ericlvr

[ericlvr]

HI I LOVE LOVE LOVE YOUR WRITING!! i’m obsessed

here me out a ex to lovers jungwon

like they were childhood family friends and they secretly dated, but due to jungwon getting distant they broke up. then yn’s family surprise her to a new house which is opposite jws! ˚✧₊⁎❝᷀ົཽ≀ˍ̮ ❝᷀ົཽ⁎⁺˳✧༚

Across the Street, Across the Years

Pairing: Ex! Jungwon x fem! reader

Synopsis: You were childhood friends. But even the closest bonds can break… especially when love gets involved.

Genre: Exes to lovers, angst, drama

Author's note: Wow! Another ex-to-lovers story — I know, I know 😅 Thank you so much to the lovely anonie who requested this one. Not gonna lie, it was a bit of a struggle to piece together (angst always does this to me), but I really hope you all enjoy it. Happy reading! 💌

Warning: This story contains heartbreak, unresolved tension, crying scenes, cursing and emotional vulnerability. Reader discretion is advised.

Permanent tag list: @sol3chu @chlorinecake @13tter @jung1w0n @layzfy @firstclassjaylee @ijustwannareadstuff20

Alternate universe of Shared Custody

You were lying on your bed staring at old pictures you should’ve deleted a long time ago. Jungwon was smiling at something off-camera. Another one where the two of you were sitting shoulder to shoulder. You looked stupidly happy. And then came the memory…

“Let’s break up,” you had said.

You were the one who said it, but he made it easy. He didn’t ask why. He didn’t fight it. He only agreed. And that was the last real conversation you had with him.

Since then, he has done everything he could to avoid you, and honestly, he did a great job. There were no texts, awkward run-ins, or anything else. He made disappearing look easy. The thing is, your families never drifted. The Yangs and your parents stayed close, though it was long since you saw them. However, whenever the Yangs were over, it was only ever his parents, sometimes his sister, and never him. And that worked.

Until now. It all happened so suddenly.

One minute, your parents were saying things like “fresh start” and “less traffic,” the next, your room was packed into boxes you didn’t remember sealing. Now, you were in the backseat of the car, your cheek resting against the window and watching the neighborhoods change. You weren’t paying attention until something started to feel… off.

You sat up a little straighter. That corner house with the blue shutters. The crooked basketball hoop is still hanging above a cracked driveway. The exact tree you once scraped your knee under when you were seven.

Your heart slowed as you looked around, really looked. This street wasn’t just familiar. It was his street. You didn’t say anything as the car pulled up to a cream-colored house directly across from the one you’d tried to forget. Your mom turned from the passenger seat, smiling as if this was the best surprise ever. “Well? Looks nice, right?”

No way.

You forced a nod. But your eyes never left the house across the street. The one you used to visit without knocking. The one you haven’t seen the inside of in years. The one that used to feel like a second home before it didn’t. And just like that, the past wasn’t behind you anymore.

It was right across the street.

👾

Boxes were everywhere. Half of them were still sealed, stacked in corners of rooms that didn’t feel like yours. Your shoes were missing, your charger was tangled, and the air smelled like fresh paint and wood. You sat on the edge of your new bed as if you could call it that. The house across the street was in full view. Of course, it was. You heard a knock on your door, followed by the soft creak of it opening. “Hey,” your mom said, poking her head in. “We’re ordering food. You want anything?”

You didn’t answer right away. Instead, you asked, “When were you going to tell me it was this street?”

She was surprised. “What do you mean?”

You turned your head slightly. “That this house is across from their house.”

She stepped into the room and sat on the bed near you. “We didn’t know at first,” she said. “I mean, we knew it was the same area, but when we found out it was right across…” She then continued. “We didn’t think it mattered anymore.”

You looked at her while your eyebrows raised. “Really?”

“I thought you and Jungwon-” she stopped herself. “You never told us what happened.”

You picked at a loose thread on your sleeve. “There was nothing to tell.”

She studied your face for a moment. Then she nodded. “We didn’t mean to drop this on you,” she said gently. “But this place is good for us. Closer to work, and it’s safer.”

You didn’t argue. It wasn’t like you could stop the move now. But the knot in your stomach was still there. Your mom stood up, brushing her hands on her jeans. “Come down when you’re ready. I’ll order you your usual.” When she left, you sat there for a while longer. Eyes still on the house across the street.

You finally made your way downstairs with your hoodie on and your hair a little messy from unpacking and sitting too long. You can smell the take-out food while you are going. Then, there came the knock. Three soft raps on the front door. You froze halfway down the stairs. Your mom walked over, cheerful as ever. “That must be them.”

Them?

She opened the door with a warm smile. “Oh my gosh! You came already!”

There they were...

Mr. and Mrs. Yang.

Your dad joined her at the door, shaking hands and laughing. “You two look the same,” he said.

“And you’ve lost weight!” Mrs. Yang teased, then peeked past your parents into the house. “Where is she?”

You were at the bottom of the stairs, one foot still on the last step.

“Oh-” your mom turned and waved you over. “Come say hi.”

You managed a small smile as you walked toward them.

Mrs. Yang’s face lit up. “There you are. Look at you. You’ve gotten so beautiful.”

Mr. Yang nodded with a warm chuckle. “You have. I barely recognized you! You’re all grown up now.”

You smiled politely. “Hi, Mr. Yang. Mrs. Yang.”

Mrs. Yang stepped forward to give you a gentle hug. Oh, you missed them so much. “We’re so happy you’re here,” she said. “Really. It’s been too long.”

You nodded again, unsure what to say. They meant well. They always had. But being here, this close to him, made your chest feel tight. Your mom gestured toward the kitchen. “We were just about to eat. Do you want to join us? There’s plenty.”

Mrs. Yang laughed. “Don’t tempt me. We just came to welcome you and let you know we’re right across the street if you need anything.”

Right across the street.

You knew that already.

Just as Mrs. Yang was about to head out the door, she paused because she had just remembered something. “Oh, and Jungwon’s around,” she said casually. “He’s just been busy these days, but I’m sure he’ll be surprised when he finds out you’re living right across.”

Your mom gave a little laugh. “They haven’t seen each other in so long.”

“I know,” Mrs. Yang smiled, looking at you. “You two used to be inseparable.”

You forced another polite smile.

Mr. Yang chuckled. “He’s not a kid anymore either, you’ll see. Taller. Quieter. Always off somewhere.”

“Oh please,” Mrs. Yang rolled her eyes. “He’s still the same at home. He sleeps in too much. Leaves his laundry everywhere.”

They laughed again. Your parents laughed too.

You didn’t.

You were already back to staring at the floor.

“I’ll tell him you said hi,” Mrs. Yang said sweetly, touching your arm. “He’ll be happy to know you’re back.”

You nodded but said nothing.

Because no matter how easy she made it sound, you knew it wouldn’t be.

He had made sure of that.

👾

It was summer. You were in the backyard of the Yangs’ house. Jungwon had his phone angled up, trying to take a photo of the two of you, but your hand flew up and covered his face. “Stop,” you laughed, pulling away. You’re going to get us caught.”

“So what if we do?” he teased, trying again. “They’ll just think we’re cute.”

You gave him a look. “You say that now. Wait until my mom gives the talk.”

Jungwon cringed. “Okay, maybe not that cute.” You both laughed and then… quiet. He looked at you. “You know,” he murmured, fingers brushing yours, “I still can’t believe you asked me out first.”

You raised an eyebrow. “What? Were you planning to?”

“I was scared,” he admitted. “People always surrounded you. I didn’t think I had a chance.”

You nudged his shoulder. “Idiot. You were the only one I noticed.”

He smiled. Then, as if the world had stopped rushing for a moment, he leaned in and kissed you like the hundred quiet kisses before it. And when you both pulled away, laughing again because his nose bumped into yours, it was obvious neither of you wanted to leave that little bubble.

Well, that was in the past. None of it mattered today.

👾

You weren’t sure why you stepped outside. Maybe you told yourself it was just for fresh air. Being around boxes and bubble wrap and your parents’ laughter was suffocating. Perhaps you just needed space. But deep down, you knew better. You walked out onto the porch while your arms wrapped loosely around you. The sky was dark now. The neighborhood was quiet. Still, you stepped down from the porch and wandered a little toward the street, eyes scanning the familiar silhouettes of the houses around you. And then, before you could stop yourself, they landed across the road.

His house. It's still the same paint. Still that light over the garage that flickered once before staying on. You weren’t expecting to see him and didn’t want to. But a strange part of you hoped… maybe. Then the front door creaked open. Your breath caught.

Jungwon? gasp

oh it wasn’t him lol. It was his sister stepping out to throw something into the bin. She didn’t see you; if she did, she would have greeted you after a long time. She disappeared back inside a second later. You exhaled slowly. No Jungwon. Yet. And still, your heart was racing. You turned back toward your house, not ready to admit what you hoped for.

👾

It was the next morning when it happened. You were barely awake with your phone in one hand, and your mom’s annoying “Can you grab the mail?” ringing in your ears as you stepped outside. The sunlight was not too bright yet, and the street felt sleepy. You walked to the mailbox, flipping through a few envelopes, and heard footsteps. You didn’t think much of it. Not until you looked up.

Jungwon.

Coming from the other direction with earbuds, he almost didn’t look at you.

Almost.

But then his eyes looked up briefly, and they met yours.

You froze.

So did he.

It felt like time stopped.

Though, his expression didn’t change, his lips parted slightly.

Neither of you said anything.

Just like that, he kept walking.

Past you.

Down the street.

As if you were a stranger.

But you weren’t.

And he knew it.

👾

You saw him more now. Too much, honestly. Every other weekend, it felt like your parents were throwing open the door for Mr. and Mrs. Yang. He didn’t avoid you anymore. But he didn’t look at you either. Not unless he thought you weren’t looking. He was civil. Effortlessly fine in how people are when they’ve had years to perfect pretending. But you saw the way his jaw clenched whenever someone mentioned your name. You caught how he paused before answering anything that had to do with you. And you hated that your heart still noticed.

That night, both families had dinner together. Again. You tried to stay upstairs with your door cracked just enough to hear the laughter below but not be part of it until your mom called you down with a warning tone. So you went.

He was already there when you entered the dining room. Your mom smiled. “There she is. Sit. We were about to start a round.”

You sat across from him. You didn’t look at him.

Mrs. Yang laughed. “You remember how these two used to team up and crush everyone, right?”

You forced a smile. “That was a long time ago.”

“Still could,” Jungwon said casually while eyes were on his cards. “If we actually spoke.”

You looked up. Straight at him. “That requires you to show up, though.”

His jaw tensed. “Guess I’m showing up now.”

“Yeah. Years late.”

The table went silent. Your dad chuckled awkwardly as he clears his throat. “Let’s just play, yeah?”

The game started. You focused on your hand. Avoided his gaze. But you felt his eyes watching. Waiting. What a bitch. You played a good round. Won it, even. Heh. When you laid your final card down, Jungwon spoke again. “Still good at pretending everything’s fine, hm?”

You looked at him. “You would know,” you said. “You wrote the manual.” Another silence. This one is heavier. You stood up, collecting your empty glass. “I’m done playing.” No one stopped you as you walked out. Not even him. But you knew he was watching.

You closed the door to your room with more force than you meant to. It wasn’t even a real fight. And still, your chest ached like he’d screamed at you. It was the first time you two had spoken in years. Actual words. Not glances, not awkward nods across a room. Words that meant something, even if neither admitted it out loud.

And ugh, it was awful. Worse than silence. At least in silence, you could pretend it didn’t hurt. You could tell yourself maybe he didn’t know what to say or that it didn’t matter anymore. But now? now you knew. You sat on the edge of your bed, staring at your hands. He used to hold them. Memorize the lines on your palm. You laughed bitterly under your breath. Pathetic.

Downstairs, you could still hear your parents talking. Glasses clinking. Laughter floated up the stairs like nothing had happened, as if you hadn’t just exchanged barbed history over a card game and called it small talk. You weren’t crying. You were holding it in. Because letting it out meant admitting something still lived under your skin. And you’d spent years trying to kill it.

👾

Jungwon leaned against the bathroom sink, gripping the edge to hold him together. The cold water didn’t help. He’d splashed his face twice, but his pulse still wouldn’t calm down. It was the first time you’d spoken to him in years. And you didn’t even raise your voice, which somehow made it worse. You never had to shout to make him feel like shit.

Your words had landed clean. You knew exactly where to hit, and he deserved that. And yet… he couldn’t stop thinking about how you looked when you said them. Same voice. Same mouth. Same eyes. It was so sharp when you were angry, but it was still impossible to look away from.

You still looked the same. You’re not the girl with messy braids and scraped knees from when you were eight. But you were still beautiful. So beautiful. And tonight? You stood across from him and made him feel like a stranger. No, worse. Like someone who didn’t deserve to be remembered.

He’d avoided you for so long. Thought he was doing the right thing and giving you space, staying out of your life. But standing across that dinner table, every part of him wanted to break the distance. To touch your hand. To ask if you were as okay as you looked.

But you weren’t.

He knew you.

You were mad.

Still hurt.

Still beautiful.

And maybe he was still yours, in some twisted, broken timeline where things hadn’t gone so wrong.

He looked up at his reflection.

His face didn’t show it.

But inside?

He was seventeen again.

And he was losing you all over again.

👾

Flashback

It didn’t happen all at once. It was subtle. It was like a thread being pulled loose, stitch by stitch until the fabric didn’t hold the same. He started canceling plans more often. First, it was because of exams. Then, his sister needed help. Then he was just tired. And when you’d text him things like “Are we okay?” He’d reply hours later with, “Yeah, just busy. Don’t overthink.”

You told yourself not to. But how could you not when even his kisses felt distracted? You remember one night. You were sitting beside the old shed between your yards, where you used to meet as kids. “I missed you,” you’d said softly. He was looking at his phone. You waited.

He glanced up. “Huh?”

You repeated it. Slower this time. “I missed you.”

He smiled. A weak one. It didn’t even reached his eyes. “I’m right here.”

But he wasn’t. Not the boy who used to write little notes and leave them under your window. Not the one who memorized your class schedule so he could “accidentally” bump into you. You stared at him for a long time that night. And he didn’t ask why.

A week later, you ended it. In your room. On the phone. Because he didn’t even come over anymore.

“Let’s break up.”

Three words.

He was quiet for a second. Then: “If that’s what you want.”

That was it. No fight. No protest. No, wait, please. Only silence. And for some reason, that hurt more than if he’d screamed. Because now you knew: he let go long before you did.

👾

You didn’t sleep much. You stared at the ceiling for a long time after the sun rose. There was something about being here where everything had started. Where it also fell apart. And now that you’d spoken to Jungwon again, the silence you’d grown used to suddenly felt worse than the noise. Your phone buzzed with a message from your mom: “Mrs. Yang invited us over for brunch. Come downstairs when you’re ready.”

You stared at the text. It was almost funny how no one else felt the weight of things but you. Like you hadn’t once memorized the way her son kissed you. Like you hadn’t once cried into your pillow every time she smiled at you, asking how school was, while never knowing her boy was ignoring your texts.

You got up anyway. Slipped on something decent. Washed your face until you didn’t look like you’d barely slept. When you came downstairs, your mom smiled like nothing was strange. “Perfect timing! they’re already outside setting the table.”

Well, You could turn back. Say you weren’t feeling well. Lie, like he did. But a reckless voice inside you whispered: Face him. So you stepped out. The Yangs were laughing. He looked up. You locked eyes. And just like that, the atmosphere changed.

The table was set with cut fruit, eggs, warm bread, and that familiar floral tablecloth the Yangs always brought out when guests came. Your mom was laughing with Mrs. Yang about something that had to do with old PTA meetings. Mr. Yang had already offered your dad his second cup of coffee. It should’ve felt like home. It didn’t.

Jungwon sat diagonally across from you. He was far enough not to be obvious but close enough that every movement he made was loud in your mind. You decided not to look at him. But you glanced up, and he was already looking. You both looked away at the same time. “Did you say hi to Jungwon?” your mom asked lightly. It was obvious that your parents and his were trying to get you two close despite not knowing what happened.

You forcedly smiled. “Yeah, last night.”

“Oh right,” Mrs. Yang chimed in. “It’s been years since you two caught up. You’re both so grown now. Jungwon, doesn’t she look beautiful?”

He coughed into his cup. You pressed your lips into a smile and stared at your plate. Jungwon cleared his throat. “She does.” The table went quiet for a second. Then your dad said something about the weather, and the adults kept talking. You picked at your food. Jungwon didn’t say another word.

👾

You didn’t volunteer to help clean up. Your mom made you. You agreed only because you needed the silence. But the silence didn’t come alone. The screen door creaked open behind you. Then footsteps. Then him. You didn’t turn. You said, “I’ve got it.”

“I know,” Jungwon said. “Still.” He reached past you for a dish towel. Now, it was the two of you. Standing too close to the sink. Water ran over your hands. You passed him a plate. Neither of you flinched with the sudden hand contact. It was just the sound of rinsing, drying, and stacking. Then he spoke. “So… this wasn’t planned?”

You kept your eyes on the plate. “No. Surprise.”

Jungwon gave a dry laugh. “Right.”

You handed him another plate. “Why? Would you have warned me?”

He paused. “Would you have stayed away?”

You didn’t answer that.

“I didn’t expect to see you again,” he said. “Not like this.”

“Me neither,” you replied. “But you did a good job avoiding me all these years.”

He didn’t deny it. You looked at him then. He was older. Sharper jaw, broader shoulders. Same eyes. The same mouth you used to know too well. Still handsome. “You look tired,” you said before you could stop yourself.

He huffed a soft breath. “You look the same.”

“No, I don’t.”

He nodded. “You’re right. You’re-” His voice caught. “You’re more. Still beautiful.”

You turned back to the sink. “Don’t.”

“I mean it.”

“That’s worse.”

Jungwon set the plate down.

“I never stopped thinking about you,” he said.

You hated how much you wanted to believe that.

You didn’t reply.

He didn’t push.

And for a moment, the silence between you felt heavier than any fight you ever had.

You turned off the faucet harshly. You faced him. Your voice came out barely. But it hurt more than shouting ever could. “You don’t get to say that.”

“Say what?”

“That I’m beautiful. That you never stopped thinking about me.” He opened his mouth, but you didn’t let him speak. “You don’t get to look at me like that when you were the one who left me behind.”

“I didn’t leave-”

“You did,” you breathed. “You just didn’t have the guts to say it.” You continued, “I was seventeen, Jungwon,” your voice cracked, “and I kept making excuses for you. ‘He’s just stressed. He’s tired. He still cares.’ But you were already pulling away and pretending you weren’t.” And still, you kept your voice down. For the parents outside. For the dignity you barely held onto. “I went to sleep every night wondering what I did wrong,” you said. “And you were just out there, acting like we never happened. Smiling at my family. Hugging my mom. Texting less. Showing up late. Not showing up at all.”

He swallowed hard. Said nothing. You almost laughed. “I used to wait for you. Even after we broke up, I’d still look for you in crowds. Pathetic, right?”

“No,” he whispered.

“Don’t,” you warned. “Don’t say sorry. Don’t pretend now.” You stared at the boy you once knew. At the stranger he became. “I loved you,” you said, quieter than ever. “And you loved me in the beginning. I know that. But near the end… I was just convenient.”

“That’s not true.”

“Maybe not to you,” you murmured. “But it was to me.”

You stepped back. He looked like he wanted to reach for you. Like something in him ached. But you shook your head. And your final words were soft. “You don’t get to say those things just because you regret it now.”

Then you left him there alone with the truth you carried for years.

👾

He remembered the day it started. Not the day he stopped loving you because he never did. But the day it all began to slip. He was seventeen, phone buzzing with your name lighting up the screen. A simple message: “Call me when you’re free?”

He wasn’t. He stared at the text as it asked him to be someone he didn’t know how to be anymore. Because lately… you saw him like he was made of gold. And he felt like none of those things. That was the problem. You looked at him like he could carry the world. But he was already struggling to carry himself.

Between school, expectations, quiet family problems he didn’t talk about, and the creeping fear of growing up too fast. He started to pull away. Slowly. He didn’t want you to see the cracks, not because he wanted distance. He couldn’t stand the thought of disappointing you. You were always so sure. So bright. And he was… drowning in the quiet.

He thought you might get tired first if he pulled back gently. Perhaps you'd move on if he made himself a little less available. You wouldn’t have to watch him become this…this version of him that wasn’t enough. He didn’t expect you to hold on so tightly. And by the time he realized he wanted to reach back… it was too late. You weren’t looking anymore. You had stopped waiting. He remembered the last time you kissed. It was raining. You had laughed against his mouth. And even then, he already knew he didn’t deserve it. He loved you.

He didn’t know how to be loved by you without falling apart.

👾

You hadn’t planned on being here long. Something to get your mom off your back. When you entered the next aisle and stopped, you were half-distracted, scrolling your list. Jungwon stood a few feet away, back half-turned, reading the label on a bottle of sesame oil. Him again?

He hadn’t seen you yet. You should’ve turned around and walked to another aisle. But you didn’t. He looked up. Eyes catching yours. He did a polite nod. You gave one back. Just two people standing in front of a shelf of condiments with too much history between them. He was the one who broke it

“Hey.”

“Hi.”

“You shop here now?”

“Guess so.”

He nodded. You could tell he didn’t know what to do with his hands. They shifted between his jacket pockets and the bottle he’d been holding. You reached for a bag of rice to have something to do. He glanced down at your basket. “You still drink oat milk?”

Oh? He remembered that.

“I didn’t realize you were keeping notes.”

“I wasn’t.”

He hesitated. “About the other day…”

“Don’t,” you said quietly.

His eyes met yours again.

“I’m just saying- I heard you. That’s all.”

You nodded. Once. Not because it fixed anything. But because you didn’t trust yourself to speak.

“Alright,” he said. “Well. I’ll let you finish up.”

You stepped to the side to let him pass.

👾

The knock came at the door. You weren’t expecting anyone. Your parents were out. So, you opened the door and froze. Jungwon. Soaked in the rain. Hair dripping. Clothes clinging to him. His chest was rising and falling that seemed like he’d been running or crying. He looked at you as if he’d seen a ghost. And then he broke. “I’m sorry,” he said, voice cracking instantly. You barely processed the words before he stumbled forward a step, then dropped. Right there on your porch.

He fell to his knees. “I’m sorry-” he gasped. “I’m sorry. please. I’m so sorry-” You stood frozen. “I should’ve never let go of you,” he cried. “I was stupid and scared, and I thought being distant was the right thing, but it killed me-”

“Jungwon..get up- come inside, you’re freezing-”

“No!” he sobbed. “No- let me say this. Just let me say it- please-”

“I couldn’t stop thinking about you,” he said while crying. “For years- I’d wake up thinking I could text you. That maybe you’d still remember my favorite coffee or the way I held your hand too tight when I was nervous-” He clutched his shirt because he couldn’t breathe. “I dreamed of marrying you. Of having a stupid little house with you and waking up next to you. I dreamed of our kids,” his voice cracked. “You and me on a porch swing. A dog. A life.”

“And then I’d wake up.” He looked up at you, and you could barely recognize the boy in front of you. His eyes were red. His voice was ruined. “And you weren’t there.” The rain wouldn’t stop. Neither did he. “I’m sorry I let us go. I’m sorry I didn’t fight for you. I’m sorry I wasn’t brave enough to love you out loud. I was young and selfish, and I ruined it all. But not a single day has passed that I didn’t want to return.”

You were shaking now, too. Tears gathered in your eyes, even as you tried to hold them back.

“I loved you,” he whispered. “I never stopped. I loved you in the silence. In the years we didn’t speak. I loved you when I walked past your street and didn’t knock. I loved you when I saw your mother and had to act like you didn’t still live in my head.”

“I still love you now.”

Every bone in your body wanted to collapse beside him.

Though, you didn’t move.

Because he needed to say it. All of it.

And oh, he was saying it.

He was still crying. Bent forward. Hands trembling against the wet floor. So, you knelt. Now you were face to face again. Closer than you had been in years. He didn’t look up at first. Couldn’t.

You reached out, and you whispered, “…Tell me.”

“Tell me why,” you said again. “You owe me that.”

His lips trembled. He nodded. “I was seventeen,” he began. “And I was terrified.” You said nothing. “I kept thinking I wasn’t enough. Not for you. Not for the life you deserved. You were brilliant. You were going somewhere. And me… I didn’t even know who I was.” His voice cracked again. “And the more I loved you, the more I panicked. Because what if I held you back? What if someday you woke up and realized you could do better?”

Your tears are beginning to sting. But still, you listened. “So I started pulling away,” he whispered. “Bit by bit. Hoping you’d let go before I ruined you. But you didn’t,” he said, tears streaming again. “You stayed. You kept trying. You loved me so hard it made it worse.”

“Because you were everything,” he choked. “And I was scared to become your mistake.”

“You should’ve told me,” you whispered.

“I know,” he breathed. “Oh, I know.”

“I thought about you every day,” he murmured. “Even when I tried not to. Even when I saw you across the street and had to pretend I didn’t feel like throwing up.”

“I wanted to be the one,” he said. “But I didn’t know how.”

And for a second, you saw it all. The scared boy he was. The hurting man he became. And the part of him that never stopped loving you. “You idiot,” you say low and cupped his cheeks. “You think I didn’t want to be there for you? That I didn’t want to help carry whatever was crushing you? But you shut me out. You pushed me away.”

Your thumb grazes a tear going down his face. “Do you have any idea how much I cried? How much I needed you to trust me?” He swallows hard and struggles to meet your gaze. “You never gave me a chance. And I-” your voice cracks, “I still love you despite lying to myself that I don’t anymore.”

You pull him closer in a fierce hug. You needed him. “I’m here,” you whisper fiercely. “But you have to stop running. Because I’m not letting go.” He clings to you, sobbing into your shoulder, the weight of years and pain pressing down between you but now was beginning to lift.

👾

The rain had stopped. Your arms around your knees while Jungwon sat beside you with a towel draped over his shoulders. You didn’t speak for a long time. He didn’t, either. Finally, you broke the silence. “You should’ve told me,” you said. “Whatever it was. Whatever made you disappear like that.”

He didn’t look at you when he answered. “I didn’t know how. I thought pushing you away would make it easier.”

“Easier for who?” You turned your head, looking at him sharply. “Because it sure as hell wasn’t easy for me. I hated you for it. And I hated myself for still loving you.”

You saw his eyes with guilt and shame. “I wanted to be the kind of person you could lean on,” he said. “But I wasn’t. I was scared, and everything felt like too much. So I ran.”

You rested your head on his shoulder. “I’m not asking you to fix it,” you murmured. “But if you’re here, you don’t get to run again.”

He nodded. It was a promise to you.

👾

You were at the Yangs’ dining room along with your parents. You sat quietly at the table. It had been days since that night. Nothing had been declared. You were still learning how to be near each other again. You felt his eyes looking at you. And when he stood and murmured something about getting fresh air, you followed without a word. The soft murmur of your parents’ conversation inside faded as you stepped out onto the Yangs’ back porch. You spotted Jungwon already there. You thought he’d ignore you. But he didn’t. “You still hate the cold, don’t you?” he said, not looking at you.

You crossed your arms. “And you still remember.”

That made him glance your way. “Some things don’t go away.”

You walked over, leaving some space between you. The backyard had the same old trees. Same broken swing. “You used to push me on that,” you said. “Before everything turned complicated.”

He chuckled under his breath. “You always made me push you. Said you’d get higher if I did it.”

“I just liked hearing you complain.”

“That summer,” he said softly. “When we got together. I think about it most of the time.”

You looked away. “Do you also think about how it ended?”

“I do,” he said.

you asked, “Do you remember the night I asked you out?”

His voice was quiet. “You made me swear not to laugh.”

“And you swore.”

“And I didn’t laugh,” he said. “I was stunned. Because I loved you already and couldn’t believe you loved me back.”

You remembered that summer. That first kiss behind the garden shed. All of it lived somewhere in your mind until now.

“I never stopped,” he said. “Even when I disappeared. Even when I made you hate me, I still don’t know if I deserve a second chance, but…” He hesitated, then, “I don’t want to keep pretending that chapter’s closed.”

“I’m not promising anything,” you said.

“I know.”

“But I’m here.”

you reached for him. You cupped his face. You were still angry. But he leaned into it because he was starving for any piece of you. “You’re an idiot,” you said while tears welling up. “You could’ve just come back.”

“I didn’t know how.”

“I would’ve helped you.”

“I know that now.”

And then you kissed him. It was desperate. His hands gripped your waist, and you pulled him closer. When you finally broke apart, he rested his forehead against yours. “I missed you,” he whispered. You closed your eyes.

“I never left,” you said.

👾

The Yangs had invited your family again, but for brunch this time. You and Jungwon sat side by side, speaking only when necessary. Your mom, ever observant, glanced between the two of you. “You two seem… close again,” she said gently, more curious than probing.

Your dad raised an eyebrow. “That’s great. You two were always good friends.”

That was when Jungwon sat up straighter, his posture suddenly too formal for a casual meal. You felt his hand hold yours under the table, not to keep it, but to ask silently: Can I?

You gave a slow nod. Jungwon cleared his throat. “I need to say something.”

The room quieted. “I was with your daughter,” he said carefully. “We started dating when we were seventeen. We kept it between us, maybe because it felt too important. But I shouldn’t have kept it from you.” He looked at your parents directly. “I owe you both an apology for hiding it and for how I treated her when things got hard. I pulled away when I should’ve shown up. I didn’t explain. I let her carry the pain I caused. I was young, confused, and selfish. But those aren’t excuses.”

You saw your mother’s hand slowly reach for her glass. Your father listened. Jungwon continued. “These past years, even when we didn’t speak… I never stopped thinking about her. I didn’t stop loving her.” He paused. “And now that we’re talking again, I want to be honest. I love her. I always have. And if she’ll let me… I want to try again. Properly, this time.”

He took a breath. “I came here today to confess and ask for your blessing. I want to be with her openly and respectfully. And I want you to know that.” The room was quiet for a moment that felt like an eternity.

Then, your mom spoke first. “That’s not easy to say, son. And it’s not easy to earn trust back.”

Your dad finally nodded. “But the love that survives years of silence… that’s not small.”

Mrs. Yang smiled warmly. “He’s grown, hasn’t he?”

And then, Jungwon’s sister chimed in from the other side of the room, sipping her tea with a smirk. “I knew you two were a thing. Ya’ll ain’t slick.”

You let out a small laugh. Jungwon looked at you with a small smile, his eyes with relief. He had said it in front of everyone. No hiding. No running.

And this time, you didn’t look away.

[ericlvr]

Ummm Jungwon with cockwarming?

(Is this how to ask umm request hard thoughts?)

Please forgive me if it sounds rude.

⚠︎ smut. mdni. cockwarming, nipple play, unprotected sex, creampie

i think jungwon gets sooo clingy after sex it's so adorable. he's all giggly and blushing like he wasn't just rearranging your guts seconds ago

he feels the need to be as close to you as possible, so it goes without saying that he's sliding back into you not long after pulling out (if he does at all. sometimes he just fills you up and stays there)

he's def kissing all over your face, from your cheek to your brow, from your eyelashes to the tip of your nose, while also rubbing his palms on the sore muscles of your thighs. he's got this peaceful smile on his face, and he looks so angelic you honestly start to feel lust bubbling up in your stomach all over again. he's quick to notice though, because despite trying your best to 'not ruin the moment' you just cannot stop yourself from grinding the tiniest bit against him :(

it doesn't take long for him to be hard again, and soon he's fucking his own cum back into you, mouth latched on your nipples still sensitive from all the licking and sucking he did the round before.

jungwon is 100% a multiple rounds type of guy, but i can also see him use cockwarming as a form of punishment when you're being a little brat. oooohh the thought of jungwon sitting you right on his cock, length splitting you open and refusing to move no matter how much you beg🫠 probably moves your hair out of the way to lean in to whisper in your ear, nibbling the shell of it. "why don't you rub your little clit baby? make yourself come right on my cock."

