firm. "We're working on our marriage, and we need space to do that properly."

Mrs. Yang turned to you, expecting you to be the reasonable one, to smooth over this unprecedented friction. "Surely you understand that family obligations—"

"Are important," you finished for her, "but not more important than our relationship. Jungwon and I are learning to put each other first."

Her mouth opened and closed, momentarily speechless. "This is your influence," she finally said to you, her voice sharp. "My son has never been so disrespectful."

You felt Jungwon tense beside you, but before he could speak, you placed your hand on his arm. A silent communication—I've got this.

"It's not disrespect to establish healthy boundaries," you said, maintaining a respectful tone despite the accusation. "We both value you and Mr. Yang, but we're building something here that needs protection and care."

Mrs. Yang looked between the two of you, noting the united front, the way Jungwon stood slightly closer to you than necessary, the casual intimacy of your hand on his arm. Something in her calculation shifted.

"I see," she said finally. "Well. Call when you're ready to rejoin society. The foundation gala is in three weeks, and people will talk if you're absent."

"Let them talk," Jungwon said simply.

After she left, you turned to Jungwon, studying his face for signs of regret or anger. Instead, you found him looking almost relieved.

"That was the first time I've ever said no to her," he confessed with a shaky laugh. "It feels... terrifying. And right."

You squeezed his hand. "You were perfect."

"Not perfect," he corrected. "Real. There's a difference."

-

By the third week, physical barriers began to dissolve. Jungwon moved from the chaise to the bed, though always maintaining a careful distance. But one night, half-asleep and cold from the air conditioning, you instinctively shifted closer to his warmth. Without fully waking, he draped an arm over you, pulling you against him with a contented sigh.

You froze, suddenly wide awake, your heart racing at the casual intimacy. His breathing remained deep and even, clearly still asleep. Slowly, you relaxed into the embrace, allowing yourself to feel the solidity of him, the gentle rise and fall of his chest, the warmth that radiated through his thin t-shirt.

It was the first time you'd slept in each other's arms. In the morning, when you both woke to find yourselves entangled, there was a moment of awkward uncertainty before Jungwon smiled—a genuine, unguarded smile that transformed his face.

"Good morning," he said softly, making no move to pull away.

"Good morning," you replied, marveling at how natural it felt to be here, in this moment, with him.

That day, the staff noticed the shift between you—the lingering glances, the casual touches as you passed each other, the private smiles. The mansion seemed to exhale, as if the building itself had been holding its breath, waiting for life to finally fill its rooms.

-

A month after your return, Jungwon came to you with a proposal.

"I've been thinking about the house," he said over breakfast, which you now took together every morning before he left for work. His schedule had been completely reorganized, with strict boundaries between work and home time. "It's beautiful, but it's never felt like ours. It's been my family's vision of what our home should be."

You nodded, understanding immediately. "It's always felt like living in a museum."

"Exactly." He pushed a folder across the table. "What would you think about this?"

Inside were architectural plans for a new house—smaller, more intimate, designed around shared spaces and natural light.

"You want to move?" you asked, surprised.

"I want us to build something that belongs to us," he clarified. "Something that reflects who we are together, not who everyone expects us to be."

You studied the plans more carefully, noting the library with two desks facing each other, the open kitchen designed for cooking together, the master bedroom with windows that would catch the sunrise.

"There's room for a nursery," you observed quietly, looking up to gauge his reaction.

His eyes softened. "I thought... someday... if we decided..." He took a deep breath, steadying himself. "I want children with you. Not for the Yang legacy, but because I can't imagine anything more beautiful than creating a family with you. But only when we're ready. Only when our foundation is solid."

You reached across the table, taking his hand. "I'd like that. Someday."

He squeezed your fingers, a simple gesture that had become precious in its newfound ease. "So, the house?"

"Yes," you decided. "Let's build something that's truly ours."

-

Two months into your new beginning, you attended your first social event as a changed couple. The charity auction—ironically, the same type of event where you'd played your roles so convincingly before—now became the stage for your authentic selves.

When you entered on Jungwon's arm, the subtle changes were immediately apparent to the careful observers of high society. The way his hand rested at the small of your back—not for show, but because he liked the connection to you. How he kept you within his sight even during separate conversations. The private smiles you exchanged across the room, small moments of complicity in the public setting.

Mrs. Singh approached you during a lull in the evening. "There's something different about you two," she observed shrewdly. "You seem... happier."

You smiled, watching Jungwon across the room. He was engaged in conversation but looked up at that exact moment, as if sensing your gaze, and smiled back with undisguised affection.

"We are," you replied simply.

Later, when the dancing began, Jungwon led you to the floor. Unlike the choreographed movements you'd performed at countless events before, this time he held you closer, his cheek occasionally brushing against your temple, his hand warm and secure against yours.

"Everyone's watching us," you murmured, feeling the weight of curious eyes.

"Let them," he replied, his lips close to your ear. "Maybe they'll learn something."

The evening continued, but unlike before, you weren't simply playing a part. The genuine connection between you was unmistakable, and as the night progressed, you felt something shift in the atmosphere around you. The calculated social maneuvering gave way to something more genuine, as if your authenticity had granted others permission to drop their own facades, if only slightly.

When you returned home that night, the tension that had always accompanied these performances was absent. Instead, there was a shared sense of accomplishment, of having navigated the social waters together without losing yourselves in the process.

"That wasn't so bad," Jungwon admitted as you both prepared for bed. "Being real in public."

"It was actually nice," you agreed, sitting at your vanity to remove your jewelry. "Though I think your mother nearly fainted when you declined the board seat Mr. Lee offered."

Jungwon laughed, the sound still new enough to delight you. "The old me would have accepted immediately, even though we both know it would have meant even less time at home." He moved behind you, meeting your eyes in the mirror. "I have different priorities now."

He reached for the clasp of your necklace, his fingers brushing against your skin as he helped you remove it. The simple intimacy of the gesture—one that might have seemed ordinary in most marriages but was revolutionary in yours—made your breath catch.

When he finished, his hands remained on your shoulders, thumbs gently caressing the exposed skin above your dress. Your eyes met in the mirror, and the desire you saw there—no longer hidden or denied—sent heat cascading through you.

"May I kiss you?" he asked softly.

It wasn't your first kiss since the reconciliation—there had been gentle pecks, cautious explorations—but something about this moment felt different. More significant.

You turned to face him, rising from the vanity bench. "Yes."

He cupped your face with reverent hands, studying you as if committing every detail to memory, before leaning in slowly. The kiss began gentle but deepened as months of carefully banked desire kindled between you. His arms encircled your waist, drawing you closer until you could feel the rapid beating of his heart against yours.

When you finally separated, both breathless, Jungwon rested his forehead against yours. "I love you," he whispered, the words no longer strange or difficult but natural, necessary.

"I love you too," you replied, the truth of it filling every part of you.

That night, for the first time, you truly became husband and wife—not through social obligation or family expectation, but through choice. Through desire. Through love that had fought its way past barriers of conditioning and fear to find expression at last.

-

Six months after your confrontation, the new house was completed. It stood on a hillside overlooking the city, modern in design but warm in execution, with natural materials and spaces designed for living rather than showcasing wealth.

The move was symbolic in more ways than one—leaving behind the mansion with its rigid expectations and cold perfection, stepping into a home created specifically for the life you were building together.

On your first night there, after the movers had gone and the essentials were unpacked, Jungwon opened a bottle of champagne, pouring two glasses as you both stood in the expansive living room, floor-to-ceiling windows revealing the city lights spread below.

"To new beginnings," he said, raising his glass.

"To us," you added, clinking your glass against his.

After you both drank, he set his glass aside and reached for your hand, his expression turning serious.

