Surrik-i - Surrik-i - Tumblr Blog

I love every single part of this. The fact that it includes ALL OF HIGH AND LOW AND CROWS ZERO. I could cry. Seriously I could cry. Fangirling rn.

Elixirol0gy's Kinktober List

Welcome to...

ELIXIROL0GY'S 2024 KINKTOBER LIST!!

Distracted Sex - Cobra (Hino Junpei)

Roleplay - Noboru

Aftercare - Izaki Shun

Dirty Talk - Furuya

Mutual Masturbation - Narumi Taiga

Stripper - Ranmaru

Biting - Sugihara Makoto

Sharing - Shibaman & Tsuji

Teacher/Student - Takeru Amamiya

Name-Calling - Murayama

Licking - Mercy (Takehiko Mashii)

Lingerie - Bitou Tatsuya

Degradation - Hiromi Kirishima

Masks - Tettsuo

Blow Jobs - Pearl

Bondage - Kizzy

Deepthroat - Urushibara Ryo

Orgasm Denial - Yamato

Somnophilia - P

Face Sitting - Tsukasa Takajo

Hate Fucking - Kumakiri Rikiya

Mirror Sex - Chiharu

Tattoos - Serizawa Tamao

Overstimulation - Bandou Hideto

Size Difference - Hayashida Megumi | Rindaman

Reward - Tatsuhito Ryu

Honeymoon - Tatsukawa Tokio

Being Forced to Beg - Iwatsugi Kazushi | Gandhi

Sex in Public - Takiya Genji

Shower Sex - Koo

Sex Toys - Tsutsumoto Shouji

Some specials; TO NOT BE REVEALED UNTIL AFTER THE KINKTOBER IS DONE!

Colors;

red is Crows Zero

Whereas blue is High and low.

(For those who are asking; "Why isn't AIB on this list?" ... High and low on its own has 76 characters that I included for this.. not to mention the 12 / 13 characters of Crows Zero that I'd actually bother writing smut for so uhm yeah.)

m.list

I DON’T SEE A LOT OF HIGH AND LOW FICS SO THIS IS DEFINITELY MAKING ME HAPPY 😭😭😭😭

Distracted Sex | Kinktober DAY 1

pairing Cobra (Hino Junpei) x Fem!reader

cw; Sex used a distraction for reader, straight into smut, praising, mentions of violence, no violence used, blood.

a/n; originally this was hand jobs and it was for sawamura shoji.. let's just say I changed it.

You were having a terrible week due to work. It had been stressful with the amount of people that were giving you shit. You had only been there for a month, working as a cashier. After that, all you needed was a break. Except here you are, underneath your boyfriend and distracting yourself with sex.

Cobra's left hand held your hips as he pounded into you mercilessly, the cut on his lip still tasting like blood. Both of you having half your clothes still on as his right hand crept up into your shirt. When he had the chance to break the kiss, all he did was whisper sweet nothings.

"Sorry you've been having a bad week pretty girl." He leaned down and kissed your lips again, you deepened it. The tips of your fingers lightly grazed the fresh bruises on his arms and face as they made their way to his hair. He shivers slightly from your touch as if he didn't expect it.

He had gotten into a fight with Hyuga due to a controversy between Daruma Ikka and Sannoh Hoodlum, the result of the fight was them both being exhausted and injured beyond belief. Bruises and wounds covered his body.

sorry it was shooort <3

m.list h&l list kinktober list

I apologize for what I am going to say to you, but I have to. I am Ahmed from Gaza, married with two children. We live in the shadow of war and destruction. I lost my brother, my home, and most of my relatives. We have nothing left. I ask you to help, even a little, so that we can survive and protect my children. Any amount, even a small amount, will save our lives.

Link in bio

https://gofund.me/991535b1

I’m so sorry you and others have to go through this, especially with losing your loved ones. I wish I could donate but I don’t have any money, hopefully whoever sees this will donate or help in some way they can. I’m not religious or anything but I will pray for you and the others going through this will get out safe and alive.

https://gofund.me/991535b1

https://gofund.me/991535b1

Hello, my name is Ahmad Al-Louh, and I am from Gaza. Before the war, I worked as a lawyer, dedicating my life to helping others, seeking justice, and defending the oppressed. Today, I am no longer the lawyer who protects others;

I am a father desperately trying to protect his children from the horrors of war.

My two little ones, Orhan and Helana, go to sleep every night to the sounds of bombs and missiles. All I wish for is to give them one more day of life. Just five dollars could be the difference between life and death for my small family. My parents, my siblings, my wife, and my children all depend on me, and all I ask is for you to stand by me in this nightmare we are living.

Please, help spread my voice. Help me save my children and my family. I hope my message reaches your hearts.

IM VETTED HERE

gofundme.com

Donate to Help save Ahmed's family from genocide in Gaza, organized by Kawthar Jad

I am Kawthar Y M Jadalhaq, a resident of Spain. I created this fundraising… Kawthar Jad needs your support for Help save Ahmed's family fro

I'm taking a break from tumblr but I just came on here to put a link to the Anti-Racism Movement of Lebanon to help African Migrant Workers part of the Kafala system (modern day slavery) who were left behind by their employers who fled. In some cases, their employers locked them in their houses and told them to watch after their belongings while the neighborhoods were literally being bombed and took their passports so the workers can't even flee Lebanon back to their homelands. The workers have also consistently been facing prejudice and racism — everytime they try to find shelter, they're kicked out because they're not Lebanese.

The Anti Racism Movement of Lebanon (@armlebanon on instagram) is trying to find ways to help these communities. Here is their account and a place where they're fundraising to try and help the Migrant workers.

https://fundahope.com/en/fundraisers/in-support-of-beiruts-migrant-community-center?fbclid=PAZXh0bgNhZW0CMTEAAaaYy6w076H2Oxot3daQsdTORYxJqvtTjPIOIsusiXOPEMY_Qn2q_awNRzI_aem_OPnPrb1zDWB1YaW-zB4biQ

Stop cause why is this kinda….

♯┆Mind Break .ᐟ ★ L.HS

⌜Synopsis⌟ You didn't know when or how it started , you were a kind soul , you had your own circle of friends , so why were you being picked on? High school was literal hell for you , it was so bad that you had dropped out in your last year — you couldn't handle it anymore. Years later , the past torture you had experienced was affecting you in your adult years , you needed a therapist who'd help you. Luckily , you didn't had to wait for too long , someone was able to take you in almost immediately — it was almost as if he was waiting for you. ⌜Contains⌟ Dark fic, (MDNI), Therapist!Hee, recap of the bullying (contains sensitive themes such as : sexual harassment , physical attacks), past bullying/ trauma talk, Yandere!Hee, manipulation, very mentally unstable reader, obsessive behavior , toxic themes, smut (contains ; implied corruption kink, big dick Heeseung, biting, Dom!Heeseung, fingering, virgintiyloss) , love bombing, abuse of power, mentions of suicide/ implied suicide attempt, topics such as (; Depression , anxiety , mental breakdown ), Heeseung is very fucked in the head and a creep ⌜Wordcount⌟ 9k ⌜Vampies Note⌟ Reminder that this is all fiction and not a true representation of the member! Read at your own risk as it does contain sensitive topics, I'm not responsible for what you consume on the internet. Please only fuck with this FICTION wise , if you happen to get into a situation like that irl run , please run for the love of god. Again , this is all fiction. I do not want to see comments about how fucked up I made Heeseung. You're reading this at your own risk. Feedback and reblogs are appreciated 💗

"My name is Lee Heeseung , I'll be your therapist for now and take you under my wing"

Ah.. why did this all come to this point?

"It's nice to meet you Mr.Lee"

"Oh please, let's get comfortable. Just call me Heeseung. So , when did it all start?"

Right... it all started in High school.

If someone asked you back then during high school how you liked it , you'd say you loved it. You had your own little circle of friends , got average to good grades, never ran into any trouble and were just a good student overall. Well , that was until everything stopped and a new era started, as if a dark shadow consumed you and dragged you down to the pits of hell. It all started with a variety of students picking on you — at first , it were silly compliments or words , at least that's how you viewed them until it dawned down on you that they were mocking you. They were mocking you and your appearance— "pretty little bow you have there in your hair, it makes you look soo innocent" , "oh what a nice color you painted your nails", "maybe if I'd wear my skirt as short as you did ,I'd also get good grades".

It didn't affect you back then , you'd just brush it off and keep to your friends. That's when the rumors started — "no wonder you get good grades , you're sleeping with the teachers!", "Oh , don't deny it. We saw you fixing your skirt when you left the teacher's room", rumors started going around that you were allegedly sleeping around with a teacher. The same Teacher got fired after a couple weeks but not because of you , he was in fact sleeping with female students , but not with you. You should've been happy that he got fired , but it sent a complete backlash towards you. Everyone believed the rumors that you were sleeping with the teacher , that you were the reason he got fired — but why you? You didn't do anything , what about the female students that actually slept with him? Why weren't they getting any backlash although they were the ones who seduced and slept with him for better grades?

Your friends started to distance themselves from you as the rumors kept piling up — "(Y/n) is a slut! She sleeps with teachers to get better grades!", "On your way to blow another teacher? Why don't you blow me instead?", "I bet you enjoy sucking cock , why don't you drop out of school and be a hooker?". You were slut shamed over rumors that weren't even true , but you were relieved that it was only verbal, key word were. It didn't take long for it to turn physical.

Girls were ganging up on you in the schools bathroom or locker rooms, they'd pull on your hair and kick you until you were curled up and sobbing on the floor. They'd grab your face and smear it across the mirror to ruin your make up whenever you decided to make yourself look pretty. "Even make up wouldn't help a face like yours". They'd snap pictures of your crying face and leave the bathroom while giggling amongst each other. Boys would dump water over you and say things like "Let's see what color of a bra you're wearing today", before snapping pictures of your soaked body — the white uniform shirt getting see through due to the water. They'd sit behind you and write things on the back of your uniform , such as : " 5 bucks and I'll suck your cock!" "I'm a sexy whore" "I like to get fucked anal".

Something that was once a place where you'd be happy to see your friends and spend your lunchbreaks with , turned into a place you'd wish to avoid. It all stopped when you didn't come to school anymore , having reached your breaking point and found yourself standing by a bridge , ready to jump any moment but a wrinkly hand stopped you. It was a sweet little grandma who hastily tried to stop you , what was such a sweet old lady doing here during the night? That was all you could ask yourself as you let her pull your weak body down from the railings. Maybe she was the Angel you've been asking for so long? You just wanted help , you just wanted to get out and work on yourself but you didn't had the support you need — with no friends and your parents living far away , you had no one , you were alone and all by yourself. It was as if heaven sent her to find you , to pull you out of that dark hole that had consumed you. She took you in and treated you as if you were her own daughter , she helped you drop out of school and did everything in her power to help build you back up.