[ericlvr]

JEALOUSY LOOKS GOOD ON ME!

PAIRING: yang jungwon x fem!reader

GENRE/CW: smut, angst, unprotected sex, jealousy, possessiveness, mentions of calling someone mid sex, mentions of nicknames, mentions of jay.

WORD COUNT: 4349 words.

SYNOPSIS: It was supposed to be just friends with benefits—no strings attached, no feelings, no late-night jealousy, but all it took was one party, one touch from someone else, and it sent Jungwon unraveling into something darker, and deeper. Now, he’s not asking who you belong to—he’s showing you, and the world.

WARNING: 18+ content, minors dni.

A/N: hihi, angels! i finally wrote a jungwon fic aaa this was supposed to be 1k words long but here we are <3 i hope y’all enjoy reading it <33 all likes, comments, reblogs are highly appreciated! it keeps me motivated! iloveyou all and happy reading <33

“You always look the prettiest when you’re about to walk away from me, huh?” 

You paused mid-way applying your lip gloss, jaw clenching at the sudden intrusion which you didn’t appreciate one bit. You could see him through the mirrors clearly as he leaned against the doorframe of your room, arms crossed as he stared at you with dark eyes. 

His voice was calm—almost sounding lazy to you, yet it slithered into your spine like a warning. 

He looked good—too good for your liking, clad in his casual blue jeans and a black button up, sleeves rolled up casually as his dark permed hair covered his forehead, jaw tight as he waited for your reply. 

You weren’t sure why he was here, but then again, you were the one who gave him the passkey to your apartment, hence, you’ll be facing the consequences. 

“What?” You asked, keeping your voice in check, not bothering to turn around. 

His expression was unreadable, eyes stuck on your figure, raking you up and down, especially paying attention to your little black dress that hugged your body a little too well for his liking, “you’re going to the party dressed like that?” 

You twisted the cap of the gloss shut, taking your time with it as you replied, “hm, why wouldn’t I?” 

“Jay will be there.”

That’s it, that’s the reason why he’s here. The reason behind your tension that’s been eating you both throughout the day, enough for you to turn around and face Jungwon now, heart pounding despite your efforts to appear confident. 

“So?” You challenged him. 

He scoffed, pushing himself off of the doorframe, taking slow steps towards you, “so—he’s been all over you lately.” 

“Is that jealousy, Jungwon?” You scoffed as he stood close to you, a little too close for your liking as he towered over your figure, “because the last time I checked, you’re not my boyfriend.”

“Yeah, I know. But he’s not yours either.”

The silence after that is thick as you glare at him with anger bubbling up inside of you, “so what exactly are you implying here?”

He swiped his tongue on his bottom lip, hesitating slightly—the first crack in his masked, nonchalant persona. 

“Y’know, I just think it’s funny. You say that we’re just fucking, but the second someone else even looks your way—I fucking lose it, I can’t breathe.” Jungwon seethes out. 

You blink, almost stunned at his sudden confession.

He shook his head though, replacing the melancholic look on his face with a devilish smirk, “but, hey! Jay might just be a better match for you, right? He’d probably remember to text you back, and maybe he won’t leave the second you fall asleep, right?” He taunted you, leaning down enough for his nose to brush faintly against yours. 

Your breath hitched, his words hitting you harder than you expected. 

“Fuck you,” you whisper, full of rage. 

“You already do, kitten,” he chuckled. 

You move back, throwing your lip gloss on him on your way out the room, which he catches with ease, a bitter laugh escaping his throat, “yeah, go ahead! Run to him. At least then we won’t be pretending that this thing between us doesn’t mean something.”

You hate him for saying it like that. For turning it into your fault when he’s the one who built the walls first. He’s the one who laid out the rules.

“You made the rules, Jungwon,” you snapped, “don’t you dare get mad at me for playing the game you clearly started.” 

His face almost twitched into an angry snarl, but he held himself back—his words? Emotions? He wasn’t sure either. 

“See yourself out once you’re done,” you muttered, leaving him standing alone in your room. 

And just like that, you’re gone. Like Jungwon said, you looked pretty—pretty to the point that he couldn’t leave you at the party alone. So, he did what he had to—follow you. 

Maybe being at a party wasn’t the brightest of the ideas for your distraction. The lights were glowing far too much for your liking, heat too high, broken laughter and the smell of perfumes all melting into one beneath the pulsating lights. The steady bass seemed to be in tune with everyone’s heartbeat and you were already out of sync. 

You stood at the end corner of the room, watching the chaos unfold, your face showing slight interest as to not seem out of place. However, your eyes keep wandering around in search of something—in search of him. 

It was a promise you made as you left, that you wouldn’t look for him, that you came here to forget the fight and to prove to yourself that you were unaffected—that nothing you shared with Jungwon meant anything. 

It was as if your body was wired to his presence, you could feel it before you even spotted him in the crowd. He was here. Jungwon. 

Leaning against the farthest wall to you, one arm lazily draped over the edge of the counter, head tilted in a way which made him look maddeningly attractive, still clad in his black shirt, a few top buttons undone, enough to show his clavicle where a gold chain rested perfectly. 

He hadn’t seen you yet. 

Or maybe he had, and just chose not to react, which was more hurtful, stinging you harder than it should. 

“Damn,” a voice interrupted your massive train of thoughts, “didn’t expect you to show up looking like this,” Jay said, his usual warm smirk plastered onto his face, coming close to stand next to you. 

You managed to put a lazy smile on your face, turning to look his way, your laugh light but automatic, “hm? And what does this look like?”

Jay chuckles, far too attractive for his own good, “like you’re here to ruin people.”

“Maybe I am,” you say, taking a sip of your drink, something sugary, cold, numbing. 

Jay’s hand brushes against your lower back, simply testing how far you’ll allow him to go. So you don’t stop him, you let him be. 

You’re aware of his body heat, the way his eyes look you up and down. You’re also aware that across the room, Jungwon has finally decided to pay you attention. Now, he’s watching, his gaze locked on the way Jay is leaning into you, how your hand casually rested on Jay’s chest as he said something in your ear to make you laugh. 

What makes him mad is how you keep your eyes solely on Jungwon, well knowing he’s watching your every move, his stare burning into you like a brand. 

His expression was unreadable at first, almost calm before he found himself gripping the glass a little too hard around the rim, a tic visible in his jaw, a slow swipe of his tongue on his bottom lip as if he was preparing himself for a mission. He looked as if he’d break something. 

The second you smile and lean into Jay, Jungwon starts walking towards you, not rushed, but with burning anger as if he tried to contain himself, only for him to explode instead. His presence hits you first—hot, almost electric. 

“Y/N.” He takes your name, voice full of spite and authority. 

“Hey, man—” 

“Not talking to you,” Jungwon cuts in, not letting Jay say a word to him, eyes fixated on your face. His tone is eerily calm, the kind that comes before the storm that shatters everything. 

You stiffen, “what are you doing here?”

He chuckles darkly, “I could ask you the same thing,” he says, staring at your waist, where Jay’s hand rested so naturally, “but I already know,” he clicks his tongue, shaking his head before looking up again. 

“You don’t get to do this,” you seethe out, “you don’t get to show up and act like—”

“Like what?” He challenges, brows raised, stepping further into your space, “like I care?” 

You go still, his words hitting you harder than ever, a low blow indeed, which only makes him lean in closer, “you wanted me to see you? I did. Wanted me to watch while he put his hands on you like he’ll ever have you the way I do?” 

Jay shifts besides you, tension rising as if the room had turned ten degrees hotter all of a sudden. 

“Is he bothering you?” Jay asked, Jungwon’s eyes flicking to him, jaw tightening. 

“You should leave,” he said. 

“Or what?”

“Or you’ll find out why she never makes those sounds for you, yeah?” Jungwon felt like a madman, challenging Jay as if he was nothing. 

“Fucking stop it, Jungwon!” You shout. 

He doesn’t move, doesn’t even bother blinking, eyes locked onto yours. 

“I don’t know what your problem is dude—”

“My problem,” Jungwon says slowly, turning to Jay, “is that you’re touching something that belongs to me.”

Your face is on fire by now, heartbeat erratic at his words. It shouldn’t feel this way, you should hate him, “I’m not a fucking thing.” 

“You’re mine.” He said in a beat, words soft and final, hitting you harder than they should. 

Jay’s jaw clenches, “don’t talk to her like that.”

“Oh she lets me do it alright. Don’t talk like you know what we are.”

You stop breathing. We. That’s the first time he’s said it. 

“Is it true?” Jay asks you. 

You open your mouth to speak, only for no words to come out of them, because in all honesty—you didn’t even know anything anymore. 

Then Jungwon scoffs, leaning into you again. 

“Tell me,” he practically growls, “do his hands feel better than mine?”

Your throat tightens, heat creeping up your neck as you try your best to look unbothered, “you don’t get to ask me that.”

“Oh fucking hell I don’t,” he snaps, “you show up here with him, dressed like that, smiling as if you’ve never known better, huh? I do get to ask, kitten.”

That cursed nickname again, it’s enough to send a shiver down your spine, but you cross your arms instead, nails digging into your own skin. 

“You’re the one who leaves, did you forget?”

“You pushed.”

“Because I was the only one feeling anything, Jungwon. You were fine as long as I stayed quiet, stayed casual. But the second I wanted more—”

“I never fucking said I didn’t want more.”

“No, of course! You just made sure I never expected it.” The air between you is thick, suffocating.

He steps closer. You don’t bother moving.

“You let him touch you,” he says tightly, “you let him look at you like he could ever fucking have you.”

“Maybe I wanted him to.” Your voice is quieter now, but it hits harder.

He stares at you, his expression twisting, “don’t.”

“Maybe I wanted to know what it felt like,” you continue, forcing the words past the knot in your chest. “To be wanted without being hidden. To be chosen.”

He looks like you just punched the air out of him.

You hate how good that makes you feel.

You hate how much it hurts.

“Maybe I wanted him to kiss me.”

The muscle in his jaw twitches.

“Say it again.”

You swallow, “Maybe I still want him to.”

That does it.

He grabs your wrist—not to hurt, not to pull—just to feel that you’re real. That you’re still here.

“Say it looking at me, go on.”

You do, and for the first time all night, neither of you blink. 

“I want him to kiss me.”

The lie hangs there. Heavy. Bitter. You’re shaking, he sees it, “then why are you still here?” he asks.

A moment. A pause in the noise. A second where the floor feels like it might crack open. You stare up at him, heart thudding, then you smile up at him with a smirk.

���Solid question.”

And you turn, you walk away. You feel the silence snap behind you like a whip. You don’t get far. You’re five steps out when he comes after you, his fingers wrap around your wrist and yank you back, your back hits the wall around the corner—shadowed, dark, loud music muffled—and his body cages yours in.

Eyes wild, darker than ever. You had never seen him this mad—this desperate.

“You really thought I’d let you walk away?”

“You always do.”

“Not this time.” He’s breathing like he ran through fire to get to you, “you wanted a reaction?” he breathes out, “fuck—congratulations because you got one.”

You say nothing.

His hands rest against the wall on either side of your face. He leans in, his mouth a breath from yours.

“You think he could make you feel what I do? You think he’d know how to touch you without you teaching him from scratch?”

You close your eyes, throat burning as you mumble out, “God—fuck you.”

“You’ve tried,” he whispers, “and you keep coming back.”

You open your eyes.

“So what? Are you going to drag me out of here now?” You mean it as a challenge.

But Jungwon’s eyes—they flick down to your lips, and something in him just breaks. You see it happen, no hesitation, no warning.

Just movement.

He grabs your wrist, the same one Jay touched, and pulls—hard. You stumble, breath catching, but his grip only tightens. He doesn’t speak, he doesn’t look at anyone, not even you—It’s like he can’t.

Like if he meets your eyes, he’ll lose the thin thread of control keeping him from tearing your clothes off right here. He weaves through the crowd like a storm parting the sea. You hear someone call after you—Jay’s voice, confused, concerned. Jungwon doesn’t even blink.

The front door bursts open with how angry he is. Cold air caresses your skin harshly, and he still doesn’t bother stopping, hauling you down the steps, across the sidewalk, to his car like a man possessed.

You open your mouth to speak, only to be cut off, “Jungwon—”

“Don’t,” he mutters. 

“Wait—”

“Don’t talk to me right now,” his voice is low, rough, almost shaking with the jealousy burning him alive. “If you say one more word, I swear I’ll fuck you in the backseat just to shut you up.”

Your stomach flips, your legs barely keep up as he unlocks the door, yanks it open, and practically shoves you inside. Not violently—but with purpose. Like if he doesn’t touch you, own you, now, he might lose what’s left of himself.

He gets in. Slams the door, followed by utter and complete silence, to the point you were scared of breathing too loud, your thighs rubbing against one another with anticipation? Anxiety? You didn’t know anymore. 

You glance at him—his jaw tight, nostrils flared, fingers white knuckled around the steering wheel.

“Jungwon,” you whisper.

He turns his head slowly, looking at you like he’s seeing nothing but red, “I don’t care if you hate me after this,” he mutters. “I don’t care if you scream and fight and curse my name.”

A pause, a deep breath, a statement that left no room for argument, “but you’re coming home with me.”

That’s when you realize that right now—there’s no reasoning with him. He’s not hearing anything anymore, not your protests, not your pain, not your fear or want or anger.

He’s hearing everything you didn’t say.

All the begging between the words, all the need in the silence, all confessions you never dared speak.

The engine roars to life, tires screeching as he drives—fast, so determined, his hand gripping the wheel as the other one curled into a fist, holding himself back. 

You don’t speak again.

Because, now, you want Jungwon’s actions to speak louder than his words. 

The moment the door slams shut behind you, silence drops, you barely got time to take a breath before Jungwon’s hands were on you—pushing you, grabbing you, dragging you back by the wrist before you can take a single step deeper into the apartment.

“You want to piss me off?” he seethes, lips near your ear, “you want to talk about Jay?”

He spins you, slams your back against the wall.

You gasp—but you’re not afraid of him. You’re afraid of what’s to come, lit from the inside, burning with everything you didn’t get to say, everything you couldn’t scream back at him at the party.

His breath fans across your cheek, hot and shaking from anger, from the need of wanting you, “you knew what you were doing,” he growls, eyes locked on yours, “wearing that dress—laughing with him. Letting him put his hand on your waist.”

“So what?” you snap. “You didn’t want me there anyway, right?” You shove at his chest, he doesn’t budge.

“You said you didn’t care. You said it was just sex. So why do you care now?”

His jaw flexes. His silence is deafening.

“Answer me,” you spit.

“Because I’ve been going fucking insane,” he explodes.

His fist slams into the wall beside your head—not too close, but enough that you feel the vibration in your ribs.

“Because every time I close my eyes, I see you with him.” He leans in—nose brushing yours, lips barely an inch away, “and I want to kill him for touching what’s mine.”

The word echoes between you. Heavy. Final.

You let out a shaky breath.

“You don’t own me,” you whisper.

“No?” he breathes, hand sliding up your throat to cup your jaw. “Then why are you here?”

You glare at him.

“Because you dragged me—”

“Oh no, baby. You could’ve walked away.” His thumb brushes your bottom lip, “but you didn’t.”

He kisses you. It’s not sweet. Not soft. It’s brutal. A crash of mouths and breath and bruised desperation. You kiss him back harder, messy enough for you two to gasp for air. 

Your hands tangle in his hair, his teeth scrape your bottom lip, agitating you enough for you to bite him, he groans into your mouth like it hurts, bleeding slightly, letting you taste himself at its worst. 

“You said you wanted Jay to kiss you,” he murmurs against your lips. “Say it again.”

You hesitate.

“Go on.”

You look him dead in the eye as you say, “I did,” pushing for a second to let him react to this information. 

His pupils blow wide, only darkness in them and a reflection of your lying self. 

“Wrong fucking answer, princess.” He throws your phone on the bed, “you want to mess with me?”

He grabs your waist, lifts you, throws you onto the mattress as you let out a yelp, trying your best to adjust into the new position but Jungwon was faster. 

“Let’s see how far you’re willing to go.”

You scramble to sit up, but he’s already on you, hands hot and heavy on your thighs, forcing them apart, his gaze trails down your body like he’s starving.

“You don’t get to say things like that,” he growls. “Not after everything we’ve done. Not after everything I’ve given you.”

Your breath catches as his fingers dig into your hips.

“You belong to me,” he says, voice low and lethal. “And I’m done pretending otherwise.”

“Jungwon—”

“No. Shut the fuck up, kitten.”

He grabs your face—softly, but firm enough to make you feel it, to make you feel every bit of emotion that coursed through his body. 

“You talk too much when you’re scared.”

You blink up at him, heart hammering.

“I’m not scared.”

“Good.”

He leans in—lips brushing your ear.

“Then remember this,” he whispers. “Every moan. Every scream. Every time I fuck you so deep you forget your own name—”

His hand slides under your dress.

“You remember who did it to you, yeah?”

You shudder beneath him, and in that moment, there’s nothing left to say, his words are final, and you’re at his mercy. 

Just the sound of your breathing. The tension in his hands. The ache that’s been building for months and is finally—finally—about to break.

“Say it,” he demanded, voice low and ragged. “Say you liked him touching you.”

You opened your mouth—hesitated, yet you wanted to test his limits, your mouth working faster than your mind when you finally said it, “maybe I did.”

His whole body went still, you stared up at him, chest heaving, watching him lose the last bit of sanity that was holding him together, the snap of the thread breaking wasn’t real, but you heard it anyway. 

“You wanna play games?” he sneered, “fine, kitten.” He reached for your phone on the bedside table, where you had thrown your bag, he unlocked it with a flick, knowing your passcode, and tapped a contact.

“What are you—”

“Let’s call him.”

You froze, he couldn’t be serious about it, could he?

“Jungwon—”

“No, let’s fucking call him and show him exactly who you fucking belong to.”

Your heart dropped into your stomach, your mouth opening to say something, to stop him, but you didn’t. 

Because deep inside, you knew you wanted this, you needed this—to see how far he would go to prove himself this time. 

The phone rang once. Twice.

“Hello?” Jay’s smooth voice answered your call, as if he was waiting to hear from you. 

Jungwon locked eyes with you, his hips grinding between your legs, his hands working faster than ever to free his cock from the restraints of his pants, the thickness making you gasp as he covered himself with your sweet juices, rubbing his cock on your cunt. 

“Moan,” he said, mouth against your ear. “Let him hear you.”

You whimpered, your body arching into his as he finally lost control, fucking his dick into your ever so inviting, tight little cunt. 

“Jungwon—”

“Louder.” He ordered as he thrusted into you, and the sound that tore from your throat was filthy, helpless, humiliating.

Jay said something on the other end—confused, almost startled.

“She’s busy,” Jungwon said darkly into the phone, “busy moaning my name.”

You gasped again as he pistoned harder, thumb rubbing your clit in slow circles. 

“Wanna know why?” he asked, his voice deadly calm. “Because you’ll never touch her like this, never fuck her like this, never ever fucking own her the way I do.”

Your fingers dug into his back as he pushed deeper, his eyes locked on yours.

“You think she wanted your hands on her?” he asked out loud, “you think she wanted your mouth?” This particular thrust was harder, making you cry out louder, toes curling with the need to have him closer to you, impossibly so.  

“Then why is she cumming on my cock right now?” He chuckled, almost evilly. 

You broke, shattered completely with the overwhelming need to cum, to prove Jungwon right, to prove that nothing else truly mattered but him, humiliation thrown aside as you let Jay hear you without any ounce of self control holding you back. 

Jungwon watched you unravel under him, then calmly ended the call and tossed the phone to the floor, but making sure to tell Jay before he cut the call, “hope you enjoyed hearing her pretty fucking voices, because it’s the first and the very fucking last time you’ll get to hear her.”

“No one touches you but me,” he practically growled into your skin, panting against your neck. “No one gets to see you like this.”

“Jungwon—” you whimpered, crying and shaking, but Jungwon was far from done.

He pulled out, only to flip you over and drag you back by the hips.

“You want to tease me, huh?” he rasped, breathing hot against your shoulder, “want to pretend I’m nothing to you?”

You whimpered as he pushed back inside, deeper this time, agonizingly slow, full of something else now. It wasn’t just fury—it was his emotions, too much of it. 

“You’re everything,” he whispered, the words choking out of him. “You’re fucking everything.”

You turned your head, trying to see him, but he buried his face in your neck, “I love you.” He mumbled, voice broken. 

You froze.

His hands trembled on your hips.

“I love you,” he said again, quieter. “I didn’t want to—I didn’t mean to, but lord I fucking do.”

You turned beneath him, wrapping your legs around his waist, your mind fuzzy, heart erratic, a confusing mix of hurt and warmth spreading through your body. 

He looked down at you—eyes red, lips parted, body still tense with unshed rage and desperation.

“Then say it again,” you whispered, not knowing what else to say. You wanted confirmation, you wanted to hear it, you needed to hear it. 

He pushed into you, slower now, reverent, “I love you.”

Again.

“I love you.”

And again, with each thrust, he poured his love into you, “I’ve loved you every fucking night you stayed over. Every time you made morning coffee wearing my shirt. Every time I heard your laugh and thought, ‘God, I can’t lose this.’”

Your heart cracked wide open at his brutally honest confession. 

Jungwon was in love with you—you meant something to him, and that was enough for you to cry out, his lips catching every stray tear that cascaded down your face, every bit of tears that came from the hurt he caused you. 

“You’re mine,” he said again, kissing your cheeks, your mouth, your collarbones. “Say you’re mine.”

“I’m yours,” you whispered. “Fuck—I’ve always been yours.”

His hips moved again—slow, deep, building you both up together now. Not punishment. Not anger. Just raw, terrifying honesty.

You cried out again, overwhelmed by the pleasure, by the weight of everything he was finally giving you.

“Stay,” he whispered.

“I’m not going anywhere.”

And when you came again, shaking and sobbing into his skin, you knew this was it.

Not friends with benefits.

Not casual, not pretend, not anything else. 

Just you and him.

Molten into one—into each other.

His body stilled inside you one last time, and he collapsed over you, arms locked around your waist like he never wanted to let go.

You didn’t say anything.

You just stayed there.

Tangled.

Breathing.

His confession still rings in your ears.

“I love you.”

And you believed him, for real this time. 

THANK YOU FOR READING!

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{ ☆ blondie - y.jw }

pairing: blonde jungwon x f. reader

contents: dry humping, dirty talk, p in v, body worship kinda, subbish jw, domish reader, kissing, begging

a.n. honestly can’t believe i haven’t written about blonde won yet… wc 1.5k

MINORS DNI

he wasn’t supposed to look that good.

it was just new hair. that’s what you kept telling yourself. a harmless dye job. but when he walked in with that golden blonde halo, soft bangs falling into his eyes, a quiet confidence in the way he carried himself—you felt it. a shift.

now he was sitting beside you on the couch, legs spread, hand draped lazily over the backrest behind your shoulders like he hadn’t just completely ruined your ability to focus for the past hour.

“you’ve been staring,” he said, head tilted, voice soft but smug.

you blinked at him, flustered. “no, i haven’t.”

he smirked. “you totally have. what—do i look that different?”

and when he ran a hand through his hair, pushing it back off his forehead, letting a few strands fall back over his eyes—you snapped.

you didn’t answer. you just climbed into his lap.

“whoa—wait—”

but his hands were already on your hips, catching you like he wanted this. like he’d been waiting for you to do it first. your fingers tangled into his freshly dyed hair, and you yanked just enough to make him groan under his breath.

“i have been staring,” you whispered, lips grazing his jaw. “because you look fucking hot.”

color flushed to his cheeks, but he didn’t stop you. if anything, his grip on your hips tightened, pulling you flush against the hard length straining in his jeans.

“you’re gonna kill me,” he muttered, voice breathless, eyes locked on your lips.

and then you kissed him—soft at first, testing, but he melted into it like he’d been starving for your mouth. his hands slid up your back, under your shirt, nails dragging just a little. you rocked against him, hips slow and deliberate, grinding down right where he needed it.

he broke the kiss with a gasp. “fuck—if you keep doing that—”

“then what?” you teased, fingers tugging at his hair. “you gonna make me stop?”

his eyes flashed. “hell no.”

with that, he leaned back, letting you grind on him like he was yours to use—and he was. his head tilted just right, letting your mouth find the soft skin under his jaw while his hands roamed your thighs, your waist, your ass, gripping and guiding.

“you’re insane,” he groaned, hips jerking up to meet your rhythm. “wearing those shorts, sitting so close all night—what the hell was i supposed to do?”

“touch me,” you whispered, lips brushing his ear. “just like this.”

your shirt came off next—his hands sliding up your bare waist, worshipping the way your body moved for him. you could feel how hard he was beneath you, desperate and throbbing, and when you rolled your hips just right, he whimpered.

it was the hottest sound you’d ever heard.

“you wanna fuck me, don’t you?” you breathed, hand sliding down between your bodies to palm him through his jeans.

“god, yes,” he groaned, eyes squeezed shut, blonde hair a mess between your fingers. “i’ve wanted to for so fucking long.”

“then beg for it.”

you could feel him shudder—completely undone beneath you. he looked up at you like you were the only thing in the world.

“please,” he whispered. “i need you. need to feel you—please let me.”

you kissed him again—hotter this time, deeper, tongue sliding against his while your fingers worked his belt open, pulling his jeans down just enough to free him. and god… he was hard. thick, flushed, already leaking against his stomach like he couldn’t stand another second untouched.

his breath hitched when your hand wrapped around him, stroking slow, watching him come completely undone under your touch.

“f-fuck—” he gasped, head tipping back against the couch, hands gripping your thighs so tight they’d bruise. “you’re gonna drive me insane…”

you leaned in close, lips brushing his ear. “i haven’t even started yet.”

his hoodie was off in seconds, shirt pushed up just enough to expose his toned stomach—taut, twitching under your lips as you kissed your way down. but he couldn’t take his eyes off you. watching, wide-eyed and breathless, like he couldn’t believe this was real.

then you slid your soaked panties to the side, lined yourself up, and sank down on him.

“oh my—fuck,” jungwon choked out, both hands flying to your waist, fingers digging in like he needed something to ground himself.

he was so deep. thick and stretching you in all the right ways, fitting inside you like he’d been waiting his whole life for it.

you started to move—slow, dragging your hips up and down, letting him feel every inch of you.

he was a mess beneath you, mouth falling open, blonde hair stuck to his forehead as he tried to keep it together.

“y-you feel…” he groaned, thrusting up involuntarily, making you gasp. “so fucking tight, i can’t—shit—”

you leaned forward, grabbing his jaw so he’d look at you, nose to nose.

“look at me while i ride you,” you whispered. “wanna see how pretty you are when you come.”

and he lost it.

he met your rhythm now, bucking up into you with messy, needy thrusts, hands sliding under your ass to pull you down harder. his moans spilled into your mouth as you kissed him through it, your nails dragging down his chest.

“not gonna last,” he panted. “you feel too good—fuck, please let me come inside—please—”

you were close too. so close it hurt. the pressure, the stretch, the friction—everything building fast, sharp, overwhelming.

“do it,” you gasped. “come for me, jungwon. fill me up.”

and with a strangled moan, he did—hips jerking up hard, cock pulsing inside you as he spilled everything, his whole body shaking from how hard he came. you weren’t far behind—your own orgasm crashing over you, making you cry out as your walls clenched around him, milking every last drop.

you collapsed against him, chests heaving, bodies trembling, sweat and heat and the scent of sex thick in the air.

for a long moment, neither of you moved.

then he laughed, breathless and dazed, arms wrapping around your waist.

“you’re never gonna let me live this down, are you?” he whispered.

you smiled against his neck. “not a chance.”

…

..

.

[ericlvr]

Today is National Boba Day!

my bobawon ෆ

[ericlvr]

JUNGWON Coachella 2025 Weekend 1

[ericlvr]

REAL ‼️‼️

RAW!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 🩷

[ericlvr]

CHERRY TREES

arranged husband!Jungwon x trophy wife!reader - confronting cold arranged husband one your first anniversary.

ENHA HARD HOURS 18+ MDNI, Angst, fluff, a second chance, the smut is crazy im ngl to u but the angst is worse, he actually goes insane like insane he loses it.

-

The grandfather clock in the hallway chimed five times, its deep resonance echoing through the marble corridors of your estate. Without opening your eyes, you knew Jungwon was already awake. The mattress dipped slightly as he carefully extracted himself from beneath the Egyptian cotton covers, his movements deliberately gentle to avoid disturbing you. You kept your breathing steady, maintaining the pretense of sleep as you had so many mornings before.

Through barely-parted lids, you watched his silhouette move through the predawn darkness. Jungwon's routine never varied—not on weekends, holidays, or even the morning after your anniversary celebration when he'd had perhaps one glass of Château Margaux too many. Five a.m. meant feet on the floor, regardless of circumstance.

He disappeared into the expansive en-suite bathroom, closing the door with practiced quietness before the shower began to run. You rolled over to face the floor-to-ceiling windows, abandoning the charade of sleep. Outside, the manicured gardens remained dark and still, mirroring the atmosphere that permeated your mansion despite its immaculate decoration and luxurious furnishings.

One year of marriage. Three hundred and sixty-five mornings of this same choreographed dance.

By the time Jungwon emerged from the bathroom, you had straightened your side of the bed and donned your silk robe. He nodded in acknowledgment, a small smile lifting the corner of his mouth.

"Good morning," he said, voice pleasant but neutral. "Did I wake you? I'm sorry."

"No, I was already awake," you lied, the response automatic after months of repetition. "Will you be joining me for breakfast on the terrace today?"

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.

-

TL: @addictedtohobi @azzy02 @ziiao @beariegyu @seonhoon @zzhengyu @somuchdard @annybah @ddolleri @elairah @dreamy-carat @geniejunn @kristynaaah @zoemeltigloos @mellowgalaxystrawberry @inlovewithningning @vveebee @m3wkledreamy @lovelycassy @highway-143 @koizekomi @tiny-shiny @simbabyikeu @cristy-101 @bloomiize @dearestdreamies @enhaverse713586 @cybe4ss @starniras @wonuziex @sol3chu @simj4k3 @jakewonist

[ericlvr]

the shift

jungwon x fem reader genre: smut MDNI!!!! wc: 3593 warnings: e2l kinda, ice hockey player jungwon (just mentioned), manager reader, mentioned other members, mentioned chaewon( she’s my go to clearly lol), jungwon’s just annoying to reader, virgin reader, dick sucking, pussy eating, multiple orgasms (2 each), fingering, flirty jungwon, cursing obv, if there’s anything else lmk

note: this is a rewrite of a fic that i had on @/wonkizz, it’s not great but it’s better than what i had og so :p the smut isn’t great but oh well also not proofread so

The university’s ice hockey team was golden, and it was all thanks to Yang Jungwon.

The team’s captain had spent long hours training to make sure the team was efficient in every category.

And now, their hard work paid off as they had landed a spot in nationals against one of the hardest teams to beat.

They’re not worried, they know the team is good, but they’re better.

Normally, you’d praise a team for being confident in their skills, but you think they’re just damn cocky.

It’s even worse considering the fact that Jungwon has taken an unknown liking to you, the team's manager.

Why are you their manager? Because you needed the credit for a class and it was the only thing available.

Back to Jungwon.

The guy is infuriating. He flirts with you constantly, teasing you and messing with you. It’s annoying and no matter how much you tell him to stop, he never does.

With the amount the two of you bicker back and forth, you’re surprised you haven’t been fired yet.

Now, in terms of nationals, it’s an away game, which means a trip to another state. As their manager, that means you have to go too.

You curse every being out there at the fact that you have to go, but what can you do?