"I want to ask you something," he said, leading you to the sofa. When you were both seated, he took both your hands in his. "This past year—these six months especially—have been the most transformative of my life. I feel like I'm finally becoming the person I was meant to be, not the perfect heir my father designed."

You squeezed his hands encouragingly. "I'm proud of you. The changes you've made, the boundaries you've set—none of it has been easy."

"It's been worth it," he said simply. "And I want to keep growing, keep becoming better. With you." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small velvet box. "Which is why I want to ask you to marry me. Again. For real this time."

He opened the box to reveal a ring nothing like the elaborate diamond he'd given you during your engagement. This one was simpler, more personal—a band of intertwined gold and platinum with a small sapphire that matched the color of your favorite flowers.

"Our first marriage was arranged for us," he continued. "I want this one to be chosen by us. No families planning, no strategic alliances, just two people who love each other deciding to build a life together."

Tears filled your eyes, but unlike the lonely tears you'd shed in that first year, these were born of joy, of wonder at how far you'd both come.

"Yes," you whispered, watching as he slipped the ring onto your finger, alongside the formal engagement diamond you still wore. The contrast between them—one chosen for appearance, one chosen for meaning—perfectly symbolized your journey.

"I thought we could have a small ceremony," Jungwon said, pulling you close. "Just us and a few people who truly care about our happiness. On that Greek island you've been reading about."

You laughed through your tears. "Your mother would never forgive us."

"She'll survive," he said with a smile. "This isn't about the Yang family or social connections or business advantages. It's about you and me, choosing each other. Every day. For the rest of our lives."

As you kissed to seal this new promise, you marveled at the journey that had brought you here—from empty performance to authentic partnership, from silent longing to expressed love, from arranged marriage to chosen commitment.

The road hadn't been smooth. There had been setbacks, moments when old patterns threatened to reassert themselves. There would be more challenges ahead, more work to maintain the vulnerability and honesty you'd fought so hard to establish.

But looking into Jungwon's eyes—eyes that now held nothing back from you—you knew with absolute certainty that the difficult path was worth it. That true connection, once found, was worth fighting for. That love, real love, could grow even from the most barren beginnings, if only given the chance to breathe.

-

The most shocking transformation in your renewed marriage wasn’t the tenderness.

It was the hunger.

Jungwon, who used to sleep with a polite space between your bodies, now touched you like he couldn’t bear even a millimeter of distance.

The man who once bowed his head before kissing your hand now dropped to his knees and begged to taste you.

It was as if years of restraint had finally snapped—like some tight, internal knot had come undone—and he was feral from the release.

The first night you truly became intimate, you realized just how much he’d been suppressing.

His hands, once always tucked in his lap, now gripped your thighs like a lifeline, dragged you down onto the sheets with a growl. He shook when he touched you, but not from nerves—from sheer fucking relief.

His mouth, which had always only spoken in formal tones and quiet dinner conversation, now whispered against your skin—

“I’ve dreamed of spreading your legs and living between them.”

You gasped. He kissed lower. His breath hot between your thighs.

“Every night beside you, pretending I didn’t hear how you breathed heavier when I got too close. I wanted to fuck you so bad I used to take cold showers just to stop myself from humping the fucking mattress.”

You were already soaked, trembling.

You cupped his face, forced him to look up. “You don’t have to hold back anymore.”

His pupils were blown wide. He licked his lips, nodding.

“I don’t think I could if I tried.”

He broke.

He devoured your pussy like it owed him rent. Like it was his first and last meal.

No teasing. No patience. Just his tongue, buried deep, moaning into you like your taste was the only thing that ever made him lose his composure.

You came once on his mouth—fast and loud—and he didn’t even let up.

“Again,” he groaned, “fuck, again, I want to feel you fall apart.”

And when he finally hovered over you, flushed and trembling and naked between your legs?

“Tell me,” he whispered, cock dragging through your soaked folds, “tell me what you want. What you’ve been aching for. Let me ruin you the way I’ve dreamed about.”

So you did.

You told him all of it. The fantasies. The positions. The filthy little things you’d only ever written down in notebook margins when he was still cold and distant.

And Jungwon?

Did. Not. Flinch.

He nodded, breath shaking, and said—

“You want to be face down? Crying? Begging? I’ll give it to you. Just know when I start, I won’t stop until you’re fucked stupid.”

And he meant it.

He took you face down on the mattress, hips locked in place by his grip, his cock slamming into you so deep you saw stars. He growled things you’d never imagined him saying—

“This pussy’s mine. All fucking mine. You think I don’t know how wet you get when I talk like this?”

“Look at you—slutty little wife, dripping down your thighs like you’ve been waiting to be treated like a whore.”

“How many times you make yourself cum thinking about me breaking like this, huh?”

You choked on your moans. You were sobbing by the time he made you cum again, legs shaking, jaw slack, vision blurry.

He kissed your spine afterward. Slowly. Tenderly. Like he hadn’t just rearranged your insides.

Pulled you into his arms and whispered, “I used to leave the room when I got too hard just looking at you. I thought wanting you like this made me weak. My father always said a Yang man should control his urges.”

He paused. Smiled against your neck.

“I’ve never been so happy to disappoint him.”

-

In the weeks that followed your first night together, the shift between you became impossible to ignore. And impossible to contain.

Jungwon couldn’t stop touching you.

He didn’t even try. His hand found yours under the breakfast table.

His palm slid across your lower back when you walked past him in the hallway—lingering there, possessive.

He stole kisses while you were brushing your teeth, while you answered the door, while you loaded the washing machine.

It was as if his body was always reaching, always chasing, making up for a year of self-denial all at once.

You gave in to him every time.

One afternoon, he came home early from the office to find you kneeling in the garden, soil smudged on your knees, digging holes for the last peony bush you’d saved from the mansion.

You didn’t hear him approach.

But you felt it—the change in the air. The heat behind you. The sound of breath catching.

Hands on your waist. A sharp inhale. And a low, devastating voice.

“That’s what I come home to?”

You turned your head, startled—and then flushed under the weight of his gaze.

He was already unbuttoning his sleeves.

Already breathing too hard.

“Jungwon—”

He hauled you to your feet. Didn’t flinch at the dirt. Didn’t care about the sunlight.

Just gripped your waist, pulled you close, and kissed you like you’d been killing him in his dreams. You gasped against his mouth, hands braced on his chest, heart pounding.

“What was that for?”

His eyes were black with need. He didn’t let you go.

“Because I can,” he said. “Because I spent a year not touching you. Not letting myself want you. Not letting myself want to bend you over every surface in our house.”

You trembled.

He pulled you closer.

“I refuse to waste another fucking day.”

The peonies were forgotten.

He dragged you inside, dirt on your hands, sweat beading on your spine—and kissed you again against the door.

His jacket hit the floor first. Then yours.

Then his belt, as he backed you into the living room like a man possessed.

When your knees hit the rug, he dropped with you.

Didn’t even bother removing your clothes properly—just shoved your dress up and pulled your underwear down like it offended him.

“Here,” he growled, palming your ass as he pressed you forward onto all fours. “Here on the floor, where I can see every inch of you. Where I can fuck you raw and you can scream for me.”

You moaned, breath hitched.

“God, I wanted to do this the first night I married you. I wanted to wreck you. I wanted to see what sounds you’d make with my cock in you.”

You were dripping by the time he pushed inside.

No teasing. No patience. Just one smooth thrust that made you cry out, already clenching.

“So fucking tight,” he hissed. “So wet and hot and mine.”

He fucked you hard, fast, hips slapping against your ass as your moans echoed through the empty house.

You didn’t care. You let him take everything.

He gripped your hips, pulled you back onto him harder, chasing your high like he’d been dying for it. You came shaking on him, and he groaned, low and broken, before following with a curse buried into your shoulder.