But what were her motives? Simple : She lost her own daughter. Her daughter took her own life because of how deeply depressed she was , she couldn't handle it anymore. The old lady regretted not checking up on her as often , she regretted not being able to save her. The night she found you was the same date her daughter died , she came to the city to visit the graveyard her daughter was buried in during night time. She regretted not being able to save her own daughter , but she could save someone else's life.

Heeseung hummed to himself as he wrote every important detail down on the piece of paper clipped to his clipboard , his pen tapping against it as he finished writing — his glasses hanging low on he bridge of his nose until he pushed the frame up , his eyes shifting to look at you with a sympathetic look. "Must've been a very hard time for you , I'm happy to hear that your guardian saved you. How do you feel when you think back to High school? Any good memory or any particular memory that stuck with you until now?", you thought about his question , staying quiet as you pondered while looking down at your lap. You couldn't remember anything , it was as if there was a black hole in your head, a black hole that consumed every single memory you had starting when you entered the stage of puberty until now. The only memories you remembered where after high school , but there were some memory fragments that you could still remember from High school.

"Not really... more like fragments of memories , just single pieces but no complete memory", you mumbled as you kept your head hung low. You could hear the way his ballpoint pen danced across the piece of paper as he noted that down before his cushion seat made a small squeaking sound. "Don't keep your pretty head hung so low , I'm here to help you and get better. We'll start with looking at others while talking", he held his clipboard underneath your chin , tilting your chin up so he could see your face. His dark bangs fell over his eyes as he looked down to you with a encouraging smile. "That's it , you have such a pretty face. You don't need to hide it", with that , he removed his clipboard from under your chin and walked over to one of the medical cabinets, opening the glass door and reaching to grab the sphygmomanometer. You couldn't help but feel flattered by his words , no guy has ever complimented you but...wasn't this ... unprofessional?

"We're going to check your blood pressure now, roll your sleeves up for me", He sat back down next to you ,putting on some gloves before disinfecting the device while you rolled the sleeve of your pullover up to your shoulder. "Good girl", he smiled , wrapping the cuff around your upper arm and tightening it before pumping it with air , his hand squeezing the rubber bulb, his eyes focused on the manometer to make sure he doesn't pump it too full. Once again , you questioned if him calling you a good girl was unprofessional but even if it was — you weren't complaining , his praise and compliments made you feel a bit better about yourself. Once he checked your blood pressure , he removed the cuff and rolled your sleeve down for your , his touch lingering on your wrist before he got up to put the sphygmomanometer back in place.

"Your blood pressure is fine and seems to be alright. Now , let's get really started. I want to know how you used to be and how you are now. Do you still have the same interests , what are your thoughts when you think about the future, would you like to continue your academics , how do you feel when you're outside alone and all that. Take your time with answering ,our session will last for one and a half hour", with that , he sat back down on his armrest chair and put his sand hourglass upside down. Future ? You hated thinking about your future , back then , you loved it — you had already pictured working your dream job, have a family and live in a big house , maybe a family dog or cat but now..? You only saw black. Every singly future dream you had having been discarded , you didn't think you'd live for so long — with that in mind , you stopped thinking about your future.

You wouldn't be able to get your dream job considering you dropped out of high school and didn't get a diploma. Even if you would have graduated and gotten one — with how much your grades dropped , you wouldn't have been able to attend the college you wanted to go to. Your future was just complete darkness for you, there was nothing you could see , like a void in your head.

"I don't ... have any view regarding my future. I used to enjoy hanging out with my friends but... I don't have any now. I used to really like going outside and just take a walk but I also don't do that anymore. My interests.... they did change , yes. I mostly just spend my time with grandma. We live in the village so I help her with her gardening or other chores she has. I love spending time with her..", his eyes kept looking at you before he nodded and noted everything down again , a small sigh coming from him when he took note of how you looked back down on your lap. "Eyes up here pretty girl, that's it , such a good obedient girl", he smiled in satisfaction as you followed his soft demand , why does he keep praising you so much..?

"How about your academics? It says that you have dropped out in your last year of High school ,that means that you don't have a diploma and that you didn't graduate. Listen , you don't need to be ashamed. It's understandable why you have dropped out and you did it to keep yourself save. You were being such a strong girl for holding on for so long , you can and should be proud of yourself", his words spread a comforting warmth across your chest , his words were like a warm hug to your heart — were you finally being understood by someone that wasn't your sweet old guardian?

"I would like to continue my academics but ... isn't it too late for that now? Besides... I don't think that I'm ready for it yet", Heeseung shook his head upon hearing your words , placing his clipboard down on his lap before he pushed his glasses up.

"Don't think like that , it's never too late. You can take all the time you'll need until you feel like you're ready to continue your academics. There are multiple options for you to continue your academics. There are specific schools for people who don't have a diploma for a variety of reasons , you're not alone but it's something you can only accomplish because you really want to . I'll help you with it. (Y/n) , I'm not only your therapist to help you with your issues but you can see me as a social companion. I took you under my wing to help you with your issues and to help you with getting back on track. You can always call me or text me when you need help. When you're having a break down , you can call me and we can make a emergency therapy session. When you need help , I'm only a text or call away", you nodded a little with a small smile , he was so kind to you.

He was genuinely trying to help you , not like other therapists you had test sessions with — they only cared about getting their money , not about you or your issues. But Heeseung ... he was so different, as if he knew how you felt.

The session continued until the sand hourglass had run out. "Alright , so we'll have our therapy session once or twice a week, whatever works better for you. If it only works once a week or if you don't feel the need for two sessions a week , we'll have our therapy session every Tuesday at the same time as today. If it works twice a week for you , it'll be on every Tuesday and Thursday. You can always cancel the therapy sessions if you have an appointment on the days or if you're sick , just inform me at least a day prior. This is my business card , my number and email address is on it . Like I said , if you need a emergency session , call me immediately. If you need to cancel a session , text or call me at least one day prior the session", the two of you got up as he lead you to the door , stopping in front of it with his one hand on the door handle while the other held out a small card towards you — you took it and put it into your wallet with a small nod.

He gave you a small smile and opened the door for you, his other hand resting on the small of your back as he guided you out. "I'll see you next time then, don't be too hard on yourself".

Ring...

Ring...

"Hello?", the line finally picked up after what seemed like forever — yet you didn't say anything. "Hello..? (Y/n)..?", the voice called out again , his voice gruff and husky — how were you supposed to explain to him why you had called him at 2am in the morning..? You chewed your bottom lip nervously to fight back the little sobs that were threatening to come out, you felt helpless. Everything was okay until your past bullies had found your socials and were sending messages with attached images of the house you lived in together with your "Grandma", they have found you again after years — it felt as if your memories were coming back just to haunt you, oh how you wished that you hadn't looked at your phone after waking up in the middle of the night. You wanted to say something but you could only let out a shaky breath as you tried to calm yourself down , you could hear his bedsheets rustling on the other line as he presumably sat up.

"(Y/n)? Are you crying? Come on , be a good girl and take some nice deep breathes for me , okay?", his voice was dripping with honey as he spoke softly to you , guiding and easing you into calming yourself down — well , as calm as you could be. "H-Heeseung they—", your voice cracked a little as you tried to speak , hearing the way he let a small hum out. "Yes? They? Who are 'they' and what is with them? Tell me , sweetheart", Heeseung encouraged while he reached for a bottle of water so his voice wouldn't sound so rough anymore. You let out another shaky breath. "They found me Heeseung... t-they know where I am and have m-messaged me on my socials. My p-past bullies", you swallowed your spit before you continued to talk. "I-I don't know what to do , I'm scared that they'll d-do something again..", your voice was shaking , your eyes focused on peeking out of your window as the feeling of paranoia creeped over you — what if they were still there? What if they were outside of your house right this moment even if it was so late already?

"I'd offer an emergency session but... the building is currently under construction", Heeseung sighed softly before a couple seconds of silence followed. "Listen Sweetheart , you don't have to do this , I'm offering this to you as your therapist. Normally , I wouldn't do that but I don't trust you being all on your own right now. How about I pick you up and we'll have said emergency session at my house , how does that sound sweetheart?", you paused as you heard his words , needing a second to register what he said. Was this even allowed? Wouldn't that put him in risk of losing his job if anyone found out? Is that even professional...? Well.. he does have to help you , doesn't he?

"Isn't that ... unprofessional..?", he let out a strained chuckle at your question. "Well , yes it would be but I'd rather put my job at risk than have anything happen to you sweetheart. Do you trust me?", did you trust him...? Of course you did , all he's been doing was helping you , earning your trust and making you feel wanted and validated.

"Yes Heeseung... I do", you couldn't see the way his lips curled up in a smirk , satisfied with the reply he got. "Good girl... I'll keep you safe. Be a sweetheart and pack a bag for me, m'okay? Considering that they have found your current location , anything could happen to you, we wouldn't want that , right? Pack enough essentials and clothes that would last days", his words confused you , why would you need to pack a bag? "I'm not going to do anything against your will , this is for your safety. Now that everyone has grown up, they could do far worse than they did in high school. This is going to be a special treatment , a more intense treatment. You'll stay with me until it's safe for you again", you contemplated as you heard him continue to speak. Was this even right? But , even if it wasn't , he just wanted to help you, right?

"Okay... I'll pack my bag", his smirk only grew on his face , this is exactly what he wanted. "Good girl , I'll be there in 20 minutes. Take your time , I can wait in the car. No need to rush", with that , he hung up. Was this really happening? Would you really live with your therapist now? But... you felt save with that option. He was always so caring in each session the two of you had and with how paranoid you were about your bullies , you weren't able to even think twice about it. But what about your grandma? You'd just send her a text in the morning to notify her that you were given a more controlled and special treatment without giving out any details, this was putting his job on the line after all.

Time flew as you packed a medium sized bag with your clothes and essentials , looking up from your things as you heard a car parking in front of your house — Heeseung was here. You couldn't help but feel a wave of relief wash over you, he was like your knight in shining armor .... well , more like , guy in baggy clothes sitting in his bmw — still your knight regardless, oh what would you be without him. Luckily , he didn't need to wait for too long — you were quick with packing your bag up

"You've been crying a lot , haven't you? It's okay , I'm here now , I'll keep you safe", Heeseung reassured as you opened the passenger door and sat down on the passenger seat , a mix of shame and embarrassment washing over your face as you looked down at your lap. You felt ashamed that you were so scared that he decided to take you in for your own safety , ashamed that you had woken him up in the middle of the night just because you needed him , embarrassed that this was really happening and embarrassed that you weren't able to handle it alone.

"Oh don't have that expression on your face", his hand came into your view as he placed it on your knee , giving it a gentle rub. "I told you that you can rely on me , you can trust me. I'm your therapist after all", he assured before he removed his hand from your knee , moving it up to your chin before lifting your head up — his thumb gently gliding against your skin. "You look so pretty when you cry... a shame that those tears are for them. The only tears you should cry should be out of happiness", with that , he handed you a tissue and moved his hand to the gear , shifting out of parking and shifting into the right gear before he drove off.