It’s 6:00 am when you arrive at the meet up spot on campus. Coach Shin, the head (and only) coach, is already there with the small bus set up for you and the team to take.

The boys aren’t here yet, no surprise there. They always like to be late, for whatever god given reason they have.

“Those boys, I swear they give me a headache every single fucking day,” Coach Shin complains. You can only nod along with his sentiment, scrolling your phone with no real purpose.

6:15 rolls around and oh thank heavens! Here they come in Jay’s beat up car that he loves to call his baby regardless of its status.

Jungwon doesn’t waste a moment, coming to your side and wrapping an arm around your shoulder. “Did you sleep well, pretty?”

You push his side, trying and failing to get him off you.

“No, unfortunately I didn’t. But I’ll be taking the chance to catch up on my sleep on the bus.”

“Oh?” He inquires, “And what exactly made it not so good? Did something keep you up? Or…someone?”

You push him harder, scowling as he laughs at your face.

Although you finally managed to free yourself from him, the thought of being stuck on a bus with him for 6 hours does not please you.

Coach Shin gathers everyone on the bus, choosing to sit near the front while the boys sit in the back.

You put in your headphones, playing your music on low while the bus departs.

As you leave campus, and eventually your town, your eyes begin to flutter.

They eventually shut and you fall asleep.

When you awaken, your head isn’t resting on the window like it was when you left. Instead, it’s resting against something softer, something moving.

You open your eyes, looking up to see Jungwon’s face centimeters from yours.

You shoot up, realizing your head was resting on his shoulder.

“Sleep well?” He asks, scrolling through his phone like nothing.

“Why are you here?” You ask, trying to create space between your bodies but failing miserably.

“You looked lonely, so I decided to keep you company.”

“Well I wasn’t, if anything you interrupted me.”

Jungwon pouts mockingly, “That’s not very nice. I tried to be kind and this is how I’m repaid?”

“And how exactly do you want to be repaid?”

He takes the opportunity to slide his arm around your waist, squeezing your side, “I could think of one way.”

You grab his arm, gripping his wrist tightly and taking it off you, “As if!”

The whole team begins to laugh at your expense.

You sit there, planning on how to kill Jungwon in your head while he goes back to his original seat, smirking.

You look down at your phone, realizing 4 hours have passed. You sigh in relief, only 2 more hours to go.

Those 2 hours pass somewhat quickly, and you’re parking at your hotel before you know it.

As you get off the bus and gather your things, the sun shines down on you.

It’s blue skies and sunshine in this state, and you wish for nothing more than time to relax.

Coach Shin gathers you all in the hotel lobby, checking in and handing you room keys.

“Naturally you’re all paired with someone, except Y/N.”

“Don’t tell me she gets a room to herself,” Heeseung complains, making the others start to complain as well.

Coach Shin raises his hand, “Don’t start! Of course she has a room to herself, idiots!”

The boys grumble on their way up to the hotel floor.

You check into your room, throwing your bag on the small couch and sitting on the bed eagerly.

You pull out your phone, texting your friend Chaewon.

You: we just checked in :p

Chae 🐯: has jungwon annoyed you much?

You: of course he has but it’s whatever ig 🤥

Chae 🐯: yall gotta like…fuck it out or smth atp

You: EW no why would i do that

Chae 🐯: because the tension is crazy!!!

You: the tension is made up in your head 🙂‍↕️

Chae 🐯: WHATEVER what are you gonna do now

You: i think we’re getting lunch or smth and then idk

Chae 🐯: well keep me updated

You: yeah yeah 😑

You turn off your phone just as there’s a knock on your door.

Coach Shin stands there, “We’re headed to lunch, are you ready?”

You grab your purse with your hotel key, wallet and phone.

“Yes, let’s go!”

The boys are already waiting by the elevator for you, and you all cram inside and head downstairs to the dining hall.

Once seated, you order fettuccine with shrimp scampi while everyone else gets some sort of beef or chicken. They’re all protein freaks, always talking about getting in more of it everyday.

Lunch goes by with little to no conversation between you and any of the boys, no surprise there.

Although you do make conversation with Coach Shin about nationals and how the boys need to play if they want to win.

Not that it really interests you.

You couldn’t care less if they win or lose.

Everyone is given time off to do whatever they want once lunch is over.

You choose to head to the hotel pool to finally relax, and maybe even tan a little.

You put on your bathing suit, and head to the pool with the same purse you brought to lunch.

Surprisingly, there’s no one around.

You sit back on your towel and relax, letting yourself soak up the sun that beats down on you.

But of course, you can never have anything to yourself.

Within 15 minutes of your relaxation, you hear an agitating noise come from the entrance by the pool.

You look up and see the boys, all in their swimsuits, heading your way.

You groan, “Oh Jesus Christ! Can’t a woman get one fucking minute of peace!”

They all look at you, grinning mischievously. They know! They know damn well!

“You don’t own the pool,” Sunghoon says knowingly.

“No shit I don’t own the pool, but you knew I’d be down here to relax and now I can’t!”

“We’ll be quiet, swear,” Jake says, crossing his fingers over his heart.

You sigh, laying your head back down, trying to get back into your relaxation mode.

That was a damn lie.

Within 5, no! 4 minutes, they’re making noise. So much noise it could wake up the dead. Splashing, yelling, cursing, you name it they’re doing it!

Nobody else seems to be bothered because no one comes out to tell them to shut up, so it’s just you and them. Them, overjoyed and you, annoyed.

You want to bang your head against the nearest wall when you hear Jungwon’s voice call out to you, “How’d you know blue’s my favorite color?” He asks, referring to your bathing suit.

“I didn’t,” you respond. “I didn’t wear this for you!”

He puts his hands up in mock surrender, “If you say so. You should come in, the water feels great.”

You look down at the blue water, and back up at him repeatedly. “I’d rather not, it looks cold.”

“Oh come on,” he whines, “it’s not! See for yourself.” With that, he sends a big splash your way, dousing the bottom of your legs with water.

You curse at the cold temperature, Jungwon now laughing hysterically along with the other guys.

You get up before you know it, and send a big splash that douses the entirety of them in one sitting.

They all look at you in shock, Jungwon especially as if he isn’t the one who started it.

“No fair! I didn’t wanna get my hair wet,” Sunghoon complains.

“Well that’s too bad now isn’t it,” you retort, hands on your hips.

Before you can say anything further, Jungwon is out of the pool, lifting you up in his arms.

You didn’t realize how strong or broad he is.

As your hands find his shoulders to hold onto, you begin to panic, “What are you doing? Put me down!”

“Nope, now you’ve done it,” Jungwon says smiling, and then without another word he throws you into the pool.

You hit the water with a big splash, the boys all cheering as you’re now just as soaked as them.

You come up, looking at Jungwon in pure shock and somewhat horror.

“You…you’re so dead!”

Jungwon shrugs, “Guess I’m dead then.”

You spend the next half hour playing with the boys in the pool.

By the time you get back to your room, you’ve tired yourself out.

After showering and changing, you take a long nap.

Once you awaken, the clock next to you reads 7:00 pm.

You order dinner for yourself and eat while watching the latest show on Netflix.

By 7:30 you’ve finished your meal and are relaxing when there’s a knock at your door.

Jungwon stands there, freshly showered too.

“Hi,” he says, albeit somewhat awkwardly.

“Hey, do you need something?”

“I wanted to talk, if that’s alright?”

You step aside, letting him in, “Sure, what about?”

“Us,” he says.

You stand there confused as he sits on the edge of your bed.

“What about us?” You ask.

“I felt like there was a shift today, when we were having fun earlier. It felt…different. Having fun with you instead of arguing with you. It was nice.”

“I agree, it was nice Jungwon. I liked seeing that side of you that doesn’t constantly annoy me.”

You didn’t mean for it to come out so harsh, but it does.

But instead of looking hurt or offended, Jungwon just smirks, “But do you realize why I annoy you?”

You shake your head.

“It’s because I like you, stupid.”

You take a second to take in those words. I…like…you? He likes you?

“You mean like, romantically?”

“Yes Y/N, romantically.” He chuckles, sweeping his hair out of his eyes.

You stand there, not knowing what to do.

“Why…why do you like me?”

Jungwon seems caught off guard by that question.

He thinks for a minute before answering,

“I like how passionate you are with everything you do. Even with hockey, we know you don’t really like it but you still do your best as our manager regardless. I like your laugh and your smile, even when they’re not directed at me. I like how clumsy you are sometimes. I like how your tongue sticks out when you’re concentrating on something. I like everything about you, Y/N.”

You feel your heart beat faster as Jungwon speaks, taking in his words and his feelings with care and kindness rather than disgust or disdain.

“Jungwon, I didn’t know you really felt that way.”

“I don’t expect you to feel the same. I just wanted you to know. And I thought maybe, maybe we could try something. I could take you out? See how you feel about that?”

You don’t know what switch inside you went off, but the thought of a date with Jungwon, after today’s events, doesn’t seem so bad.

“I’d actually like that. I’d like that a lot.”

He perks up and it’s oh so cute.

You finally find the courage to sit next to him on the bed, brushing your hand against his.

He looks into your eyes, for any signs of discomfort.

When he doesn’t find any, he leans in, pressing a delicate kiss against your lips.

It only lasts a few seconds, but it’s breathtaking nonetheless.

“Jungwon?”

“Yeah?”

“Kiss me again.”

He does as he’s told, pressing his lips against yours harder this time.

You reciprocate the kiss, your arms wrapping around his shoulders, your hands finding the base of his neck and playing with the hair at the nape of it.

Your lips move in sync, creating more passion as it goes.

Jungwon moves, his hand that was resting on the bed comes forward to rest on your waist.

His tongue presses against your lips and you open your mouth, giving him access.

Your tongues move together, the kiss becoming more and more heated as time goes on.

Jungwon’s hand comes to rest on your arm, lightly pushing you down so you're resting on the bed, his frame coming to hover over you.

You separate, lightly gasping for air as you look into each other’s eyes.

“Tell me you want this as much as I do,” Jungwon says, practically pleading.

“I want this, Jungwon. I want you.”

Jungwon dives back in, trailing kisses down the front of your neck, to the exposed part of your chest.

His fingers find the hem of your shirt, “Can I take this off?”

“Please.”

He pulls it up, over your head.

His large hands find your breasts immediately.

His fingers tug and twist your nipples, making your back arch up off the bed.

He leans down, taking your left nipple into his mouth, sucking and swirling his tongue around it as you moan in pleasure.

“Fuck Jungwon, that feels…” you trail off, not able to finish your sentence as he switches to the other nipple.

He trails kisses down your stomach, until he reaches the waistband of your shorts.

“Wait,” you say, and Jungwon stops immediately.

“What is it? Are you uncomfortable?”

“No, no. I just… I wanna take care of you first.”

“Y/N you don’t have to—”

“But I want to. Although, I’ve never done this before, so you’ll have to guide me.”

“You’re a virgin?”

You nod, taking your lip between your teeth.

“That’s okay, pretty, I’ll guide you.”

Jungwon gets up and takes his own shirt off, revealing what you saw earlier but weren’t paying attention to.

His broad shoulders, toned chest and lean torso.

You could drool, he’s so your type.

Your attention is taken by him shrugging his pants and boxers down.

You get down on the carpet in front of him, anticipating.

His cock is already hard. It stands at attention, long and girthy but not too much.

You have to admit, you’ve done some research online in anticipation of this moment. You just hope you don’t fuck it up.

You spit into your hand, lathering it on his cock, listening to him hiss as your cold hand meets the warmth of his skin.

The tip is blaring red, evident of how much he wants this.

You stroke him a few times, just to start.

Then, you slowly take him into your mouth, starting just with the head.

You suck on it, tasting the precum he’s been leaking.

Then you take more of him into your mouth, avoiding your teeth as much as you can.

“God, it seems like you already know what you’re doing, where’d that come from huh?” You know he’s teasing but you feel a responsibility to answer genuinely.

You pull off of him slowly, “I may have done some research about this kind of thing before.”

You smile up at him, watching as his mouth opens in slight shock.

“Ah, so my pretty girl isn’t as innocent as she looks?”

His hand comes up to grab the back of your head, not forcing you but simply as a guide.

You take him back into your mouth, holding what won’t fit in your mouth.

You begin to bob your head, stroking what doesn’t fit.

You think you’re doing a good job, if Jungwon’s moans mean anything.

“Just like that, pretty girl,” he says.

You use the hand that’s stroking him and twist it slightly as you go, creating a solid rhythm.

The sounds of you sucking his cock turn him on so much, he thinks he could cum from that alone, but that plus the pleasure he’s feeling being Jungwon closer to orgasm than he’d like to admit.

Within just a few minutes, he’s close.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum, pretty. Where do you want it?”

You pull off slightly but keep the tip in your mouth, sucking on it, indicating you want him to cum in your mouth.

Jungwon thinks he’s a goner, as he cums in your mouth, painting your throat white while he moans loudly.

As he comes down from his high, panting softly, he helps you up from the floor, before turning you around and pushing you back against the bed.

“It’s my turn to please you.”

As you sit up against the pillows, his fingers find the waistband of your shorts, “Can I take these off?”

You nod, watching as his eyes come in contact with your bare pussy.

“No underwear? Naughty girl.”

You’re already soaking wet, your arousal painting your folds and making them glisten in the dim lighting of the room.

“Fuck, you look so pretty. Prettiest pussy I’ve ever seen, baby,” Jungwon says, taking a gentle finger and rubbing it against your folds.

You jerk at the contact, whining as his fingers slide through them.

“Are you gonna make me feel good, Wonnie?”

He groans at the cute nickname, “I’m gonna make you feel so good, baby.”

With that, he leans down, taking your clit directly into his mouth.

You gasp, arching off the bed as Jungwon sucks on it.

His fingers play with your folds as his tongue swirls around your clit, playing with it.

“Oh my god, Jungwon!”

Fingers soaked in your arousal, he slowly eases one finger inside you, being as gentle as he can.

You whimper at the intrusion. It doesn’t hurt but it’s uncomfortable.

“I know pretty, I know,” he comforts you, thumb rubbing your clit making you feel just as much pleasure.

He goes back to sucking on it, tongue gathering all your slick and swallowing it eagerly.

“You taste so good, I’ll get addicted.”

He slowly thrusts and curls that finger inside you, the uncomfortable feeling being replaced by pleasure.

Your moans fill the room, your hands coming up to grip Jungwon’s hair.

“That’s right baby, hold onto me,” he says, encouraging you.

As he sucks on your clit, he inserts another finger, curling them repeatedly, stretching you open.

Minutes pass and you can feel the band in your stomach tighten, “I’m gonna cum, Jungwon, fuck!”

“Cum for me, pretty,” he says, as you cum all over his tongue and fingers.

He takes it all in, swallowing your release and watching in amazement as it coats his fingers, more and more spilling out.

He leans forward, lips meeting yours as you taste yourself on him.

“You ready for my cock?” He asks and you nod, spreading your legs further.

He runs his cock up and down your pussy, coating it in your release, before slowly pushing inside you.

Your breathing gets slightly heavier at the feeling of fullness, but it’s a good feeling.

He pauses, giving you all the time you need to adjust.

After a minute, you tell him to move and he wastes no time in thrusting into you at a rhythmic pace.

Your mouth is permanently forced open at the feeling of his thrusts.

The power and precision is just right, making you feel like you’re floating.

“Fuck Jungwon, it feels so good,” you whine, hands gripping his biceps.

“That’s all I could ask for, pretty girl.”

You feel him so deep inside you, it’s mad. It feels so good, something you’ve never felt, nor do you want to feel this with anyone else.

“Fucking me so good, god I love it.”

“Yeah, you love this cock?”

“Fuck yes, I love it!”

His thumb comes to rest on your clit, rubbing deep circles on it, causing you to moan even louder, until you’re practically screaming his name.

“I’m gonna cum, fuck I’m gonna cum Jungwon please don’t stop!”

“Me too, fuck where do you want me to cum?”

“Inside please, I want it so badly.”

He groans into the side of your neck, leaving featherlight kisses against it.

His thrusts become erratic, hitting places so deep, you didn’t know they existed.

“Fuck, I’m cumming,” you whine, releasing all over Jungwon’s cock as he does the same inside you.

Both of you ride out your highs on his slowing thrusts, until he eventually comes to a stop.

As you look into each other's eyes, Jungwon can’t help but smile, “So, about that date.”

AEWON 2025

[ericlvr]

this needs to be us with julie so bad @b1mbodoll

The urge to be a perv butch for a pretty femme... just grabbing and groping them endlessly... not even hiding it when I stare at their tits or get way too close behind them just so I can press myself against their ass...

[ericlvr]

"that's sungho i think" gabi i will choke u

Heavy eye contact while I'm rubbing your pussy and calling you princess

[ericlvr]

@b1mbodoll this is literally u

I LOVE GIRLCOCK

[ericlvr]

── SPORTS CAR.

ヾ(´︶`♡)ﾉ 양정원 x fem! reader content enemies to lovers (implied) ᥫ᭡ warning explicit sexual content car sex jungwon's kinda mean here (whoops) unprotected sex (wrap it up pls) slight degrading pussy eating reader's a virgin here jungwon's reader's first fingering and etc . . .!? 1875 — mlist. req

note. the moment i saw the words 'sports car', i knew i had to use tate mcrae's song... please listen and stream so close to what, thanks! also, its been a while since i wrote smut so hopefully this is readable... taglist. @tfwbluu, @hoonstqr, @riqomi

You’ve disliked Jungwon the moment you laid your eyes on him. He has everything you hate—his dashing good looks, his signature infuriating smirk that never fails to stir flames of anger and the list goes on. In conclusion, you despised him, right to the core. You tried your best to avoid him, at all costs, treating him like he was the plague that could infect you the moment you’re near him. However, you didn’t expect to find yourself in your current situation. 

The back of the car was cramped and definitely not spacious enough to fit two people. But none of you cared, both hooked onto the addictive tastes of your lips—like sweet poison. You gasped into the kiss when Jungwon pushed your dress up and up, until the fabric rested around your waist, revealing your embarrassingly soaked panties. Instead of removing it, he simply tugged it aside and glided his finger against your folds, grinning into the kiss at how you flinched at the sudden contact. 

“For someone who hates me, you’re soaking wet,” he murmured, lips grazing against yours. 

“Shut—fuck!” You snarled, only to bite down on your tongue when he parted your puffy folds, index finger sliding in until he was knuckles deep. It was by instinct that your hips bucked forward, craving more but Jungwon held you down, clicking his tongue in disapproval. 

“Nuh uh, I don’t think so,” he hums, adding another finger in, gaining a high-pitched whine that bounces off the car. 

“J-Jungwon, please,” you begged, looking at him with half-lidded, teary eyes and Jungwon felt the breath getting punched out of his lungs with how breathtaking you looked. 

“Please what?” 

“Please touch me,” you whined, your hands now holding his broad shoulders as you tried to pull him closer. 

As much as Jungwon wished to keep teasing you, pushing you to the edge, he too, was reaching his limit. His cock twitched in the constraints of his pants at how stunning you looked underneath him. Compared to your usual quiet, calm appearance he saw during school hours, the current you was a huge contrast. Your hair was spread out like a halo, the eyeliner you wore was faintly smudged, proving to be a deadly combination especially with your swollen, parted lips. 

“You’re beautiful,” he muttered in his state of daze and if it was any other moment, you would have thrown him a weird look. 

You said nothing, choosing to tug him down to crash your lips together in a fiery, messy kiss. Your hands traveled down his body, struggling to remove the belt while you were being devoured by him. Jungwon lent a helping hand, easily unhooking his belt and pulled both his pants and boxers down. You broke the kiss, nervously gulping at how his cock stood upright and proud. The tip had turned an angry shade of red and purple—a sign he had been neglecting himself. 

“What’s wrong? Did I meet your expectations?” He teases, tipping your chin up with his finger. 

“No, I didn’t expect you to be this big,” you retorted, catching the way his eyes darkened at your response. 

In a blink of an eye, Jungwon manhandled you until you were shoved down to your knees, the back of your feet pressed against the back of the driver’s seat. The space was so small and narrow that you were sure you’ll be having difficulty getting up later but the thought flew out of the window when he cupped your face, forcing you to look at him. The way he looks down at you, like you were his prey made you clenched down on nothing but thin air, nails digging into the carpeted ground beneath you. 

“How about you put that mouth of yours to good use?” He sneers, one hand resting on his lap while the other grabs his cock, slowly pumping himself. 

You leaned forward, tucking a few strands of hair behind your ear and opened your mouth, as wide as possible to accommodate him. Jungwon moved his hand to your head and without warning, he pushed your head down, forcing you to take him in one go. You made a startled, choked sound at his action, tears pricking the corner of your eyes, blurring your vision slightly. You’ve never done this before and you relied on your instincts, slackening your jaw and hollowing your cheeks. 

You slowly bobbed your head, tongue darting out to trace the protruding veins on the sides while you used your hands on areas you couldn’t reach. You knew you were doing the right thing, considering how Jungwon had sunk into the seat, head tilted back to reveal his unblemished skin, his Adam’s Apple moving up and down as breathless moans spilled from his lips. The grip on your hair tightened, legs parting as his hips jerked upward at a particular, harsh suck to his cock. 

“Fuck, you’re made for sucking my cock, princess” He panted, looking down at you with half-lidded eyes. Your eyelids fluttered shut when he reached down with his free hand, brushing a lone tear away—the action so tender and sweet that it made your heart melt. 

Not wanting to disappoint him, you swallowed the remains until the tip hit the back of your throat. Jungwon’s mind spun at how warm and tight your throat felt. He couldn’t help but wonder if it’ll feel the same when he’s deep inside you. A throaty whine was ripped from the depth of his throat at his incoming climax, fucking into your mouth. It didn’t take him long to reach his orgasm and you choked at the feeling of warm, thick liquid sliding down your throat. Your lips ached when he pulled out, gripping your face and forcing you to open your mouth and you swallowed in front of him, earning a pleased sound of approval from him. 

“Such a good girl, aren’t you?” He purrs, eliciting a desperate, needy mewl from you as you nuzzle your face against his palm.

“Jungwon, please…” You begged, “Need you.” 

Cursing, Jungwon tugged you up and the two of you shifted about, limbs knocking against one another. The lingering pain was nothing as compared to the arousal coursing through your veins. Finally, he pulled your panties down, tossing it to the floor as his right leg dangled off the backseat, positioning himself between your legs. You could hear your heart pounding against your ribcage, watching with bated breath as he slid a condom over his cock, unsure of how and when he had even grabbed it. 

The words slid out of your mouth before you could think. “I’m a virgin.” 

He froze, eyes flickering up to your face—looking for any signs that you were joking. When you clearly wasn’t, his eyes softened, concern and worries written all over his handsome face. “Wait, are you sure you want this? I don’t want your first time to…”

His voice trailed off but you knew the implication behind his words. You gave him what you hoped was an assuring smile. “Yes, I want this. I want you, Jungwon.” 

His breath hitched in your throat and he wasted no time, pulling you closer to spread your legs, revealing your awaiting hole. You bit down on your tongue when you felt him entering, inch by inch. You blindly reached out, grabbing onto the door handle behind you to ground yourself as you were being split apart on Jungwon’s cock. After what felt like years, he bottoms out. You felt light-headed, on the verge of losing yourself to the feeling of him inside you. Jungwon, on the other hand, felt like he was in heaven. 

“Shit, princess, tell me I can move, please,” he rasped, thighs twitching with anticipation. All he needed was a mere nod from you to succumb to his desires. 

Jungwon wasted no time in pounding into you, his thigh muscles burning at the force used. The car was filled with the obscene sound of skin slapping against skin, along with your sounds. You tossed your head back and it was only right for him to lean down, lips trailing kisses down the expanse of your neck as he left hickeys behind in his trail. The sensation of him biting and sucking on your skin made you whine out loud, eyes rolling up and mouth forming an ‘O’ shape when his cock hits the same, sensitive spot without fail. 

You weakly raised your legs, wrapping them around his waist and tugged him forward. The brief change of angle allows him to hit deeper, his cock practically kissing your cervix with every thrust, eliciting pleased sounds from the two of you. Jungwon had to grab your legs when he felt them slipping, slinging them over his broad shoulders instead. His head traveled lower, wrapping his lips around your left, hardened nipple and gave a light suck, drawing a high-pitched mewl from you. 

“Ngh, m-more,” you panted, feeling your mind slowly blanking out as you get drunk on the intoxicating feeling of his cock sliding in and out of you, rearranging your insides to fit the shape of his cock. 

You felt the signs coming—the way your legs spasmed and the way your stomach tightened. “Hah—g-gonna—” 

“Yeah? You wanna cum for me?” He coos, moving away from your nipple covered in a layer of saliva, whispering into your ear with his hot breath grazing your sweaty skin. 

You couldn’t muster the strength to reply, choosing to frantically nod your head instead. Jungwon smirks, his long, thick fingers rubbing circles on your stretched out clit and that was enough to push you over the edge. Your body shook with the pure intensity of your orgasm as hot, transparent liquid was squirted, only for it to land on your bodies, the backseat and the floor too. Jungwon followed a few seconds later, releasing into the condom and thankfully, he didn’t collapse on you, holding himself up with one arm pressed against the headrest. 

You laid there, pliant and exhausted to move an inch while Jungwon slowly pulled out, drawing a hiss from you at the sudden emptiness feeling. None of you said a word as he grabbed a packet of wet wipes, taking extra care in wiping you clean before doing the same for himself. That was, until he broke the growing tense silence. 

“You alright?” He murmured, handing you a plastic bottle of water, to which you gratefully accepted as you downed the content in one go. 

“I’m fine, I just didn’t expect to end up here,” you replied, earning an amused chuckle from him. He lightly nudged your shoulder with his, flashing you a genuine smile, his cute dimples peeking out from his cheeks. 

“You know, this shouldn’t be a one-time thing, if you want.” 

You blinked, arching an eyebrow. “Yang Jungwon, is this you trying to ask me out? If yes, I think we’ve missed a few steps of the process.” 

He rolled his eyes. “It’s not my fault that you dress like that and expect me to keep my hands to myself.” 

Flustered, you whacked his shoulder but he merely laughed, unfazed with your reaction. 

“You’re such a pervert!” 

“Yeah, but you’re stuck with me now.” 

“...I haven’t said yes yet.” 

[ericlvr]

@b1mbodoll u need to read every single one of these btw

▸ minors do not interact ▸ likes do not help writers. please reblog and leave feedback on my work. ▸ wanna be tagged?― taglist

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hyung line drabbles/mtl m.list

PLAYER RANK: PLATINUM | (ao3) - 30k ― HEESEUNG CENTRIC You’re not sure what’s worse, your sister’s boyfriend or your sister’s boyfriend’s friends. What you thought would be a great deal in living with her throughout college turns into a major game of cat and mouse, where you’re unsure if your moral compass is pointing in the right direction solely because you suspect someone is wearing a giant sex magnet to throw it off.

jake hard thought m.list

exhibition - 4.9k - (patreon, ao3, wattpad) the one where your roommate flaunts his secret job at you, not thinking you’d go out and search for him. And definitely not thinking you’d be getting off to him either. 666 - 4.8k When does an interest in the supernatural become unnatural? You’d say right around the time a spirit told you to write his name with your own….body fluids SWEET LITTLE MONEY MAKER. - 13.6K the one where you’re very much an “i don’t need a man” type of person, and jake shows you that you do, in fact, need a man….him, you specifically need him. only because he needs you.  REALISTIC EXPECTATIONS (ft. sunghoon) | (ao3) - 8.9k the one where you made a bad decision in fooling around with your step-brother during your early college days and he refuses to let you put an end to it.  CUNNILINGUIST (ft. sunghoon) - 16.1 k the one where your best friend jake eats you out as a way to admit his own feelings for you, also, apparently sunghoon existing is an issue. HYPER-SEXUAL | (ao3) - 13.8k If there’s anything in life that Jake wants, it’s to fuck. All day, every day, it’s on his mind. He fantasizes constantly, watches porn every free chance he gets, and ultimately has grown bored of his own hand to satiate his need. FRENZY | (ao3) - 33k total FRENZY PART TWO - 14.2k total Jake is experiencing real love for the first time in his life. He’s so infatuated with you that he would do anything to make you understand. And you? Oh, you are in no place to argue with a man who appears to be perfect. 

PAID IN & PAID OFF (ft. jay) | (ao3) - 30k Jay made the mistake of paying his best friend to date you, it was a big mistake. He only did it to get you away from a different man who wasn’t treating you right, and because he couldn’t do it himself. The fact that his best friend breaks the rules and decides to catch feelings drives him up a fucking wall. Why? Because Jake should know better than to go as far as sleeping with his girl, or rather...erm, his step-sister.

SIMP | (ao3) - 5.6k men are liars. especially, jake sim, some guy you met once at a party and now only know through text messages. he makes promises he can’t keep but it’s mostly because he likes to hide that he’s more desperate than you are to get his dick wet.  DESECRATION | (ao3) - 6.4k the one where no gods exist when you’re alone with jake sim. EROTIC EMPATHY | (ao3) - 12.7K the one where jake has a streak of bad luck in bed and his friends make fun of him for it, you find him advertising his virginity on a dating app and decide to help him out.  SHARING = CARING (ft. jay) - 1.2k the one where jake tries to jerk it while his roommate is sleeping and jay just wants him to share a lil bit of what he has hidden under his pillow

BIG DICK FOR DUMMIES | (ao3)- 2.4k The one where you find out that your boyfriend has a huge cock and you’re not entirely sure if you can take all of it. SERIAL-SWEETHEART (ft. sunghoon) (ao3)- 23.6k Dating the strict, well-liked, and loving Sunghoon came with its hurdles. Normally, the two of you could communicate and work through the downsides, but what if the newest downside of the relationship is learning that his little brother, Jake, has a bit of a thing for you?  TAKE THE BACK-SEAT (ft.jay) (ao3) - 8.5k TAKE THE BACK-SEAT PART TWO (ft.jay) (ao3) - 14.3k the one where jay lets jake watch him get his dick wet.

jay hard thought m.list

DON'T CARE, DIDN'T ASK. - 1.7k (PATREON, AO3, AND WATTPAD ONLY) the one where you literally have no brains and didn’t see the bright red flags jay gave off before you effectively let him get you under lock and key. He’s possessive, jealous, and over all not at all what he pretends to be when he’s out in public.

PERVERT - 2.8k Or the one where Jay is slightly obsessed with his daughter’s best friend.

WIFE MATERIAL - 1.1k the one where you're kind of a bimbo and a virgin, arranged to marry jay. MILF HUNT! | (ao3) - 18.9K the one where Jay was the pain-in-your-ass son of the family you used to babysit for, but now he’s making it his mission to be the pain-in-your-ass pretend husband that you never asked for, but very clearly need. 

BOOK SMART? P*SSY SMART. - 10k The one where Jay basically lives in the university library and you live in any and every party you can find on campus. Unfortunately, your grades are suffering over it and you need help. You’re quite lucky though because Jay is quite helpful.  HAPPY HOTWIFING (ft. sunghoon) | (ao3) - 18.9k the one where your husband, jongseong, fucks you in front of the window to help the neighbor get off and then said neighbor shows up at the door a week later.  PAID IN & PAID OFF (ft. jake) | (ao3) - 30k Jay made the mistake of paying his best friend to date you, it was a big mistake. He only did it to get you away from a different man who wasn’t treating you right, and because he couldn’t do it himself. The fact that his best friend breaks the rules and decides to catch feelings drives him up a fucking wall. Why? Because Jake should know better than to go as far as sleeping with his girl, or rather...erm, his step-sister. RENAISSANCE MAN (ao3) - 14.6k the one where jay is a dildo salesman, a caterer, a self-titled mechanic, and also your ride home. he is not an expert in any of his jobs, but he sure is an expert in wit and well, other things.