You collapsed to the rug in a tangled heap, both of you breathless, glowing in the afternoon sun. Later, still half-naked, your cheek resting on the rug, he lay beside you—head on your stomach, smiling like a teenager.

“My father would be appalled,” he murmured. “The Yang heir behaving like this. Desperate. Loud. Fucking his wife on the floor.”

You laughed, running your fingers through his sweat-damp hair.

“And what do you think?”

He tilted his head. Kissed your bare hip, then lower.

Then smiled.

“I think we should do it again in the kitchen.”

A pause.

“Then the stairs. Then the study. Then maybe the floor again.”

You didn’t even get a chance to answer. Because his hand was already sliding between your legs again.

-

What amazed you most was his attentiveness. Jungwon, who had once seemed completely disconnected from physical needs, now anticipated yours with an almost uncanny perception. He noticed when tension gathered in your shoulders and appeared with warm hands to massage it away. He registered which touches made your breath catch and revisited them with deliberate intent. He cataloged every sensitive spot, every preference, every response with the same meticulous attention he'd once reserved for business reports.

"How did you know?" you asked one evening when he drew you a bath exactly when you needed it, complete with the lavender oil you preferred when tired.

"Your left eyebrow tenses slightly when you're exhausted," he explained, kneeling beside the tub to wash your back with gentle hands. "And you roll your shoulders every few minutes. Plus, you've been on your feet all day with the interior decorator."

The fact that he noticed such small details—that he paid such close attention to your physical comfort—moved you deeply. This wasn't just passion; it was care, consideration, genuine desire for your wellbeing.

One night, as you lay tangled together in the afterglow of particularly intense lovemaking, Jungwon traced patterns on your back with his fingertips, his expression thoughtful.

"I used to think that needing someone physically was a weakness," he confessed. "That it gave them power over you. My father warned me about it—how desire could cloud judgment, make a man vulnerable."

"And now?" you prompted, propping yourself up to look at him.

A slow smile spread across his face, transforming his features in a way that still took your breath away. "Now I think vulnerability is its own kind of strength. The courage to need someone, to show them exactly how much you want them..." He pulled you closer, pressing a kiss to your forehead. "I've never felt stronger than when I'm completely undone in your arms."

-

The physical transformation in your marriage rippled outward, affecting every aspect of your lives together. Jungwon, once rigid in his schedules and plans, now embraced spontaneity. He would cancel meetings to spend the day in bed with you, laughing as you expressed shock at his newfound willingness to prioritize pleasure over work.

"The company won't collapse if I take a day off," he said, pulling you back under the covers when you suggested he shouldn't neglect his responsibilities. "And this—" he kissed you deeply "—is a responsibility too. To us. To what we're building."

Even in public, the change was evident to anyone with eyes to see. Though still mindful of appropriate boundaries, Jungwon couldn't seem to stop himself from small touches—his hand at the small of your back, his fingers laced with yours, the way he would occasionally lean down to whisper something in your ear that made heat rise to your cheeks.

At a corporate gala, Mrs. Yang cornered you by the refreshment table, her eyes narrowed in disapproval. "Your husband's behavior has become rather... demonstrative lately," she observed acidly. "It's unseemly for a man of his position to be so openly affectionate."

You smiled, watching Jungwon across the room as he spoke with investors. Even engaged in business conversation, his eyes sought you out regularly, as if making sure you were still there, still his.

"I disagree," you replied calmly. "I think it shows remarkable strength for a man to be secure enough in himself to express his feelings openly."

Your mother-in-law's lips thinned, but before she could respond, Jungwon appeared at your side, his hand automatically finding yours.

"Mother," he greeted her with polite warmth. "I see you've found my wife. I hope you'll excuse us—this is our song."

There was no song playing that held any special meaning, but Mrs. Yang couldn't know that. With a small bow, Jungwon led you to the dance floor, pulling you closer than was strictly proper for such a formal event.

"Rescued you," he murmured against your ear, his breath sending delicious shivers down your spine.

"My hero," you teased, relaxing into his embrace. "Though your mother might never recover from the shock of seeing the Yang heir so besotted with his own wife."

"Let her adjust," he replied, his hand splayed possessively against your lower back. "This is who I am now. Who we are together."

Later that night, he touched you like he’d been holding it in all day—like the hours of careful, public restraint had coiled inside him, pressing tight under his skin, begging for release.

Now, with you spread beneath him in your shared bed, every breath he took seemed heavy with need.

His thrusts were deep, deliberate, dragging moans from your throat with each slow roll of his hips.

He didn’t rush. He didn’t look away. He studied you.

His dark eyes locked onto yours, watching every flicker of expression, every twitch, every gasp, like he wanted to memorize the exact second you shattered.

“What are you thinking?” he asked, voice low, tight, lips brushing the corner of your mouth.

You blinked up at him, dazed, overwhelmed. “That I hardly recognize you sometimes.”

His rhythm stuttered—hips faltering, jaw tensing.

His brows drew together. “Is that… disappointing?”

You couldn’t help the breathless laugh that escaped you. You wrapped your legs tighter around his waist and pulled him closer, arching up to meet him.

“No. Quite the opposite.”

Your fingers slid into his hair, your voice thick with wonder and arousal.

“I’m amazed that all of this—”

Your hands trailed down his chest, to where your bodies met, to the heat and slick and stretch between your legs,

“—was hidden inside that perfect, restrained man.”

Relief washed over his face, followed by a crooked, mischievous smile—so at odds with the version of him you’d once known that it sent a fresh wave of heat crashing through you.

“I have years of self-control to make up for,” he said, lowering his mouth to your throat, his voice a warm rasp against your skin. “You don’t think I’ve imagined this? Every night. Every day. Watching you walk around like you didn’t know how badly I wanted to fuck you into the mattress?”

You whimpered, breath catching.

“You think I didn’t notice how soft your thighs looked in those dresses? Or how your voice changed when you said my name?”

His tongue flicked over a sensitive spot just below your ear, and your back arched without thinking.

“I used to jerk off in the shower,” he whispered, filthy now, “biting my lip so you wouldn’t hear. Palming my cock like a coward while I imagined you moaning for me just like this.”

You gasped as he pinned your wrists above your head, not rough, just firm—controlling, possessive. His other hand slid between your bodies, fingers circling your clit with devastating precision.

“You’re mine now,” he said against your collarbone. “I don’t have to hide it anymore. Don’t have to pretend I don’t want you crying and shaking under me every night.”

The need in his voice made your toes curl.

“I don’t think anyone could be prepared for this version of you,” you managed to gasp, hips bucking as his thumb pressed harder.

He chuckled darkly. “Good. I like catching you off guard.”

Then his lips ghosted over your pulse, and he murmured:

“I like knowing no one else gets to see you like this. Just me. The mess. The begging. The way you moan when I hit you right there.”

His hips snapped, and your whole body trembled.

“I like owning this version of you. The version that melts under me. That asks for more even when I’m already inside.”

The sheer possessiveness in his voice—raw and reverent—nearly undid you.

Your whole body clenched, eyes wide, breath gone. “Only you,” you whispered, completely wrecked. “Always you.”

He kissed you then. Deep. Unrelenting.

And when you came again, shaking apart in his arms, you knew:

You’d never seen the real Jungwon before this.

Afterward, as you drifted toward sleep in his arms, you reflected on the journey that had brought you here. From polite strangers sharing a bed without touching, to lovers who couldn't bear even the smallest distance between them. From a marriage of appearance to a union of body, heart, and soul.

Jungwon's arm tightened around you, even in his sleep unwilling to let you go. The man who had once feared needing someone now embraced that need without reservation, transforming what he'd been taught was weakness into his greatest strength.