The ride was silent , but it wasn't an uncomfortable silence. The further you got away from your house , the more at ease you felt. He had the music turned on a low volume , the songs in his playlist serving as a background noise — you couldn't help but sing along in your head as the song "we belong together" by Ritchie Valens played , enjoying the way Heeseung was humming quietly as well.

You wondered how in the world he managed to get to you in just 20 minutes , maybe he just drove fast? It took the two of you 40 minutes to reach his house — you felt a little surprised upon seeing where he lived. He didn't leave in the city or anywhere with a lot of people, he lived near a forest. Maybe he just didn't like the city? Maybe he liked to keep to himself. "Surprised?", Heeseung asked as he stood next to you , his hand reaching for the handles of your bag — his fingers brushing against yours , sending a jolt of electricity through your fingers.

"I— Well , I didn't think you'd live so far away from the city and more hidden from the public..", you mumbled as you looked at his house — it was big and modern looking , it probably just got build months ago. "What can I say? I like to keep private. The city is too busy for me , plus , the house I live in used to be my grandparents house. I got it re built since it had many issues due to how old it was ,so why not just make it a modern looking one?", he chuckled under his breath while he closed his car before motioning his head for you to follow him as he headed towards the front door. You looked around for another second before following him.

The house didn't only look modern from the outside , but from the inside as well. The smell of new house was still lingering , but it wasn't very strong. "I'm sorry for the smell , it's been months but the smell hasn't gotten out for some reason. The amount of room scents I have bought to cover the smell is ridiculous", Heeseung huffed a little while he took his shoes off , waiting for you to do the same before he lead you upstairs. "You can stay in this room for the meantime , I hope it has everything you need in case you forgot... any essentials", he seemed almost shy and embarrassed as he said that while he placed your bag down in the room.

The room looked ...weirdly prepared. It was very feminine looking , not too much but enough to show that it was intended to be a room for a girl. It was medium sized with a connected bathroom. "I already changed the bedsheets for you so you don't need to do that. This used to be my sisters bedroom in case she visited that it's a guest room now. If you need anything , my room is right opposite of yours. Make yourself at home", so that used to be his sister's room? Well , that explains it then. "Alright.. okay", you nodded your head while you still looked around the room for a little before he spoke up. "Are you hungry? Maybe eating something warm will make you fall asleep easier sweetheart. How about that , you'll unpack and get settled in. Maybe even take a nice little shower and I'll make us something, how does that sound Princess?", his generosity made you feel better , he was so kind to you. A warm feeling was spreading through your chest once again.

"That sounds nice ... Thank you Heeseung", you looked up to him and gave him a soft smile , a smile of his own spreading on his face — too bad that you missed the way something was hiding behind his smile. "Anything for you sweetheart. Oh and before I forget it , do not go into the basement. The stairs are unstable and I wouldn't want you to get hurt. And it's more of my personal office , I keep documents of other patients in there so you can't go into it due to privacy reasons", he informed you before he walked out of the room and closed the door behind him to let you get settled in.

You hummed to yourself as you once again gave the room a complete look over before you started to unpack your things , realizing what he meant with "forgetting any essentials" upon entering the bathroom — he really was caring. He stocked one of the drawers up with feminine products in case you'd get or have your period during your stay , a comforting warmth spreading through your body again before you set your clothes down on the sink counter and started to undress, ready to take a nice shower.

A proud smirk was on his face as he walked downstairs to the kitchen while humming to himself — he finally got you were he wanted you to be , in his trap. You fell into his trap and he would do anything to make his plan work , his plan? To make you his — a plan he has been working on for years and he would do anything to make it work.

It's as if it was yesterday when it all started , when he started to fall for you back in High school . Oh if only you had noticed him , it wouldn't have to be this way then. He fell in love with you the moment he saw you in school, a memory he held so dearly. You were behind the school , feeding a pregnant stray cat that would always linger around the school — hoping to dive into the dumpster and get something edible whenever the cafeteria threw the leftovers away. He started to grow obsessed and would stalk you everyday , following your shadows and observing you. He knew your routine , he knew your friends , he knew where you lived , he knew all your socials, he even found the company your parents worked at in a different country — he knew everything about you in only the span of a week.

He tried everything to get your attention , yet he has never been noticed.

His obsession and feelings for you only grew the more time had passed , he needed to have you , he needed to have you all to himself. You were easy to manipulate , so vulnerable and easy to break and mold — that was when his plan was put into action. It all started with him spreading rumors on anonymous accounts to the popular students with attached images that would support the rumors , knowing they would spread like a wild fire once the popular students would get their hands on them. But that wasn't enough , you were mentally too strong to let it get to you. That's when the bullying started. He'd anonymously pay a variety of students to bully you, specifically the bullies from your school. They didn't need an actual reason to bully anyone , they just did it for fun — but given the rumors spread about you , it made it all too easy for them to bully you.

He knew he finally succeeded the first step of his plan when you dropped out of school — that's when he found out that you were taken in by a old lady. That may have been a little obstacle in his plan , but it worked out for him. Now the next step was set into action. What was his next step? He studied hard in school and in college to get to the point where he was now , to be your therapist. He moved away from where he originally lived to be closer to you , he brought the old house of his grandparents back to life and designed one of the rooms to be your room.

It wasn't his sister's room , he didn't even have one nor did the room serve as a guest room , this was a room specifically designed for you. He knew he was going to have you at some point , he just knew it. His stalking never stopped , you just never noticed him. He knew every single step you took and once he heard that you needed therapy , he jumped at the opportunity. Without your knowledge, he had talked to your grandma and slipped her his business card while he was in disguise — everything was going according to plan.

He had to control his facial expression when he heard your voice on the other line , explaining that your grandma recommended him to you and if he was available for a new patient. Of course he was , every single patient he had beforehand was given to another therapist so he could always be there for you and you only. He was a dedicated man.

The fact that the bullies came back worked in his favor and for once , he didn't had anything to do with it. They found you on your own. There was so thing such as special treatment, it was a lie. This was just for him to have you to himself. He completely manipulated you and was working in molding you , which was working. You were so vulnerable , so broken and so insecure with such a negative mindset — it was almost too easy for him.

He was going to make you his , no matter what. You were already so dependent of him , you were already trusting him so much — it will be so easy to continue with his plan.

Heeseung could only smile successfully as he started to prep the meal , he just needed to make you fall for him now , but unbeknownst to him — you already were.

"It tastes really good! I didn't know you were such a good cook", you complimented his cooking as all the different flavors melted on your tongue — it may be a simple dish but anything home cooked tasted good. He could only chuckle from next to you as his eyes shifted to glance at you , watching the way you eating so happily. God did you look so cute. "You're such a messy girl", he took note of the sauce that was on the corner of your lips , shaking his head a little whenever you missed the spot with your tongue before he reached his hand out — his thumb swiping along the corner of your lips to removed the sauce before he licked it off of his thumb. Heat immediately rushed to your cheeks as he held eye contact with you as he licked it away, his gaze was so intense , almost piercing through you.

You could only curl your lips up in a tight lipped smile , feeling a little embarrassed and flustered from what just happened as you continued to eat. Heeseung leaned back into his chair with his arms crossed over his chest as he studied , moving one of his hands to your damp hair. "Let's dry your hair after you have finished eating Sweetheart, we wouldn't want you to catch a cold now ,do we?", he mumbled softly as he rubbed strands of hair between his fingers , his eyes shifting from your hair to your eyes — there was something in his eyes that you couldn't read. "Yeah , we don't want that..", you repeated his words softly whilst nodding to yourself. He could only smile in return , a smile of satisfaction.

Once you were done eating , you cleaned the dishes despite Heeseung saying that he could do it himself — you were basically living at his house for free now for that special treatment , this was the least you could do. "You're being such a good girl...", Heeseung praised as you sat down between his legs on the ground while he sat on the couch , having insisted that he would blow dry your hair. "How..?", you asked in return as you heard heard him plugging the blow dryer in. "You're listening well to me , you're so obedient for me. You even cleaned the dishes even though I said you wouldn't need to do it , you're so well behaved..", he mumbled as he placed his hands on your shoulders , giving them a gentle yet firm squeeze before he pulled you closer to him.

Your eyes closed as he turned the blow dryer on and gently brushed through your hair as he blew the warm air onto your damp hair , it all felt so soothing to you. Having someone taking care of you like that , being so gentle and kind to you , helping you with your tasks — it all made you feel so loved. You were in denial when you realized that you were starting to catch feelings for him — maybe you just felt that way because he was so caring to you? You tried to suppress your feelings for him, knowing that it could put his job at risk but he was already doing so by bringing you to his house to take proper care of you.

You felt so at ease , so comfortable with him — you trusted him with your life. The feeling of his fingers gently running through your hair combined with the warm air coming from the blow dryer was making you sleepy , your head lulling to the side until it leaned against his leg right next to your head. He only smiled to himself as he noticed that before he turned the blow dryer off once your hair was dry , shaking your shoulder gently. "Come on, let's get you to bed sweet girl", you could only let out a sleepy hum as you slowly got up from the ground , rubbing your eyes that were threatening to close any moment before they shot open in surprise — his arms were circled around you as he swooped you up in his arms.

"It's okay , I got you", with that , he made his way upstairs to the room you were staying in. He gently kicked the door open with his foot and laid you down on the bed , making sure you were laying comfortable before tucking you in — but as he was about to leave , your hand held onto the sleeve of his sweater. "Thank you ...Heeseung", he only smiled at your sleepy words and patted your head gently. "Don't mention it. Sleep well , sweetheart", with that , he lifted your hand up to his lips and pressed a soft kiss on the back of your hand before taking his leave , quietly closing the door behind him.

You were sleeping peacefully for once , blissfully unaware of what he was doing.

The lights were dim in the basement , the only bright source of light being his computer. The basement had a corkboard on the wall — a corkboard full with pictures he had taking of you over the years with red hearts drawn on them. There were no patient documents in the basement , there were only pictures of you. There was a shrine of trinkets he has collected from you that he had stolen — keychains , earrings , pieces of paper you drew on during lessons, pictures of you and your friends. The faces of your friends were scratched out and covered with a cut out picture of his own face. The basement was dedicated to you.

He covered his mouth with the back of his hand as he stared at the screen of his computer , watching the recorded footage of you showering. Oh how unknowing you were of the cameras he had put up around his house — he already planned everything out for your stay here. He should feel bad , any normal person would , but he wasn't normal. He was sick in the head , there was no denying that , he found pleasure in watching you shower.