HARD CASH, EASY MONEY - 5.4k Jay is rich-rich and likes to frequent the strip club you dance at. You know regulars tend to have their favorite dancers, but to become his favorite? Oh, well….you knew he’d rent out a private room sooner or later.

TAKE THE BACK-SEAT (ft.jake) (ao3) - 8.5k TAKE THE BACK-SEAT PART TWO (ft.jake) (ao3) - 14.3k the one where jay lets jake watch him get his dick wet.

SHARING = CARING (ft. jake) - 1.2k the one where jake tries to jerk it while his roommate is sleeping and jay just wants him to share a lil bit of what he has hidden under his pillow

(NOT) STRICTLY BUSINESS - 1.7k Jay walks, talks, and fucks in business mode.

UNTITLED (ft. sunghoon) - 1.4k the one where jay and sunghoon share a pocketpussy in the name of you. SO SWEET - 3.8k The one where Jay, in all of his cherry-flavored thoughts, makes you cherry flavored too. WRONG BROTHER (ft. sunghoon) the one where jay and sunghoon are brothers and you accidentally send nudes to the wrong brother.

sunghoon hard thought m.list

UNTITLED (ft. jay) - 1.4k the one where jay and sunghoon share a pocketpussy in the name of you. HAPPY HOTWIFING (ft. jay) | (ao3)- 18.9k the one where your husband, jongseong, fucks you in front of the window to help the neighbor get off and then said neighbor shows up at the door a week later.  DESPERATE - 1.9k the one where sunghoon just wants a sliver of that pussy pleeeeease NIGHT-SHIFT | (ao3) - 4.5k DAY-SHIFT - 14.5k the one where you pay for a one on one call with a faceless cam guy you’ve been watching for a little while, and the next day your boss is avoiding you like the plague.  ONE OF THE DAMNED GIRLS | (ao3) - 20.4k ONE OF THE DAMNED GIRLS PT. 2- 21.8k Moving to a city with wild nights and charming days felt like the perfect choice in your head upon finishing college. Hours away from home, you accept a job at a local museum ironically placed dead between a large historic cathedral and a booming gothic nightclub. You were meant to curate the art, not be curated yourself by a local priest who found you with buckled knees outside of said goth club.

FIRST DATE ETIQUETTE | (ao3) - 9.3k Park Sunghoon is not dull, nor is he the clean cut neighbor your mother thinks he is. Oh, the horrors of if she found out that the man she set you up on this date with immediately took you home and rendered you unable to walk? He'd never be able to defend himself without a swift slap to the head.

heeseung hard thought m.list

PLAYER RANK: PLATINUM | (ao3) - 30k You’re not sure what’s worse, your sister’s boyfriend or your sister’s boyfriend’s friends. What you thought would be a great deal in living with her throughout college turns into a major game of cat and mouse, where you’re unsure if your moral compass is pointing in the right direction solely because you suspect someone is wearing a giant sex magnet to throw it off.

PROVOKED - 2.3k the one where heeseung uses your body as an outlet because he had a shitty day.

jungwon hard thought m.list

© 𝘴𝘪𝘮𝘱𝘫𝘢𝘦𝘴, 𝘪 𝘢𝘮 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘵𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘣𝘺 𝘤𝘰𝘱𝘺𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵. 𝘪 𝘥𝘰 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘨𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘮𝘪𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘯𝘴𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘰𝘳 𝘳𝘦𝘱𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘮𝘺 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘬𝘴.͏

[ericlvr]

pussy drunk!jisung who’s completely dependant on eating pussy, he can’t go a day without it and will resort to begging if he has to, he has no shame

pussy drunk!jisung who’ll annoy you all day for just a taste, until you finally give in and let him shove his tongue into your cute cunt

pussy drunk!jisung who get so greedy sometimes that he’ll be too impatient to even take your underwear off first, too busy nuzzling his nose into the fabric and fucking his tongue against your covered clit that he pays no mind to your embarrassed gasps, whimpering when your sweet taste drenches through the frilly cotton

pussy drunk!jisung who doesn’t let you be embarrassed for long, shutting your whimpers up when he nudges your panties to the side and starts making out with your cunt

pussy drunk!jisung who keeps a firm hand flat on your tummy when you try to squirm away from him, complaining that its just too much cause he’s already made you cum twice with his mouth alone but you just taste too good for him to stop now

pussy drunk!jisung who cums from your taste alone, but he doesn’t have anytime to feel ashamed about it when your pussy just looks so sad and empty without his cock in it

pussy drunk!jisung who swears he’ll just put the tip in when you’re not in the mood, but ‘just the tip’ becomes another inch, then another and before you know it he’s fucking into you like a rabbit

pussy drunk!jisung who can’t think straight as soon as he’s sinking his cock into you, repeating and slurring over his words and swearing he’ll be so good for you if you just let him cum inside you, just this once

pussy drunk!jisung who can’t for life of him pull his eyes away from where you’re connected, voice cracking when he sees the milky ring that forms around his dick everytime he pulls back out

pussy drunk!jisung who nuts in seconds, too fucked out to register what you’re saying or the hands trying to push on his chest before he’s emptying his balls and filling you up with sticky cum

pussy drunk!jisung who has no problem cleaning up his own mess as longs as it means he can bury his head into your sloppy cunt again, wet apologies muffled between his kisses for cumming so soon

[ericlvr]

Makeshift Chemistry

► 𝙿𝚊𝚒𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐 - obsessive!mafia!Seonghwa x fem!reader◄ ► 𝙶𝚎𝚗𝚛𝚎/𝙰𝚄 - mafia au, yandere trope, power imbalance, suspense, thriller, crime, Seonghwa is extremely !obsessed and !possessive, dark romance, depictions of Seonghwa's slow descend to madness, so he's kinda !psychotic, true insanity (like, I made him pretty mentally deranged here), kidnapping, imprisonment, escape from captivity, toxic form of love, emotional and mental torment, restraint (via handcuffs), forced love, angst, plot twist (stay away from the comments to avoid spoilers!) ◄ ► 𝚁𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐/𝚆𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐 - PG-18+ so MDNI!!!, murder and extreme violence (semi-graphic) but not towards reader, drugged (non-graphic), consensual-hate sex, dom!Hwa, but whiny!Hwa, mommy kink, hard-fast-rough, standing sex, handjob, degradation, gunplay, fear play, oral, cum eating, missionary, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, forced orgasms (on Seonghwa's end), multiple creampies, baby trapping implications, no protection (DO NOT DO THIS!!!!), just super kinky lol◄ ► 𝚆𝚘𝚛𝚍 𝙲𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝 - 28.7K words (this had to be this long sorry) ◄ ► 𝚂𝚢𝚗𝚘𝚙𝚜𝚒𝚜 - You loved Park Seonghwa, until you found out that he was a Mafia Lord, and you didn't want to get involved, so you left him. But Seonghwa wasn't going to let you go that easily, because his unhealthy obsession with you knew no bounds. Soon enough, this obsession is marked by violence and manipulation when he kidnaps and imprisons you just so you could love him back. You barely escape with your life, but what about the feelings in your heart that were trapping you? How were you supposed to love Seonghwa when he’s slowly losing his mind and sanity in the guise of loving you too much? ◄ ► 𝙽𝚘𝚝𝚎𝚜 - PLEASE READ AT YOUR DISCRETION. There will be extreme instances of how mental instability affects love, and Y/N isn't clean. Do not read if you're uncomfortable, it's not mandatory even if you enjoy my work. Prioritize your mental stability, and I'll see you in my next work. If you do choose to read it, enjoy! Fic inspired by Chappell Roan's Coffee.◄ ► 𝚃𝚊𝚐𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝 - @0rangemilk @ginger-mingi @ruubyrubes @oddracha @jaytheatiny @roxannecos @juicy-red @cheolliehugs @sunnysidesins @jjongbearshoney @midnightrebel1028 @xomakara @lovetaroandtaemin◄

‘Coffee?' -Park Seonghwa

You bit your lip apprehensively, the phone in your hands almost slipping with how lax your grip on it had become. What was once your lifeline to the world - the window to what was beyond your walls - was now the bane of your existence.

A loud shrill cuts you off of your thoughts. The phone was now ringing. You practically jumped out of your skin at the sound, and in a panic, you unwittingly pressed the red button.

"Fuck," you hissed, not fully intending to reject the call. Well, not entirely, anyway. You didn't mean to immediately do it, your nerves always failed you at the last minute. 

You were back to biting your bottom lip, but this time, you bit on them with twice the anxiety and twice the strength since they were actively bleeding out in between your teeth. You jumped out once more when your phone dinged.

‘Do not ignore me. Get dressed. We’re getting coffee.’ -Park Seonghwa

Ignoring his incessant calls and messages shouldn't have been this difficult and stressful. You could feel your sanity slowly slipping away from you every single time you'd leave another text from Seonghwa unanswered.

This prick, you thought, gritting your teeth so hard, the grating sound of it made your head hurt. You haphazardly threw your phone on your desk, not caring if it gets smashed or not. It would be better if it did, honestly. That way, you’d have no contact with him left, and his control over you would vanish. 

And in that way, you wouldn’t be tempted to see him over and over again. 

It wasn’t a fault of his own sometimes. There was always this urge in you to see how he was, what he’s doing, and if he was the same man you left a couple of months ago. 

You bit your lip, looking down on your outfit. It was a simple white button-up shirt, some jeans, and a pair of heels. It wasn’t a choice of yours, either; Seonghwa loved elegance. He would make you change, anyway, and waste your time. 

You’ll meet up with him one more time, and tell him that it would be the last time. You’ll meet up with him one more time, and tell yourself that it would be the last time. 

The cafe was empty when you got there, unsurprisingly. You scoffed as you sat down, it was such a Seonghwa thing to do. A barista even escorted you to your seat, it was slightly embarrassing. This was a cafe, for God’s sake, not a fine dining restaurant. You shook your head as you knew this was one of his games. He loved seeing you embarrass yourself, especially since he was the one embarrassing you because even in that aspect, he wanted control over you. 

God forbid someone else did it for you, however. They’d be dead by deadlight. You swallowed those thoughts away, they weren’t metaphorical at all. 

Seconds passed by, minutes ticked by, and almost an hour into arriving, Seonghwa still hadn’t shown himself. You gave the poor barista a nervous smile of your own, but inside, you were seething. You tentatively looked outside from the glass walls, you knew he was here. You could feel it. 

And yet, he was nowhere to be seen at the same time. You began to feel uncomfortable, tugging at your collar, playing with your nails, sighing every five minutes, the likes. But the worst part of it was that you knew he was enjoying this. He got off on your discomfort.

You wouldn’t be surprised if he was hiding in plain sight, his eyes never leaving yours as he savoured all the most miniscule of your expressions that told him exactly what you were thinking without him even opening his mouth to ask you. 

Just as you were about to stand up and leave, the door opened, a light trinkle resounding from the charm attached on top of it to signify someone’s entrance. He did this all the time - reel you back in when you’re about to pull away. You hated it, mostly because you let him treat you like this. 

Two men entered first, both of which you are very familiar with. They greeted you with a subtle nod of their head, avoiding eye contact, before choosing to sit in the farthest part of the quaint café. 

And there he was in all his majestic glory. His strides were sure, eyes trained on you like a hawk, pausing to tilt his head at you as if he was examining you, but you knew better - he was challenging you to move. 

That was how Park Seonghwa - he demanded attention. The way he would swallow the entire room with just his shadow, alone, never failed to stun you into silence. He was a siren’s song, beckoning anyone around him to look and listen with just one word from his mouth. Hell, most of the time, he didn’t even have to say anything. 

But the siren’s song was just that; a siren. A subtle smirk graces upon his lips, and the next thing you knew, he was making his way to you. You watched his hands pull the chair in front of you, those sinful hands once held you, bought you comfort as they caressed you. Now, all they did was strangle you into suffocating, squeezing your soul, stealing your essence drop by drop. 

“I don’t think meeting out here is wise, Mr. Park,” you said, cutting straight to the point. It was more so for yourself, the longer you stayed with him, the weaker your resolve gets. 

You refused to break eye contact with him, and perhaps, that was the worst part of all of this. He was still breathtaking. That face once made you kneel, and it still can. 

“Seonghwa, my love,” he corrected, tutting at you like he was endearingly scolding you. It made you sick. “You know my name, why won’t you say it?”

You bit your lip as you weighed your options down. There was always that choice to disobey him, it wasn’t difficult, but the mafia lord had never made anything easy for you. “I don’t think meeting out here is wise, Seonghwa.”

You watched as his bottom lip quivered, the way he attempted to hold his grin was nothing new to you. He loved it when you played his little games, he was more than pleased with it. Seonghwa raised his hand, snapping it to signal the nervous barista who was just waiting. 

“Nothing has ever been wiser,” he replied, staring the barista down as they shakily placed Seonghwa’s coffee in front of him as well as yours, except that you got a strawberry shortcake on the side, your favourite. 

You didn’t have any appetite, and he knew it, you never did every time you went out to meet him, yet he didn’t care. You mustered up the courage to ask him, anyway. “What is it that you want, Seonghwa?”

He watched you push your plate away with a small frown on his lips. “Why aren’t you wearing the ring I gave you?” Seonghwa questioned, ignoring yours. 

“Why should I? I’m not yours,” you took a deep breath, whispering your next words. “Not anymore, at least.”

“Nonsense,” he brushed off, pausing to take a sip from his cup before looking you dead in the eye. “You were always mine. You just don’t want to accept it.”

Indeed, he was a siren. He never stopped until the words he sang rang true even though you both knew it wasn’t the case. Seonghwa was once your siren, and now you regret ever being enthralled by his songs.

“I want to see you wearing it the next time we go out,” he declared, referring to the ring. He paused, a thought crossing his mind. “Do you not like it, though? Is that why? Would you like me to get another one?”

You tried not to flinch when he held your hand, lifting it to give it a small kiss. It burned, yet you couldn’t pull away. “Such delicate fingers,” he chuckled. “No jewelry can compare to its beauty, my dove.”

“Seonghwa,” you sighed tiredly, pulling away. His words still affect you, it was hard not to let them get to you, but it has to stop.

“It’s fine,” he interjected. He poked his tongue on his inner cheek, displeased at how averse you were to his touch.  “No spherical metal will bind you to me. We both know you’re mine, anyway.”

You sighed once more, this time, with a tremble. “There will be no next time,” you mumbled, clearing your throat from the nerves clogging it. “I came here to tell you that I-I can’t do this anymore with you, we have to stop meeting so we could both move on…”

It was the most difficult thing you had to say, minus when you told him you were leaving him, but you had to for your own sake. He didn’t say anything, his face had no emotion, except for his twitching left eye. You gulped, that was not a good sign. He did not like that at all. 

No words were said for a while. You almost broke down and took it back, but no, it was better to end this now than suffer the consequences later, because you might not end up leaving him at all. 

“It’s funny,” he began, voice leveled and calm. They were too calm. “Most people give out everything and anything just to have a five minute conversation with me.”

He took another sip of coffee, his long tongue darting out from his mouth slowly swiping his upper teeth as he looked on. “But you,” he continued. “You push me away when I make a point to crawl down to you unlike the others who have to climb up to me. You are a tough nut to crack, Y/N.”

You gripped the table in front of you, your knuckles pale and white. Anger rolled off of him like waves and for a second, you were terrified that he was going to explode on the spot. The way he uttered your name was a threat in itself.  He sets the cup down without a sound, letting out a small chuckle. 

“You’re hungry, aren’t you?” Seonghwa asked softly, all traces of anger gone from his tone. “Here, dove.”

You shut your eyes tight. His change in attitude scared you out of anything he has ever done, and Seonghwa was a violent man. Not towards you, never towards you, but he was a destructive person to be with. He was a psychopath. 

“I-I don’t want to eat, I’m good,” you squeaked, shaking your head when he took a piece of the cake and tried to push the fork into your mouth to feed you. 

“Come on, doveling, eat this. It’s very yummy,” he gently coaxed, pushing the fork slightly until it was touching your lips. “Say ah, baby, I’ll feed you,” he smiled.

It was a sweet gesture, and if the situation was different, you would’ve cooed at how cute Seonghwa looked. In your peripheral vision, even his bodyguards looked appalled at their mafia lord’s gesture. Seonghwa ruled everything, he owned this city, and everybody licked the soles of his shoes and worshiped the ground he walked on. 

But here he was, feeding you with cake. 

You turned your head again like a petulant child, refusing to eat anything that came from his hands. “I really don’t want to.”

He frowned. You watched as his hand started to shake, but you knew it wasn’t because he was tired of holding the fork up. “One bite? I know you’ll like it.”

“No, please—-“

“Open your fucking mouth.”

There it was. The way he demanded was anything but, his eyes were half-lidded with malice, the monotonous tone in which he spoke terrifying you more than if he raised his voice or grabbed your hair to force the cake down on your throat. His despondent stare penetrated through you, combusting your insides on the spot with how fiery it was. He was angry, you made him angry. Seonghwa cannot be angry. 

You gulped, parting your lips slightly. It was all it took for him to forcefully part them with the fork and roughly shoved the cake in your mouth. You choked when the tip of the fork almost hit the back of your throat, coughing a bit before you decided to swallow. Tears collected on the sides of your eyes, but you forced yourself to smile and nod at him. 

“You’re right,” you coughed again. “I-It’s yummy.”

His arm retracted, his eyes not once leaving your trembling form. “One more,” he ordered, tone clipped. It had a veil of threat looming over the words as they left his tongue.

You flinched when he cut another piece, the clank of the fork when it hit the plate, echoing in your head. It was reminiscent of what you hear in your head before  Seonghwa’s patience snapped. He was a time-bomb; you never knew what made him tick, but you knew that he was destined to explode somehow. 

He grabbed a napkin then wiped the sides of your lips. “You should be more careful, dove,” he chided, voice lowered, clouded with sinister intent. “Wouldn’t want you messy now, would we?”

You quickly shook your head in response. “That’s a good girl,” he smiled, his words kind and gentle as if nothing had happened, but you knew better. He lies through his teeth. 

If you didn’t love him, it would have been fine. 

The sigh that escaped his deceitful lips was long and slow as if his brain needed to process what just happened. The screeching sound of his chair hit your ears, and he was sitting beside you before you knew it. 

“I sincerely apologize, doveling,” he whispered, his voice breaking and cracking halfway. He lifted a hand to touch you, only for the same hand to fall back down neatly on his lap. “I-I just missed you a lot.”

You felt your heart split in half inside your chest, you didn’t want him anymore, but it didn’t mean you liked seeing him like this. However, deep in your gut, you knew that something was inherently wrong. You just didn’t know what. 

“Think about what I said, please,” you appealed, scooting your behind away from him to create a gap between the two of you.  For a split second, his lip twitches.

He looks up at you, hurt coating his entire features. “I implore you to think about it. I don’t want to completely lose you,” he pleaded. He jutted his lips out, doing everything he can for you to look at him with pity. 

You were weak. You were a weak, weak person. Seonghwa pulled you to him, enveloping his arms all over your form as your chin laid on top of his shoulder to hug him back. To your left, was the glass panel that separated the cafe from the outside. It reflected both you and Seonghwa’s embrace. 

The hug looked serene, intimate, to the unassuming eye. Your heart dropped to your feet as you watched Seonghwa’s expression morph from loving, apologetic, and sincere, to something that can only be described as demonic and corrupted. His eyes grew wide with madness, rolling at the back of his head as he tried not to crush in his arms then and there, his lips stretched towards his ears like a wolf in sheep’s clothing.

“Are you going to force me to forgive you?” You asked,  tears falling from your eyes before you could stop them. “Are you going to take me?”

He smirked, still looking forward, not knowing that you could see his expressions. “No, well, I could,” he whispered, biting his bottom lip to stop himself from cackling out loud at your stupidity. “But I won’t.”

You were a fool to believe that he would actually be sincere for once. This was his true colour. “You know me well enough where you know what my answer would be, and it’s no.”

It was terrifying how his expressions could change in the blink of an eye. His eyes slowly lost that mirth and instead dropped into the most dangerous glare, “So it seems,” he monotoned, grinding his teeth. “I won’t take you for myself by force, not until you want me to.”

Lies. Lies. Lies. Lies. Lies. 

You need to get out of here. “And what if I never want you to? Tell me,” you breathed out. 

Your heart leapt out of your chest when his eyes met yours through the reflection of the glass, the grin on his face expanding malevolently. He pulled away, making a point to demean you further by tapping your cheek. 

“And so my manipulation tactics begin,” he smirked, his sharp jawline finding rest above his slender fingers. “Though I don’t think I have to make much effort, you seem to be doing most of the work for me, dove.”

It was true, he got you there. You didn’t have to show up, you didn’t have to answer to his every beck and call, and you didn’t have to stay and wait for him when he humiliated you earlier, but you were still here. Seonghwa wasn’t pointing a gun to your head. 

Not yet, at least. 

“You’re mine,” Seonghwa murmured. “The sooner you accept that, the sooner you’d feel better.”

“But for now,” he stood up, all the grace and elegance in his body oozing out of him. He moved so regal, you had no idea why he even liked you. He offers his hand out. “You should go home. I reckon this meeting took a toll on you.”

You refused his hand and he scoffed, and just like that, he left. Completely alone to your thoughts now, you couldn’t help but breathe out the air you didn’t realize you were holding.

It was that tense, things with Seonghwa were always very intense. He always invoked emotions out of you that you always kept buried inside you, yet you always came back for more. Again, the fault wasn’t fully his own.

You were the one who left him, yet you couldn’t fully leave him. 

As usual, that night was spent with you just thinking about all the things that could’ve been with him. In the end, you weren’t strong enough to tell him that enough was enough with all these games you played with each other. 

He resented you, you knew as much. Seonghwa was a very, very vindictive person - he wasn’t the type to ever let go once crossed. You just never thought that the day would come when all that resentment was directed towards you because he was playing with you, that you knew as much.

It took another two weeks before he contacted you again, and this time, he called you directly. You stared at the number on your phone. You had deleted his number, but that was pretty pointless because you memorized it by heart, anyway. “Hello?”

“Hello, love,” you could hear the smirk in his cocky tone. “Care to have another coffee with me?”

The automatic response you had in your head was, of course, no. Seonghwa was an asshole; he was manipulative, and he was arguably the most toxic person you’ve ever had the displeasure of meeting, but goddamn, does your heart always pull you towards him even when you try very hard to guard it. “I don’t know,” you told him truthfully in the end even though his voice broke down your walls bit by bit. “I told you that we have to stop doing this, aren’t you sick of it?”

He doesn’t say anything for a moment. “You’re right,” he mumbled, surprising you with how genuinely amiable he sounded. “Coffee is overrated. Let’s go to dinner, instead. How about that Italian place downtown?”

You didn’t have high expectations, in fact, you had zero expectations, but you weren’t expecting that at all. “S-Seonghwa,” you sputtered. “T-That’s not what I mean.” “I know,” he chuckled. If you didn’t know him, it would sound like he was genuinely amused by this, but no. It already had a dark undertone to it. “So how about it, love dove? That or we hit the bar next to it, instead. Pick your poison because I’m not asking for your permission.”

It was your turn to stay silent. The last place you wanted to go to was the Italian restaurant. Why?

Because it was where you met Seonghwa - the end of your beginning and the beginning of your end.

“Let’s just do coffee, then. Just like you originally wanted,” you murmured in submission, but he was not pleased with your response.

“That ship has sailed when you couldn’t make up your damn mind,” he said. “The bar, then—”

“N-No! I mean, no, please,” you denied, a bit more defensive than what you would’ve liked to sound. “Dinner, Seonghwa, please, I’ll go to dinner with you…”

“Splendid, I’ll pick you up in an hour,” he agreed. “Why are you avoiding the bar?”

“Because we know where that leads,” you lamented, your voice almost desperate and pleading. “I’ll see you.”

You sighed, hanging up the phone and not bothering to hear what he had to say. You were pretty much terrified of going to the bar with Seonghwa, because then he’ll get you a drink, and that would always lead you in his arms.

The hour was a blur. A year prior, it was your favourite part of the day - getting ready and dolled up for the love of your life, but now, you just wanted to get everything over with. 

You’d also be excited for the car ride, but now, it was just so awkward to be in the car with Seonghwa. Neither of you talked, nor were you interested to spark up a conversation to begin with. The only time you did was when he asked you to hold onto him as you made your way inside the restaurant.

It was impossibly lavish, as expected of Seonghwa’s finer taste in life. It wasn’t for the regular everyday people since everywhere you looked dripped in money, both clean and dirty. However, all this elegance felt oppressive to you

Seonghwa sat across you, his presence filling the entire space. You cowered at his stare, focusing on the food that was being laid out in front of you. His stare never left you even when the waiter asked if their services were still needed. You could feel your hands gripping the stem of the complimentary champagne flute.

Suddenly, he started to laugh softly. You tilted your head to look at him curiously. “You’re very stubborn, dove,” he shook his head. “It would be endearing if I didn’t want to strangle it out of you sometimes.”

Against your better judgment, you took a huge swig out of the champagne, letting the sweetness of it coat your throat. Lord knows you needed a lot of them if you were about to spend time with Seonghwa. “Unluckily for you, I’m not looking for you to change my mind. I’m happy being independent right now.”

It wasn’t the entire truth. You wanted nothing but to lay in his arms like you used to and let him whisper all the sweet nothings in your ear. You grabbed the wine bottle from the ice bucket that was placed near you and poured a hefty amount on its respective wine glass.

In your peripheral vision, it wasn’t hard to see Seonghwa’s irritation - he wasn’t used to being met with resistance  - but even he raised a brow at how much red wine you were planning to drink. He smirked, looks like he didn’t need the bar, after all.

But his smirk dropped when he realized that you had already finished a whole glass and you were on your way to another one. “Alright, that’s enough,” he snatched the glass from you, drinking the whole thing in one go. “I’m not a good person, but don’t insult me like this. I have standards, I don’t want you face-planting on the floor.”

You blinked, the alcohol in your system already hitting you head-on in a possible collision that will be difficult to recover. You couldn’t look away from Seonghwa, and for once, maybe you just wanted to let go and be happy. “Do you want to know why I don’t want to go to a bar, specifically?”

He looked at you expectantly. “It was pointless since I got this,” you giggled, holding up the wine bottle, which was already halfway empty. The glasses were massive, and you were lightweight. “Because we’ll have a drink together, and then you’ll say you want me and that you’re sorry,” you hiccupped. “I know it’ll be a lie.” 

He stood up, rendering you speechless. Whether it was from all the stress culminating inside you or his audacity, you didn’t know. He offered a hand to you. “Come,” Seonghwa softly commanded. 

You finally looked up at him, confused. “W-Where?”

“Home, you silly goose,” he chuckled. He raised a brow when it still didn’t click. “I’m taking you home, little dove.”

Alarm bells started to ring in your head. You were about to shake your head when he stopped you. “I meant your…apartment,” he spat the word with such venom. “I do not approve of it since we have our old house, but I’ll play along for now. Come along before I change my mind.”

It was how you found yourself back in Seonghwa’s car, the food long forgotten, your mind buzzing. You sighed, staring out through the window, just gazing upon the passing distance. A scoff was tickling behind your throat, this was one of those instances where you actually had no choice. Whatever Seonghwa says, goes. 

However, contrary to what he was thinking, you weren’t necessarily afraid of him just snatching you up and forcing you to be with him, not today at least, but you were concerned about something else - something else entirely intimate.

When he insisted that he walk you up to your door, you couldn’t refute it. How could you when he was already walking at the apartment entrance ahead of you as if he knew where he was going?

Little did you know that he actually did. You blanched when he situated himself in front of your door. “Seonghwa,” you gulped, your hands shaking as you tried to open the door. “H-How did you know it was this door?”

When you left him, you tried everything you could to erase his track. It was almost impossible since the mafia owns the entire region, and you couldn’t go far since you had no money. You knew that he knew where you lived but you at least thought that you were safe since you thought you had the upper hand. You cursed under your breath, you shouldn’t have put his obsession with you past him. 

He snatched the keys from your hands, taking the liberty to unlock the door, himself, but when he was about to push it so he could walk in, you quickly held on to his arm tightly. 

“It’s late,” you reasoned out, heart pounding in your chest. This. This was what you were afraid of. “Don’t you have somewhere to be?”

He rolled his eyes, taking the keys out from the keyhole and tossing them to you. “Is this the way you treat your guests, love?” Seonghwa scoffed, crossing his arms. He sneered. “I thought I taught you better than that.”

You fisted your hands so tightly, your nails left deep indents on your palms. “You made me entertain thieves and murderers,” you gritted your teeth, not relishing in the memory of the many times Seonghwa would make you sit on his lap while he planned his operations in front of the other mafia leaders. 

“Hoshposh, little one, I would’ve shot anybody who looked at you wrong straight to the head,” he said. “Seriously, though, I’m quite thirsty.”

He pulled on his sleeves slightly and set his eyes on the luxurious watch that was wrapped on his wrist. “A glass of water would be great, then I’ll be on my way.”

You frowned, hesitation rolling off of you in waves. Of course, you didn’t want to let Seonghwa in your apartment, but you weren’t exactly heartless. You bit your lip, the sting of it snapping you out of the lies swirling in your own head. Heartlessness had nothing to do with it. 

You looked up at Seonghwa, heat pooling in your lower tummy, regret churning above it. You opened the door wide, resigning to your desires, leaving the remorse for tomorrow. 

Seonghwa smirked, closing the door behind him before pulling you by the arm, his lips smashing against yours in a heated fervor. Kissing him back wasn’t lost on you, this was what he was truly thirsty for, after all - you. 

And the worst of it all, you’d let him drink on no matter how much your head told you ‘no’. Seonghwa wasn’t someone who you could deny, because you can’t. 

The point was to meet him for coffee, his usual excuse, and only for coffee, but alas, nowhere else is safe because every place always led back to him.

A low, breathy moan escapes your throat as he lifts you up in the air, quickly wrapping your legs around his torso. His lips found salvation on your neck and jawline, planting sweet kisses on your skin that set them on fire with every touch. 

“I missed you,” he groaned against your chest as he laid you down on your bed and loomed on top of you, trapping you in between his arms. “God, I fucking missed you, dove…”

Of all the things he’s said tonight, you knew this to be the one where he wasn’t telling lies. You couldn’t even complain when he tore your top to shreds in his impatience to have it off, your bra stood no chance either. A wanton moan slips out of you when he grabs the small dagger that he always kept and cuts it off from the middle, the cool metal tip sending shivers all over your skin. 

“S-Seonghwa,” you mewled when his lips wrapped themselves on your puckered nipples, his tongue swirling all over it, leaving trails of spit that you always found incredibly erotic. 

He wasted no time taking the rest of his clothes off along with yours until there was no barrier left between the two of you and the hot surface of Seonghwa’s skin seared in contact with yours. You wanted this more than anything, and it was why you were terrified of letting him in. 

“How do you want it?” Seonghwa placed a tender kiss on the area below your ear, tickling you, making your cunt clamp down on his invading fingers as he massaged that sweet spot inside you. “How do you want me to fuck you?”

It was when you looked up at him that had your mind completely reeling. No, you never really doubted that he loved you, but sometimes, love simply wasn’t enough. 

And in Seonghwa’s case, he was offering a little too much. And too much of anything never did anybody favours.

When you raised your hand to cup his face, he didn’t hesitate to close his eyes and kiss your palm. There were no words that needed to be said. 

That night, as you were curled up on Seonghwa’s naked chest when things were said and done, it was the first time you wished that things were different. You wished you were strong enough to stop loving this man, but that was impossible because you knew he would never stop chasing you until all that were left of him were bones and ashes. 

And when you woke the next day to a completely empty bed, tears cascading down towards your pillows as you stared at the empty space. You could still feel the ghost of his lips on your forehead, the reluctance to leave clear in the gesture. But he had to, you’d kick him out, anyway.