As you snuggled closer to his warmth, you silently thanked whatever courage had prompted you to finally break the silence between you, to demand more than the empty performance your marriage had been. The risk had been terrifying, but the reward—this man who loved you without restraint, who showed that love in every look and touch and whispered word—was beyond anything you could have imagined.

Epilogue: Aegean Dreams

The light breeze carried the scent of salt and wild herbs through the open French doors of your villa, perched on the cliffs of Santorini. Dawn had just begun to paint the horizon in shades of gold and rose, the Aegean Sea below reflecting the spectacle like a mirror. You stood on the private terrace, wrapped in a silk robe, drinking in the view that had once been nothing more than a wistful note in a travel book margin.

Warm arms encircled you from behind, and Jungwon's lips found the curve where your neck met your shoulder.

"I woke up and you were gone," he murmured against your skin. "For a second, I panicked."

You turned in his embrace, reaching up to brush a strand of hair from his face. No product kept it in place here—just like no tailored suits or carefully crafted personas had made the journey to this small Greek paradise.

"Just wanted to see the sunrise," you explained, smiling at the vulnerability he no longer tried to hide. "Old habits. Though I'm not used to you noticing when I slip out of bed."

"I notice everything about you now," he said, tightening his hold. "Especially when your warmth disappears from beside me."

Two years had passed since that fateful anniversary night when everything had broken open between you. Two years of learning each other, rebuilding trust, discovering what it meant to truly choose one another every day. The small, intimate wedding you'd held on this very island six months ago had merely formalized what your hearts had already decided.

"Penny for your thoughts?" Jungwon asked, noticing your contemplative expression.

"I was just thinking about that travel book," you said, leaning into him. "The one where I marked all those Greek islands, never believing I'd actually see them."

"And now you've seen five of them in three weeks," he replied with a smile. "With three more to go before we have to think about heading back."

The itinerary for this trip had been deliberately open-ended—a luxury neither of you had ever permitted yourselves before. No business calls, no social obligations, not even a fixed return date. Just the two of you moving at your own pace through the islands you'd dreamed of.

"Remember that cove I mentioned in my notes?" you asked, a mischievous glint in your eye. "The one where 'no one would expect Mrs. Yang to swim naked'?"

"How could I forget?" Jungwon's voice dropped lower, his hands sliding down to your waist. "It's circled on the map in our bedroom. I've been wondering when you'd bring it up."

"The boat captain said he could take us there this afternoon. Completely private, accessible only by sea."

His eyes darkened with desire—a look that still thrilled you, even after months of uninhibited passion. "I'll tell him we'll double his fee if he drops us off and doesn't return until sunset."

You laughed, stretching up to kiss him. "Always the efficient businessman."

"Only when efficiency serves pleasure," he countered, deepening the kiss until you were both breathless.

When you finally pulled apart, the sun had fully crested the horizon, bathing the white-washed villa in golden light. Jungwon led you to the small table on the terrace where he'd already set up breakfast—fresh fruit, local yogurt, honey, and coffee prepared exactly the way you liked it.

"I have something for you," he said, reaching into the pocket of his linen pants as you both sat down.

He placed a small package wrapped in simple brown paper on the table between you. His expression held an endearing mix of anticipation and nervousness that reminded you how far he'd come from the controlled, emotionless man you'd married.

"What's this for?" you asked, picking up the package. "It's not my birthday or our anniversary."

"Do I need a reason to give my wife a gift?" he countered with a smile. "Open it."

You carefully unwrapped the paper to find a leather-bound journal, its cover soft and supple. When you opened it, you discovered it was filled with poems—some typed, others handwritten in Jungwon's precise script.

"I've been collecting them," he explained, watching your face closely. "Every poem that made me think of you. The ones that helped me understand what I was feeling when I didn't have the words myself."

You turned the pages, eyes widening as you recognized some of the poems you'd once secretly marked in your books, now preserved in this new collection. But there were others you didn't recognize—contemporary pieces, older classics, even what appeared to be original works.

"Did you... write some of these?" you asked, looking up in surprise.

A flush crept up his neck—the unguarded reaction still so different from the controlled man he'd once been. "I tried. They're probably terrible, but..." He shrugged, a gesture of vulnerability that would have been unthinkable in the old Jungwon. "I wanted to find a way to tell you what you mean to me that wasn't borrowed from someone else's words."

You found one of his original poems, dated from the early days of your reconciliation:

I lived behind walls so high

Even I forgot what lay inside

Until your voice broke through

And light flooded places

I had kept dark for so long

I had forgotten they could shine

Tears pricked your eyes as you continued reading. The progression of the poems—from hesitant early attempts to more recent, confident expressions—mirrored the journey of your relationship.

"This is the most beautiful gift anyone has ever given me," you said finally, closing the journal and holding it against your heart.

"There's one more thing," Jungwon said, reaching across the table to take your hand. "I've been thinking about what you said last week, about not being ready to go back to real life yet."

"I was just being silly," you assured him, though the thought of returning to schedules and obligations did fill you with a certain dread. "We can't stay on vacation forever."

"Why not?" He smiled at your startled expression. "Not forever, but... longer. I've been working on something." He pulled out his phone—rarely used during the trip except for taking photos—and showed you a property listing. "It's a small villa on Paros. Nothing extravagant, but it has a garden for you and a study for me with a decent internet connection."

"You want to buy a house here?" you asked, stunned.

"I want us to have a place that's just ours. Not tied to the Yang name or business or social expectations." His eyes held yours, serious despite his smile. "A place where we can come whenever we need to breathe. Where no one expects anything from us except being ourselves."

"But your work—"

"Can be managed remotely for extended periods," he interrupted gently. "I've been talking with the board about restructuring my role. Less day-to-day management, more strategic direction. It would mean fewer hours, more flexibility."

You stared at him, processing the magnitude of what he was suggesting. The old Jungwon would never have considered stepping back from his corporate responsibilities, would never have prioritized personal happiness over professional ambition.

"What about your father?" you asked, knowing that Mr. Yang would view such a move as a betrayal of family duty.

"He'll adapt," Jungwon said with surprising calm. "Or he won't. Either way, I'm not living my life to meet his expectations anymore." He squeezed your hand. "What do you think? Not about him—about the villa."

You looked out at the endless blue of the Aegean, then back at the man who had transformed himself for love of you—who continued to transform, to grow, to choose your shared happiness over prescribed obligation.

"I think," you said slowly, a smile spreading across your face, "that I'd like to plant bougainvillea along that terrace wall in the photos."

His answering smile was radiant. "Is that a yes?"

Instead of answering with words, you stood and moved around the table, settling onto his lap. His arms came around you automatically, holding you as if you were the most precious thing in his world—which, you knew now, you were.

"It's a 'you make me happier than I ever thought possible,'" you said, framing his face with your hands. "It's a 'I love the life we're building together.'"

"Even if it scandalizes my mother?" he asked, laughter in his eyes.

"Especially then," you replied, leaning in to kiss him as the Greek sun climbed higher in the sky, warming your skin, illuminating the future stretching before you—unplanned, unprescribed, and gloriously your own.

Behind you, the pages of the poetry journal fluttered in the sea breeze, open to the last entry, written in Jungwon's hand just days before:

Once I thought perfection meant control

Now I know it's the moment you laugh

Head thrown back, eyes dancing

Completely unguarded in my arms

The sound of your happiness echoing

Through rooms once filled with silence

This is the music I want to hear

For all my remaining days

fin.

-

RUIN THE FRIENDSHIP┆𝗣𝗥𝗘𝗩𝗜𝗢𝗨𝗦 ─ 𝗡𝗘𝗫𝗧

FROM YAN 🐰 ➤ major lore drop from y/n !! hopefully her actions are now a little bit more understood < / 3 she's dumb but she has Reasons . also added angst to the tags bc the way this friendship is going is lowk sad. lmk ur thoughts juseyo !!