His right hand was furiously stroking his leaking cock as his eyes were focused on the way your hands were caressing your naked body , your hands soaping up your pretty tits — the sight had him biting back a loud moan. He was already so close , so fucking close. He felt as if he was going to put any moment — and he did once your pretty pussy came into his view. Ropes of cum came spurting out of the slit of his cock , landing on his hand and on the surface of his desk. Oh how he wished he could just fill your pretty pussy up , make you pregnant and stay with him together forever — he was going to get there at some point , he was sure of it , but he wouldn't do anything without your consent. Sure , he was fucked up for everything he did , but he was still a gentleman somewhere. He just made you do everything on your own , he never once forced anything on you — this was all on your own will.

How did it come to this? You don't remember anymore. One second , you were crying in your sleep and apparently screaming , waking up to Heeseung's worried face as he shook you awake — and the next second , his lips were on yours.

It's already been over a week since you've stayed with him and you couldn't live any better than that. He took care of you, helped you whenever you had a mental breakdown, fed you , bought things for you whenever you needed something because he didn't think it was safe for you to go out yet. This was the special treatment after all, a more intense one that had you isolated in his house. But you didn't feel isolated at all. You were allowed to move around freely inside the house ,except for the basement , you were allowed to go outside as long as you stayed on his property — that being the pretty garden you had. Sure , some people may feel isolated but you didn't , this was pure heaven for you.

You didn't had to communicate with strangers, you didn't had to challenge yourself to go outside and buy things, you didn't had to worry about your bullies finding you again — you felt safe and free , he took care of everything for you.

Just like now , he was taking care of you. "Do you want me to distract you?", you nodded your head at his question as you could only let out a quiet sniffle , leaning into his touch as he caressed your cheek. "Words , sweetheart , give me words", the mattress of your bed dipped as he sat down on the edge of the bed. "Yes Heeseung... please distract me ..", oh he was so close to what he wanted, so so close. "Alright , I'll take care of you sweetheart , I got you. If I do anything you don't like , tell me and I'll stop", what did he mean with that?

His thumb gently wiped your tears away. "Can I kiss you?", at this point , you didn't even care if this was crossing the line of him being your therapist — you wanted it. You fell asleep at night thinking about kissing him , but you never did because he was your therapist after all. You didn't care anymore, you wanted him , you wanted him to kiss you , to distract you and take your pain away. "Yes please... please kiss me Heeseung", your words made his heart explode with excitement , he was getting so close to his goal and he knew by now that you had fallen for him. Everything that was going to happen now was because you wanted it — sure , he may have manipulated your mind but everything was working out for him, not only for him but for you as well.

He moved himself to hover above you , his arms resting on each side of your head before he slowly leaned in — he was going to savor this moment , the moment he was going to claim you as his. His nose brushed against yours as he just took the sight he had in — your teary eyes looking up to him so so innocently before they closed as his lips barely brushed against yours , your eyelashes resting on the apple of your cheeks, waiting for him to finally kiss you. His lips were soft against yours as he finally pressed them against yours , guiding your lips in a soft kiss. He knew that you have never kissed somebody , even if you did , he would just kiss you so hard that you won't even remember and erase any trace of them even if it was years ago.

A tingling feeling spread through your lips as his touched yours , your fingers holding onto your blanket as you didn't know what to do with your hands. Should you touch him? Where should you place your hands? So you just opted to holding onto your blanket. His kiss was slow and gently with a hint of possessiveness — his lips chasing yours whenever you pulled away for a quick breather.

He was taking such good care of you.

His right hand was moving to cup your face , tilting your head to the side to deepen the kiss as he poked his tongue out — the wet tip of his tongue tapping against your bottom lip, his blood pumping as you let out a soft sigh and parted your lips. God you tasted so sweet , must be the sweet tea he had given you to calm you down a bit. His grip on your face got a bit firmer as his tongue explored your mouth , tasting every single inch while his tongue glided against yours. Your fingers gripped your blanket tighter before you released your grip , your touch burning his skin as your hands glided along his back up to his nape. He couldn't stop the shaky breath he let out.

He broke the kiss and pulled away , pecking your lips as your lips chased his before he sat up — a thin string of saliva snapping off your lips. "Can I touch you? Take your mind away and make you think f other things?", his breathing was a bit ragged as he spoke , clearly worked up from the kiss. The fact that he was getting so worked up from just kissing you set a burning heat free inside your body , making you feel weird in the pit of your stomach.

"Yes, please — Touch me Heeseung", oh how he dreamed about hearing those words. "Yeah? Where can I touch you sweetheart?", he asked as he pulled the blanket to the side , the cool hair against your hot skin making you shiver a little. "Can I touch you here..? and here...? Where do you want me to touch you..?", he dragged his finger from your chest down to your stomach before moving his hands to grab onto your hips as he got himself comfortable between your legs.

You wanted him , you wanted and needed him so badly but you were too shy to say specifically where you wanted him to touch you. "Everywhere..."

"Everywhere? Even here..?", Heeseung mumbled , his voice a bit more rough as he lifted his right hand up and tapped against your clothed cunt with his finger — making you squirm underneath him. "Yes... please but Heeseung...", your mumbled words made him perk up , resting his hand back on your hip as he waited for you to continue speaking.

"I've never...", your voice trailed off as embarrassment washed over you , your eyes looking away from him — but he understood what you meant and it made all his blood rush down to his cock. "Never touched yourself..? Never got touched..?", Heeseung asked , a hint of hidden possessiveness laced in his voice. He knew that you have never touched yourself , at least not like that.

He can still remember the day he saw you humping your pillow while he was peaking through your window months ago , desperately trying to get off as you rubbed your clothed little pussy against the pillow.

You just nodded your head upon hearing his words, your face burning uncomfortable hot. "That's okay sweetheart , I'll show you what pleasure feels like if you want that?", you mumbled out a soft little yes as a reply. "Let's get you out of your clothes , you're starting to overheat. I can feel how hot your body is through your shirt", he grabbed your hips more firmly as he pulled you up in a sitting position. "Can.. Can we keep the lights off?", that was okay with him — he already memorized how your naked body looked.

"Of course we can", with that , he slowly started to undress you — but even with the lights off , you couldn't help but feel shy. Every touch or caress of his fingers on your bare skin left a lingering hot touch to it , every single soft rub of his thumb against your slowly hardening nipples had you letting out quiet little noises. Nobody has ever touched you like that. He made you feel secure , you trusted him.

"I got you baby , you're being such a good girl for me", his lips left burning kisses on your neck to distract you from his thick finger prodding at your weeping hole — god you were so fucking wet for him and he couldn't wait to bury his cock deep inside you. You were already so tight around just one single finger , a second finger being added to properly stretch you out. Again , he may be fucked up but he himself wouldn't want to cause any pain or discomfort for you. Which is ironic considering he was behind everything that happened to you , but you didn't need to know that.

"Are you close sweetheart? You clinging onto my fingers , just let go. I got you", he whispered into your ear before pressing a soft kiss against the shell of it , his thumb extending to rub tight , gentle circles against your clit. God how fucking tight you got when you came around his fingers , he sure as hell wasn't going to last once he had his cock inside you. He could cum just from thinking about how tightly your pussy would be gripping onto his cock. He could feel every single clench of your tight walls around his fingers as you came , your walls spasming.

"Heeseung please... I need more, I want you inside me", he had to bite back a groan at your words , you were already being so drunk and greedy for pleasure. "Are you sure..?", he asked , the feeling of possessiveness just growing bigger inside him as you whined out a yes. "Okay , let me get some things first..", he moved himself away from you as he got up from the bed to go to his bedroom , his hand pressing down against his cock as he had to hold it down with how hard it was.

He came back with a condom and a bottle of lube , better to be safe than sorry and especially since it was your first time — he didn't want to hurt you but he was sure to get you drunk off his cock and shape your pussy into the shape of it. He took his hoodie off along with his sweatpants and boxer shorts , grabbing your hand to guide it to his cock. He wanted to get you familiar with his cock and to make you aware of what was going to impale you. As your hand came into contact with his cock , it twitched and he groaned quietly as your hand curiously ran along the length of it and — my god , was he big.

"I'm asking you again , are you sure you want this?", Heeseung asked just to confirm your consent once again. "Y-Yes , please . Heeseung, I want it , I want you", his cock was already leaking before but it was leaking even more when he heard how much you wanted him — your voice so desperate and filled with need.

He made quick work with rolling the condom onto his cock , he didn't want to leave his darling waiting when she was clearly needing him so badly.

He lubed his cock up and spread some of the lube on your quivering hole , your body shuddering underneath him as the cold liquid came into contact with your burning heat. The bulbous head of his cock was pressing against your entrance as he positioned himself before he leaned down to you , his lips pulling yours in a heated kiss to distract you from any pain you may feel. Your hands came flying to his hair as he slowly pushed himself past your tight entrance , you felt as if you were getting split open by his cock — he was big , way too big for you to handle but that was something he'd work on later.

He only pushed a bit over half of his cock inside you , feeling the way your body trembled as he gave you some time to adjust before slowly thrusting his cock inside you. God did you feel good , so fucking good , better than in his dreams or any fleshlight he used, imagining that it was you. He really wasn't able to last long , this may be the quickest he ever came in his life — his thumb rubbing circles against your clit to get you to cum before him , holding back his own release.

A loud moan left your lips as he suddenly bit down on your shoulder , a shockwave of pain running through your body before it got replaced by pleasure as you pussy clenched around his cock — his hips chasing his own release before they stilled as he emptied himself in the condom , pressing his cock deeper inside you.

"Are you okay?", Heeseung asked as he carried you to his bed after having finished cleaning you up. You were worn out and exhausted , yet you have never felt better in your life. He always took such good care of you. "Yes... thank you", you let out a quiet yawn as he laid you down on his bed and dressed you in one of his shirts before laying down next to you.

You scooted closer to him , putting your head on his chest as the feeling of fatigue washed over you. "Heeseung...I love you... thank you", with that , said feeling fatigue pulled you into the land of dreams.

He did it , he finally did it. He got you , he got you exactly where he wanted , with him. All his hard work was finally being paid off. He was going to make you his forever now. His plan really worked , the plan he had been working on for years and he was never going to let go of you now. Never.

♡┆Taglist┆♡ @chlorinecake @jakesangel @heeswif3y @the-swageyama-tobiyolo @ive-cool @ikeujyn @alvojake @heeslomll @greentulip @zaihypen @shawnyle @rikislady

I usually don’t read angst but this is so good but so sad at the same time 😭😭😭

First Snowfall | P.SH

「prompt」 : countdown 「pairing」 : sunghoon x fem!reader 「word count」 : 1.8k

「synopsis」 : as the saying goes “all good things must come to an end” and you were the living enigma of that. you only had a limited time left in this lifetime, but you wanted nothing more than to spend it with sunghoon, your boyfriend.