However, it wasn’t out of a broken heart - it was relief. Pure, unadulterated relief that he was gone.

Leaving Seonghwa a couple of months before you moved back to your current place was simply the hardest thing you had to do. It wasn’t a decision that you mustered up out of thin air, it was days - months - of decision-making that either broke your heart or killed you.

You carefully adjusted your dress, shimmying your hips to make sure you weren’t exposed. You slipped among the crowd, squeezing your body in between the drunken state of the people on the dance floor as you made a beeline straight to the bar.

Clubbing became a part of your routine. It was an unhealthy coping mechanism to remind you that before Seonghwa, you were your own person. A drink or two later, your hands were in the air, your inhibitions lowering at the quick shot of adrenaline the alcohol provided you.

But it could only do so much. You sat at the corner of the club, just staring into the crowd. Melancholy seeped in your heart, it was pathetic that you had to go to places like these to get that cheap thrill of forgetting Seonghwa for a moment, only for his face to haunt you the moment you stepped out.

You swallowed the nostalgia that threatened to embrace you. When you closed your eyes, you could still picture the moment when you met Seonghwa for the first time. It was last year, you were so naive back then.

Or maybe not. He was just good at hiding his true colours.

A heavy sigh left your lips, your head nodding in resignation at the realization that your date had just ditched you.

Embarrassment clawed in your chest as you curled in on yourself at your seat, your fingers fiddling with the straps of the dress you’d carefully picked out for tonight uncomfortably. It was a waste since you had nobody to show up for it.

“You shouldn’t waste your tears on this beautiful night, pretty dove.”

Surprise covers your features. You hadn’t realized that you were crying. You feel somebody from behind you, probably another patron of the restaurant. You were even more embarrassed that someone has seen you get emotional.

“T-Thank you, kind Sir,” you politely accepted the handkerchief he offered you, dabbing your tears with it. “I’m afraid I soiled what’s yours…”

You were caught off guard when you glanced at its owner. He was hauntingly beautiful. His features were so forward and defined, and yet, there was a type of softness to it that reminded you of a gentle lamb.

”Do not fret, I have more where that came from,” he chuckled. 

“Ah,” you trailed off. “I will replace it for you soon.”

He smiled, his face transforming into something even more breathtaking. A blush creeps onto your cheeks.

”Might I be presumptuous to ask for something else in return? I don’t need it back,” he pointed to the kerchief. 

You blinked, waiting for his response. He gestured to the empty chair in front of you. “I’d like to accompany you for tonight, if that’s alright,” he said.

Your brows shot up in surprise. You supposed that the universe hasn’t completely abandoned you. You nodded, gesturing towards the chair. You had absolutely nothing to lose. 

“O-Of course. I’d be honoured,” you cleared your throat, gazing at him expectantly as he helped himself. “I’m Y/N.”

He gracefully extends his hand to capture yours, a subtle smirk plastered on his face. “Park Seonghwa.”

He was the best thing that ever happened to you. Seonghwa took you to multiple dates after that, taking you to places he said you deserved to be taken to, experiencing things you’ve never done before, and just spending time with him in general.

The next thing you knew, you were falling in love with him, and you were falling hard and fast. Luckily for you, Seonghwa was, too.

You bit your lips, remembering the way his glimmering eyes that reminded you of a baby doe as he stared at you with all the love he could muster in those beautiful eyes. The Seonghwa you knew was kind and gentle, he could never hurt a fly.

”Excuse me?” 

The bartender you got your drinks from earlier interrupts your thoughts. They had a tray with a single drink. It was a daiquiri. You frowned, shaking your head towards them. “I haven’t ordered anything.”

They proceeded to shake their head at you, instead. “It’s from that guy over there,” they pointed at a table a couple of metres away from you. 

As they placed the cocktail right in front of you, you took the liberty of inspecting the man that had the audacity to assume that you were lonely. A year back, you would’ve been flattered, but this reminded you of the way Seonghwa approached you for the first time in that restaurant.

Your sweet, sweet boy. Or so you thought. 

“Can you please return it? I’m not interested,” you pushed the drink back, much to the bartender’s chagrin and hesitation.

Your heart felt like a knife was being stabbed into it. You couldn’t go through this again.

Something changed along with your relationship. Seonghwa was the most patient man you knew. He was the type to cook breakfast in bed for you, tuck you in and give you a goodnight kiss for absolutely no reason. Seonghwa would hold you in his arms, cuddling with you for hours, just laughing along with your corny jokes even though they weren’t funny.

”Whenever you’re sad, just look at the stars for me,” Seonghwa would say. He would give your forehead a tender kiss as he would whisper. “You are my forever star, Y/N. I want the stars to be a witness to our eternal love.”

The club started to feel suffocating for you. Standing up, your wobbling legs took you to the restroom. You didn’t even spare a second glance on the daiquiri that you had purposefully left behind.

Luckily, the restroom was empty. You splashed cold water on your face, hoping it would wake you up and knock some sense into you. This was a mistake, you thought, your hands gripping the marbled sink. You were a mess.

Your feelings for Seonghwa were a mess. He started to change slowly. It wasn’t noticeable at first, but you knew him. He started getting angry fast, he had random bouts of periods where he would disappear, he’d come home with bruises on his face. He would cover it with makeup, but they’d still peek through.

When he told you he was in the mafia was a breaking point for you. You immediately left him after because you didn’t want to involve yourself in that lifestyle.

”My love, please,” Seonghwa begged at that time, tears falling from his beautiful eyes as he held your arm back weakly from leaving the house with your luggages. “P-Please, don’t go, I-I don’t think I can live without you, please.”

You couldn’t believe it back then, that your sweet Seonghwa was pleading for you to keep your love alive while his heart shattered with the weight of your decision in his chest. It pained you to see the love of your life losing it like this, but you had no choice. You wanted a normal life, you wanted to live your life safely, and Seonghwa being in the mafia can’t provide that for you.

It pained you to remember how Seonghwa desperately kneeled on the floor, crawling forward on his knees, broken, his eyes wild with fear. “Y/N, I am begging you,” Seonghwa’s voice cracked back then, struggling to breathe as tears spilled down his face. “I need you, dove, I can’t go on without you…”

His chest heaved with sobs he couldn’t control. “Don’t leave me, please. I don’t care what I have to do, dove, I-I can’t lose you, y-you’re everything to me. Please, don’t go.”

Sometimes, love just wasn’t worth it. You swallowed the tears that threatened to fall from your eyes, and you powered through, turning your back on him for the last time as his fiance, pulling on your luggages to leave him for good. It was difficult to ignore the guttural cries that left his lips as he screamed his lungs out for you to come back to him, but you had to go.

The little coffee breaks he’d ask of you were your little reprieve. Call it a guilty conscience for breaking his heart.  

But the truth was, you still loved him just the same, if not more. God, you still loved him.

Something had changed, though. During the months you were apart, he became maddened - more unhinged, to say the least. He scared you most of the time, it strengthened your cause of leaving because it was a side of him you’ve never seen before. He wasn’t the person you loved, not anymore. 

Your Seonghwa was mellow and gentle. Whoever this maniac was, this psycho, you didn’t know who. 

The bathroom doors opened with a bang, the rickety wooden structure hitting the walls that shook the entire expanse from where you stood. Danger signals spiked fear in you, instead of the usual women who belonged in the restroom, two wannabe thugs entered and set their eyes on you. 

One of them gave you a gnarly grin. You squinted your eyes, you knew of them. Disgust curls on your lips at the sight of the two men who were at the table who sent you the overly sweet cocktail you indifferently left at the table. 

“You shouldn’t be here,” you said, trying to level the situation out. Them barging in meant no good. And there was no one to save you. What is it with men and their inability to accept rejection?

“Who the hell do you think you are?” One of them growled audaciously, spit flying out from his filthy mouth emphasized by the dingy lighting the restroom provided. He marches towards you, pushing your arms rather roughly. You reckon it will bruise.

“Now, now, there’s no need for this,” the other one gestured for his companion to tone it down, leering as he raked his eyes from your head to your toes. His slimy tongue licks his dry lips as he slowly approaches you, or rather, stalks you like a predator.

The moment he grabs your shoulders, your instincts snapped you out. With a scream, you swiftly ran across the room towards the door, but not before giving one of them a good kick in the groin. 

“You fucking bitch! Ow, fuck, wait until I get my hands on you—”

Your heart pounded heavily against your ribcage, pure adrenaline fueling you as more vile words could be heard from the distance the more you walked away. You had no care for the sweaty bodies that you had to go through, all you knew was that you had to run, and you had to run fast.

This was the only time you cursed at how small the club was. You had no idea how far you were walking away from the bathroom, but the blinding lights, the deafening music, they were starting to get to you. You were terrified that they had managed to follow you. You didn’t dare look back.

You had to get out of here. Luckily, you were near the back door where you could exit and get away, so that’s exactly what you did. You couldn’t even regret forgetting your jacket the moment you got out and was embraced in the bitter cold of the night.

“Once again, I don’t have to do anything. You keep running into me.”

A startled scream escapes your mouth, the loudness of your own voice scaring you. Panic surged through your bloodstream. You looked around, and there was darkness everywhere, but no matter how blinded you were, you will always find that voice. 

Seonghwa was enveloped in the quiet corner of the cobblestoned alleyway. His back was leaning against the wall, his hand in his pants pocket while the other held a cigarette in between his nimble fingers. The only thing illuminating him was the faint glow of its lighted tip, its smoke swirling in the air mixed with the cold exhale of his breath.

Your breath caught into your throat. The horrifying clarity of running straight towards another danger was harrowing. Being alone with Seonghwa was far, far more dangerous than anything, however, you’d rather be in his mercy than those thugs inside. 

“You just couldn’t wait to see me again, don’t you, doveling?” Seonghwa mocked, his voice almost low, and frankly, delicious to your ears.

But you weren’t in the mood for his games. “Go fuck yourself,” you hissed, gritting your teeth in annoyance.

“I’d rather fuck you,” he grinned.

His pants tightened as he stared at you clad in the tiniest dress known to mankind, his cock jumping out at a certain memory of you underneath him just the prior week before he left your sleeping form. 

He could take you where you stood, right here, right now. And he would. However, when he noticed the way your hands trembled as you wrapped a protective arm all over yourself, his inhibitions died down. His brow rose when your form shook at the sudden boom of a voice from the door where you exited.

Paleness rendered you frozen. You could hear the same voice from the bathroom shouting, the sound of their voice growing closer and closer as they searched for you. Your eyes fleeted to Seonghwa once more.

He was already staring at you, his sharp, calculating eyes boring into you in realization. He poked his tongue on his inner cheeks, dropping the cigarette on the dirty floor, crushing it underneath his feet. You smiled to yourself ruefully, he was definitely different from the Seonghwa in your memory.

This was his true nature. Your sweet Seonghwa was a fraud.

The door busted open, and the same guy that held your shoulders looked around like an angry bull until he set his eyes on you. At that moment, you knew that Seonghwa understood what was happening. He stayed unmoving, unbreathing in his dark corner as the guy marched towards you.

“You,” the guy seethed, shoving you hard on the same shoulder. “You think you’re hot shit, bitch?”

You gasped when he spit at your feet, his saliva coating your slightly exposed feet due to your shoes. You inhaled, exhaled, repeating the gesture to reel in the anger you were feeling. You subtly waved your hand in Seonghwa’s direction, telling him to back the hell off and let you handle this, yourself.

“I’ll pay you for the drink, if that’s what you’re mad about,” you murmured, trying to sidestep him, but he swayed to the same direction, blocking your way. “Move,” you gritted your teeth.

He gripped your arm tight, his fingers digging into your skin in an alarming pressure where you were sure it would leave bruises. “No, no, you’re coming with me,” he pulled on your arm, causing you to lose your footing a bit.

“N-No, let go of me,” you pulled once more, forcefully this time, but his grip was loosening. Tension gripped your chest, the feeling of being cornered filling your mind with fear.

“Just come with me, you’ll have a good time,” he laughed lasciviously, his arm moving to grip your waist, until it freezes in the air.

You didn’t know whether you should feel alarmed or cry in relief when you watched Seonghwa appear from behind your captor. “Not so fast,” he said. You gulped when you saw him pull something familiar, using it to point at the man who held your arm at the back of his head.

The sound of a pistol cocking was louder than it should’ve been at the empty alleway. Your eyes widened in surprise and fear. This wasn’t supposed to be shocking to you anymore, but the sight of Seonghwa easily pulling a gun towards someone’s head never failed to instill terror in you.

“Back off, bastard,” the man snarled, though it didn’t have a real bite to it. “I saw her first, you can use this bitch when I’m done with her.”

Seonghwa hummed, leaning forward to the man’s ear, his tone dripping with unveiled threat. “Or I could plant a bullet in your head first. That sounds better to me.”

The man let out a nervous laugh, his grip on you tightening further, making you whine in slight pain. “You wouldn’t dare,” he laughed sarcastically, pushing his luck. “Not in a public place.”

Seonghwa’s eyes never left your shaking form. Your captor’s lips curled in dissatisfaction at Seonghwa’s lack of response. The thick silence in the air, yet your eyes never left Seonghwa as well. 

“What else did he do to you, love?” Seonghwa’s soft voice asked after a while, though his eyes held another thing - rage.

He pushes the gun on the man’s scalp, the latter groaning in pain in response to the rough action. “Look, man. I didn’t know she was taken,” the guy defended himself. “W-We can talk about this—”

“Did he hurt you before this?” Seonghwa gave you a pointed look, impatience coating his features.

“Seonghwa, please,” you responded, voice weary and exhausted. “Let’s just—”

“Answer the question, Y/N. Did he, or did he not?”

You gulped. You hated when he used your name. “Just let him go, please, I want to go home,” you begged. You felt filthy being touched, but you didn’t want blood in your hands.

But it was too late, Seonghwa hated his properties getting defiled. He shoots the guy point blank, his eyes still never leaving yours. Shock electrifies your system, unwilling you to move even when your face splatters with blood. The grip on your arms disappears as the man’s body crumples to the ground with a sickening thud.

Seonghwa tutted, clicking his tongue in mock disappointment and disgust at the body laying down in front of him. “Pathetic fool,” he sneered, spitting violently at the corpse’s face, his foot connecting to the now-dead man’s face. “Pathetic fool.”

Another gunshot resounds in the air, and then another, and then another one, until the clicking of Seonghwa’s trigger signifies that he was out of bullets. “Well, fuck,” he murmured before his maniacal laughter fills the night. There was something primal about it, something animalistic.

You turned away, at the risk of throwing up all over the concrete floor, afraid to look at the man’s, mangled, bullet-riddled face. Your vision started to blur, like your surroundings were spinning, as your breathing became laboured and shallow. You tried to back away to try and lean on something, but your legs felt weak.

“A ‘thank you’ would be nice, little dove,” Seonghwa scoffed, side-eyeing you as he put his phone up his ear. “Get in here. I need someone to scrub the floor.”

You knew exactly what that meant. Someone was coming to get rid of Seonghwa’s crime. Your stomach churns with nausea, until you can't take it anymore. You turn around, emptying your stomach of its contents, the regurgitating, gagging sounds from your hoarse throat sickening, the smell of your own vomit making you even more sick.

The more you tried to breathe in calmly, the more out of control you felt. It was as if your body was deliberately going against you. Seonghwa never hid his brutality, but this was the first time you had witnessed it first hand.

You gasped when you were pinned against the nearby wall, your eyes rolling in the back of your head, but still making a point to look at Seonghwa. “Shut the hell up,” he hissed, wildly looking around. “We’re going to get caught if you don’t toughen up.”

You sneered, wiping your lips with the back of your hand. “Are you fucking kidding me? You’re delusional, you monster—”

Something cold and unforgiving wrapped itself around your throat. You gasped, your hands coming up for defense to pry Seonghwa’s hand away from your neck, but all he did was squeeze, effectively cutting your air supply off. “S-Seonghwa…”

A low, throaty laugh reaches your ears before he lets go. Your body automatically lunges forward, the suffocating weight on your neck finally lifting for you to gulp in a large amount of air. Yes, Seonghwa thought, this was what he wanted. He was the only one who had rights to your pain, not some slimy bastard.

“Why do you always have to misbehave, dove?” Seonghwa grabs your face gently in his hands, leaning in to plant a firm kiss on your forehead. “It would do you a favour if you shut your trap.”

“I–I’m well-behaved, actually,” you choked out, your fingers digging on his arms for support. “You always get what you want, anyway. What was the point?”

It was the truth, and you weren’t wrong. Whether that was by determination, force, or sheer luck, Seonghwa always got what he wanted.

Footsteps began to approach, the heavy thud of boots echoing through the night. Panic seizes you at first, but when you are approached by familiar faces. Seonghwa curses under his breath, pulling you close to him to cover your scantily clad body from prying eyes.

Not that he needed to do it, anyone who looked at you wrongly would have faced his wrath, anyway.

“Clean that rubbish up,” Seonghwa ordered gruffly, pointing his gun at the corpse he further abused after taking its life. “Leave traces of it, and you’re next. Where’s the car?”

Before anyone could respond, he threw said gun in the air for someone to catch. “Dispose of this, Yunho, and dispose of it well,” he wrapped a possessive arm around you, gesturing to the tall man who stared at you in pity. “We’re leaving.”

“Boss, hold on,” another person, one that you knew to be Jongho from his voice, alone, stopped Seonghwa from walking. He raised an irritated brow in expectation. “Wouldn’t it be smarter to pin this on someone else, instead?”

You knew of Seonghwa’s brothers, the people who he led and followed him for his wisdom and criminally intelligent guise, and you liked them. Jongho drove you back to your apartment that day when you left Seonghwa, causing him to be severely punished when he came back, and Yunho provided you a crying shoulder, but sometimes, you forgot that they were just as depraved as their boss.

Seonghwa laughed, baring his teeth maliciously. “Brilliant. On with it, then.”

The car was thick with unspoken tension, at least for you, anyway. Seonghwa was as relaxed as ever as he sat with you at the back of the car; his legs were crossed gracefully, and he even held a champagne flute for him to drink as if he was celebrating a job well done.

“Are you going to get rid of me too?” You asked, filling in the awkward silence. One more second of silence and you were going to lose your mind.

“I should,” he answered. Your body twitched with the unexpected response. “Which is why you should be more thankful. Nobody gets out of Halazia alive, not without my consent.”

Halazia was their base where all the operations ensued. You wanted to scoff, were you supposed to be grateful that you weren’t killed in your sleep after you broke up with him? 

“The only thing I should thank you for is absolute nothing,” you replied, your voice inhospitable and unwelcoming.

You turned away, trying to ignore him and cut the conversation, but you gasped when he grabbed your arm harshly, hissing in pain when he coincidentally dug his fingers on the spot where you were pushed by the other man in the bathroom.

“Where the hell did you get this?” Seonghwa barked, glaring at the swollen area of your arm. If it wasn’t a bruise from him, then you’re not supposed to have it. Only he can give you those.

“Get your hands off of me,” you snarled, pulling your arm away to rub on the hurting spot. You avoided eye contact with him, not willing to divulge more information. One man was already dead, you didn’t want another one in your hands. You haven’t even properly internalized what happened, it was too soon.

“I just had a nasty fall and hit something while I was running away from that creep, it’s no big deal.”

His stiffened, his eyes narrowed with unbridled, towering hostility. Seonghwa made no point to reply, but you could feel his temper rolling off in waves from where you sat. You decided not to push it. Technically, he lets you get away with a lot of things. You gulped, remembering how he callously shot someone in the head just by messing with you.

And that was fine, until you realized you weren’t getting driven to the place where you thought you’d be. You picture the familiar buildings that lead to your apartment, the roads that you walked to and fro everyday. You dare not breathe as you slowly approach the belly of the beast.

Seonghwa’s house, your old house with him.

“W-What are we doing here? Seonghwa,” you panicked, gripping the leather seats underneath your palms. “Why are you taking me here—”

“Relax, dove, it’s only for one night,” he scoffed. 

The car lurched to a stop, the brakes screeching with no warning, and a cold gust of air hit your face when Seonghwa opened his own door to get out, but not without turning his head in your direction. “Unless you want to stay with me,” he grinned maliciously.

You angrily stepped out, having no choice but to comply just for a night. Your heels clacked against the wet concrete, not even caring that you splashed into a small puddle, as you marched towards the house without even waiting for Seonghwa. You hesitated for a little, nostalgia was a dangerous thing to feel. 

The last time you were in this house, Seonghwa was kneeling by the doorway, pleading for you to stay and not leave him, begging that he’ll change. Your chest felt hollow with misplaced intentions, but you decided to ignore it for now.

All you knew right now was that you need to wash off all the blood that marred your face; to wash off all the indirect sins that you knew you had no hand in, but still felt guilty about. When you went to the guest room’s bathroom, your heart dropped when you saw that nothing had changed. 

The water felt invigorating against your skin, but peace never came to you. That man, you were the reason why he was dead. You might as well have pulled the trigger on him. As your mind raced with frantic thoughts, you heard a soft knock on the bathroom door, and then the telltale jingle of the doorknob.

“Don’t even think about it,” you snapped, still covering your naked body with your hands even though you knew he wouldn’t be able to get in.

You heard Seonghwa’s dark chuckle on the other side of the door. “I’ll be back immediately, I have business to attend to. Hongjoong is here to address your needs, shall you need something.”

You murmured in agreement just to get rid of him. You would take this opportunity to slip away and go back to your apartment. You just hoped that Seonghwa wouldn’t be one step ahead of you like he always was. He could do whatever he wanted, you didn’t care.

At least that’s what you told yourself when you dressed up using your clothes that Seonghwa didn’t bother to throw away. A scoff leaves your lips, was he really hoping that you’d come back to him? Still, you couldn’t help but wonder what it is that he was doing this late in the night. Back then, you disliked when Seonghwa worked late as it worried you to no end.

“Y/N? May I come in?”

The family butler, Hongjoong, stood at the far end of the room. You greeted him with a warm smile, genuinely happy to see somebody that you knew wasn’t going to take advantage of your presence. He carried a small cup with him with what you assumed was tea. “Hey, Joong, long time no see.”

“Likewise, Y/N. The mansion wasn’t ever the same without you,” he smiled. He paused, hesitation coating his features as he set the cup down in front of you. “I wish you never came back, though.”

You sighed. It might sound harsh, but you knew he meant well. He saw how suffocating Seonghwa was as a fiance. “You can thank your boss for this fiasco. Ask him later, but I’m leaving right now.”

“I still value my life, thank you,” he chuckled, shaking his head. He bowed slightly before he started to walk away. “Call me when you need anything.”

You cursed mentally, swiping your hair up in frustration as you stared at the steaming cup of goodness. You wanted to leave before Seonghwa came back, but if you were being honest with yourself, you felt beat up. Your arms had started to bruise in some areas while you showered, patches of unsightly purples and greens spread all across your skin.

It wasn’t a good idea, and you were setting yourself up for failure, but you decided to drink the tea quickly and then vanish. You sighed, sitting down on the leather sofa, grabbing the remote control to the TV to raise the volume as it was already on, anyway. Seonghwa had a habit of leaving them on even when he’s not around so he’d have easy access to the news whenever he needed it.

Relaxation seeped into you as you took a good sip. Earl Grey, you realized. It made you smile a bit, it was your favourite. Seonghwa bought an entire land just to plant the trees that made them all for you one time. The memory suddenly made the tea taste bitter.

Suddenly, the distinct voice of the newscaster on the television made you freeze mid-sip. “For our breaking news,” they began. “A man was found brutally beaten north of downtown a quarter before midnight. It said that they passed away shortly after their sustained injuries.”

That in itself wouldn’t have been too bad, but when they showed the man’s face pre-crime, the cup wavered in your hand, drops of the tea spilling from the sides. It was the man that pushed you in the bathroom, the one that gave you the nasty bruise on your arm. 

The more the reporter recounted the injuries, the more your grip on the cup tightened. You struggled to process the words, but more so how grizzly the attack was - missing teeth, broken jaw and ribs, face beyond recognition and repair. The words began to blur as you sat staring at the screen, frozen in your place.

 A small chuckle sounded from the doorway, breaking you out of your thoughts. It was followed by a tut, the mocking kind. You closed your eyes to calm your nerves, you knew your chances of leaving were slim to none at this point. Even at a distance, his presence was so overwhelming and suffocating.

“What a shame. Such a handsome fellow.”

You didn’t turn right away, not wanting to give Seonghwa the satisfaction of seeing you falter. If he looked closer, he would’ve noticed how badly your hands shook. ”Yes, it is,” you said flatly, setting the cup down before you shattered it towards the floor. “What did you do?”

You were afraid of the answer, terrified, even. “Whatever do you mean, my love?” Seonghwa replied from where he stood. You could practically hear the smirk from his voice. He was so sure of himself and a bit too close for comfort. “I would never associate myself with the likes of that man.”

That much was true. As lethal as he was, he held an air of grandeur to him that always starstruck you. He could have been royalty in his past life. Everyone was beneath him. 

“Oh?” You worded out, your tone more aggressive than you’d like. “What did you think happened, then?”

Your gaze flickered towards the door, and you wished you didn’t. He leaned on the door frame, arms folded, posture as relaxed as ever. “He must have had a pretty bad fall,” he shrugged nonchalantly. He said it so smoothly, so calmly, that it sent a shiver down your spine. “It’s no big deal.”

You didn’t know what it was. Something passed through his eyes, but it was gone in an instant before you could read it. The way he stood by and stared wasn’t imposing either, but there was something about the way he parroted your words in the car earlier, the way he knew that you knew, that made Seonghwa truly the terrifying man that he was.

You looked at him in disgust. “You’re a psychopath.”

“I prefer creative,” he started walking towards you, his eyes never leaving yours. He stops directly in front of you, his torso in your line of vision. His index finger tilts your chin up until your eyes are meeting his.

For a while, he didn’t say anything, the rest of his fingers brushing your skin tenderly in a way that should’ve calmed you down, but all it did was terrorize you. His gaze was calm, yet it unsettled you to your bones. “My, my, little dove, you are quite ungrateful,” he remarked softly, almost soothingly. “I don’t like ungrateful people.”

He gripped your chin firmly, not enough for it to hurt, but enough for him to make his point. “I don’t know what you want from me,” you cut the undeniable tension in the air.

“It’s not what I want from you,” his thumb pressing lightly over your skin. “It’s what you need from me.”

You frowned. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“Watch your tone,” his eyes narrowed as he dug his sharp nails on your chin. You had to suppress a groan until he calmed down. He sighed, his thumb carressing the area he hurt. “Did you honestly think I enjoyed you seeing me like this after hiding it for so long when you were with me?”

The question hung in the air, what were you supposed to say to that? His eyes darkened. “I do everything for you, dove. Can’t you see that everything I do is for your enjoyment and glory?”

This man was delusional. His hands lowered down to your neck, his fingers not squeezing, but the command was there. “I could kill anyone for you without blinking. I’m the only one who will do this for you, because I’m the only one who knows what you truly want,” he took a deep breath. 

His voice became gentler, but that served to scare you even more. The words coming out of his mouth weren’t normal. “You think someone would care for you like I do?” Seonghwa asked affectionately. “You owe me, Y/N. Ask me why.”

“W-Why?” You asked, your words cracking halfway.

“Because,” he answered, eerily calm than it should be. “You’re the only one I care enough to hurt about.” Seonghwa kneels down, his hand unwrapping itself from your neck to hold your thighs. “I’m different now, I won’t let you down, baby.”

Your breath hitched, wanting to pull away, to scream, but the fear had you frozen in place. "I know how you are, Park Seonghwa,” you gulped. “You can't fool me."

"Once. I made that mistake once,” the mask had slipped and the true chaos inside him, referring to when he had hidden things from you. “And I already paid that price, little dove. You left me. Won't you spare me a bit of your love? I learned my lesson."

"You haven't learned your lesson. It's impossible. We are what we are," you stood your ground regardless of what Seonghwa would do to you.

He smirked. "You know I love you," Seonghwa said. "I could wait for you for as long as you need me to."

You frowned, your eyes widening slightly in horror. The confession wasn't something you haven't heard before, but it terrified you just the same. "You shouldn't. I don't love you like that," you rasped weakly. "We've talked about this before."

Seonghwa tilted his head, his face not giving out what his thoughts truly were. You had no idea how utterly smitten he was with you; how depraved he truly was. But the truth was, you could see it on his face. Instead of the rejection stunting his attempts, it made him want you more.

"How long are you going to pretend you don't want me, little dove?" Seonghwa held your hand. He planted a slow kiss, his dark eyes looking up at you as he did so. "How long are you going to deny me?"

It wasn’t difficult to see how his words, no matter how sweet or manipulative they were, hinted at his unstable mindset. “Anyway, I digress,” he pulled away, “Stay the night. You’ve been through a lot today.”

Anger is an indulgence, and it’s something you weren’t willing to feel at the moment. You weren’t angry at him, no - you were angry at yourself. You should have just left earlier.

“I have to go,” you whispered so softly it was almost unheard in the wide expanse of the room. “You weren’t even supposed to bring me here.” Your tone was accusatory. Clearly, you’ve had plenty of blunders today.

“Hmm,” he hummed. “Has it never crossed your mind that all the things you’ve been doing lately have all led you to me?”

You narrowed your eyes at him, but he continued. “Think about it,” he shrugged. “The odds of you stumbling upon me, through the backdoor, nonetheless, on a bar that we had just purchased the same night is astounding.”

You grit your teeth, not having any idea that he owned the property. Had you known, you wouldn’t even have bothered at all.

You rolled your eyes, resisting the urge to scream at him and fight him until you were out of this suffocating house. He tilted his head in response. “You’re not a prisoner, dove,” he declared with disturbing softness. “You are free to leave anytime, but you have to behave and you have to trust me.”

“I don’t trust you,” you bit back, baring your teeth at him like an animal. “I never will.”

Something flashed in his eyes - something inhuman. He chuckled, as if he was expecting your answer all along. “Not yet,” his eyes, once again, glimmered with something foreboding. “But you will, if you know what’s good for you.”

You flipped him off, jumping off of the sofa to tread towards the door to leave, ready to shove him out of the way should Seonghwa resist, if need be. You were done playing his games, you were done being his plaything.

Seonghwa laughed, low and manic, as he watched your petite form stalk towards your goal like a cat who has set his eyes on its prize. Your jerked back, heart pounding in your throat, when he grabbed your wrist to halt you from moving forward. 

His eyes were predatory, and you were pretty sure that he could smell your fear. “Behave, Y/N. It’s quite late, and I’m looking forward to retiring to my bed,” he smirked. He leaned closer to your ear to whisper. “Or are you looking forward to finding out how I’ll punish you if you misbehave?”

You grit your teeth, the audacity of this man! You fists clenched to your sides, the ache of rage and frustration bubbling inside you.

“No need to be afraid,” he whispered, leaning in close. “I told you, you’ll learn to trust me. I always get what I want.”

He lets go of your wrist to walk away, but not before he turns his head to side-you. “And I want you.”

A day or two was fine, to be fair, you really did need to rest and recuperate all the energy you had lost from all the adrenaline-fueled chase in the nightclub.

But you’ve been in Seonghwa’s territory, Halazia, for almost a week now. True to his words, you really weren’t being treated as a prisoner. Hongjoong did his best to accommodate all your needs, but it didn’t erase the fact that you were just a glorified captive that he dressed in silk and bound by the chains of his obsession.

Seonghwa always had an excuse, his latest one being that he wanted to see you out since he knew you weren’t going to show your face to him for a while. Well, that was three days ago. It pissed you off to no end, you weren’t completely stupid - it was his way of manipulating you to stay.

All you did was stay in the guest room. Seonghwa has tried to coax you once or twice, but you always ignored him, and you weren’t ready to see the people you used to know that you had gotten close with before you left.