RUIN THE FRIENDSHIP┆𝗣𝗥𝗘𝗩𝗜𝗢𝗨𝗦 ─ 𝗡𝗘𝗫𝗧

FROM YAN 🐰 ➤ skullpanda + hirono = peak popmart straightship. tell me i'm wrong. also i feel bad for sooha LMASDKASDASD;LKA. free my girl PLEASEEEE.

The lights were off except for the soft glow of the TV. Some random action movie neither of you were really paying attention to played in the background—explosions, car chases, loud orchestral music. The couch had become a nest: your blanket thrown over both of you, Sunghoon’s long legs stretched out so far his feet hung off the end. You were curled into his side, head on his chest, one leg hooked over his thigh because he ran warm and the apartment always felt a little cold at night.

Your boyfriend had one arm wrapped around your shoulders, the other resting lazily on your thigh where it lay over his. His fingers traced slow, absent patterns on your skin under the blanket—up and down, sometimes slipping just under the edge of your sleep shorts before retreating again, innocent. Or at least that’s what it started as.

You were trying to focus on the screen. Really.

But then Sunghoon shifted. Just a small movement—reaching for his cellphone on the coffee table with his free hand. His torso twisted slightly, chest tightening under your cheek, and suddenly the sheer scale of him hit you all at once.

His chest has gotten so broad that when he stretched like that, your entire upper body felt small against him. The arm behind your shoulders flexed without him meaning to, thick bicep pressing into your nape. His thigh under your leg felt impossibly solid and warm, the muscle dense even through the soft gray sweatpants. When he settled back again, he pulled you closer without thinking, adjusting you like you weighed nothing.

“This movie is actually ass,” he muttered, already reaching for his phone on the coffee table with his long arm. He didn’t even have to sit up fully — just stretched, torso tightening under you again, and grabbed it effortlessly.

You hummed in agreement, too distracted by the way his body moved beneath you to care about the plot anymore.

He slid down the couch a little more, getting comfortable, his hips sinking lower so his long legs spread out even further. The movement caused his gray sweatpants to pull tighter across his thighs. You felt the shift immediately — the solid muscle under your leg flexing as he adjusted his posture.

Without saying anything, without even really looking at you, Sunghoon’s free hand slid under the blanket and found your waist. And then he just… moved you. Like it was the most natural thing in the world.

His large hand gripped your hip firmly, fingers digging in just enough for you to feel the strength there, and he pulled you higher up his body in one smooth, effortless motion. Your leg that had been hooked over his thigh was now straddling his lap completely. Your chest pressed flush against his as he tucked you tighter against him, your face ending up buried in the crook of his neck.

He did it all with one arm. No straining, no grunting, just pure, casual manhandling — like you were a pillow he was rearranging for maximum comfort.

“There we go,” he mumbled under his breath, already looking down at his phone screen as he started scrolling. His thumb moved lazily across the display, completely at peace. “You were sliding down.”

Then he went right back to scrolling on his phone, thumb moving lazily across the screen, completely at peace. The faint blue light glowed against his sharp jaw as he read something that made the corner of his mouth twitch in amusement.

You, on the other hand, were spiraling.

Your entire body was now lying on top of his. Completely. Every slow breath he took lifted you gently, like you were floating on the rise and fall of a warm ocean.

You couldn’t see the TV at all anymore. Your world had narrowed down to the heat of Sunghoon's body, the clean scent of his skin at his neck, and the overwhelming size difference that was making your head spin.

He has gotten just so big.

The way your legs looked so short compared to his long ones stretched out beneath you. The way one of his hands could nearly wrap around your entire waist. How easily he had moved your whole body without even glancing away from his phone.

Heat kept blooming low in your stomach, heavy and insistent. You tried to stay still, but your fingers kept clenching and unclenching in the front of his hoodie, and your breathing had turned shallow and uneven against his neck.

Sunghoon kept scrolling peacefully for another minute, completely lost in whatever he was looking at. Then his thumb paused on the screen.

He tilted his head slightly, voice low and genuinely confused. “…Jagi? What’s going on?” His free hand rubbed your back in slow, soothing circles, still thinking you were just tired or cold. “You 'kay?”

You lifted your head just enough to look at him, cheeks flushed, eyes a little wild with frustration and want.

“Sunghoon,” you said, voice impatient and slightly breathless, “you just manhandled me like I weigh five pounds, put me completely on top of you, and now your thigh is pressed right between my legs and your hand is basically covering my entire ass and you’re just… scrolling like nothing happened.”

You kept going, the words spilling out faster.

“You’re getting so fucking big, one hand and you just slid my whole body wherever you wanted, I can’t even see the TV anymore. I can barely think because all I feel is how easily you can just… handle me.”

There was a beat of silence, then your boyfriend burst out laughing. Literally laughing.

It wasn’t a small chuckle — it was a full, deep, surprised laugh that shook his chest underneath you. His head fell back against the couch cushion as he laughed, eyes crinkling, the sound warm and boyish and so genuinely amused it made your ears burn.

“Jagi— really?” he managed between laughs, phone now completely forgotten on his chest. “That’s what’s got you like this?”

You glared at him, half embarrassed, half still ridiculously turned on. “Yes. And you’re laughing at me.”

“I’m sorry— I’m sorry,” he said, still grinning, trying (and failing) to stop laughing. One of his big hands came up to cover his mouth for a second, but his shoulders were still shaking. “I was literally just trying to make you comfortable. You kept slipping down and I thought— fuck, I didn’t think it was that, jagi.”

He looked at you again, eyes sparkling with a mix of fondness and newfound heat. The laughter slowly faded into a soft, dangerous little smile as he finally seemed to register the full situation — your flushed face, your quick breathing, the way you were gripping his hoodie.

Sunghoon’s hand slid lower again, resting heavily on your ass under the blanket, fingers spreading out possessively.

“So…” he murmured, voice dropping, “you really like it when I move you around like that, huh?” He gave a small, experimental squeeze, easily palming most of your ass with one hand, and watched your reaction closely.

“Oh my God, stop with the posturing right now,” you muttered, cheeks burning hotter.

Sunghoon’s grin widened, clearly enjoying this way too much.

“I thought you liked it.”

“Well, yes,” you huffed, “but not now that you know it.”

You twisted in his hold, trying to escape the overwhelming attention. You turned your body away from him, attempting to roll onto your side and face the back of the couch, hoping the embarrassment would cool down if you didn’t have to look at his stupid smug face.

But Sunghoon didn’t let you. His arm tightened around your waist instantly — that same big hand locking you in place like it was nothing. Before you could even finish turning, he shifted his weight and rolled on top of you in one smooth, fluid motion. The air left your lungs.

He was so heavy. Not crushing, but solid and warm and everywhere. His chest pressed you deeper into the couch cushions, completely blocking out the soft glow from the TV. His shoulders were so wide they shadowed your entire upper body. You couldn’t see anything above you except him — just the dark outline of his face, the faint shine in his eyes, and the way his damp hair fell forward slightly.

“Sunghoon—” you started, but he caught both your wrists in one of his hands and pinned them above your head against the couch.

You pouted hard, trying to tug your wrists free from his grip. You twisted and pulled, but his fingers stayed locked around both of your wrists with ridiculous ease. He didn’t even seem to put in effort — just held you there, smiling down at you like you were the most entertaining thing he’d seen all week.

“Let me go,” you whined, half-laughing, half-serious.

“Nope.” He shook his head, looking way too pleased with himself. “You tried to run away from me earlier. Can’t trust you anymore.”

Before you could curse at him again, Sunghoon suddenly got hit with a full wave of cuteness aggression. He dropped his head and attacked. First he bit your cheek — not hard, but enough to make you squeal. A playful, toothy bite followed by a loud kiss on the same spot.