「genre」 : angst, tiny bit of fluff

「warnings」 : kissing, petnames (baby, my love, honey...), mentions of cancer, death, mentions of depression, lmk if I missed anything!

Things in this world never truly go the way you expect them to, much less how you planned them to. No, the world is cruel and twisted, bringing agony to those who don’t deserve it and blessing those who have no right to hold those blessings. 

You had always thought that you could beat those odds, showing the world that it can’t control you and that you can make your own destiny.

-

“Don’t worry, mama, when I grow up, I’m going to make sure that you and Daddy have nothing to worry about!” That’s what seven-year-old you had told your mother as she lay weak in her bed, a sad but satisfied smile tugging on the corner of her lips. She was satisfied that she had raised such an amazing daughter, one that she knew would make it far in her life.

Even if she wasn’t there to witness it.

“Why is the world so cruel, Daddy? Mommy didn’t do anything wrong!” Nine-year-old you weep in your father's arms as you stood before your mother's grave, raindrops splattering overhead, but you can’t pay them any mind at the moment.

-

That was when you decided that no matter what the world would throw at you, you would fight it and live your life to the fullest. Go on all the adventures you have always dreamed of, marry an amazing man whom you love dearly, and have a few kids. A girl and a boy, you would tell yourself. Then you’d grow old with your husband, watching as your kids grew and had families of their own.

And it seemed like everything was going on the right path. You had found the love of your life, Park Sunghoon. Everything with him was perfect. You balanced each other out, and when one fell, the other was always there to pick them up. You had just graduated from school and were set on starting your dream job. Everything was perfect.

Until it wasn’t.

“We’re sorry, Ms. l/n, but you have stage four brain cancer.” The news had hit you like a freight train, you sat there, hands in your lap as tears streamed from your eyes and the comforting words from Sunghoon fell on deaf ears.

Who would have thought a few measly headaches would be the result of a terminal illness? Who would have thought that everything you did in your life to avoid this was all useless? Who would have thought that you would become the new laughingstock for the universe?

‘Oh look, this poor, measly girl thinks she can change her fate and fight all odds; well, let's see her fight this one.’

“How long do I have left?” You asked that dreaded question, hands tightly holding onto Sunghoon’s as you glanced up at the doctor with a misty gaze.

“Six months. A year if you’re lucky.” The doctor relayed the information, and it felt as if a bucket of ice had washed over your entire body. Your hands trembled as you tried to process everything.

All of those plans that you had made would never happen. Those two baby faces that you used to see so clearly were now blurry, fading away by the minute. The dream wedding that you have had planned out since you were a little girl was merely that. A dream.

Everything was ruined.

-

It took weeks for Sunghoon to get you out of your shared bedroom. He begged you to do things with him, but you declined every time, claiming you didn’t feel well enough and that you were sure he would grow tired of it all and just leave—leave you to waste away into nothing.

But he never did.

He stayed with you through everything. The doctor's appointments, the chemo treatments, the day that you broke down because your hair had started falling out, even the day that you had decided to shave it all away. He was there for everything.

“I promise that I will never leave your side. I will be with you until the very end.” Those words left his lips so carelessly as he bent down on one knee in front of you, the velvet ring box feeling like a hundred-pound weight in his palm, and he spoke those words you never thought you’d hear. “Even if we don’t get a lifetime together I still want to be with you, will you marry me?”

Tears streamed down your face as you repeated the same word over and over like a broken record.

"Yes."

-

And you got your dream wedding, a beautiful day in early fall, just as the leaves started to turn lovely shades of red, orange, and yellow. The temperature was perfect as your father walked you down the aisle to your fiance, who was beaming like a child on Christmas as he watched you walk towards him.

You were beautiful, absolutely gorgeous, and Sunghoon could have sworn he was the luckiest man on earth. His happiness grew tenfold with each step you took towards him, and he could have sworn his heart stopped in his chest as your father handed you over to him with a proud gleam in his eyes.

Time seemed to have slowed as you two shared your vows before the officiant announced you were husband and wife. Then you shared a sweet, beautiful kiss as everyone cheered and threw rose petals over each other.

Happiness wouldn’t even begin to cover what you felt in that moment, surrounded by those who loved and adored you. Married to the man that you swore you’d spend the rest of your life with.

While you stood there overlooking everyone around you with nothing but love, the little clock ticking down in the back of your mind seemed to have been forgotten.

-

Then the year mark passed, and you finally believed that you had beaten all odds and would beat this cancer. Even the doctors were impressed with all of the progress you were making.

You went into remission, and the doctors thought it was a miracle. They monitored you closely, but before too long, the doctor's appointments were reduced, and you were starting to get better and better.

That night was filled with celebration and a lot of happy tears shared between you and all of your loved ones. Most importantly, you shared an unforgettable night with Sunghoon.

“You did it, baby, just like I knew you could.” He whispered those sweet words to you as the both of you slipped off into a deep slumber, wrapped tightly in each other's arms.

Then, just like that, another year passed, and you still showed no sign of the cancer growing. You had beat all odds the universe had thrown at you. You have proved them wrong that you can change your fate.

Just like you were going to spend another year with your husband for his birthday in a few weeks. You had planned everything perfectly, to the cake flavor and design, the gifts and the dinner you would cook. It was going to be an amazing night for the both of you.

“It’s perfect, my love.” Those were the words that pulled a grin on your face as Sunghoon pulled you into his arms, placing a soft kiss on your forehead.

You wrapped your arms around his waist, enjoying the warmth that his body radiated until the savory smell of your dinner reminded you that it was still on the stove.

“Go sit down; I’ll fix our plates," you hurriedly told him as you pulled away and made a beeline for the kitchen, thankfully in time so nothing was burnt or ruined.

With a sigh of relief, you started adding the final touch before grabbing plates. It was then that you felt a dull pain in your head, causing you to grimace, but you chose to ignore it. It wasn’t anything but a small headache that you could take painkillers for in just a few moments.

Right?

Sunghoon had sat down at the dining table after kicking his shoes off and hanging his coat, checking his phone one last time before he powered it off to spend the evening with you. However, movement outside the window, his eyes brightened when he looked over. White snowflakes had started to fall from the sky, coating the grass in white dust.

The first snowfall of the year had happened on his birthday.

“Honey, look, it’s snow—” He started to call out to you but was interrupted by a loud crash from the kitchen, and his heart dropped.

Rushing around the table, he found your limp body on the ground, shattered plates surrounding your body. Dread washed over his entire being as he pulled your body into his arms, checking for a pulse, a small cry of relief falling from his lips when he found one, but it was faint.

-

It had come back. The cancer that you had thought you beat came back, and it was stronger this time. Your body was slowly shutting down, doctors rushing in and out of your room, trying their best to get you in a stable condition.

You were fighting as hard as you could to get control of your body once more, tears falling from the corner of your eyes as you looked at all of the unfamiliar faces with blurred vision. You tried to find Sunghoon in the midst of all of the unknown doctors and nurses, but no matter how hard you tried, he was nowhere to be found.

‘I’m sorry, Hoonie. If I could, I would trade anything to say a proper goodbye.’ 

You had prayed to anything and everything that you could fight just long enough to say goodbye, but you knew that your body wouldn’t make it. You knew that these were your last fleeting breaths. So you just turned your head to look out the windows where the snow was falling ever so peacefully, wishing nothing but the best for everyone. Even if you weren’t going to be there to see it.

And so that night, while the snow continued to flutter down to the earth's surface without a care in the world, you lay lifelessly on the operation table while the doctors tried their best to revive you while Sunghoon paced the hallway outside frantically, hoping that you would be okay.

Then everything went silent. The door finally opened, and Sunghoon stopped pacing to look at the doctor who had just walked out. He could tell by the solemn look on the doctor's face that you were gone, but he refused to believe it. You couldn’t be gone.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Park, we did everything we could, but we couldn’t save her.” 

But you were.

@alvojake | Do not steal, plagiarise, translate, or repost any of my work

𝖉𝖎𝖘𝖈𝖑𝖆𝖎𝖒𝖊𝖗 : ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪꜱ ɴᴏ ᴡᴀʏ ᴀ ᴛʀᴜᴇ ʀᴇᴘʀᴇꜱᴇɴᴛᴀᴛɪᴏɴ ᴏꜰ ᴀɴʏ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴇᴍʙᴇʀꜱ. ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪꜱ ᴘᴜʀᴇʟʏ ꜰɪᴄᴛɪᴏɴ ᴀɴᴅ ꜰᴏʀ ᴛʜᴇ ᴇɴᴊᴏʏᴍᴇɴᴛ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ᴀɴᴅ ɴᴏᴛ ᴛᴏ ʙᴇ ᴛᴀᴋᴇɴ ꜱᴇʀɪᴏᴜꜱʟʏ.

Fr though, calling people names are so immature. Haters/people like this are immature to begin with anyway, I just don’t understand people.

Delete ur blog bitch

No

AUUUGGHHHH

𝐁𝐀𝐁𝐘 𝐌𝐀𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆 - 𝐋.𝐇𝐒

▏pairings. heeseung x fem!reader

▏desc. baby making with your husband heeseung

▏warnings. SMUT mdni, pure flith, breeding kink, short little drabble

"Lift your hips baby. Yeah Just like that" Heeseung was towered over you his breath quick and chest heaving as he sat deep inside you. He had you at an angle pillow under your hips to lift you up slightly.

The two of you had seen this as a method to help in getting pregnant. Needless to say Heeseung was more than happy to try it out. Your legs sat on his shoulders his cock reaching unbelievably deep places.

"Fuck" You breathed pushing at his stomach just slightly the pleasure overwhelming your senses. "It's too much" You whined your hips lifting higher arching your back off the pillow as Heeseung started a brutal pace.

"You can take it baby-" Heeseung grunted attaching his hands to your hips to give himself leverage "Take this dick"

Your moans were high pitches as you allowed Heeseung to use your body in every way that he wanted. His pace was brutal but his words became sweet. He whispered in your ear small little "You're doing so good sweetheart" and "I can't wait for you to be swollen with my baby"

What was once a dirty filthy fuck turned into a soft love making, focusing on the task at hand which was to get you pregnant.

Your husband was completely fucked out his expression lewd, eye lids heavy lidden and mouth slightly ajar.

"I'm going to cum sweetheart" Your husband spoke in a rush, his voice raspy the echoes of skin slapping filling the room.

"Yeah?" You slurred wrapping your arms around Heeseung's pulling him impossibly closer to you. "You going to put a baby in me?" Your words were sultry causing Heeseung's hips to stutter against yours.

"F-fuck" He hissed out pace becoming unsteady "Fuck yes I am" He tried his hardest to keep his resolve but you could tell that he was slowly losing himself in the immense pleasure.

"You almost there baby?" He asked you, you nodded bringing you hand down to circle your clit the added stimulation inching you closer and closer to your end.