Fine, you thought. If he wasn’t going to let you leave, you were just going to get out, yourself, without anybody knowing. You had no idea how you’ll do it, Halazia was well-guarded, but damn, if you didn’t try. You had to escape.

You carefully opened the door that led out to the currently empty hallway, looking left and right to see if Seonghwa assigned somebody to watch you. There wasn’t any, but you didn’t trust what you see - it was what you didn’t see that you didn’t trust.

The only good thing about this house was that it had a lot of secret entrances and exits just in case Seonghwa needed to escape if the operation got compromised. You had memorized them just in case you needed to escape from Seonghwa, ironically, like right now. 

The nearest one to you was locked, of course. You cursed under your breath, quickly moving on to the next one. It was a gamble, unlike the other secret exits, this one was disguised as a small aesthetic dresser that Seonghwa had cleverly displayed at the end of the hallway. When opened, you would be greeted by random coats for diversion.

You silently moved them aside, revealing a hidden door knob behind them that led to the underground garage. Luckily, you were small enough to fit through without making the wooden structure of it creak. You were so close, and now, you had this one chance.

“Y/N?”

You reached for the door knob, but before your hands could wrap around it, your breath hitched, every muscle on your back stiffening. You rigidly turned your head, meeting Yunho’s widened eyes as they went back and forth between your face and where your hand was headed.

“Y-Yunho,” you pleaded, gulping on your nerves. You were thoroughly fucked. “Please…”

But before you could both react, low murmurs of voice started to echo down the hallway as well as thudding footsteps that signalled a couple of people just around the other hallway.

One of which was Seonghwa’s.

You couldn’t even lament. You knew this was going to happen. Every single time you found an opportunity to seek your way out, he would always come for you. He was always one step ahead, always waiting for you to screw up so he could whatever it is that he wanted.

Your breath got caught in your throat. Seonghwa’s presence loomed close like his footsteps, his voice muffled, yet smooth and cold, as he talked to whoever he was with. When his shadow was outlined at the end of the hallway, you knew you were done for.

And when you heard Hongjoong’s voice from the distance looking for you in panic, you knew you were found out.

Without thinking, you stepped in the dresser, closing the door before you slid in the corner behind all the thick coats. You swallowed, forcing yourself to still your breathing and manage your panic, but the truth was, you felt like you were going to faint. You stayed hidden, holding your breath and waited.

Footsteps approached until they directly stopped in front of the dresser. Your stomach twisted in fear, your breath coming fast and shallow. One wrong move, and all of this would be over.

“Yun,” Hongjoong’s panted tiredly. “Have you seen Y/N, by any chance?”

You inhaled a sharp breath. You had totally forgotten about Yunho. You said a quick prayer in your head, squeezing your body even tighter against the corner. Light passed in between the small crack of the door, allowing you to see Seonghwa along with two people you couldn’t really see finally joining Hongjoong and Yunho.

“No. I thought she was still in the guest room?” Yunho sounded thoroughly confused when he answered, his voice leaving no room for doubt as he covered for you. 

Relief washed over you. You would never forget this favour from Yunho as he stepped in for you without a second thought. Through the crack, you could see Seonghwa close his eyes to reel in his anger, his fingers massaging his temple in nuisance, staring at Yunho, who squirmed at the attention, intently.

“She couldn’t have gotten far. Find her,” he ordered in eerie stillness.

Seonghwa remained in the hallway directly in your line of vision through the small space in between the wooden doors. This time, you weren’t breathing at all, your mind racing. Why wasn’t he leaving?

“Y/N,” he sighed exasperatedly. “Oh, my little doveling.”

Your chest exploded, pain spreading through your lungs as your breath got knocked out of you. His possessive way of calling you out shook you. You couldn’t risk getting caught, so you didn’t say anything.

You flinched when the doors rattled with his touch, creaking slightly as he opened it ever so slightly. “I know you’re in here,” he chuckled, teasing and soft, and so mocking. “Did you honestly think you could hide from me?”

Your stomach churned when the doors opened violently, its hinges almost coming undone. You wanted to cry, but you forced yourself to be still. You were still hidden behind the thick, wool coats. You just hoped your heavy breathing didn’t give you away.

You watched as his dark eyes scanned the dresser and for a moment, he didn’t move, just standing there as if disbelieving that he wasn’t seeing you. He hummed, finally closing the doors. A chill sparked up your spine, it couldn’t be that easy—

It all happened within a split second. You screamed when the doors opened again, a hand grabbing you and dragging you out of the dresser to be forcibly pinned against it. Somehow, Seonghwa still knew you were in there as if he had always known from the start - as if he anticipated you hiding in it.

“You think me stupid, don’t you?” Seonghwa murmured with false pretense. “I own you. That also means I know how your mind functions.”

You fixed your stare on the floor, not daring to lift your head to look at him. He held the areas on your arm that were still bruised, they hurt, but you were wishing that you could just disappear on the spot. But there he was, standing before you as his hands pinned yours tightly against the wall. His stare was intense, his demeanor more so.

“Look at me,” he commanded. He wasn’t playing around this time, that much you could tell. 

You looked into his eyes with equal intent. A glint of surprise passes through them for a split second before it disappears and something akin to proudness appears on them. It was certainly twisted, especially because you just don’t understand just why he was so obsessed with you. Had you known it was going to be like this, you would never have left him the way you did.

In some ways, you felt like you were responsible for his unnecessary fixation towards you, and knowing Seonghwa, he was never going to stop until you were completely in his possession.

“You know what I think?” Seonghwa began, his voice tethering the line between amusement and controlled rage. “I think you think that you know me.”

One of your hands fell to your sides as he let go, only for him to grab you by the hair, bunching them up in his wrists tightly as he yanked your head backwards. Pain bloomed in your scalp, but Seonghwa didn’t care. It was this moment where you actually feared him,  the real depth of his madness were finally starting to come to head as his patience was slowly thinning.

“I don't know whether to kill you or kiss you all over. Tell me, doveling, what do you think I should do?” Seonghwa said. His movement became frenzied in the simmering rage that was surfacing on his face. “There is no point in escaping when the cage has no door.”

You groaned when he jerked your head forward, then pushed it backwards, the back of your head hitting the wall. “Maybe this ought to help you, maybe this will wake you up, because clearly, nothing I do is worth your time,” he sneered, savouring the pain that registered in your eyes. “I give you everything, I feed you, dress you, love you, and this is what you repay me?”

“Hiding isn’t going to do anything for you, because I will always find you,” he continued, his words slow, deliberate, and threatening. “You think you can outsmart me, that if you stayed holed up in your room I won’t notice that you’re missing. Get this in your head.”

He leaned forward, his entire body closing in on you, wrapping you in the same darkness that swallowed the sentient part of his soul a long time ago.  "I love when people think they’re smarter than me,” his lips curled into a sick grin. “It makes the chase so much worth it.”

Something in his words sobers you up immediately. With all the strength left in you, you twisted away completely from his hold, pushing him away with a scream. You breathe in and out, just watching Seonghwa’s unimpressed gait, his fists still up. They held chunks of your hair, but you didn’t care.

“What the fuck is wrong with you? You need help, Seonghwa,” you yelled in frustration, lifting your hand to tap aggressively on your head. “You are sick in the head, you delusional fuck, y-you’re…”

You trailed off, your emotions getting the best of you as they clogged up your throat. It might be wrong to talk back to him like this since it will make your situation worse, but you knew Seonghwa was done playing with you. He was slipping deeper and deeper in his delusions and there was no telling how far he’d go just to keep you.

Your heart bled, the pain in your scalp and the back of your head pounding, begging for attention. He has never been physical with you just to get what he wanted, he has gone too far now.

“You want to leave, don’t you?” Seonghwa asked softly, uncharacteristically soft compared to the crazed look in his eyes. He stepped forward, and at first, you thought he was going to corner you again, but instead, he leaned his back on the wall beside you, his head tilted upwards to stare at the ceiling. He turned his head to meet your eyes. “But you won’t. I won’t allow it. Now that I have you, I am not letting you go. Not now, not ever.”

You scoffed, but in truth, the way he said it posed fear in you. “That is not up to you. You cannot just imprison me and expect me to like you after this.”

“Oh, but I can,” he chuckled. “You’re here, aren’t you?”

He started to scoot closer, so close that you can smell his cologne that was mixed with the delusions that came along with it. It unsettled you, the only time you got close to him after you left him was when he was spreading your legs to bury himself in you whenever he’d ask you to go out for either coffee or drinks.

“You’re mine,” he said, more forceful than before. “Come on, say it. Say you’re mine. The sooner you understand that, the sooner you’ll feel better about it.”

“No,” you denied strongly with a hint of desperation in it. “I’m not yours anymore, Seonghwa, please. I just want to go home, let me go.”

He didn’t seem to hear you, that or he chose not to. A light laugh bubbled from his chest, but it wasn’t joyous - it was empty, like he was trying to convince himself that he was right and you weren’t. The two of you must’ve looked odd in the hallways, just leaning against the wall. However, to you, it felt like the hallways were crushing in on you.

“That’s the problem isn’t it? You don’t understand,” he said almost sympathetically, like he was telling these deranged things to you for your own good. You felt like you were going to get sick, it sounded more like an omen than anything else.

He was right - you didn’t. You didn’t want to understand, he could rot in hell for all you care. “Why me?” You whispered, hoarse and broken. It was the only genuine thing you wanted to know.

“Because,” he began, his hand reaching for you. His touch was cold. “When people see me, they think I’m this monster, they don’t understand,” he shook his head. “But you? You are the only one who knows what I’m truly capable of, the only one strong enough to take me as is. The only one who knows that I am actually a monster.”

It wasn’t the entire truth. Seonghwa stared at the fear in your eyes at his statement, he wanted to tell you the truth - that as messed up as it is, he just really genuinely loved you. Nothing about this was normal, but he was never going to tell you because he knew that you were never going to believe him.

The gaping hole you carved out of his heart was still there even though you were right in front of him, he would have loved you forever, and you didn’t understand that.

But that’s fine. He’ll make you, one way or another.

Your throat tightened, and despite everything in you screaming to run, you felt a tear slip down your cheek. His smile softened, and he wiped it away with a tenderness that was almost cruel.

“Seonghwa, this isn’t what you’re making it out to be, you are really unwell,” you pleaded. You hesitated, having no choice but to say the one thing that’s been weighing on you. “You have to move on, we are not meant to be. If you really loved me, you’d let me find another man to love, a normal one—-”

“I love you,” Seonghwa interrupted, the words coming out almost too quickly, exploding with the anger he was trying to repress. He glared at your face with an intensity that was borderline obsessive. “Is that not enough for you? How dare you mention another man in my presence?”

“That’s not what I said, and you know it,” you gasped, thick with terror, trying to remedy the situation.

He forced you to look at him. “So say it,” he hissed. His face twisted into something terrifying than anything you’ve seen. It was hurt, as though your refusal was the worst kind of betrayal for him.  “Say you’re mine, because I will never leave you alone if you don’t.”

It was a threat, his certainty in it wrapping like noose around your neck, but the answer was still the same. “N-No,” you shook your head in defiance, more firmly this time. “I never will be.”

It was what set him off, the calmness he faked shattering before your very eyes. His hand shot out to bang his fists on the wall beside you. The sudden bout of violence made you gasp in surprise. “Fuck, you’re really testing me here,” he seethed, no longer soft, just harsh and detrimental. “God, I know you still love me, you don’t get to pretend when I know.”

He leaned closer, his face twisted with fury. He was dangerous, and you had no way out. “I’ve let you run free for a while now, my patience is waning down. I only stretched it for you and even then there’s not much I can provide you. I even let you go when you told me that bullshit about breaking up, enough is enough now,” he spat bitterly. “Come back to me.”

His words felt like a slap to your face.The sickening feeling of his warm breath against your skin felt overwhelming and your body was rendered paralyzed. You didn’t say anything, you couldn’t, not when his words echoed in your head like a broken soundtrack.

“I’m not letting you go, you hear me?” Seonghwa continued, not caring if it sounded torturous to your ears, and certainly not caring that he was basically admitting that he will completely hold you against your will. “You’re going to take what I give you, and you’re going to like it.”

But you weren’t broken yet. You stared at him blankly, not giving him the satisfaction of seeing you break down no matter how furious he got. 

Seonghwa leaned in, pressing his forehead against yours. "I’m doing this for you. For us. But if you push me too far, I’m not going down alone," his voice hardened, just a little, enough to remind you of what lay beneath the surface. "It’ll hurt you, too."

The veins on his neck bulged as he held himself back when he realized you weren’t going to say anything. He really was controlling his anger, but barely.

“You will learn how to love me again,” his words were clipped as he uttered them, jaw tight and just on the edge of breaking. The air between the two of you cracked with tense energy. “No one else will love you like I do. I can’t live without you, but I will make sure that you cannot live without me, either. I’m not asking anymore.”

You didn’t understand what he was trying to tell you, but you were about to. His hands flexed slowly, his fingers stretching as if the need to reel in his rage was physically painful. He snapped them, his eyes not once leaving yours. “Get her,” he deadpanned.

Footsteps began to approach from behind you. It was, then, when hands started to restrain your form, completely immobilizing you. Rapid thoughts spun in your head, the weight of their hands oppressive. You tried to pull away in an attempt to break free, but their grip was just too strong. You stared wildly at Seonghwa, eyes widened as you screamed on the inside.

“You can’t leave,” he muttered, his voice cold and detached, full with promise. “I will do everything in my power to find you, because I will. And when I do, I will make sure you never, ever leave me again.”

He turned around, his back facing you with finality, the true madness of his love setting in your bones. “Take her away and lock the doors.”

“N-No, wait, you can’t do this,” you clenched your jaw, resisting the arms that gripped tight on yours as they tried to drag you away. “Seonghwa! No, please, Park Seonghwa, let me go!”

But you were dragged, anyway, from your tormentor. There was a sharp tug in your arm, the force of it so strong that it made you stumble. They didn’t even wait until you got your balance back, resorting to dragging your limp body.

Each step forward felt like you were walking towards a nightmare you had no control over, and when you reached the guest room, you realized that you knew one of the people who was leading you to your personal hell. You were pushed forward, and before the door shut, possibly forever, you called out to them.

“Wait, Wooyoung, please, wait,” you begged, quickly dashing towards the door to hold it open. “I really need to talk to you, please…”

His eyes held hesitation, but probably after seeing how distressed you were, he closed his eyes and let out the heaviest sigh known to mankind. He turns his head on the other person that dragged you, the rougher one. “Get lost,” he ordered, his face contorted into something intimidating.

But when he closed the door to lean on it, his eyes were the softest you have ever seen. It held sympathy and understanding for your situation, but you weren’t a fool - you knew his loyalties would always lie with Seonghwa.

“The majority of us were betting on your escape, you know?” Wooyoung looked up as he leaned against the doorframe, his hands on his back. “Seonghwa and you were perfect for each other, but that came with a price.”

“Wooyoung,” you sighed.

“Let me finish since I can’t be seen here,” his eyes were hooded as he put a finger on his lips to indicate the decrease of his voice. “Keep it down.“

He pointed at the earpiece he wore, one that everyone wore since Halazia was massive.  His face turned rigid with worry before he turned back to you. “Seonghwa just sent Yunho to the brig for a week.”

You paled, your jaw hanging low in shock. The brig. It was basically a glorified underground cell where they kept whomever they pleased. You wanted to tear up, Yunho went to your defense at the risk of being punished, but as always, Seonghwa knew everything.

The fact that he sent one of his closest friends from his personal team said a lot.

“You’re not going to get far in escape, not like before,” his voice was low, almost soothing like he was trying to calm you down and not make you feel trapped. “You are never going to make it far.” Wooyoung’s eyes turned sadder even further. “I-I can’t do anything to help you, I’m sorry.” You wanted badly to escape, you know he could see it in your eyes, but there was nothing he could do. You swallowed all the emotions that threatened to break you on the surface. “I can’t stay here,” you tried to convince him. “I don’t belong here, Wooyoung.”

“You don’t want to mess with Seonghwa,” he shook his head with equal conviction. “He’s my liege, and I cannot forsake him. He’s the greatest, most notorious criminal known yet, however, I think you underestimate how far he’ll go just to keep you,” he paused, hesitating. “I would very much like you to stay alive, Y/N.”

 Shivers traveled from the base of your spine to the tips of your scalp. “I don’t know what to do,” you squeaked, the defeat weighing down your body. “I don’t want to be his prisoner, I-I can’t live like this…”

He formed his lips into a thin line, his eyes softening as he started to walk towards you in small, careful steps. “I’m not going to pretend it’s alright, because it’s not,” he sat beside you on the bed, his weight dipping on the mattress. He had always been a friend to you. “It takes someone strong to be with Seonghwa, let alone deny him. This is the man that got whatever he wanted no matter how immoral it got. This isn’t the way, Y/N.”

You shook your head frantically, grabbing his hand to squeeze it. “Belonging to him, relinquishing my soul to him, you might as well gag me at that point.”

He put his other hand on top of yours, enveloping it with a much needed warmth that comforted you even though his eyes held pity. “You don’t have to belong to him,” he whispered, voice barely audible. “I’m asking you to stop fighting him.”

Your head snapped up to counteract his ridiculous claim, but he shook his head and continued. “Don’t you get it? There is no escaping him. He will find you even if you’re in the middle of God-knows-where,” he let out a sigh that seemed to carry a lot of burden in it. “I’m saying this for you, because there is no way out where he doesn’t hurt you.”

The finality of what’s been boggling your mind was crushing. You knew that there was no easy way out, but it still hurt to hear. “I’m not going to give up, even if it kills me,” you gritted your teeth, your determination setting fire in your guts.

“Y/N, please,” Wooyoung begged, squeezing your hand tighter. “For what is Yunho in the brig? For what did Jongho drive you away from here back then? And for what did I take Seonghwa’s punch when he realized I was distracting him? He’s not going to let you go, not now, especially not after everything.”

You shut your eyes tightly to reign in your oncoming migraine. “So, what? I’m just supposed to surrender and let him do anything to me? This isn’t love, it’s possession.”

“If you accept this,” he gulped with reluctance. “If you stop fighting, Seonghwa will go easy on you. It’s easier if you stop running.”

Wooyoung searched your eyes, hoping that he conveyed all the sincerity he could possibly offer you given the situation, but all you could see was the sadness and resignation - he didn’t believe in what he was saying, but he had no choice but to.

“Let it go, please,” he whispered, hoarse and defeated. “I’m not saying this for his sake, it’s for you. This will break you, Y/N.”

You shook your head once more. “I can’t give this up, I’m sorry. If I want the easy way out, I would stay here and just take it.”

His eyes sharpened, his brows furrowing into what resembled annoyance, but it still held the pity that Yunho had before you went inside the dresser. “I’m not asking you to give up,” he begged, anger and affection mixed into one. “I’m asking you to stop a battle you know you can’t win.”

You didn’t say anything after that, and his eyes dropped into accepting that you weren’t going to listen to anything he was saying. You’ve made up your mind. Heavy silence stretched between the two of you until, finally, Wooyoung got up to walk to the door. You can see him manually working on his well-crafted mask, but when he turned back to look at you, there was that softness underneath.

“You didn’t hear me say that three days from now, there will be a bust where Seonghwa has to be present, and you certainly didn’t hear from me that underneath your bed is a trapdoor that leads directly to the outdoor garden, one that Seonghwa doesn’t know,” he murmured. There were escape routes Seonghwa purposefully had no knowledge of in case he gets held as a hostage.

He opened the door to let himself out. “And I’m not telling you that Jongho will be waiting for you.”

You couldn’t wait for Seonghwa to leave, it was killing you to wait this long. He hasn’t bothered you at all, presumably because he was very angry at you, but more so since he was planning with the rest of his team, Ateez, about the so-called bust that they will do away from Halazia. In the meantime, you tried the door again. It wasn’t that you didn’t trust Wooyoung, but you didn’t want to risk it. It might either be a trap, or he might get in trouble and accompany Yunho in the brig if Seonghwa finds out.

You jumped away from the door, your heart skipping a beat, when the doorknob you were tinkering with suddenly twisted and turned. You backed yourself back on the bed as your door creaked open to reveal someone you weren’t pleased to see.

Mingi stood by the doorway, staring at you in amusement, his eyes flickering between you and the doorknob. You internally cursed, you knew you had been caught. He was most likely outside guarding the door when you tried it. “Just when I thought you couldn’t be stupid enough,” he smirked, mildly annoyed. “Why are you trying to run away again? You just never learn, do you?”

You weren’t expecting to see him, in fact, you were surprised that he was put on guard duty. That was probably why he was pissed. Frankly, Mingi terrified you. He was just one of those members that openly showed his dislike towards you. His presence constantly reminded you of your captivity.

“Don’t project yourself on me,” you scoffed, riling him up. You weren’t going to give him the satisfaction of seeing you nervous. “Seonghwa put you on babysit duty. You must hate that.”

He laughed. “I suppose I see the appeal of why Seonghwa has been obsessed with you,” he mockingly tilted his head. “Stop trying, you have zero chance of leaving. Not while I’m here.”

“I’m not your prisoner,” you shot back, clenching your fists to your side. “He can claim me all he wants or force me, but I’m never going to belong to him like a doll. And you are, too.”

His eyes twitched in annoyance, stalking towards you, his arms still crossed. He leaned forward, making you back up in apprehension. “That may be so,” he chuckled darkly. “But I’m not the one who is caged like a fucking bird right now.” "You think you can just run off like this?" Mingi continued, his voice low, his eyes glinting with amusement. "You really believe you have a chance?" 

Mingi leaned away with a satisfied smirk, his arrogance and cruel enjoyment of your struggle really coming through. He was trying to break your resolve with his words, trying to make you believe that escaping is futile, when in reality, it couldn’t be farther from the truth.

Your hands clenched to your sides, controlling your urge to sock Mingi directly in the face not because you were scared to hurt him, but because you were scared that he’ll hit back. “That’s not going to stop me from trying, you brute.”

“Oh, I’m sure you will,” he waved off, backing away towards the door again. “But the thing is,” he paused to taunt you. “You’re not as clever as you think you are. Even if you get past me, you’ll have to get past Yeosang after.”

You paled, your nerves setting your insides on fire. Yeosang wasn’t nearly as infuriating as Mingi, but he was equally as loyal and cruel.

You had to leave now.

“Anyway,” Mingi turned the doorknob to leave, but not without glancing back at you with a sneer. “I will admit, you have balls for leaving him the first time, but Seonghwa already made up his mind this time. He won’t let you go, so I suggest you accept that now.”

And then he left. You glanced at the spot where Wooyoung told you that there would be a door. Truth be told, you haven’t checked yet; you were terrified that Seonghwa was going to walk in any minute and decide to put you somewhere else. 

But there was no time to waste. You waited half an hour to make sure that Mingi wasn’t hanging around before you grabbed a blanket to slide under the feet of the bed to prevent any sounds before pushing it away enough for you to crawl underneath it with ease, and lo and behold. Your mouth felt dry as you stared at the handle of the trapdoor that could potentially lead you to your freedom.

You closed your eyes, praying that there truly was freedom on the other side, that Wooyoung would be safe, and that Yunho wouldn’t stay in the brig for too long. And after this, you will be gone forever.

Waiting until midnight would be the best option for you. Granted, it would also be the time where Seonghwa’s guards would be more alert, but it was a safer bet than somebody potentially walking in the room and chasing you down the trapdoor. Shivers crept up your spine at the thought of getting dragged back.

The silence was killing you, but your thoughts completely annihilated your sanity. You could just picture Seonghwa’s face etched with fury as he realized that you had, once more, escaped under his nose. But you also couldn’t help but think of the hurt that shone in his eyes. All he wanted was you, and you couldn’t fully fault his deranged mind, but you wanted to be free.

As you knelt to grasp the handle the moment that midnight striked, your breaths turned shallow and laboured. You gulped, willing the tremors from your fingertips to go away. You couldn’t falter, not now. With a jolt of adrenaline, you pulled it open, wincing as it creaked, which was a telltale sign of prolonged unuse. You just hoped no one heard it.

You released a breath you were holding when it revealed a ladder that led down, and that there was a dim light illuminating bits of the wooden ladder. That meant that you were nearer the exit than you thought you were.

A faint noise outside your door makes you freeze. You swiftly glanced at the direction, waiting for the moment that Seonghwa would burst in and see you holding a halfway opened trapdoor, but nothing. 

Without another thought, you quickly jumped into action, going down the ladder, your foot hitting the first step as your hand slowly closed the tradoor above you. The moment you did, there was slight relief that coated your chest, it was one step to freedom after all.

It wasn’t fully dark in the damp passageway, the concrete was still visible from where you were walking as that faint light from the exit shone on it as if it was guiding you to your freedom. 

When you were sure you were far from where you came from, you broke into a sprint, running literally for your life. Your legs screamed in protest, not used to exerting energy from the weeks that Seonghwa held you captive, but you didn’t stop. You were scared that he’ll catch and snatch you from behind.

But that didn’t happen. After what felt like an eternity, the passageway began to narrow until you hit a deadend with another ladder, only this time, it led above. Your desperation was hitting you at an all time high - you climbed the ladder without any hesitation, not even stopping to think if there was someone potentially dangerous waiting for you on the other side.

Before you were even fully out, hands were already pulling you out from your armpits until you hit a hard chest. When you looked up, a sigh of relief escaped from your chest. 

“Jongho,” you whispered, your voice cracking at the solace that his presence had brought you. Wooyoung had not been lying. 

Your heart pounded in your chest. It wasn’t like Seonghwa wasn’t going to find out, because he will, but you hoped that Wooyoung and Jongho will be able to buy themselves sometime before then.

“We have to hurry, there’s not much time left,” he hastily pulled you in a run, his voice strained with panic as he kept looking behind him. “There will be guards stationed here in less than five minutes, we have to get to the car by then.”

Your face paled, but you forced yourself to nod, anyway, working your muscles to pick the pace to match Jongho’s, but it was getting difficult. “Are you going to be okay?” You asked, panting hard.

Jongho’s hand held your arm as he practically pushed you forward, shaking his head. “I told San that I was going to check the other side of the property and station on it for a while. It should be enough for me to drive you to your place, but it will be tight.”

“We’re not going to make it,” you panicked, calculating everything in your head and visualizing the outcome.

His jaw set into a hard line and before you could say anything else, he stopped, shoved you behind him, and squatted down. “Hurry,” he barked a command. “Climb on my back, it’ll be faster.”

You hesitated, your nerves getting the best of you, and he could tell. “Climb! Hurry, please!” Jongho hissed, eyes widened in pure panic, as he flailed his arms to gesture for you. 

It was the best course of action. Whether it was the adrenaline or the sheer terror of the situation, Jongho had a burst of strength that allowed him to reach the car faster than it would’ve taken both of you had it not been for his fast thinking. He quickly opens the door to practically shove you inside it before slamming it close, and before you knew it, you were driving away.

The drive back to your apartment was tense. Jongho instructed you to pack as little as possible. Yunho had suggested that they take you to the motel that was on the enemy’s territory. It wasn’t foolproof, but it would lessen the odds of Seonghwa finding you faster before you could fully get away. Even Seonghwa didn’t mess with another mafia’s territory.

“I can’t check you in,” Jongho said as he parked in front of the said motel. “They will recognize me. Use cash from now on, Seonghwa will be able to trace your cards.”

You felt a rush of emotions, a mixture of gratitude and regret. Seonghwa will punish him when he goes back, you could see the small fear behind Jongho’s eyes. You bit your lips, leaning in on his space before pulling him into a tight embrace. “I don’t know what I would’ve done without you,” you sniffled, tears pooling in your eyes. 

He pulled you away to stare at you. “I had a promise to you back then,” he said, softness in his eyes. You were the one who got Jongho a ‘job’ at Seonghwa’s manor after you found him homeless one day. He promised you his life then and there. You didn’t know he’d be a ruthless killer one day.

He held you by the shoulders, pushing you away slightly. “Now go, and please, do not let me see you again.”

With one more grateful nod, you walked away without looking back. Jongho sighed, he really hoped you made the most out of tonight. It was basically a suicide mission for him.

The drive back to the manor was the most tense he has ever felt. By now, he was sure that Seonghwa knew that you were gone by now, the only reason why he was still breathing was because he wouldn’t find out yet that he helped you do the impossible. Time was the enemy. 

And he was right. The moment he got out of the car, voices in his in-ear comms were calling everyone to Seonghwa’s office for an emergency meeting. Jongho took deep, calculated breaths, practicing the mask that he was taught before going in to face everybody as if nothing had happened. 

Wooyoung hastily approached him, grabbing his arm to lag behind everybody as he leaned his body towards him. “Success?” He asked tentatively as quietly as possible. Jongho raised a brow in confirmation, not wanting to move anything else for the fear of someone listening in.

The air in the office was thick, everyone piled in one by one in random spots. Personally for Jongho, he always preferred being near the exit, but he had to stick with Wooyoung this time.

Seonghwa was just standing in front of his desk, arms crossed as he watched everyone with his sharp eyes. That was the thing with him; he never needed to shout nor demand, he was just naturally intimidating. His presence was suffocating, his eyes eerily calm.

He’d be a fool if he said he wasn’t expecting this, like Seonghwa had said once, you were the only one strong enough to match his flame. He knew that there would be a time that you’d escape again, but he wasn’t expecting it to come sooner. 

“Someone messed up,” he said softly, too softly. He gazes at them one by one, none of them meeting his eye. “One of you fucked up.”

Jongho tentatively watched as everyone shifted with unease. Mingi and Yeosang shared a tense glance, but he resisted the urge to jump back when he saw that San was already staring at him with suspicion. He gulped, holding eye contact, anyway.

Hongjoong, ever the calm one, steps forward, the edge of his voice betraying his unease. “I’m sure she hasn’t gotten far—”

“Stop,” Seonghwa’s voice was even quieter this time, but it was the type of quiet that made everyone’s back stiffen. He tilted his head, his eyes narrowing as he leaned away from the table to walk past everyone. His expression was unreadable, but Jongho didn’t want to guess what he was thinking.

For a while, he doesn’t say anything. The silence in the room screamed louder than any rage could, and for once, everyone wished he would just burst out. This calm, quiet fury was more petrifying. Seonghwa wasn’t angry - not yet. 

San looks away from Jongho, sensing the shift, and speaks up with Hongjoong. “We’ve already checked the perimeter…”

San faltered when Seonghwa cut him off with a single glance, shifting uncomfortably when his boss didn't even acknowledge him, lest you count the slow nodding of his head. It was the only indicator of his thoughts, minus the tight clenching of his fists on his chest. 

“Find her,” Seonghwa murmured, his words clipped and deliberate. “And find her quickly.”

Jongho felt Wooyoung shift forward. He wanted to stop him, but that would raise suspicion so he just bit his lip. “We might not be able to this time,” Wooyoung cleared his throat. “We might fail.”

“Your incompetence doesn’t constitute understanding on my end,” Seonghwa said, stepping in front of them so his back was turned towards everybody else. “So don’t fail me.”

Jongho’s heart dropped to his foot when Seonghwa passed him a fleeting glance, a small smirk painted on his lips before he turned back around again. Seonghwa knew, he fucking knew.

“Boss,” Mingi called out. “Don’t you think maybe this is a sign to not let Y/N back?”

The room suddenly turned cold, the silence of his statement almost deafening to everyone’s ears. Seonghwa raised a brow in challenge. “And why is that, my dear Mingi?”

“My loyalties lie with you, my liege,” Mingi spoke, his tone cautious since he knew he was treading on thin ice. “Y/N is a distraction to the operation.”

Everyone held their breath, the tension was undeniable. Seonghwa’s eyes narrow, his pupils dilating ever so slightly as his lips form into a tight, thin line. “I had no idea you’ve gone senile,” he said. “But I respect the audacity.”