“Sunghoon!” you yelped, laughing despite yourself.

He ignored you completely, too busy nuzzling and biting. He moved to your other cheek, biting gently before sucking a quick kiss there too.

“Stop— you asshole—!” you cursed between giggles, squirming underneath him, but that only made him press you down harder with his chest.

He moved lower, dragging his teeth slowly down the side of your neck before biting down on the sensitive skin there. Not enough to bruise (yet), but enough for you to feel the sharp edge of his teeth and the heat of his mouth. Then he soothed it with wet, open-mouthed kisses, sucking lightly.

You giggled softly, the sound slipping out before you could stop it. He kissed all over your neck — slow, hungry kisses mixed with little bites and nips, murmuring between each one:

“So small under me…” Kiss. “Can barely see anything except your cute little face…” Bite. “Fits so perfectly in my hands…” Kiss. “Love how I can just pick you up and put you wherever I want…”

You were a mess — laughing, whining, cursing him between shaky breaths.

“Park Sunghoon, I swear to God—”

He cut you off by biting your jaw, then immediately kissing the spot tenderly. His free hand slid under your hoodie again, palm hot against your waist, fingers spreading wide like he needed to remind himself how much of you he could hold at once.

He pulled back just enough to look at you, eyes dark but still sparkling with that ridiculous fondness.

His thumb stroked over your trapped wrists as he leaned in again, hovering just above your lips. “Tell me how tiny you feel right now, baby.”

You stared up at him, flushed and frustrated, still trying to catch your breath after his attack of kisses and bites.

“I can’t believe this is foreplay for you right now, Hoon,” you muttered annoyingly, half-laughing, half-exasperated. “You’re literally pinning me down and acting like a giant cat with cuteness aggression and you want me to stroke your ego on top of it?”

Sunghoon’s expression shifted instantly. He looked genuinely offended, eyebrows pulling together as he stared down at you. “Ya,” he said, voice flat but clearly playful-offended. “Answer my question.”

You tried to hold back a smile. When you stayed quiet, just staring at him with a defiant little smirk, your boyfriend narrowed his eyes.

Then his eyes dropped.

Your oversized hoodie had ridden up during all the squirming and wrestling, and the collar of the shirt underneath had shifted. A delicate strap of your new bra was now peeking out near your collarbone — soft sage green lace against your skin.

He stopped mid-sentence, completely sidetracked.

Without any warning, Sunghoon used the hand that wasn’t pinning your wrists and casually tugged the hem of your hoodie and shirt upward, pulling both up halfway in one smooth motion. Cool air hit your stomach and ribs as he exposed the pretty bra fully.

“Hey!” you yelped, offended, eyes widening. “You can’t just— Sunghoon!”

He didn’t even look guilty.

His gaze was locked on your chest, genuinely focused now, the teasing completely forgotten for a second. His free hand stayed resting on your waist, thumb absently brushing the underside of the bra cup.

“Is this a new set, baby?” he asked, voice softer, almost distracted. He tilted his head, still hovering over you, eyes tracing the delicate lace. “It looks so pretty… the color really suits you.”

You stared at him, cheeks burning with a completely different kind of embarrassment now.

He was ogling. Not in a dirty way — at least not yet — but in that focused, slightly awestruck boyfriend way, like he’d just discovered something fascinating and needed to study it.

“Yeah… it’s new,” you answered reluctantly, squirming under his heavy gaze. “I bought it last week. Stop staring like that.”

Sunghoon finally looked back up at your face, but his hand was still gently touching the fabric, fingertips brushing over the lace like he was testing how soft it was.

“I’m not staring,” he said, clearly lying. “I’m appreciating. The green looks really good on you. Seriously. It’s soft too… is the whole set like this?”

You groaned, trying (and failing) to pull your wrists free again. “I hate you. You were literally in the middle of teasing me about my size kink and now you’re acting like a fashion critic because you saw lace.”

He smiled, slow and mischievous again, but his eyes kept flicking back down to the bra.

“Look, I'm just a man, jagi.” He leaned down and pressed a soft kiss right above the bra strap on your collarbone. “You should wear this more often. I like it.”

He smiled, slow and mischievous again, but his eyes kept flicking back down to the sage green lace.

“Look, I’m just a man, jagi.” He leaned down and pressed a soft kiss right above the bra strap on your collarbone. “You should wear this more often. I like it.”

You huffed, still half-annoyed at how easily he got distracted, but the way his lips lingered on your skin was making it hard to stay mad.

Sunghoon’s gaze darkened again as he slowly dragged his eyes up your body. He seemed to suddenly remember the position you were in — you pinned underneath him, wrists still trapped in one of his hands, hoodie and shirt bunched up under your chin.

The teasing smile returned.

“Fuck… look at you,” he murmured, voice lower now.

He shifted his hips, pressing his thigh harder between your legs, right against your core. The pressure was deliberate this time. You couldn’t stop the soft gasp that escaped you.

Sunghoon’s free hand slid up your ribs, fingers splaying wide across your skin until his palm covered almost the entire underside of your breast through the new bra. You let out a embarrassed, turned-on whine and tried to twist again, but he only chuckled darkly and pinned you harder into the couch.

“Stop moving like that,” he said, though his tone made it clear he loved it. “You’re making me so fucking hard.”

He finally released your wrists, but only so he could use both hands to shove your hoodie and shirt higher, completely exposing your chest. Before you could protest, he leaned down and mouthed at your breast through the lace, hot and wet, teeth grazing the fabric while his other hand squeezed your waist like he needed to feel how small it was.

“Hoon—” you breathed, fingers finally free to thread through his hair.

He hummed against your skin, sucking lightly before pulling back just enough to look at you. His lips were glossy, eyes completely blown.

“You wanted this,” he reminded you, voice rough. “You got wet the second I moved you like a doll. Don’t act shy now.”

In one smooth motion, he sat up on his knees, pulling you with him like you weighed nothing. He flipped you so your back was against his chest, your smaller body settled between his spread thighs. His arms wrapped around you from behind — one across your chest, the other sliding down your stomach until his big hand cupped between your legs possessively.

He pressed his hard cock against your ass, thick and obvious through his sweatpants.

“Feel that?” he murmured against your ear, biting the lobe gently. “That’s what you do to me. Just by being this fucking tiny.”

You moaned softly, head falling back against his shoulder as his fingers started slow, teasing circles over your sleep shorts. The TV was still playing explosions in the background, completely ignored.

Sunghoon kissed the side of your neck, slow and open-mouthed, while his hand kept working you.

“Tell me what you want, jagi,” he whispered, voice sweet but filthy. “Want me to keep manhandling you? Or do you want me to fuck you like the tiny little thing you are?”

He squeezed you tighter against him, emphasizing just how easily he could control your whole body.

Your answer came out shaky and needy:

“…Both.”

Sunghoon let out a low, satisfied laugh against your skin and tightened his arms around you.

“Good girl.”

The praise hit you low in your stomach. His voice had gone deeper, that lazy rasp he only got when he was properly turned on. One of his arms stayed banded across your chest, holding you flush against him, while his other hand kept slowly rubbing between your legs over your sleep shorts. The pressure was firm, unhurried, like he had all the time in the world to drive you crazy.

You could feel every inch of him behind you. His chest was a solid wall of heat against your back. His thighs on either side of you were thick and firm, caging you in. And his cock — hard, heavy, and insistent — pressed right against your ass, twitching every time you shifted.

He nosed along your neck, breathing you in.

“Lift your hips for me,” he murmured.

You barely had time to process the request before his hands were already moving you. He gripped your waist with both hands and lifted you slightly, pulling your shorts and panties down your thighs in one smooth tug. The fabric caught at your knees before he impatiently yanked them the rest of the way off and tossed them somewhere on the floor.