"Cum with me." He panted "Cum with me baby" He repeated his words a jumbled mess. "Fuck fuck you're going to be so beautiful pregnant baby.. fuck fuck" He was panting stilling his hips against yours roughly as he spilled inside of you.

"You're so deep!" You squeaked arching your back once again as you reached your end just meer seconds after him.

After taking a couple seconds to calm yourselves down Heeseung pulled out from you with a hiss. He sank to his knees in front of you core reaching his fingers to push his spend back into you.

"Have to make sure we don't waste a single drop baby" He said kissing the inside of your thighs before bringing his head back up to yours. He attached your lips to his in a quick kiss, the smile on his face as bright as you'd ever seen it.

"We should go again just to be sure" Heeseung smirked at you. You giggled wrapping your arms around his neck "Just to be sure” You nodded at him.

🚨🚨 Humanity Request!!!

Please help me to save the life of my one-year-old son Majd. Unfortunately, due to the war, my son suffering a chest crisis that is affecting his life, and he needs to travel as soon as possible so that we can save his life.

My Compaign verfied by 90 ghost, North Gaza updated and butterfly project line no. 406

Please Reblog my pin post and Donate

Thanks 🙏🍉

Hello!! I’m so sorry for everything :(( I’m keeping you and your son in my prayers always🙏🏻🙏🏻 Please guys let’s help those in need and share this !! Let’s do everything we possibly can !!!

HERE’S THE LINK TO DONATE !!! PLEASE SHARE & DONATE!!!

I like (not really) how from what I saw, nobody is boycotting the new tour…. Like…… really? I mean I get wanting to see them and every ring but, even I couldn’t just watch them preform when they literally look so fucking exhausted. It hurts seeing them so tired, and then there’s people who really don’t seem to care enough and just (enable? Is that the right word) give money to a Zionist. Because let’s be real, Scooter Braun is a Zionist and all of your money is going right into his pockets. (Along with literally belift and hybe..)

Is it just me that feels that way? Cause I really can’t stand it… seeing their company just wear them out like that, have back to back tours, no fucking breaks, constant promotions, have one member (Jay specifically) have an injured knee for a few months and continuously make him preform, suddenly care about said member when it causes you backlash and possibly no more money so that you HAVE to speak up, not because you care about him nor the group, only for money. Have another member faint (Ni-ki), and feel so exhausted to the point where he has to hunch over to catch his breath due to exhaustion (also Ni-ki in that one criminal love performance), have another repetitively wince due to soreness and still let him preform (Jake in again that one criminal love performance), also have said member barely keep his eyes open either in a promotion shoot (Jake again), also have another member get mistreated by a staff/maybe bodyguard (Sunoo) repeatedly and still not do a fucking thing about it. OOP ALMOST FORGOT— have Heeseung very clearly sounding sick while preforming as well, and still not letting this boys rest because their suffering gets you more money.

Call me overdramatic all you want, say “oh it’s their job” all you want. But they’re fucking humans, not robots. They get overworked constantly, along with MANY other groups (but Enhypen is the one I’m talking about because they are the topic of my discussion). And still we have “fans” just continuously either but albums, tickets, etc. when all it does is enable BELIFT/Hybe to overwork them. All they care about is money (hybe not enhypen), all they care about is streams and plays, they don’t care about Enhypen’s well being. As long as they profit off of their suffering everything is ‘all fine and dandy’ when it’s really fucking not. The same goes to fans who are literally going to their new walk the line tour. All they care about is entertainment and watching their favs preform, not their actual well being.

For me, I care about them as people. I love the boys, with my whole entire heart. Don’t mistake me for an anti or anything, because I’m not. But is it really hard to NOT buy any albums? To not buy any tickets? For me it’s not, all I want is for them and possibly other groups to fucking rest for one without getting milked for money. Them (Enhypen) along with many other groups (like txt, etc) are being mistreated either by the staff or whoever is in charge, possibly getting sexualized in some way because it’s fucking hybe let’s be real, or getting severely overworked and have unhealthy dieting issues because image and looks matter so much rather than their actual health.

All I want is for the boys to take a long ass break, not have another fucking comeback after the one they just fucking had that the company had so much problem promoting to begin with.

Holy shit this is so good—

OFF THE FIELD ➽ L.HS | 18+

PAIRING: football captain ! lee heeseung x tennis player ! afab reader. GENRE: smut, friends to lovers. SYNOPSIS: being friends with heeseung was hard, especially when you couldn't help but want to get fucked by him. but the plan turned into something else when you accidentally made him jealous. WARNINGS: smut, nsfw, mdni, friends to lovers, unprotected sex (please don't), kisses, contains cuss words, sexual content, fingering, boob play, dirty talk, pinning, marking, public setting, bondage, blind fold, hand cuffs, physical punishment, food play, rough, jealousy, possessiveness, lmk if I missed anything. WORD COUNT: 5.1k. (a/n: help— I just had this random idea and knew that I needed to make it asap. so here it is, I hope it's not too boring <3)

Being friends with Heeseung was hard. Not because you were envious of the girls who constantly fawned over him, but because your desire for him had grown into something you couldn’t ignore. Every smile, every laugh, every touch lingered in your mind long after you’d left his side, haunting you with the fantasy of what it would be like to have more. To have him.

The thought had become an obsession, one you indulged whenever you found yourself alone in your room, the door locked and curtains drawn. Today was no different. You lay sprawled across your bed, legs parted and back arched, with your clothes discarded in a messy heap on the floor. A smutty book was held in one hand, its pages creased from how often you’d returned to the same scene—the one that always set your imagination ablaze.

"His knee placed itself between her legs as she grinded against it, ruining his pants." The words sent a shiver down your spine, every line feeding the vivid image in your mind, only it wasn’t some faceless character; it was Heeseung. It was always Heeseung.

Your free hand moved with practiced ease, fingers pumping in and out of your wet heat as you tried to mimic what you thought his touch would feel like. Your breath hitched, lips parted as you gasped softly, the dull sound of your slick movements filling the quiet room. You pressed your fingers deeper, arching into the sensation, desperate to chase the high that only thoughts of him could bring.

You imagined his strong hands on your hips, his knee pressing between your thighs, guiding you with that confident smirk you knew all too well. The idea of grinding against him, of feeling the hard muscle of his leg beneath you, made your core tighten, a rush of heat flooding your senses. You quickened your pace, fingers curling just right, as you let the fantasy consume you completely.

Your head fell back against the pillow, your moans growing louder, more desperate. You could almost hear Heeseung’s voice, low and teasing, urging you on, telling you how good you felt, how perfect you were for him. The thought of him seeing you like this, legs spread and completely undone by the mere idea of him, sent a jolt of pleasure through you.

You bit your lip, trying to stifle the sounds escaping your throat as your hips bucked against your hand, the tension building rapidly. The book slipped from your grasp, forgotten as your need overtook you. You closed your eyes, surrendering to the fantasy fully—Heeseung’s weight above you, his breath hot against your neck, the rough drag of his knee between your thighs, and the deep, aching pressure of him finally inside you.

Your climax hit you suddenly, your whole body tensing as you cried out, your fingers working frantically to prolong the blissful wave of pleasure. The image of Heeseung burned brightly behind your eyelids, his name almost slipping from your lips in the throes of your release. As the intensity slowly ebbed, you collapsed back onto the bed, chest heaving and skin flushed, still haunted by the lingering sensation of what it would be like to have him for real.

You lay there, the room heavy with the scent of your arousal, heart still racing as the reality of your solitary pleasure settled in. Being friends with Heeseung was hard, but wanting him like this, with every fiber of your being, was so much harder.

“All the best for the match,” Heeseung said, his voice smooth and confident as he flashed you a smile that made your heart stutter. His dark eyes sparkled with a warmth that always seemed to melt your resolve, and for a moment, you found yourself lost in the depths of his gaze. Heeseung was effortlessly charismatic, his presence commanding the space around him, and you couldn’t help but get caught up in his orbit every time.

“Hmm…” was all you managed to mutter in response, your voice barely above a whisper. You tried to play it cool, but the way your breath hitched gave you away. Heeseung didn’t seem to notice, though—or if he did, he didn’t let on. He just gave you a playful wink before jogging off towards the football field, the muscles in his legs flexing with every stride, his figure quickly swallowed by the throng of players warming up.

You tore your gaze away, feeling the heat creep up your neck. You had your own match to worry about, and lingering thoughts of Heeseung wouldn’t help your focus. With a resigned sigh, you made your way to the locker room. The hallway was quiet, the distant echoes of sneakers squeaking on polished floors and the faint shouts from the football field filtering through.

Inside the locker room, you changed into your tennis outfit—short white pleated skirt, a fitted top, and mini shorts underneath to maintain your modesty. As you slipped on your wristbands and tied your hair back into a neat ponytail, you took a moment to steady your breathing.

Your fingers brushed the smooth fabric of your skirt, and you couldn’t help but feel a flicker of confidence. The outfit was both functional and flattering, hugging your form in all the right places, and it gave you a sense of poise as you prepared to step onto the court.

You walked out into the bright afternoon light, your tennis racket in hand, and approached the court where your match was set to take place. The air was electric, a blend of anticipation and the faint scent of freshly cut grass.

Spectators lined the perimeter, their eyes following every move with rapt attention. The rhythmic thud of tennis balls against rackets echoed, mingling with the occasional cheer or gasp from the audience. You could feel the pressure of their gazes, the silent judgment of each swing, each step.

As the match began, you moved fluidly across the court, your feet light and quick on the asphalt. Each time the ball soared toward you, you met it with a sharp, confident strike, the satisfying crack of your racket cutting through the air. Your skirt fluttered with each pivot and jump, but your mini shorts kept you secure, shielding you from the scrutiny of wandering eyes.

The game demanded all of your focus; your senses were attuned to the rhythm of the ball, the strategic placement of your opponent, and the calculated timing of each hit.

Despite the concentration required, your mind kept drifting back to Heeseung. You couldn’t help but wonder if he was watching, even from afar. Was he thinking about you the way you were about him? The tension between you two had been palpable lately—small, lingering touches, the way his eyes would darken when they settled on you for too long, and the subtle, unspoken pull that drew you closer every time.

The sun bore down on you, beads of sweat trickling down your temples, but you powered through each rally, refusing to let fatigue show. The crowd's murmurs grew louder with every successful shot you made, your confidence swelling with each point won. As you neared the end of the match, you saw a familiar figure out of the corner of your eye—Heeseung, standing just outside the crowd, his arms crossed and his gaze fixed intently on you.

He was dressed in his football uniform, his hair slightly damp from practice, and the way his jersey clung to his frame made your pulse quicken. Heeseung’s expression was unreadable, a mix of concentration and something else, something deeper that made your skin tingle. You felt a surge of adrenaline, the heat of his gaze adding fuel to your movements.