In a split second, Seonghwa’s fist connects with Mingi’s guts. The taller groan in surprise, coughing in agony as he clutched his stomach in pain. “Now, now Mingi, you can’t just dish out something and not learn how to take it,” Seonghwa chuckled darkly, tapping the latter on his cheek mockingly.

“You said you respected it,” Mingi coughed out some more.

“I do, as a matter of fact, I do respect you a lot now. But I didn’t say I wouldn’t harm any of you.”

The threat hangs around the air, looming heavily upon them. ”We’ll find her,” Yeosang spoke for the first time, his tone full of promise.

They were used to this side of Seonghwa, but tonight, there was something slightly different about the rage that brewed in his eyes. His patience was what truly made him terrifying, this was true power; something you had never seen since Seonghwa made sure not to. 

“You better,” he simply said. “Or your loyalty won’t be enough to save any of you. One more word about Y/N, I will put the fear of God in all of you. Now, get out.”

No one wasted any time scurrying out the room as if it was on fire. The moment the door shuts behind them, Seonghwa’s calm shatters. 

His rage boils over, and with a single swipe of his hand, papers that were neatly placed on his desk all fall on the floor, shattering the nearby picture frame that held your face. The sound of crashing glass rings through his office.

Seonghwa bangs his hands on the desk, his breaths coming in rugged and raw. When he saw the broken picture frame, like a man possessed, he smashes it further with a solid step of his foot over and over again. The glass shatters completely, it rains down like the shards of his crumbling control. 

“You fucking,” he forcefully brings his fists down on the picture frame, not caring for the glass shards that punctured his skin. “Bitch.” 

“Fuck,” he hissed, the walls shaking as he kicked the nearby cabinet that contained some of his whiskey bottles. He doesn’t care as the slew of expensive bottles came crashing towards the floor. “Fuck!”

The sound of it made everybody freeze from outside the door. Wooyoung’s knuckles turned white behind his hands as he winced at the loud bang from inside the room. “Should we, uhm,” he started, not daring to finish his sentence.

Yeosang’s eyes widened. “We have to stop him before he—”

“No,” Hongjoong snapped sharply. “Are you crazy? You do not want to go in there.”

Another crash sounds, and Jongho’s jaw tightens. He was glad you weren’t here, because this was the worst Seonghwa has ever been with his rage. He watched MIngi’s eyes tick at the next serieses of growls and roars from Seonghwa.

The stay at the motel was the most peaceful yet tense four days of your life. You couldn’t sleep properly at night, half expecting someone in the middle of the day to burst in and just drag you back to Halazia where Seonghwa would be waiting to imprison you again.

You couldn’t stay there anymore, and that’s why you were on your way to the bus station to finally get away. You already talked to one of your sisters, Jinhee, who called you in a panic the other morning when someone was apparently inconspicuously looking for you. You both decided to stay at your other sister’s place, but Jinah wasn’t answering when you tried to call.

The bus stop was quiet, something you appreciated for once given your hectic life track as of late. Your thoughts were a mess, but you were hopeful for peace the moment you got on the bus.

You tried to look for somewhere to sit while you waited, but the nearest one had somebody seated on it. He wore a dark hat that obscured his face, not that it mattered since the newspaper he held and read covered his entire face, anyway.

You hesitated, strange unease settling in the pit of your stomach. You shook it off, choosing to sit at the far corner of the bench to avoid interaction, convincing yourself that it was probably just the nerves making you paranoid.

“Chilly day,” the man started casually all of a sudden. His voice was rich in timbre, and it sounded familiar. “Autumn’s slowly catching up now, isn’t it?”

Your heart rate picked up a notch, taken aback by the unwarranted small talk. You glanced in his direction briefly, that dread spreading through your veins, and now that you thought about it, he sounded oddly familiar.

“Yeah,” you forced out a reply, not willing to engage, trying your best to calm down. After all this, you just couldn’t shake the bad feeling in your chest.

“Traveling far? I’d say it’s dangerous for a young lady like you,” he commented, adjusting himself to scoot closer to you.

Alarm bells went off your head as you felt your skin prickle with the attention. You wanted to say that it was none of his business, and now that you listened closer, he didn’t even sound that old, either. “Sure,” you said quickly. “Just want to get away from this city.”

“Good idea,” he chuckled, shuffling the newspaper and folding it away from his face. “I mean, if people were chasing me from hell under, I would run far, far away as well, but you see…”

Your breath was completely snuffed out of your lungs when the man took the hat off of his face, his head turning towards you with a slow, amused smile. “Like we all said, there was no point in running, Y/N,” San’s voice dropped into a whisper. “I like you, Y/N, I really do, but you are one stubborn girl. He does care for you, you know? It’s sick and obsessive, but he does. And now all he wants to do is hurt you.”

Your froze, your blood hardening into ice. The panic hit you like a tidal wave, where had you gone wrong? You made sure to do everything that Jongho told you to do, made sure that you left no traces of yourself, so how? You felt so stupid for not recognizing San so fast.

You shoved yourself up from the bench, but before you could take a step, his hand shot out, grabbing your wrist with a vice-like grip. “Not so fast,” he murmured, his voice cold now, his earlier casualness gone.

You yanked your arm, but he only tightened his hold. “We’re going back,” he said, his tone final. “And you’re not getting away this time. Unless, you want all the people in here jeopardized,” he gestured his hand all over the station. “Look closer.”

Every instinct screaming at you to run, to fight, to do something, but when you looked around, something didn’t feel right, and then you saw them.

Shivers went up your spine as you recognized some of Seonghwa’s men blended into the crowd like normal people. They were planted, hidden in plain sight, like the briefest flash of the gun tucked in their pants that you knew by now how to spot. They were willing to endanger the people around you just to take you.

It was over. You had no choice but to follow San as he escorted you to the car, the door shutting with a sickening finality. This was the worst case scenario, you’d rather have Mingi because as much of a brute he was, you could predict his actions, with San, you never knew what he was thinking.

Angry tears of shame and sorrow began flowing from your eyes. You knew that this was it for you, your second chance had flown away. Seonghwa and his men had no mercy, and now you’re learning that the hard way.

San wasted no time dragging you out of the car towards your apartment, to your surprise,, but you no longer cared about him, it was Seonghwa that you feared - always had. You could feel it even before you saw him; Seonghwa’s constricting presence was always controlled but deadly.

You were shoved inside the familiar space of your living room, and you didn’t even have to look up to know that he was there, you could just feel him. His power, his rage, hung in the air like thick smoke.

Seonghwa was at the other side of the room, his gaze meeting yours, steady and unwavering. You swallowed your nerves, but there was no point. He just stared at you without any anger or frustration in his face, and perhaps, that was the worst part in all of this. You knew him well enough to see through his well-crafted mask.

You opened your mouth to say something - anything - but what would you say? There was no way you were going to apologize or make any excuses, but the silence was unbearable. Seonghwa wasn’t going to break it anytime soon, but he had no need to. His judging eyes were enough to make you weak in the knees.

He began to walk forward, the clacking of his shoes beneath his feet loud enough to make you wince, and when he reached you, he made no move to touch you like he always did. He did nothing.

Nothing, except hand you a lighter for you to take. “Light it up,” he spoke.

His words were quiet, but there was no mistaking that command in it. Your hands were shaking, having difficulty flicking the lighter open, and it certainly didn’t help that Seonghwa was staring you down. Though you currently hated him, you were careful not to burn his face as your hand neared the cigarette trapped between his lips.

“Open.”

He wasn’t asking, he was instructing. You froze at the implication and everything instinct in you screamed for you to run and resist, but you leaned in as he inhaled deeply before taking the stick out of his mouth and blowing the smoke into yours. The taste of it was raw and bitter, it curled into your lungs along with something else; something that sent a rush of heat towards your chest at the intimacy.

For a while, he didn’t say anything, and you wished that it remained that way even though you were scared that the control he held of himself was going to shatter. “You think you can walk away from me?” Seonghwa finally spoke again, his voice low, still calm, but it cut through the silence like a blade. “Open.”

It was difficult, but you managed not to cough your lungs out at the heavy puff of smoke that almost made you want to gag. But Seonghwa didn’t care. “Keep your trap open until I tell you to close them,” he ordered with a low snarl.

You did as told, the fear completely paralyzing you. His voice was still controlled, his rage was held so tightly within him that it was like the room was vibrating with the power of it. Tears pooled from the corners of your eyes as Seonghwa still blew, and finally, he threw the cigarette butt away somewhere in the middle of the destruction.

“That’s a good girl,” he chuckled darkly. You yelped when he held your jaw tightly in his hand. “Why can’t you be this obedient all the fucking time?”

His grip tightened, not with the frantic violence of someone losing control, but with the calm, methodical pressure of someone who knew exactly how far they could push before breaking someone completely. "Why can’t you behave, huh? Why?"

You faltered, absolutely not liking the way that sounded in your head. You crossed your arms, the fear you had for him completely fizzing out and dying in your chest. “Now, hold on just a second,” you seethed, all the stress of running away and getting caught chasing your filter away.

Seonghwa’s brow raised. It certainly made him curious, so he let you continue. “Seonghwa, you practically kidnapped me with the notion of letting me go afterwards, and when I try to get away from this hell, you drag me down with you. Did you honestly think that I'm a possession you can cling to?”

You were definitely digging your grave deeper and deeper the more you opened your mouth, but you couldn’t take it anymore. All the hurt, the anxiety, the waiting for when Seongha will finally snap was driving you to the wall. You didn’t know how to carry all of this burden alone.

You took a step forward in a burst of confidence, jutting your finger on his chest and prodding him with it like a child. “Enough is enough, Seonghwa,” you said, your voice low and firm. “We were through, we aren’t together anymore. I don’t belong to you, and I sure as hell don’t want to belong to you anymore.”

He clenched his fists, a flicker of hurt crossing his face. Seonghwa opened his mouth to argue like you knew he would, but you cut him off, your voice stronger than you’ve ever heard it before as you finally stood up to him and stood your ground. “I’ve had enough of you trying to cage me like an animal, you sick fuck. You don’t get to suffocate me with your obsession, you don’t get to decide how I fucking live, breath, and exist.”

Tears stung your eyes. They were a mixture of rage and betrayal. The weight of it all was finally breaking through. “You don’t get to guilt me for wanting to live my life, especially without you, why can’t you understand?”

For a moment, Seonghwa’s gaze softened, as if he was finally looking through you for the first time in a while in a different light. He tentatively raised a hand to hold onto you, and his intentions were pure this time as his hand hovered in the air,  but he flinched when you yanked your arm away sharply.

It was too late, you didn’t need that. There was guilt written all over his face, had he really gone too far this time?

“You were never really here for me,” you continued, shaking your head bitterly.

You were done. Done being scared of him, done of losing yourself because of him. Done loving him. “You want to keep a convoluted version of me that you formed in your head, that one that would just stay and follow your every whim, but that’s not who I am, Seonghwa.”

He stood frozen in his spot, his chest caving in as guilt made its way to his heart. He had never intended to fully hurt you, to make you feel that way you did, and for that, he was sorry to a certain extent. Seonghwa’s hand trembled, his palms slick with sweat as angry tears flew down your pretty face. He almost felt bad for you.

Almost.

“The thing I regret the most is you, Seonghwa,” you whispered firmly, but thick with emotion. “I regret ever meeting you and what happened after, but most of all, I regret not leaving you sooner.”

His eyes dropped, the weight of your words crushing his form. “Don’t say that,” he muttered, his voice shaky. His shoulders were slumped, a far cry from his angry and straight they were when you arrived. “I just,” he paused, closing his eyes to take a deep breath. “As fucked up as this is, I do love you, I still do.”

Your breath hitched at your words. “No, Seonghwa. You don’t know what love is, and even if you do, you love me a bit too much that you’re not allowing me to leave a little for myself because you want it all.”

“But, don’t say that you regret everything,” he said exasperatedly. “I loved you with all that I have, I will continue that until I cease to exist. Remember when we went on that trip where you told me you finally loved me, too? Or when we both would stay up all night to watch the stars while we talked about our future?”

He held your hands, almost desperately, as his words  just spilled out from him without thinking. “Those were real, that was us, and you might not believe me, but I swear on Ateez those were all true. You can’t deny them.”

It was true that you and Seonghwa had good moments where you wanted them to last forever, but they felt distant, like a fleeting dream that never happened. “I don’t regret our moments,” you pulled your hands away. “I regret that you twisted them into something dark.”

You wanted to deny what he said to make him feel a fraction of all the hardships he had brought upon you, but you couldn’t. Just like his actions, you could never take back your words. I did the right thing, you thought, your heart aching as you stared at the lone tear that fell from Seonghwa’s eye. 

He wasn’t the only one. You weren’t ready to let go either, but this was a start. It was a truth you weren’t going to admit to his face. You were in love with Park Seonghwa, and you couldn’t breathe because you always will be, but love wasn’t supposed to hurt like this. Love can never be designed.

Seonghwa stiffened, his mind reeling with all the things you’ve finally let out for him to hear. I regret everything. It echoed like a broken record in his head, and yet, a part of him couldn’t let go. He shook his head, trying to reel in his thoughts before they no longer became his, trying to pull in the beast that was threatening to break free from his mind.

But your words reverberated in his skull, the pressure building on it from the suffocating guilt that covered his head. He didn’t want to hurt you anymore, but it was too late.The realization was like a punch to his gut, and he had no one to blame but himself.

You watched him fight his demons, slight fear coming back into your chest, but you waited to see what he’s going to do. 

Seonghwa’s breathing became ragged and laboured as he tried to massage his temples into coherency. Why didn’t he just let you the first time? No, he was doing what he thought was right, because his all-consuming love needed you so much. His mind grew darker and before he could lash out, he walked away from you and turned around.

For a long moment, silence filled the room. You watched Seonghwa try and compose himself, his hands shaking repeatedly while his head shook back and forth. It was like Seonghwa was actively trying to cast out and fight the demons that tried to possess his soul before it could completely take over him.

But when he turned around, the look in his eyes told you that it was too late. Seonghwa knew it was too late, he had done too much, the only way to move was forward.

“I want to kill you,” he softly admitted. “To finally stop your ghost from haunting me. But I can’t live without you.”

The confession left a painful tightness in your throat, but you remained strong and steadfast. You weren’t even angry anymore, you were just tired of him walking over you. “You’ve gone mad,” you stated. “Scaring me isn’t the way to go about this.”

“It is better to be feared than loved, if I cannot have both,” he replied rhetorically, digging into the waist of his pants to pull out a pistol. He stood there, not lifting it yet, but the way he gripped the cold metal of the gun had you trembling in your spot.

You didn’t move - you couldn’t move. Seonghwa’s guilt mixed with his anger, twisting his mind into something else. He never lost control like this, but he had also never felt his heart break into a million pieces like this.

The gun shook in his hand, the barrel still aimed at the floor. It was wrong and he knew it, but you were his everything, and now, not only were you walking away from him, but you were completely disintegrating in his head into nothing but somebody that he used to know. 

“Seonghwa,” you whispered, barely audible from the demons that screamed in your own head. “Don’t make me leave like this, please, put the gun down.”

He didn’t move, didn’t say anything. It was worse than you thought, his mind was far more gone than you thought possible. You continued, swallowing your nerves down, more than ready to plead for your life. “Please, Seonghwa. I’m no one, just L/N Y/N, a 27-year old nobody,” your voice cracked.

Your legs finally gave out and you chose to sit on the floor. You looked up at him, putting your hands up like some sort of Hail Mary. “I was a nobody you stumbled upon in that restaurant, I was born in a dinky little town you had no idea existed. My parents are both teachers, and I have two sisters. Please Seonghwa, I haven’t done anything at all in this life, I haven’t lived, I’ve barely just begun, please, I haven’t finished anything at all.”

You sniffled, trying to keep your tears at bay. “D-Don’t kill me,” you pleaded. “I don’t want to die.”

Seonghwa contemplates. You practically watched the gears in Seonghwa’s head turn, his mind racing in a frantic spiral. You were surprised when he gave you the gun, grabbing your hand ro wrap it around the handle, kneeling down to your level on the floor, and pointed the barrel at himself, the tip pressing on his forehead.

“If you shoot me, what will you leave behind?” Seonghwa asked.

Your heart twisted violently at the odd question. It was more cruel than pointing the gun at you, because you knew that your answer would be dependent on whether you will live or not.

“A world without you,” you answered without hesitation.

You couldn't take Seonghwa's unnecessary obsession with you anymore. Seonghwa stared at you, his brows furrowing as he internalized the answer that you gave him.

"Go ahead and shoot, dove," Seonghwa said. "It's the only way you'll ever be free of me."

You stood frozen in your spot, the gun feeling cold in your hands. You've dreamt of this for so long, about completely ridding yourself of Seonghwa so you could get back the freedom he had stolen from you a long time ago. He looked vulnerable and open, while you were given a chance to make that dream come true.

And yet, you couldn't do it.

And Seonghwa knew you couldn't do it. He smirked. You screamed, a pitiful attempt at it, as he dismantled you and grabbed the gun back, only this time, it was pointing at you, instead. "You could have pulled the trigger and painted the walls with my brain," he taunted, cocking the safety lever. "Let's play a game of Russian Roulette."

"What's that going to accomplish?"

"If you give me a minute, I could change your mind," he shrugged. "But if you give me a bullet, I could change your life."

Seonghwa points a gun at your face, point blank, the nozzle pressing down your forehead. "What say you, Y/N?"

He was crazy. You closed your eyes, resigning to your fate. Seonghwa pulls the trigger, and then nothing. You couldn’t believe it, but still, you heaved a sigh of relief. You should have known that the gun was empty.

When you opened your eyes again, Seonghwa was livid. You release a cry that you've been holding. He grabbed your head, furious. "The love I'm willing to give you terrifies you, but death doesn't?”

This was it. It was this moment that will forever haunt you, because this was the moment that you knew something in Seonghwa had snapped.

Your breath got caught in your throat, the reality of the situation sinking in on you. His eyes gleamed with insanity, his pupils dilated with something wild and manic, and the feverish look in them twisted with madness that made your blood run cold. There was nothing human about it. Seonghwa was beyond saving.

“You’re scaring me, Seonghwa, please, let go,” you trembled in his grip, but he didn’t even notice. He was so lost.

“You think love is supposed to be sweet, gentle, or some other bullshit that’s supposed to feel good?” Seonghwa gnarled with unsettling fervor, nails digging into your skin. He shook his head violently. “No, it’s supposed to be consuming, something that takes everything. Just like what you’ve taken from me.”

��I didn’t take anything from you,” you thrashed around from his grip when his other hand held your hips to settle you, not caring if he scratched you at this point with the other. “S-Seonghwa, stop it!”

At the height of your desperation, you collapsed onto the floor with him, it was how hard he was gripping your waist as he tried to run away. His hands slam onto the ground when he ended up underneath him, but what truly horrified you was when he threw his head back and started laughing out loud. It was no longer the laugh of a regular person, the sound of it was shrill, hollow, and maddened. “Let me explain something to you,” he gritted his teeth, leaning down. “Love can be nurtured and rebuilt. It’s a pathetic attempt to construct something out of nothing, and I will dismantle and reshape yours until you look at me with the same love you used to look at me with before you—”

Your hand flew to his face before you could think, slapping his cheek with such force the crack of it was so loud against the room. You were horrified, you didn’t mean to hurt him, but the idea of what he was saying just sickened you because love can’t be molded from blood and pain. Seonghwa’s eyes darted towards yours, and for a split second, he looked betrayed.

That is, until his face contorted into something grotesque, and he grabbed your hands. You paled, because he started banging his head on your fists violently as he screamed, a horrible primal sound that came from within his guts.

“No, no, no!” Seonghwa bellowed like a madman. “I just want you to love me—”

“Seonghwa, stop it, stop!” You screamed, trying to pry your hands back from him because you were genuinely scared now, not even caring that your hands were hurting really bad from the hardness of his head.

“Stop!”

He paused, eyes bulged with fury. He lets go of your hands and you let them fall to your sides as you watch him get off of you to drop on his knees and bang his fists on your wooden floor. “I can’t take this anymore,” his breath came in jagged rasps. “I”m not crazy, fuck. Fucking hell, Y/N. I just want you.”

He broke down. You sat down, completely scooting away from him, watching as his tears fell down. His sobs, you were terrified of how guttural and broken they sounded. It was the image of a man who had lost his mind so long ago. “How can you do this to me?” Seonghwa growled through his tears. “This is the second time you left me, how can you fucking do this to me?”

His forehead was pressed against the unforgiving surface of the floor. His sobs were quiet at first, and it did hurt to hear. You clearly weren’t the only one suffering whether it was wrong or right. Soon enough, his cries became louder, more devastatingly raw, and more desperate.

Against your better judgment, you not only felt fear for yourself, but for Seonghwa as well. A split second of thought passes through you, had you made him like this? You knew that wasn’t the case, but as you stared at the tremors that shook his entire frame, you couldn’t help but think that you had some sort of part in this.

This wasn’t Seonghwa, what had become of the man you used to love?

Your heart pounded in your chest when his gaze met yours. You didn’t even have time to scream as he charged towards you to grip your shoulders. “Love me,” Seonghwa grinned, teeth bared, eyes widened with insanity. “That should fix this, love me once more, pretty dove. Be mine again.”

“You don’t know what you want,” you back up, terror seeping in your bones. 

“No, you don’t understand,” he grabbed your shoulders tighter and a yelp slipped your lips. He tightened his hold, his eyes widening a bit more that he resembled a mental asylum patient. ”Love me.”

Tears fall down your eyes in sheer horror. Seonghwa bites his lips, groaning in pleasure at your scared display. You flinched when the back of his shaking hands tried to caress your cheeks. 

It was a mistake. His eyes squint dangerously, yet his lips still remained in that disturbed smile, frozen in his face perpetually. “Seonghwa, please, you’re scaring me—-“

“I love you so much, dove,” he cooed mockingly. His fists bunched up your hair in a tight bun and pulled on your head. “Why is it so fucking difficult for you to love me back?”

Pitiful screams erupt from your mouth as Seonghwa rattled your head around, as if doing so would make you change your mind. Your hands tried to pry his hands, the pain on your scalp blooming bigger. “Seonghwa, s-stop, please! Please!”

To your utter surprise, amidst your dizziness, he does stop. Your eyes were nearly rolling behind your head and if he didn’t stop, you might have thrown up. His tear-streaked, bloodshot eyes emphasized the current state of his mind as he cradles your face in between his hands almost lovingly,

Almost. It felt infantilizing. It made you sick.

“Are you going to love me now?” Seonghwa asked one more time, his eyes flicking between tenderness and madness. “Do you fucking love me now?”

A strained whimper escapes your throat, a choked out cry accompanying it. It was a sick symphony; a travesty made worse when Seonghwa leaned in until his lips were touching the shell of your ear.

"Tell me you love me," he ordered, his voice deceptively soft.  "I might do something you and I will both regret if you don't."

You swallowed, quivering with intense dread. Your knees threatened to buckle under all the weight of what Seonghwa was demanding of you at this very moment. "I-I love you, please..."

You held your breath when Seonghwa put his fingers on either side of your mouth, stretching them sideways to give the illusion that you were actually smiling. It was something straight out of a horror film, your tears wouldn't stop falling as he literally forced a smile out of you.

"That wasn't so hard, wasn't it? You did it," he praised, stroking your hair gently like he wasn't doing anything wrong. To be fair, in his mind, he wasn't doing anything wrong.

You jumped when he suddenly grabbed your chin and squeezed your cheeks together. It was slightly painful, and it elicited a pained groan from you. "But, I don’t believe you."

He pushed your face away with such a force, your head snapped to the side. It was when your legs lost their strength and you crumpled to the ground in one heap of a mess. And you knew deep in your heart, Seonghwa’s show of cruelty wasn’t what was truly crushing you.

The most painful thing about all of this was that despite all of this insanity, despite all the chaos and madness, was that you weren’t lying - you still loved Seonghwa. You still loved him with every fiber of your being.

True imprisonment wasn’t him forcing you into a room and locking you in and not letting you go until he was satisfied, it was all these feelings trapped in your heart even if it threatened to tear you apart. Seonghwa was not a good person, he was a monster, yet the love still lingered, clinging to you like a disease.

This pain in your heart, it was the proof that you still loved him. And that is the worst of it, you knew better than this.

Finally, something in Seonghwa’s chest began to lift as he stared at your pitiful form. When he closed his eyes, for what felt like an eternity, images of your smile filled his head. For a moment, he was filled with the love he felt for you for the first time, that pureness before it got tainted with something dark.

“I’ll let you go,” he whispered brokenly. His eyes filled with a broken kind of longing, eyes searching your face to read your expression. “I love you, Y/N. God, I love you. But I’m letting you go. I can’t live like this, either. I have an organization waiting for me.”

He hesitated, his voice hoarse with resignation. “One last time. Before you go. One last night, together. No more pain, no more bitterness. Just us.”

You almost didn’t want to believe it, was Seonghwa really going to let you go? Surely, it couldn’t be this easy. You highly doubted what he said, just staring at him with suspicion. He sighed frustratedly, his hands combing his hair in a mess and letting them hang over his face. You frowned, the state of his hair was the state of his mind. He hated it getting messed up.

His words came out strained. For a second, you felt bad for him. He was giving up, Seonghwa never gave up, but this was it, your ticket to freedom. “I would never stop wanting you, and needing you, Y/N. You have to get away from me.”

“Okay,” you whispered, trying to summon the courage to feel what you had in your heart even if it was for tonight. “One last time.”

“Prove it,” he suddenly blurted out. His eyes locked with yours, and your chest almost exploded with the urgent need in them. “I want to believe you, dove, I really do. I can see it in your eyes. Come with me.”

Here come the excuses that fuel the illusions, but you’d rather feel something, than nothing at all. 

You should have felt repulsed, but here you were, grabbing the hand that he offered until he pulled you to the other room, one that you knew all too well. Seonghwa’s lips were on yours before you could think of anything else. 

A groan sounds from the back of his throat as he pins you to the wall, his kisses frantic and desperate as if he was trying to feed his own illusions. You opened your mouth to take his intruding tongue, the wet muscle exploring the crevices of your mouth like he’s never done it before.

You wanted to cry, how could you still give him all of you when he was a far cry from the person you used to know? You suddenly didn’t know who was truly insane here, the roots of his madness had slowly uprooted themselves in you and it was difficult to pluck them away at this point.

You hated this, even as his mouth was hot and bruising against yours, because despite the danger in his eyes and the way his hands shook with the need to possess you, your heart still ached to reach for him.

“H-Hwa,” you gasped when he pulled your head backwards by your head, exposing your beck to his desires.”

“Shhh,” he hushed you, burying his head on the crook of your neck, wasting no time planting his love bites to mark you, the one he knew that drove you crazy. Stars aligned your vision as he sucked the delicate skin of your neck, taking his time to graze his teeth on them and alternating between the two.

You’d really rather feel something, than nothing at all.

He grabbed your hand, firmly guiding it to his crotch, using his other hand to unzip his pants and lower them. He wraps your hand on his aching cock, gasping softly as you feel it hard and pulsing in your hand. “F-Fuck, baby,” he hissed. “Touch me, please, I-I need it.”

Your breathing grew faster as you closed your hand around it and began stroking it. His moans of pleasure hit your ear followed by the sensual calling of your name that slipped from his tongue and you couldn’t help but squeeze him. You cried out in surprise when both his hands quickly slipped under your shirt and grabbed your breasts, his fingers digging in deep.

“Seonghwa! H-Hwa,” you breathed out, not caring for the consequences. You forgot the fear, just focusing on his lips that still attacked your neck.

“Take your panties off, dove,” he panted, his ragged breaths against your ear turning the last coherent parts of your brain into mush. “Now, love dove, please.”

You didn’t let his cock go - you didn’t want to - turning your head a bit to whisper in his ear, “Yes, mommy,” in the most sensual voice you’ve ever mustered, surprising even yourself. You obeyed, your panties hitting the floor.

“Oh, fuck, my love, y-you can’t just do that,” he growled, shuddering against your skin.

“W-Why? I like the way you touch me,” you breathed out as his fingers adeptly plucked your nipples with his fingers, rolling them in between to stimulate pleasure out of you in the best way possible.

He chuckled, planting a soft kiss on your temple. “Let go.”

You pouted in dissatisfaction when his hands stopped fondling your breasts and pulling yours away from his cock, but your eyes widened when he lifted one of your legs up and held it up, pressing onto your body impossibly closer. “Look at me,” he grunted. “Look at me.”

You’ve never been fucked standing up before. You kept your eyes on him, almost exploding at how hooded and lidded they were as sweat trailed down from his temples to his lashes. “Hwa, o-oh my God, mmm,” you moaned out when he positioned his cock in between your pussy lips.

He gives you a lazy smile as he rubs the head on your clit, satisfaction rolling through him at the ecstasy written on your face. “You want it?” Seonghwa softly asked even though he was aching to plunge inside you immediately.

You found yourself questioning the reality of what was happening, doubting, but your body had other plans. You haven’t seen Seonghwa smile without any malice in a long, long time. You lifted your head, you had to lean it against Seonghwa’s own forehead since he was basically towering over you. You heard his gulp hard, watched him close his eyes. It was all he needed to know.

“Seonghwa,” you cried out when he started to enter you, his hand snaking on your behind to push you towards his intruding cock, completely filling you to the brim with his throbbing thickness. The both of you still had your tops on, but it didn’t stop his heat from migrating towards you. “S-So good.”

“Oh, fuck,” he growled under his breath, burying his head on your shoulders once more to savour the sensation of your pussy clenching around him as he began thrusting into you with a brutal pace of his hips. “Hold on tight, sweetie, I’m going to fuck you harder, yeah?”

“M-Mhhm—Hwa, mmm, Hwa!” Your cries were loud and grating against your throat, the pleasure overtaking all of your senses. You were pretty sure his men heard it from outside the house. You didn’t care, all you felt was Seonghwa’s hot breath against your ear as he nibbled on it.

You gasped when he pulled out momentarily to peel you off the wall. He turned you around before he pushed you again, growling as his cock entered you from behind this time. You couldn’t stop the blush forming on your cheeks as you faced the floor-length mirror you had in your room, Seonghwa’s dark eyes watching your tits sway back and forth from his thrusts.

“You should be ashamed of yourself,” he taunted, his hand groping one of your tits. “Aren’t you ashamed of yourself? Look at you, fucking yourself back on my cock.”

You cried as he hit a particular spot inside you as your hips buckled to meet his. He points at somewhere in particular. “Why don’t you be a sweetheart and give that gun back to me?”

You didn’t care anymore, you were drowning in pleasure, far too gone to think about what he was asking you. You scrambled, getting his pistol from the nightstand where he put it earlier and handed it to him. “S-Seonghwa—”

“I love you so fucking much, you don’t even understand,” he groaned amidst the slapping of skin on skin echoing through the walls of your bedroom. Your hips stilled momentarily when he pointed the gun on the back of your head. “Relax,” he chuckled. “It’s not loaded, remember?”

You licked your lips, actually ashamed at the arousal that coated your inner walls, subconsciously clenching on Seonghwa’s cock at the image you saw on the mirror in front of you. “Fuck me,” he mouthed, digging the gun into your hair.

“Fuck, Seonghwa,” you choked out, moving your hips once more to feel his thick length move inside you. This wasn’t supposed to be hot, it wasn’t supposed to be this much of a turn on for you, but it was.

“You wanna know something, baby?” Seonghwa leaned towards your ear, his grunts spurring your hips to move backwards and forward. “You’re just as sick as I am. You really should be ashamed of yourself for getting turned on about this.”

You moaned impossibly louder as you shoved your behind faster on him over and over again, his full length stretching you out with each thrust. This image will be ingrained in Seonghwa’s brain forever, and he wasn’t going to last another second longer. “G-Gonna come, baby—fuck.”