The cool air hit your bare skin, but it only lasted a second — Sunghoon immediately pulled you back against him, one big hand sliding between your thighs again. This time there was no fabric between his fingers and your pussy.

“Fuck… you’re soaked,” he groaned softly, almost like he was talking to himself. Two of his long fingers dragged slowly through your folds, spreading the wetness. “All this just because I moved you around a little? My tiny baby really has it bad.”

You whimpered, head falling back against his shoulder. He circled your clit with the pads of his fingers — slow, deliberate strokes that made your thighs tremble.

Then, without warning, he slid one thick finger inside you.

The stretch was immediate. Even one of his fingers felt big, especially with how worked up you already were. He pumped it slowly, curling it just right, while his thumb kept rubbing lazy circles on your clit.

“So tight,” he whispered hotly against your ear. “Always so fucking tight for me. Like your body knows how big I am and still tries to take me anyway.”

You moaned louder, hips rolling against his hand. Sunghoon chuckled darkly and used his other arm to hold you still, keeping you pressed tight against his chest so you couldn’t move much.

“Stay still, jagi. Let me play with you.”

He added a second finger, stretching you wider. The wet sound of his fingers moving in and out of you was embarrassingly loud in the quiet apartment, even with the movie still playing forgotten in the background.

You reached back, grabbing onto his hoodie, needing something to hold onto. Sunghoon rewarded you by kissing your neck and grinding his hard cock against your ass in time with his fingers.

“You feel that?” he asked, voice rough. “That’s how hard you make me. Just from being this small and pretty and easy to move around.”

He suddenly pulled his fingers out, making you whine at the loss. But before you could complain, he manhandled you again — flipping you onto your back on the couch like you weighed nothing. He settled between your spread thighs, pushing them wide apart with his hands.

For a moment he just looked at you, eyes dark, hair messy, breathing a little heavier. His gray sweatpants were tented obscenely.

Then he leaned down, shoving your hoodie and shirt all the way up and over your head, leaving you in just the sage green bra. He hooked two fingers under the front of it and tugged it down, freeing your breasts.

“Pretty,” he murmured, almost reverently, before leaning in and sucking one nipple into his mouth.

You arched into him with a gasp. His mouth was hot and wet, tongue flicking teasingly while his hand kneaded your other breast. The size difference was even more obvious like this — his large hand completely covering one of your tits, fingers able to touch around it easily.

He switched sides, giving the other the same attention, then started kissing a trail down your stomach.

When he reached your pussy, he didn’t tease. He licked a slow, broad stripe up your center, then wrapped his lips around your clit and sucked.

Your hands flew to his hair, thighs trying to close around his head, but he easily pushed them back open with those strong arms, holding you spread for him.

He ate you out like he was starving — messy, hungry, focused. The wet sounds mixed with your broken moans and his low groans of approval. Every time you squirmed too much, he tightened his grip on your thighs, reminding you how easily he could hold you down.

“Hoon— fuck— I’m close—”

He hummed against you and slid two fingers back inside, curling them perfectly while his tongue kept working your clit.

You came hard, back arching, thighs shaking in his grip. He didn’t stop, working you through it until you were whimpering and pushing at his head.

Only then did he pull back, lips shiny, eyes blown wide with lust.

He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and crawled back up your body, hovering over you again. The outline of his cock was straining desperately against his sweatpants.

Sunghoon leaned down, kissing you deep so you could taste yourself on his tongue.

When he pulled back, he rested his forehead against yours, breathing hard.

“Think you can take me now, baby?” he asked, voice husky. “Or do you want me to manhandle you a little more first?”

You barely managed a shaky breath before answering.

“…Manhandle me,” you whispered, cheeks burning.

Sunghoon’s eyes flashed with dark satisfaction. A low chuckle rumbled in his chest as he sat back on his knees, towering over you on the couch.

“Greedy girl.”

In one fluid motion, he grabbed your hips and flipped you onto your stomach like you were weightless. He pulled your ass up high, forcing you onto your knees while keeping your chest pressed down against the cushions. The position made you feel incredibly small — face down, ass up, completely exposed for him.

His big hands spread your thighs wider, thumbs digging into the soft flesh as he admired the view.

“Fuck, look at you,” he murmured, almost reverently. One hand slid up your spine, pressing you down harder into the couch. “So tiny like this. I can fit both my hands around your waist… and still have room.”

You felt the couch dip as he shifted closer. The sound of fabric rustling filled the air as he finally pushed his sweatpants and boxers down. His cock sprang free, heavy and hot, slapping against your ass cheek.

He rubbed the thick head along your soaked folds, teasing your entrance without pushing in.

“Tell me if it’s too much,” he said, voice suddenly softer for a second, even as his grip on your hip stayed firm.

Then he started pressing in.

The stretch was intense. Even after his fingers and his tongue, the sheer girth of him made your mouth fall open in a silent moan. Inch by inch, he sank into you, slow and controlled, growling low in his throat.

“Shit… so tight,” he hissed. “You’re squeezing me so fucking hard, jagi. Like your pussy doesn’t want to let me in… but you’re still taking every inch.”

When he bottomed out, hips flush against your ass, you felt impossibly full. The size difference was overwhelming — his much larger body completely covering yours, his chest pressed to your back, one arm braced beside your head while the other wrapped around your waist, holding you in place.

He stayed still for a moment, letting you adjust, lips brushing your ear.

“Feel that?” he whispered. “I’m so deep I can feel your stomach bulging a little when I push in.”

You moaned brokenly, fingers clawing at the couch cushion.

Sunghoon started moving — deep, powerful thrusts that made your whole body rock forward. Every time he drove back in, his hips slapped against your ass, the sound filthy and loud. His free hand reached under you, pressing against your lower stomach so he could feel himself moving inside you.

Sunghoon started moving — deep, powerful thrusts that made your whole body rock forward with every snap of his hips. The sound of skin meeting skin filled the living room, filthy and rhythmic, barely covered by the explosions still playing on the forgotten TV. His free hand stayed pressed firmly against your lower stomach, feeling the way his cock bulged slightly inside you with every thrust.

“Fuck, jagi,” he groaned, voice rough but still carrying that familiar teasing edge.

You whimpered into the cushion, fingers twisting in the fabric as he drove into you again, harder this time. The stretch was overwhelming in the best way — he was thick, long, and unrelenting, making your thighs tremble every time he bottomed out.

“Too big,” you gasped, half-complaint, half-plea.

Sunghoon let out a breathy laugh, the sound warm despite how hard he was fucking you.

“Too big?” He slowed his thrusts just to grind deep, rolling his hips in filthy circles. “You’re the one who got dripping wet when I moved you like a doll. Don’t act like you don’t love how big I am now.”

He leaned over you completely, his broad chest pressing against your back, caging you in. The weight of him was grounding and overwhelming all at once. One of his hands found yours on the couch, easily covering it completely as he intertwined your fingers.

You let out a broken moan, pushing back against him despite your words. Sunghoon grinned against your neck and bit down gently, the same cuteness aggression from earlier creeping back in even while he was buried inside you.

“Brat,” he whispered fondly, then suddenly pulled out.

You whined at the loss, turning your head to glare at him over your shoulder.

“Sunghoon—”

But he was already manhandling you again. He flipped you onto your back like it was nothing, hooking his hands under your knees and folding you in half. Your thighs pressed against your chest as he settled between your legs, lining himself up again.

“This is better,” he said smugly, pushing back inside you in one smooth thrust. “I like seeing your face when you’re trying so hard not to moan my name.”

You slapped his chest weakly, laughing through a moan.

“You’re so annoying— ah!”

He cut you off with a particularly deep thrust, bottoming out completely. The new angle made you see stars. Sunghoon’s eyes darkened as he watched your face, drinking in every reaction like it was his favorite thing in the world.