With one final, decisive swing, you sent the ball flying past your opponent, sealing your victory. A round of applause erupted, but all you could focus on was Heeseung. He uncrossed his arms, clapping slowly, a small, proud smile tugging at the corners of his lips. As you made your way off the court, you could feel the flush in your cheeks, partly from exertion but mostly from the thrill of knowing he had been watching.

Heeseung met you at the edge of the court, his eyes gleaming with a mix of admiration and something else—something that made your stomach flutter. He stood close, closer than usual, the faint scent of sweat and grass clinging to him, and you could feel the tension crackling between you like static.

“You were amazing out there,” he said, his voice low and warm, carrying that same electric charge. He reached out, tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear, his fingers brushing your skin in a way that sent shivers down your spine. “Really. You kicked ass.”

“Thanks,” you replied, your voice trembling slightly under his intense gaze. His hand lingered near your face, and for a moment, you thought he might pull you closer. Your breath caught as his thumb brushed against your cheek, lingering just a second too long, his touch soft yet charged with unspoken intent. The way he looked at you, as if he was fighting the urge to lean in and close the distance, made your heart pound in your chest.

“What’s on your mind?” he asked, his voice husky, his eyes searching yours as if he already knew the answer.

“Just… thinking,” you murmured, unable to meet his gaze directly. You were painfully aware of how close he was, the heat radiating off his body, the way his presence seemed to engulf you entirely. Your fingers tightened around your racket, a flimsy attempt to anchor yourself against the overwhelming urge to lean into him, to let the magnetic pull between you finally snap into place.

“About what?” Heeseung pressed, his voice dropping lower, his breath fanning across your cheek. His proximity was intoxicating, every nerve in your body alight with the promise of what could be.

“About… us,” you confessed, barely audible, but Heeseung heard you. His expression softened, his gaze flickering between your eyes and your lips, as if weighing the gravity of your words.

Heeseung’s hand slid to the back of your neck, his thumb tracing light circles that sent sparks skittering down your spine. He leaned in, his forehead resting against yours, the space between you charged with a simmering tension that begged to be broken.

“I’ve been thinking about us, too,” he whispered, his lips just a breath away from yours, the air thick with unspoken desire. The world around you blurred, the noise of the crowd fading into a distant hum as the two of you stood there, caught in the precipice of something more.

As you stand in the dimly lit boy's changing room, the mirror in front of you reflects the surreal scene unfolding. You didn't know how it happened or when it happened but right now, Heeseung, your best friend, has you pinned against the lockers, your legs wrapped around his waist as he holds you up.

His fingers, long and thick, are buried deep inside you, eliciting gasps and moans from your lips. The smell of sweat and testosterone fills the air, mingling with the scent of your arousal. Heeseung grunts softly, his breath hot against your neck. "You're so tight," he growls. "Like a vice around my fingers." His hips buck against you, his hard length rubbing against your thighs through his football shorts.

You bury your face in his neck, your fingers clutching at his broad shoulders. "Feels so good," you pant. "More, Heeseung. I want more." Your words spur him on, and he adds a third finger, stretching you wide.

Heeseung starts to pump his fingers in and out of you, his thrusts deep and relentless. The sound of his fingers slamming against your pussy echoes through the changing room, mixing with your cries of pleasure. Your legs tremble around him, your toes curling as he hits that sweet spot inside you.

Heeseung's voice is low and commanding. "You like that, baby? You like me stretching out your little hole?" His dirty talk sends shivers down your spine. You nod, unable to speak, and bite down on his shoulder to muffle your moans.

With a grunt he pulls down his shorts along with his boxers, Heeseung lifts you higher and aligns the thick head of his erection with your slick opening. He pauses, his dark eyes locked onto yours in the mirror's reflection. "Ready for me, love?"

He slowly pushes into you once you nod eagerly, the stretch sending a rush of pleasure through your body. You throw your head back, letting out a loud moan as he fills you completely. His cock throbs inside you, the sensation making you quiver.

Heeseung grips your hips tightly, his fingers digging into the flesh. "Look at us," he growls, nodding at the mirror. You look up, your eyes meeting his intense gaze in the reflection. He begins to thrust into you, slowly at first, then harder and faster. As Heeseung fucks you, the sound of your slapping skin and heavy breathing fills the changing room. Your breasts sway with each thrust, your nipples hardening into tight peaks inside your sports bra.

He reaches up to unhook your bra, throw it away and caress your breasts, his fingers brushing against your rigid nipples. You mewl at the sensation, your body tensing as pleasure courses through you. Heeseung's grip on your hips tightens as his pace quickens. "Touch yourself," he demands. "Play with your pretty little pearl while I pound into you."

You obey, reaching down to rub your clit in tight circles. The combination of Heeseung's thick cock and your own fingers sends you hurtling towards an intense orgasm. Your legs shake, your walls clenching around his dick as you scream in ecstasy. "AH! AH! AH!"

Heeseung's face contorts with pleasure as your inner muscles milk his flesh. He lets out a low growl, his voice hoarse as he rasps, "You're going to make me come, baby. Keep squeezing me like that." His words egg you on, and you tighten your legs around him, pulling him deeper with each thrust. He buries his face in your neck, his teeth sinking into your skin as he reaches his peak. He grunts loudly, his hips jerking as he spills into you.

As he finishes, you feel his hot cum filling your pussy, the sensation pushing you over the edge into another intense orgasm. You scream his name, your body shaking violently as wave after wave of pleasure crashes over you. "HEESEUNG! HEESEUNG!"

Heeseung catches his breath as he slowly pulls out, a smug grin on his face. He watches as his cum drips down your inner thighs, leaving you feeling deliciously dirty and satisfied. "Damn."

The entire week had passed in an agonizingly slow blur, and the tension between you and Heeseung was almost unbearable. After finally crossing that line with your best friend—exploring the boundaries of friendship in ways you’d only ever fantasized about—he seemed to vanish from your life entirely.

He didn’t call, didn’t text, and somehow always seemed busy or just plain uninterested whenever you crossed paths. It was driving you crazy. Did he regret it? Did he not enjoy it? Was he simply avoiding the awkwardness? A dozen scenarios ran through your mind, each more unsettling than the last.

Tonight, you were at a party hosted by a mutual friend, a buzzing, crowded house filled with laughter, loud music, and the faint scent of spilled beer. You found yourself in a conversation with Jay, whose playful grin and easygoing charm had always put you at ease. He had an arm casually slung over your shoulder, his presence comforting yet strangely thrilling, as he ruffled your hair in that friendly, older brother kind of way. “You’ve been working out, huh? Your muscles are so big, Jay,” you commented, giving his bicep a squeeze.

You didn’t notice the way Heeseung’s eyes narrowed from across the room, his jaw set in a hard line as he watched the interaction. Jay chuckled, leaning in just a little closer, his breath warm against your ear. “Sweetheart, I’ve got something else even bigger,” Jay teased, a smirk playing on his lips.

Your cheeks flushed a deep crimson, caught off guard by the sudden flirtation, and you quickly turned your gaze away, hiding your embarrassment behind a shy smile.Heeseung’s grip on his drink tightened, his knuckles whitening. Every laugh you shared with Jay felt like a deliberate jab, every touch like a betrayal. He tried to play it cool, leaning against the wall with a casual air, but his eyes told a different story—one of jealousy, frustration, and a growing sense of possessiveness that he couldn’t quite control.

By the time the party ended, Heeseung was practically seething. He watched as you politely waved goodbye to Jay, who winked at you before heading off with a carefree swagger. You didn’t see the way Heeseung’s gaze followed Jay, almost daring him to look back, but it didn’t matter—Jay was oblivious, and you were already heading toward Heeseung’s car.

The drive was tense, the silence between you thick and suffocating. Heeseung’s grip on the steering wheel was firm, his knuckles still pale. His eyes remained fixed on the road, but the stiffness in his posture screamed of pent-up anger and something more—a wounded pride, perhaps, or the sting of seeing you so easily entertained by someone else.

“So, you like Jay or what?” Heeseung finally spoke, his voice laced with a bitter edge that you didn’t immediately catch. You turned to face him, brow furrowing slightly at the question.“I mean, he’s good,” you replied honestly, oblivious to the storm brewing beside you. “He’s nice. And he’s a gentleman.”

Heeseung let out a humorless laugh, shaking his head as he tightened his grip on the wheel. “Gentleman? That guy was undressing you with his eyes the entire night.”

You shrugged, not really sure where this was coming from. “Not that I mind.”

Heeseung’s jaw clenched, a muscle ticking just beneath the skin as he fought to keep his composure. “You don’t mind?” His tone was sharp now, the undercurrent of jealousy unmistakable.

“Hm,” you murmured, looking out the window, trying to ignore the tension between you. It felt suffocating, and for a moment, you wondered if maybe you had pushed too far. But then again, Heeseung had been ignoring you first.

Heeseung exhaled harshly through his nose, the car suddenly feeling too small, too cramped. “You’ll regret that answer,” he muttered, more to himself than to you. You glanced over at him, catching the flicker of something dark and possessive in his eyes—a promise of payback, of making you realize just how much he wanted you to be his, and only his.

He pulled the car abruptly into an empty parking lot, the tires screeching slightly as he parked with more force than necessary. Before you could question what was happening, he was out of the car, rounding the front with long, determined strides. He yanked open your door, the sudden rush of cool night air sending a shiver down your spine.

“What are you doing?” you asked, startled as Heeseung pulled you out, his grip firm yet careful, his eyes blazing with something you hadn’t seen before.

“Showing you exactly why you don’t need Jay,” Heeseung replied, his voice low, almost a growl, as he backed you up against the side of the car. His hands found your waist, fingers digging in just enough to send a spark of anticipation racing through your veins. He leaned in, his breath hot against your ear as he whispered, “I’m the only one you should be thinking about.”

Before you could respond, his lips were on yours—demanding, urgent, and filled with all the frustration and desire that had been building up between you. His hands roamed freely, tugging at your clothes with an impatience that spoke of his need to claim you, to remind you that he was the one who knew you best, who could make you feel this way.

There, against the cold metal of the car, you felt the full force of Heeseung’s jealousy and longing, the heat of his touch igniting every nerve in your body. He kissed you like he was trying to prove a point, his mouth hot and insistent against yours, each kiss a reminder that no one else could ever compare.

As his hands slid under your shirt, his touch leaving a trail of fire in its wake, you realized that Heeseung had no intention of letting you forget what you shared. He wasn’t just your best friend anymore—he was the one who had seen you, wanted you, and wasn’t afraid to fight for you. And in that moment, you knew that whatever this was between you, it was far from over.

Heeseung watched you squirm with a mixture of frustration and desire. He had wanted to punish you, to make you feel a fraction of the hurt he'd felt when he saw you with Jay. He paced around the room, his jaw clenched, hands balled into fists.