You gasped, clamping around his length as you felt his warmth fill up your insides. Seonghwa growled loudly, his breathing strained and laboured as he thrust in a couple more times before suddenly pulling out and kneeling down. “H-Hwa, what are you—”

Your eyes rolled at the back of your head at his tongue’s onslaught, your arousal mixed with his sticky cum dripping down from your hole all the way down his tongue as he lapped on it, some of the excess trailing down from your thighs all the way down to your feet. Your hands planted themselves on Seonghwa’s hair, unconsciously pulling on it as you continued to cream in his mouth.

The way his tongue rolled on your sensitive bud had your knees buckling, but Seonghwa made sure to keep you up, not even bothering to pause, and just like a hurricane, the force of your orgasm knocked the wind out of your lungs as the hot, searing flash of white blinded you for a couple of second.

It set you on fire, and he dove at your pussy with enthusiasm. Seonghwa took long, broad licks of your pussy, pausing every so often to push his whole tongue into you, wiggle it around, and then focus on your clit.

He repeated this pattern a dozen times, you had your hands in his hair, and as you approached orgasm, your grip got tighter and tighter. Seonghwa groaned at the sensation, and finally, you let loose with another loud moan, forcing his face into you even further as you reached your second climax. “Seonghwa…”

“Just like that, baby, come on my tongue, mmm,” Seonghwa coaxed you through the wild shaking of your body until you let out the deepest sigh accompanied with a small whine of overstimulation. His licks slowed down, his hands caressing your soft thighs, before finally stopping to stand back up.

“Get on the bed,” he held your arm and slightly pushed you towards it without even waiting for your response.

You blinked repeatedly at him. “W-What?”

“You heard me,” he deadpanned, unbuttoning his crisp, white shirt before tossing it randomly somewhere along with the gun. “On your back. I’m not done fucking you.”

You weren’t supposed to be turned on by that, but you were. You swallowed when you looked down and realized he was still fully hard even after coming inside you. You did as told, trying hard not to stutter in your steps as you laid on your bed, letting Seonghwa spread your legs to position himself in between them.

“Arms up,” he whispered. You did as told without hesitation, letting him also take your shirt off along with your bra until you were completely bare beneath him. He groaned at the sight of you, especially your glistening pussy, still half-full with his cum. “Stubborn as you are, you’re so fucking beautiful,” he murmured, leaning down to capture your lips.

“I want you inside me," you whispered to his mouth and his eyes closed in bliss as you guided his hard cock to your wet, slick pussy.

For a moment, you forgot how deranged he was. Seonghwa poured all the love, no matter how crazed it was, his affection, and his passion in the kiss. You quickly accommodated him, kissing him back just as passionately, immediately tasting yourself and him on your tongue. “Mhhm,” you whimpered as you felt his cock slowly slide into you.

He pulled away to whisper against your mouth. “Wrap your legs around me, love.”

You did as told, moaning in his mouth as he pushed himself more until he was, once again, all the way inside you as deeply as he could. You swallowed Seonghwa’s moans, his thrusts shallow. He would pull in just enough for the tip to remain before slowly thrusting back into you. 

He was as gentle as possible, but it wasn’t going to last long. You hoped it didn’t last.

“Fuck, Y/N, this pussy is mine,” Seonghwa growled, giving it to you exactly as you wanted - hard, fast, rough -  not caring if you were a screaming mess. He just kept pounding you down the mattress and it shook the bed with how forceful he was.

“Tell me you love me, even if it’s just for tonight,” he begged, eyes filled with unshed tears as he stared down at you. “Even if it’s a lie, tell me you love me.”

But that was the thing. It wasn’t going to be a lie. His eyes widened a bit when he realized that you weren’t going to be lying. 

“I love you, Hwa. I love you,” you sniffled with tears of your own. 

He smiled. He smiled. “I love you, too, my dear,” he whispered. “I really do.”

“Hwa, Hwa, H-Hwa, f-fuck,” you clenched at the sight of him on top of you, the usual prim and proper look on him long gone, replaced by someone primal who devoured you whole. 

“Louder, baby,” he groaned out loudly, his eyes dropping heavily with lust, his hips slamming onto your ass obscenely. “I want the entire neighbourhood to know who you belong to, f-fuck.”

His groans were just as loud as yours, it was honestly such a turn on. He smirked at your fucked out expression. “Look at you, baby,” he chuckled darkly, leaning down to press lightly on your neck. “Fuck, look at you going dumb around my cock, yes, squeeze me, love, squeeze my fucking cock.”

You didn’t want to be fucked anymore, you needed to be destroyed. “Fuck, yes, just like that, my love, feel my fucking cock deep in you,” he panted out, slamming into you even harder.

He was going deeper in you with all his might, sweat dripping down from his forehead to your chest. His arms rippled as he supported his own weight and you felt his back muscles moving as he continued with his assault on your poor pussy. 

“D-Don’t stop, Hwa, please, keep f-fucking,” you begged, stars lighting up your vision everytime you felt the tip of his cock hit the back of your pussy.

You could hear Seonghwa groan and curse earnestly, barely audible over the hard smacks of your hips against the solid wall of his thighs. You could barely keep yourself together as he used you like a toy. “My only purpose is to fuck you over and over again,” he gritted out, holding your head in his hands as your body went back and forth on his cock. “You ready to take my cum again?”

You nodded, eyes wide in anticipation. “Y-Yes, mommy, give me your cum, please.”

His hips stuttered, his mouth dropping down, roughly pounding into you. “You, fuck,” he moaned out, his voice roaring loudly in the air. “Y-You will never, ever be satisfied with someone else once I’m through with you.”

Seonghwa’s face twisted in concentration, his teeth gritting as his thrusts slowed down, and you gasped audibly when you felt another round of his seed warm the walls of your pussy. “Y/N, dove, a-ah, fuck,” he whimpered, his voice high pitched with all the pleasure he felt as he pulsated inside you.

You were delirious at this point, but when he gripped your legs tightly once more to hoist them up his shoulders, you sobered up really quick. You squealed pathetically, his reinsertion setting your nerves on fire. “H-Hwa, f-fuck–”

“That’s it, baby,” Seonghwa moaned, his eyes fluttering close, biting his bottom lip at the quivering sensation that ruled his body. Overstimulation threatened to snap his cock into two, but it wasn’t enough. He wanted all of you.

“Baby, fuck, ngh,” he whined, his deep voice absolutely nowhere to be found and, God, it absolutely did something to you. His eyes closed shut, his hips stuttering in the cadence of his never-ending thrusts. You didn’t have time to be surprised, Seonghwa was insane. Surely, it didn’t just stop there. 

Your lips crashed together once more in a hungry kiss, Seonghwa’s hips pistoning into you in and out, grunts of pain reaching your ears. “I’m g-gonna keep fucking you,” he gritted his teeth, pain blooming on his groin, pleasure just right behind it. “I’m not gonna stop…”

He completely engulfed you in his arms as your legs dropped down to his waist to tighten your grip on him, pulling him impossibly closer to you, grinding onto his body with a delicious friction.

If it was possible, the overstimulating pain made Seonghwa rougher, more intense, and more desperate than ever before. The bed squeaked beneath you but you could barely hear it over Seonghwa’s roars. “You’re mine, Y/N, you’re all mine, fuck,” he growled, his teeth sinking into your shoulder. “Mine.”

“Seonghwa, a-ah, S-Seonghwa, wanna c-come,” you whined at the pain, but it just made him bite deeper. It was all you needed to feel that familiar tickle in your groin, and your heat began to wrap around him even tighter at the sensation. “O-Oh, S-Seonghwa, come inside me—”

It was all he needed to come undone. You gasped audibly when he put his hands behind your head to forcibly make you look him in the eye. His eyes blazed with fury and determination amidst the pain of his cock driving in and out of you. The insanity was back, and he made sure you saw it. 

“I’ll breed you. Put my babies in you so you’d never leave me again,” he panted, hilting himself with one final thrust before yelling out on your shoulders, barely muffling the sound. 

You weren’t completely drowning in that much pleasure to agree. “H-Hwa, baby, t-this isn’t right,” you whimpered, mouth dropped open at the tingling sensation another orgasm wanted to bring. 

You felt his seed shoot inside you one final time and it was all you needed. “Come, baby, come on my cock, please, please, please, come on my fucking cock,” he gasped as the pleasure become to much for him. 

Your body began to seize against his hold. Seonghwa covered your lips with his with a kiss that spoke volumes. He let you moan onto his tongue as your cunt pulsed all around his cock, reaching a euphoria your mind couldn’t comprehend. You both stayed locked together, savouring the comedown, but not really ready to let go as of yet.

And when Seonghwa finally pulled out, he couldn’t help the growl that emitted from the back of his throat as his cum began spilling out of you in copious amounts. Even he was surprised at how much cum was spilling out of your used, puffy cunt. His cock was numb. 

He smirked, it was all worth it.

“So, this is it, I suppose,” you breathed out, laying down in bed tiredly, carefully lifting the blankets to cover yourself. Not that you needed to keep decency. “I hope you know that I do care for you, but I also want you to know that we both need time away to heal from each other.”

You looked at him, searching his face for any sign of manipulation or desperation, but all you saw was raw, unguarded emotion. The kind you hadn’t seen from him in months. He sighed, turning to his side and facing you. “Can I ask you something?” Seonghwa muttered.

You nodded your head, awaiting his question. “Have you ever wondered what we could have been if I was just Park Seonghwa? Not the mafia lord, not the criminal, not the murderer. Just Seonghwa.”

What he was asking of you hit you harder than you thought. It made sense that he’d ask, it was the main reason you left, after all. “Every single day,” you admitted. “I would imagine we’d be married by now, maybe we’d have had our first child, too.”

Seonghwa let out a laugh that sounded more self-deprecating than anything. It was soft, but full of pain - the pain of recognizing that the what-ifs would remain just that. “When you walked out on me,” he exhaled slowly. “I could’ve stopped you, I could’ve tried harder, maybe made more false promises. Believe it or not, I did give you space.”

“You did,” you stated, rather than asked, your voice cracking. You weren’t ready to talk about these, but this might be the last time you’d ever see Seonghwa.

“I did,” he confirmed. “Would you have come back to me if I didn’t chase you around?”

You swallowed the lump in your throat. You let the question linger in the air, because this was something you’d never asked yourself before. “I don’t know,” you answered. “And we’ll both never know. We can’t change what happened, and we can’t rewrite the past.”

Seonghwa met your gaze again, and this time, there was no anger and no regret, just the aching kind of understanding as his stare was fixed towards you. There was something in the intensity of his stare that made you catch your breath. He didn’t blink, nor did he look away. He just stared at you.

“In a perfect world, you’d want me, need me, as much I do,” he whispered, jutting his hand out to caress your cheek. “I knew you’d never want this, but I also know because you’d have come running back to me anyway because you love me. You’d have surrendered to me and if you did, I wouldn’t chase you like a fool. I would be letting you go.”

“I’m tired of thinking, Seonghwa. I really am. There’s not much I can think of but the reality where we’re in right now,” you said.

“And I really wish that you didn’t think. I wish that you knew for certain. But unfortunately, this world is not perfect. Tell me what you want, Y/N. Right here, right now.”

You opened your mouth, but the words didn’t come right away. The way his eyes reflected all the hope, albeit only a little, crushed you. “I want to be free,” you finally said, the words strange in your mouth. “We both need to stop living in a lie, Seonghwa. I’m not the same, and neither are you.”

It hurt for you to say these things out loud, but it needed to be done. He didn’t say anything for a while, and you could tell he was hurting, as well. This man was once your world, but not anymore. You can’t carry him and the weight of his pain on your shoulders anymore. “Will you set me free? Can you let me go once and for all?”

It takes Seonghwa several seconds to fully understand your request, but when he finally does, a nauseating sensation overwhelms him, a sickness settling in his stomach, twisting around his insides. He always believed there was nothing he wouldn’t do for you, that’s how much he loved you, yet you just managed to find something. “One more question,” he insisted softly.

“What?”

“I know you still love me. Might be more than I love you, might be less. Will you ever stop loving me?”

The question was simple, but the way it knocked all the air out of your lungs made you think otherwise. You wanted to lie, wanted to look Seonghwa in the eye and tell him the opposite of what you truly felt for him. In fact, it would be very easy to lie to his face because this was your freedom.

Seonghwa’s gaze was steady, like he already knew the answer, but needed to hear it from you. He held his breath, still waiting for you to say something, but you were too frozen to do so.

You avoided eye contact. “Does it matter?”

“Yes,” he answered a bit too quickly for your liking.

“No, I don’t think I will,” you admitted, finally at peace with the truth, because deep down, you knew that this was the last time you’d ever say it out loud. Even though you still loved Seonghwa dearly, you had to let go for good.

For the first time, the truth didn’t hurt you. 

Something resolute passes through his eyes before he finally breaks eye contact with you, repositioning himself on the bed to lay down on his back to stare at the ceiling. “I’m moving to New York next week. Permanently. We all are,” he said. “Operations there are far more beneficial for me since the crime rate will help a lot.”

As much as that statement felt like a punch to the gut for you, a small part of your brain was telling you that this was a good thing because the finality of you and Seonghwa not seeing each other again was coming into place. 

This was why you couldn’t be with Seonghwa no matter how much you loved each other. His ties to the mafia and illicit dealings was the least of your concern - it was the danger that will forever lurk with him. You were never ready for the emotional and psychological toll it will inflict you. You didn’t want Seonghwa to come home with a bullet between his eyes or have to visit him in jail. Never mind the constant target for retaliation should something go wrong with an enemy group.

“I see,” you replied, not knowing what else to say.

“Let’s have coffee one last time before I leave,” he pleaded. “Would you grant me that right even though you owe me nothing but ignorance?”

It was innocent enough, but it wasn’t that simple. You wanted to establish that line between the two of you as early as now, yet there was that longing that always reared its ugly head whenever you tried to push it down.

Why was it that when you were this close to pulling away, Seonghwa makes your heart flutter again? What is it about him that kept pulling you back?

The walk to the cafe was nerve-wracking for you, to say the least. The last time you were here, you didn’t know where you stood with Seonghwa. It hasn’t even been four months since then and yet, it felt like it was a lifetime ago.

You hesitated, your foot rooted to the ground directly outside the entrance. The closer you got to going in, the wider the hole in your gut got. You figured it was just the nerves, you were finally saying goodbye to your tormentor - as fucked as that sounded - after all the days you were trapped in confusion and pain.

You took a deep breath, choosing to leave your nerves behind and making your choice, something you haven’t made for yourself in a while.

You weren’t ready, not in the slightest, but there he was. Seonghwa sat in the same corner where you were the last time, and for once, he wasn’t purposefully late, or rather, he chose not to humiliate you this time and made you wait to no end. 

You couldn’t help but stare at him. He was staring out to the world in deep thought, his hands shoved deep in his  pockets. He wasn’t even doing anything, yet his quiet elegance still commanded respect. Seonghwa leaned casually against his chair, his dark, tailored coat hugging his body just right and his hair neatly combed up - far from the hot mess of a man who was on top of you the other week.

Your heart thudded in your chest. He looked like he was leaving for good.

And then, he was suddenly looking at you. “Hey,” he whispered, almost unsure. It was a type of voice you haven’t heard from him in so long. The last time you heard it was when he was asking you to marry him one cool, summer night a year and a half back.

“Hey,” you smiled tightly, putting your lips in a thin line as you tentatively approached the table. Truth be told, you wanted to walk away. Something was gnawing in your chest. But the part that loved him so, the part that wanted to let go, didn’t.

“I didn’t think you’d actually come,” Seonghwa gestured to your seat, even going as far as pulling your chair for you and pushing it back for you to sit on like a gentleman. He had a serene smile on his face when he went back to his. “But, I’m glad you’re here.”

He, once again, gestures his slender hands, but this time, at the table in front of you. He already took the liberty to order some food. It was one of the rarer things that you didn’t take offense to when it came to him; as warped as his mind was, he did cater to your needs very well, and that included the type of food you liked to eat and how you liked your coffee.

“Thank you,” you murmured, taking a small sip of your vanilla iced coffee, pleased to find that Seonghwa had already requested extra syrup. It was extra sweet this time, though, but you weren’t complaining. “When are you leaving?”

His sharp eyes calculated your every move, lingering on your lips a little too long before his own lips twitched ever so slightly. “In two hours,” he replied. “Most of our stuff is already in transit. I just have to be physically there. I really just wanted us to end on a decent note.”

You blinked, not totally processing his words at first. It hit you like stone when it did. You smiled back, though it didn’t quite reach your eyes. “It can’t get more decent than this,” you murmured. It was true, this was the first time that the strain between the two of you wasn’t crackling in the air.

You took another sip of your coffee, just so you weren’t sitting so awkwardly and so stiffly. The aftereffects of the months of unresolved tension were making you dizzy, an almost surreal sensation clouding your vision. Huh, you thought, you underestimated how stressed you actually were.

“You okay?” Seonghwa asked, brows furrowed together, his lips strung in a deep frown. There was an imperceptible shift in his expression, but the haze was too much for you to calculate what it really meant.

“Yeah,” you said,  taking a deep breath and hoping that the dizziness would pass. “I’m just a little tired.”

You booked a little vacation on the seaside for tomorrow, something you didn’t tell Seonghwa. You had no need to. You were looking forward to that as you were seated, thanking your lucky stars that you actually booked it at the last minute. You needed to unwind after all of this.

“Are you sure you’re okay? You’re pale, love,” Seonghwa raised his hand to touch you, something you rejected with a wave of your hand, and something he surprisingly respected.

He sounded a little more insistent now, but he still held that calmness he was known for in the criminal world, but in the end, all he could do was sigh in resignation. “If you insist,” he said, even though he looked like he wanted to say more.

The air felt cold, heavier, and now thicker with all the unspoken things between the two of you that would remain just that - unspoken. Seonghwa resembled a man who had carried the weight of regret for far too long, but even he knew that it was too late.

“I won’t keep you too long,” he said, his words slow as if he was dragging them out. They were raw, nonetheless. “I just wanted to say goodbye properly. The right way.”

He paused to smile thinly. “I just…had to see you before we went. I’m not going to ask for your forgiveness, Y/N, and I suppose that’s the only real thing I will always be sorry for because I can’t control the way my heart yearned for you, no matter how wrong it got.”

“It’s okay,” you almost scoffed. “I don’t know if I can forgive you, anyway.”

“Touché,” he chuckled.

You swallowed hard, a little disappointed, but to be honest, you were fine with that. You can respect honesty and self-awareness. “But, you think this would be enough, Seonghwa? I don’t mean that in a bad way.”

The room began to tilt as you swayed only a bit, nothing too noticeable, but it was enough nausea to concern you. His lips curled as he stared at you, but the hesitation in which he ran his hand through his hair in frustration distracted you.

“I don’t know, little dove, I don’t expect it to be enough. I guess I just needed you to know that I never meant to hurt you like I did, and maybe that’s not enough, but it’s all I have left,” he stared at you. “ I wish things had been different. I really did. But now, I have to go.” 

You set the coffee down, your hands clammy and your mouth went dry, the dizziness getting too detrimental for you to concentrate. Seonghwa’s eyes narrowed as he watched you carefully. Too carefully.

“Good luck, Seonghwa,” you said, quiet and sincere. You got up and stepped back from the table, from him. You had to go, you were starting to feel really unwell. “I’m sorry I can’t support you with the path you’re taking. I wish you happiness you couldn’t have with me, I really do.” 

“Sweetheart, wait…”

He stood up as well, his eyes searching yours like he was waiting for something more, but there was something else underneath it, something you couldn’t quite put your finger on. Before he could say something, you turned around towards the door and began to briskly walk away.

Walking away from Seonghwa felt wrong, but what was worse was the growing unease you felt - the same one you did before you even entered the cafe. Your legs were unsteady, you couldn’t even take a step away from the entrance. Black spots began to dance from your vision, it was getting more difficult to stay upright.

You gave in, your body feeling lighter as you felt yourself begin to tumble down the floor, but before you could, steady hands guided you upwards until your head pressed onto a firm chest. You didn’t have to look up to know who it was. 

“S-Seonghwa,” you slurred, leaning further into him against your will just so you couldn’t fall. “W-What’s going on…”

You felt him dig his fingers firmly on your shoulders, not enough to hurt, but enough for him to hold you to your place. He pushes you gently against the wall, tilting your lolling head to his face. 

Your blood ran cold. The look in his face told you everything you needed to know. His thumb forcibly opened your lips and the realization hit you so hard it left you reeling - the coffee. You weren’t supposed to feel like this, it wasn’t the anxiety. He smirked, almost smug.

“You were always so wary of me,” he chuckled darkly, leaning in to give you a small peck on the side of your lips before licking the small trail of saliva that pooled outside of your mouth. “I’m surprised it took you this long, I thought you’d see it coming, at least.”

“You…spiked m-my,” you managed to choke out, your breath coming in short gasps.

He didn’t seem alarmed. In fact, there was a calmness to him, as though he had expected this reaction, as though this was all part of his plan. You tried to push him away even though you could barely stand. “Seonghwa, I-I don’t f-feel well,” you admitted.

His smirk fell, genuine concern bleeding onto it as he cursed under his breath. “I’m sorry, love, you were probably just sensitive to it,” he frowned. You hated that you knew what he meant. “Let’s get you to the car—”

“N-No, let go,” your body swayed, until your legs had finally given out on you, your eyes fluttering close.

“Hey, hey, stay with me,” his voice was sharp, laced with panic. You felt yourself being lifted bridal-style. You could hear him calling your name over and over. “Come on, baby, don’t give out on me now,” he urged, the desperation in his voice betraying his calm facade.

“Please, I can’t do this alone,” he continued, his voice quieter now, almost fragile. “This is the only way. I’ll take care of you, yeah? I want to do right by you. I need you to believe me…”

He was scared. He actually hadn’t meant to go this far. 

Everything went black. The last thing you remembered was the sudden pressure of his desperate hands gripping you as if he was afraid that if he let you go that you'd suddenly disappear. His eyes shone with plea, full of panic, as his lips trembled with unspoken words.

When you came to, a dull headache throbbed in the back of your eyes. A sense of disorientation weighed heavily in your chest. The first thing you noticed was that you were sitting upright, your head leaning against a hard, bony surface. A shoulder.

You groaned, trying to remember how you got here, and everything came to you all at once; walking somewhere, the coffee, the nausea, Seonghwa—

Seonghwa.

You groaned, immediately sitting straight and trying to rub your eyes and your head to remove the bleary sleepiness remaining in you, but that wasn’t what caught you off-guard. In fact, fainting in Seonghwa’s arms seemed to be the least of your problems for today.

You froze, your heart leaping to your throat when you saw the cold metal of the handcuff around your wrist. Your hand instinctively tried to pull it away, even going as far as to prying it away with your other hand, but all that did was hurt you, your skin automatically reddening at the friction all the pulling was causing you.

Things just got worse from here then on. You figured that you’d try to pull the source of where your handcuffs were connected to, but to your horror, you realized that the other end was connected to Seonghwa’s own wrist, effectively tying you two together.

He stared at you panicking, his face drawn with exhaustion, but he was watching you closely as everything started to dawn on you. Something cloudy seizes his chest as you look up at him, tears reddening your eyes. His gaze softens, but relief shines through it, nonetheless.

“You’re awake,” he tenderly notes, like he was afraid that you’d get startled and lash out. He leans forward, his hand gingerly holding onto your face to wipe your unfallen tears with his thumb. “Are you okay? Is there anything that hurts? Listen, I know this looks bad, and I get it, but please, give me the chance to explain everything.”

You were stunned speechless, not being able to render opening your mouth to even refute his excuses. Everything was overwhelming, and truth be told, your head still wasn’t fully there. You couldn’t even lean away from Seonghwa’s touch even though you wanted nothing but to spit on his face.

It was one thing to be infuriated with Seonghwa, but more so, you were mad at yourself. How could you be so naïve? How could you be so blatantly stupid as to even meet up with him in the first place and let your guard down? 

Your breathing became ragged despite Seonghwa’s gentle attempts to calm you down. You had basically signed your life to him the moment you agreed to meet up with him in the cafe, because this was his plan all along, and you went along with it like a puppet in his sick version of a show.

Trusting Seonghwa was the equivalent of jumping off of a cliff willingly. You had a first-hand taste of how manipulative, how insane, he actually was, and you still went. You couldn’t even afford to feel bad for yourself since you knew that the fault wasn’t fully his own.

You pulled on your wrist, even though it was pointless, but his hand reached across the small space, gently touching your arm. “I never meant for things to go this far,” he explained, his voice strained. “But I need you to understand—”

“Understand what, Seonghwa? You lied to me,” you gritted your teeth, your heart thudding painfully against your chest as you tried to keep more of your tears at bay. “You lied to me, you sick son of a bitch! You said you were going to let me go! I thought the mafia had honour—”

“I know, dove, I know, but honour be damned if I can’t be with you,” he exasperatedly explained, but you weren’t having it.

“What the hell does that even mean? You kidnapped me! I’ve lost count, Seonghwa,” you seethed, pulling on the handcuffs again, but to no avail. That was when you looked around and realized you didn’t know where you were. “Where even are we?”

Seonghwa’s eyes softened and he leaned back in his seat, letting out a slow breath as he tried to gather his thoughts, the handcuffs connected to him slightly pulling on your wrists. “I’m sorry. I don’t expect you to forgive me right away, and I’m not trying to make excuses. But I couldn’t just let you go. I couldn’t let you walk away and forget everything we had. I’m sorry, Y/N. I really am.”

“Seonghwa,” you trailed off, not liking where this was going, your lips quivering as you spoke. “You said you were going to let me go.”

“I know what I said,” he said. His voice dropped lower, a touch of vulnerability seeping in. “I can’t let you throw it all away, love. The other week, you said you still loved me, and that you were never going to stop loving me. Tell me, how am I supposed to just leave and forget all about that?”

He sighed, long and heavy, looking you straight in the eye. “How am I supposed to leave my heart, knowing that it still beats for the both of us?”

Your mind raced, thoughts tangled in a whirlwind. This wasn’t happening. This couldn’t be happening. You’d made your choice. You’d walked away from, finally accepted that you just weren’t meant to be, and that you needed to let go to move on.

He shifted, his gaze never leaving yours, and for the first time, you saw a glimmer of something in him—hope.

“We can start over, leave everything once and for all,” he said, his voice almost pleading. “No more games. No more lies. We could just be together with a new life.”

You stopped breathing for a second. “W-What do you mean?”

Seonghwa paused, looking genuinely confused for a second. He was taken aback, it hit him that you actually didn’t know where you were. The silence was what prompted you to actually look at your surroundings. You blinked, finally realizing the real reason why you were sitting down when you woke up.

There is a smooth, unnatural hum of an engine beneath you, vibration so low that you wouldn’t even have noticed it.The plush leather seats you were on and in front of you, the overhead area where carry-on luggages usually went to if they were too big to put on the floor, and the stale smell of uncirculated air around the small space.

You were on a plane. Specifically, Seonghwa’s private jet.

“S-Seonghwa,” you yelped, true fear and panic settling in your chest at the prospect of  being trapped here with him.

“You were asleep for half the flight. We’ll be landing in New York in six more hours,” he said quietly. 

You repeatedly shook your head in denial, hoping to wake up from this nightmare. Seonghwa just watched you, his expression a mixture of hurt and concern. “I know you’re scared,” he whispered. “I know I hurt you, but I promise I’ll never hurt you again. “

You looked at him, his eyes full of conviction, full of hope. He was sincere. But that only made it harder.

“I don’t know if I can do this,” you whispered, your voice breaking as you pulled away slightly, the weight of the handcuff pulling you back.

His face shifted, pain flashing across his features, but he didn’t let go. “Please,” he said, his voice trembling. “Don’t make me lose you again.”

Your hands tugged at the cuffs again, the metal biting into your wrist, but all that did was make him wrap his big hands around yours. “I’m not asking for a second chance,” he said quietly, his voice hoarse. “I’m asking for a real chance. A chance to prove that we can make this work. That we can make us work. I’ll take care of you. I’ll protect you. And we’ll get through this together.”

You didn’t want to break down in front of him. You  didn’t want to show him this vulnerability, this weakness. But you couldn’t stop.

Through your blurry eyes, you saw him with his gaze soft but filled with something else. Pity. It also had helplessness and guilt, as if seeing you break down before him was a painful reminder of how far he had pushed you.

With that, you hunched over your seat and buried your face in your hands as the tears streamed down your face in hot torrents. The sobs came in uncontrollable waves, violent and loud, your chest heaving as if you might suffocate.

You felt Seonghwa’s hand rub your back soothingly, but you didn’t care to push him anymore. It was over. All the fighting you did for your freedom was for absolutely nothing. The weight of that truth pressed down on your chest, suffocating. 

You didn’t even try to stop Seonghwa from pulling you from your chair to make you sit on his lap as he hugged you tight, burying your face on the crook of his shoulder as your tears came hard, relentless, spilling down your cheeks as your chest heaved with sobs you couldn’t contain anymore. Your hands trembled as you clutched at his clothes, trying to steady yourself.

“You don’t have to do this alone,” he said softly as he hushed you with comfort that you didn’t want. “I’ll take care of you. We’ll start over, fall in love with each other all over again. You won’t be a part of the organization if you don’t want it, just please, stay with me.”

Your hysterical cries didn’t stop and all Seonghwa did was comfort you with words - words that he actually meant - but what you didn’t see was the pride and satisfaction written on his face as he stared at your crying form. In his own quiet way, he savored every single moment of it.

And he smiled because he knew - and you knew - that you had nowhere else to go. He won.

You belonged to him now.

𝙽𝚎𝚝s - @keopihaus @dove-net @othersideoutlawsnetwork @hiraya-m @illusionnet @pirateeznet

Dividers by: @cafekitsune and @bernardsbendystraws

[ericlvr]

i feel the need to let u know u are my absolute favourite sungho account on here btw. maybe just bnd account in general? but i might be biased considering im Obsessed with sungho… esp soft dom sungho……….. and you write him so well it makes me want to Cry im so fr 😭😭😭😭 but have you answered what you think his fav positions would be before? bc im curious to know your thoughts.. also can i be 🐶 anon please? 🩵

hi sweetheart <3 you’re so kind, thank you so much for loving and supporting my work. it makes me really happy to know that. also i love soft dom sungho so i’m glad i’m able to deliver 🥹💗 and of course you can be 🐶 anon! can’t wait to see more of you love 🩷

about sungho’s fav positions, i’ll link below the ones i usually think of when it comes to him (apart from missionary… he would use that religiously imo)! <3

5. this position definitely lets him hit deep inside you, your walls hugging his cock perfectly until his tip hits your gspot. tbh thinking of this with breeding kink sungho is so 😵‍💫…

113. a classic. he usually loves to be in control but when you ride him, it’s a whole different feeling where he’s able to relax and let you do as you please. but when you get tired, he would take over once again in a heartbeat.

389. he’s a giver so he would definitely be into eating you out. this is just one of the many positions he would want to do so in. it’s the easiest but the best way to make you comfortable while he sucks on your sensitive nubs, fingers curling into your hole. he’d loveeee to have eye contact with you in this position too <3

450. i see him using this one in more of a mirror sex kind of way (he needs to see your face while he’s buried in you!). he’d put his chin on your shoulder while he whispers sweet words or degrading praises about how well you are able to take him, pinching your nipples as you moan open mouthedly <3

493. basically: strength link sungho. positions like this make him feel strong, being able to carry you while making you feel good like you deserve. it gives him an ego boost really, seeing you in his arms that he builds to be able to carry his love.

all in all, i think he’d be pretty tame with his position choices, but he wouldn’t mind venturing out into some… different ones, if you know what i mean. biggest thing for him would be to make sure you are comfortable and taken care of, he just needs his princess to feel their best <3