“There she is,” he murmured, starting a brutal pace again. “My noisy girlfriend.”

The couch creaked under you both as he fucked you harder, his hips snapping against yours. Sweat was starting to cling to his skin, making his black compression shirt stick to his broad chest. You reached up, grabbing fistfuls of the fabric, pulling him down closer.

Sunghoon obliged, folding you even more as he kissed you messily. It wasn’t graceful — it was desperate, tongues and teeth, little laughs breaking through when your noses bumped.

“You’re laughing during sex?” you gasped, half-offended, half-amused.

“Can’t help it,” he grinned, nipping at your bottom lip. “You’re just so fucking cute when you’re getting railed. Look at you… all folded up and taking me so well.”

He shifted his weight onto one arm and used the other to press your thigh higher, opening you up even more. The change made him hit a spot that had you crying out, back arching.

“Right there?” he asked, voice cocky but genuinely focused on your pleasure. “Yeah? That’s my girl.”

Your hands moved to his shoulders, nails digging into the hard muscle there. Even now, in the middle of intense sex, Sunghoon couldn’t stop being Sunghoon. He kept murmuring little comments between thrusts — some filthy, some stupidly sweet.

“Fuck, you’re squeezing me so tight… my tiny pussy trying to keep me inside.” Then, softer: “You’re so pretty like this, jagi. Love you so much.”

The mix of his dirty praise and genuine affection made your head spin. You felt the pressure building again, fast and overwhelming.

“Hoon— I’m gonna—”

“I know,” he groaned, pressing his forehead to yours. “Come on, baby. Come for me. Want to feel you fall apart on my cock.”

He reached between you and rubbed tight circles on your clit, never slowing his thrusts. The combination sent you over the edge hard. Your orgasm crashed through you, thighs shaking, pussy clenching around him as you moaned his name.

Sunghoon fucked you through it, pace turning sloppy as he chased his own release.

“Fuck— you’re so tight when you come,” he hissed, burying his face in your neck. A few more deep thrusts and he came hard, hips stuttering as he spilled inside you with a low, broken groan.

For a moment, the only sounds were both of you breathing heavily and the distant movie still playing in the background.

Sunghoon stayed buried inside you as he carefully lowered your legs, letting you stretch out. He didn’t pull out right away. Instead, he collapsed half on top of you, careful not to crush you completely, and nuzzled into your neck like a big clingy cat.

“You okay?” he asked softly, pressing lazy kisses to your sweaty skin. The cuteness aggression was back in full force now that the heat had settled — he was gently biting your shoulder, then kissing the same spot.

You let out a tired laugh, running your fingers through his damp hair.

“I think you broke me.”

He lifted his head, grinning proudly.

“Good. That was the plan.” Then his expression softened. “But seriously… was it too much? I know I get carried away when you look at me like that.”

You shook your head, smiling up at him.

“It was perfect. Even if you are an annoying, smug giant.”

Sunghoon chuckled and kissed you sweetly, slow and deep, before finally pulling out. He grabbed the blanket from the floor and pulled it over both of you, tucking you against his chest like he always did after sex.

“You know,” he murmured, fingers tracing lazy patterns on your back, “next time you get shy about your size kink… I’m just gonna remind you how loud you moaned when I folded you in half.”

You groaned, hiding your face in his chest.

“I hate you.”

“Love you too, jagi.”

He laughed softly, pulling you even closer, the two of you tangled together on the couch as the movie finally ended in the background.

Sunghoon stayed buried inside you for a few more moments, both of you catching your breath. Then he slowly pulled out with a quiet groan, immediately reaching for the tissues on the coffee table. He was gentle as he cleaned you up, wiping between your thighs with careful strokes.

“You’re shaking,” he murmured, almost to himself. His voice had lost all the teasing edge, replaced by that soft, low tone he only used when he was feeling protective.

You let out a tired hum, eyes half-closed. “That’s your fault, giant.”

He smiled and leaned down to press a soft kiss on your forehead before standing up. Even now, right after sex, he moved with that effortless grace. He disappeared into the bathroom for a moment and came back with a warm, damp towel and a bottle of water.

“C’mere, jagi.”

Without waiting for you to move, he slid one arm under your back and the other under your knees, lifting you easily into his lap. You curled into his chest automatically, still feeling floaty. He wiped you down gently with the warm towel, one big hand holding your thigh open while the other cleaned you with slow, soothing strokes.

“Too rough?” he asked quietly, eyes scanning your face.

You shook your head, nuzzling into his neck. “Hell no, I enjoyed it.”

He hummed, satisfied with your answer, and set the towel aside. Then he uncapped the water bottle and brought it to your lips.

“Drink.”

You took a few sips obediently while he held the bottle for you, his other hand rubbing slow circles on your bare back. When you were done, he took a long drink himself before setting it on the table.

Sunghoon pulled the blanket over both of you again and shifted so he was lying on his back with you draped completely on top of him. Your smaller body fit perfectly against his — your head on his chest, legs tangled with his much longer ones. He wrapped both arms around you, one hand resting possessively on your ass under the blanket, the other gently playing with your hair.

“You’re so warm,” you mumbled sleepily, pressing your cheek against his chest.

He chuckled softly, the sound vibrating under your ear.

“That’s because I’m a walking heater. Built for tiny girlfriends who get cold easily.”

You lightly pinched his side. “Stop calling me tiny.”

“But you are tiny,” he teased, though his voice was incredibly fond. He hugged you tighter, almost squeezing you. “My perfect little handful.”

You groaned but didn’t pull away. Truthfully, you loved being held like this — completely surrounded by him. His heartbeat was steady under your ear, and his body heat made the blanket feel almost unnecessary.

Sunghoon seemed to sense it, because he pulled you even closer, one large hand gently cupping the back of your head while the other rested possessively on your lower back. He pressed a slow, lingering kiss to the top of your head, then another to your temple, his lips warm and soft.

“You’re so quiet now,” he murmured, amusement coloring his tired voice. “Where’s the girl who was calling me annoying ten minutes ago?”

“Shut up,” you mumbled against his chest, but there was no heat in it. Your fingers traced lazy circles over his shirt, feeling the firm muscle underneath. “I’m recovering from you trying to fold me into a pretzel.”

He let out a low chuckle, the sound rumbling through his chest. “You asked for it, jagi. Literally said ‘manhandle me.’” He shifted slightly, adjusting you higher so your face tucked perfectly into the crook of his neck. “But I’ll be gentler next time… maybe.”

You pinched his side weakly. “Liar.”

“Only a little,” he admitted, smiling. His fingers continued threading through your hair in that soothing rhythm, slowly lulling you toward sleep. The rain outside had gotten heavier, creating a gentle white noise that mixed with his steady breathing.

After a long, comfortable silence, Sunghoon spoke again, softer this time.

“Thank you for letting me stay tonight. I know you had work to do.”

You smiled sleepily. “Worth it.”

He hugged you a little tighter, almost instinctively, like he couldn’t help it. “I love you,” he whispered against your hair. “Even when you’re pretending to be mad at me for being big.”

You let out a quiet laugh, already half-asleep. “Love you too, giant.”

Sunghoon stayed awake a little longer, just holding you, occasionally pressing small kisses wherever he could reach — your forehead, your cheek, the tip of your ear. Eventually his own breathing slowed, his body relaxing completely beneath yours as sleep finally took him.

The two of you stayed like that on the couch, tangled together under the blanket — your much smaller frame safely wrapped up in his warmth, the Sunday night feeling a little less borrowed and a lot more like home.

author's note — i didn't edit this btw. planning to write a proper hoon drabble soon bc i HATED this one >< but i did release it because size kink sunghoon was eating the worms in my brain lately and i had to get it out somehow. i know this is cringe ok bye <3