He paused by the dresser, running his fingers over the cold metal handcuffs. A dark thought crossed his mind, and he picked them up, along with a silk blindfold. He approached the bed, his steps heavy with intent.

He gently lifted your head, securing the blindfold over your eyes before turning his attention to the handcuffs. He fastened one to your wrist, the cold metal biting into your skin. He then attached the other end to the headboard, leaving you helpless and trapped.

You whimpered softly, your heart racing with fear and anticipation. Heeseung's breath was hot against your ear as he leaned in to speak. “You're going to stay like this until I'm done punishing you,” he whispered, his voice low and menacing. “And I'm just getting started.”

He dragged his fingers down your arms, your sides, your thighs, igniting goosebumps on your skin. He paused at your knees, lifting one leg and placing it on his shoulder. You felt exposed, vulnerable, as he ran his hands up your inner thigh, his touch maddeningly light.

Heeseung continued his merciless punishment, his hands and objects unknown to you, working in tandem to break you down emotionally and physically. The blindfold and handcuffs left you at his mercy, unable to escape or even anticipate his next move.

First, it was the ice. He trailed cubes up your thighs, over your belly, and between your breasts. You hissed at the cold touch, writhing on the bed. He chuckled darkly, “Cold, baby?” Without warning, he pressed an ice cube against your warm, wet center. You gasped, the sensation intense and overwhelming. You heard the clinking of ice against a glass, and then his voice, “You're so hot, and I'm making you cold. How does that feel, hmm?”

He held the ice cube against your pussy for what felt like an eternity, the cold seeping into your core. Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes as the pain and discomfort mounted. Every now and then, he'd press the ice cube against your clit, making you scream into the blindfold.

“Please, Heeseung, I can't take it anymore!” you pleaded, your voice shaking with tears. “Shut up,” he replied coldly, pressing the ice cube against your sensitive clit once more. ”You're not allowed to speak until I say so.”

You bit your lip to keep from crying out, your body tensing as he continued the torturous punishment. He ran the ice-cold cube up and down your folds, sometimes slowly, sometimes quickly, never giving you what you truly wanted. “Heeseung, please...”

Heeseung silenced you with a sharp tap on your inner thigh. “I thought I told you to shut up,” he growled. “Now, you've earned yourself a little extra punishment. Open your mouth.” You hesitantly parted your lips, and he slid the ice cube into your mouth.

Heeseung watched as the ice melted against your tongue, a cold tear trickling down your cheek. “Now, I'm going to fuck you with this vibrator,” he announced, pulling a sleek black toy from his pocket. Heeseung's words sent a shiver down your spine, the unknown heightening your senses. You felt the cool silicone toy press against your entrance, and you clenched your teeth around the melting ice cube in your mouth. He slowly pushed the toy inside you, inch by inch, stretching you deliciously.

"Now, let's see how long you can keep quiet,” Heeseung taunted, turning the toy to a low hum. Your breath hitched as the vibrations washed over you. He leaned close, his breath warm against your ear. “Remember, no speaking, no making a sound, no matter what.”

Heeseung's eyes glinted with determination. “This is going to be a long punishment.” He circled the vibrator around your clit, making you squirm in his grasp. Then he began to thrust it in and out of you, gradually increasing the speed. Your mouth was still stuffed with the melting ice cube, and you desperately tried to stifle your cries as the toy battered against your g-spot. Heeseung added the ice cube to the mix, pressing it against your asshole while the vibrator continued its merciless assault on your pussy.

Sweat beaded on your brow as you bit down on the ice to muffle your whimpers. The cold and heat mixed within you, overwhelming your senses. Heeseung intensified the torture by slapping your thighs and breasts, leaving reddened marks on your skin. Your hands were cuffed above your head, leaving you helpless and at his mercy. You begged and pleaded, desperate to touch him, to feel his cock against your lips, but Heeseung remained firm. “Not until you learn to keep quiet,” he hissed, the vibrator still buzzing furiously inside you.

With each unfulfilled thrust, your resolve crumbled. You let out a muffled cry, your body bucking against the handcuffs and the cold sheets. Heeseung paused, his face hard. “Looks like someone needs more training.” Heeseung pulled the vibrator out of you, leaving a shivering and needy mess. His fingers traced your thighs, up to your hips, to your breasts, and finally to your jaw. He squeezed it gently before whispering, “Beg me again.”

You were already panting and desperate, but you mustered your strength and whispered, “Please, let me touch you. Please, I need you inside me.” Heeseung smirked and slowly lowered his head between your thighs. Heeseung's tongue traced circles around your clit, driving you to the brink of madness. You arched off the bed, straining against the handcuffs as he increased his tempo. Your cries became moans, then sobs as the pleasure became almost unbearable.

Just as you were about to shatter, Heeseung stopped. He rose from the bed, leaving you breathless and unfulfilled. “Not yet,” he said coolly, and walked out of the room. You heard the distant jingling of keys and the hum of the refrigerator. Moments later, he returned, carrying a tub of ice cream and a spoon. “Since you can't keep quiet, maybe some cold dessert will help,“ he taunted. He sat beside you and slowly fed you spoonfuls of the cold, sweet ice cream, ignoring your frustrated whimpers.

Heeseung scooped another spoonful and held it above your mouth. As you opened to accept it, he gently pressed the cold treat against your lips, then trailed it down your chin, across your chest, and between your breasts, coating your skin with the sticky sweetness.

He continued to spread the ice cream over your body, circling your breasts, pinching the hardened peaks, then dragging the cold, wet spoon down your quivering belly, and finally, parting your thighs to coat your swollen, throbbing folds.

He traced the edge of the spoon along your nether lips, leaving a cold, tingling sensation in its wake. You gasped, arching your back, moaning softly as he began to tease you using the ice cream as his tool. Heeseung's voice dripped with cold intent. “You wanted to touch him, did you not?” He slowly spread more ice cream over your feverish skin. “You called his muscles big? Well, now you'll learn the difference between boyish arms and a real man's physique.”

His touch grew harsher, his breathing heavier. “Every time you disobey, it'll be ice cream and cold showers. And you'll only get to touch me when I say so.” He lowered his head, his breath cooling the icy mess on your belly. “Understand?”

You nodded quickly, tears pricking at your eyes as he used the spoon to scoop up a generous helping of ice cream. He held it over your face, the cold droplets falling onto your cheeks and nose, before he pressed the spoon against your lips, forcing you to open wide and receive the punishment. As you lay there, blindfolded and handcuffed, you felt him lean closer. His breath tickled your ear as he whispered, “I'm going to teach you to appreciate what you have.” You heard the spoon clatter onto the table before his mouth was on yours.

He licked the ice cream from your lips, his tongue cold and demanding. He sucked on your tongue, his mouth moving to your cheek, his nose rubbing against your tears. He then moved down to your chin, licking the ice cream from your skin before moving to your neck, leaving a trail of cold kisses.

Heeseung gripped your thighs, his fingers digging into your flesh as he buried his face between your legs. He licked and sucked the ice cream from your folds, his tongue cold and unyielding. He nipped at your tender flesh, then soothed it with slow, languid strokes. He moved up to your chest, his mouth closing over a hardened nipple. He sucked the ice cream from your breast, his teeth scraping against your sensitive skin. He then moved to the other breast, giving it the same treatment before standing up and slapping your pussy with the cold, wet ice cream.

You hissed at the sudden cold and the sharp slap. He chuckled darkly. “Count,” he ordered, his voice cold. “And if you forget to, I'll start over.” He raised his hand, the cold, wet ice cream dripping from his fingers. “Ready?”

You nodded, bracing yourself. “One!” you cried out as the cold, sticky mess hit your core. He slowly dragged his fingers down, spreading the ice cream, then slapped your wet flesh again. “Two!” you moaned.

He continued the slow torture, his voice growing colder with each count. “Three... Four... Five...” Each slap was followed by the slow drag of his fingers, spreading the cold, melting ice cream. Your moans grew louder, your body tensing with each touch. “Six... Seven...”

His touch became gentler, his fingers slowly circling your entrance. “Eight... Nine...” He pushed two fingers inside you, the cold, wet sensation intensifying as he curled them upward. “Ten...” He leaned down, his warm breath on your ear.

He whispered, “Beg.” You whimpered, your hips bucking against his hand. ”Please... Please, Heeseung... I can't... I need to...” He silenced you with a hard kiss, his fingers moving faster inside you. “Beg properly,” he growled.

“Please, Heeseung... I'm going to... I'm going to explode... Please let me cum... Please, I need it so badly... I'll do anything... Just let me cum!” You begged, your voice breaking. Heeseung pulled his fingers out, leaving you aching and empty.

Heeseung smirked, his fingers still wet with your arousal. “What about Jay? You said he was big, didn't you?” He traced circles around your entrance with his cold fingers. “Are you thinking about him right now?”

You bit your lip, hesitating. Heeseung's touch became firmer, his voice harder. “Answer me. Is Jay on your mind as you lie here, handcuffed and begging for release?” He slowly pushed one cold, wet finger back inside you, then two, curling them upwards. “N-no...” you stammered, your breath hitching. “I'm not... I'm not thinking about him.” Heeseung's expression darkened. He added a third finger, his touch punishing. “Liar,” he hissed.

He pulled his fingers out, leaving you empty and aching once more. ”You want to think about Jay, don't you? You want to imagine his big, thick cock stretching your tight little pussy.” He leaned down, his lips brushing against your ear.

Heeseung's anger melted away, replaced by a softness he hated to admit. He gently stroked your clit, trying to coax you into an orgasm. “Please, just cum for me,” he whispered, his voice cracking. “I can't stand the thought of you thinking about him.” You whimpered, the intense pleasure Heeseung was wringing out of you. “I'm sorry...” you gasped, your hips bucking against his hand. “It's not... It's not like that... You know I only want you...”

Heeseung let out a shaky breath, his touch gentling. “Good...” he murmured, his fingers slowly circling your heat. “Just me... Say it.” You moaned, your head falling back. “Only you, Heeseung... Please, just you...”

“Only me...” Heeseung repeated, his voice barely above a whisper. He increased the pressure of his touch, watching as you writhed under him. Your cries of pleasure filled the room, drowning out any other thoughts or doubts.

You screamed as your orgasm crashed over you, your body shaking with the intensity of it. Heeseung watched, his heart pounding, before gently pulling you into his lap. He took your lip between his, kissing you softly as he held you close, his dominance gentling into a caring, protective embrace. You nuzzled into his neck, still catching your breath. Heeseung's hand was still in your hair, no longer holding you down but gently stroking through the strands. “Good girl, you're not thinking about Jay or anyone else again.”

Heeseung carefully unbuckled the blindfold, his touch gentle as he revealed your eyes to the dimly lit room. Then, he slowly unlocked the handcuffs, massaging your wrists tenderly. “Come here...” He pulled you into a tight hug, his voice soft.

You wrapped your arms around Heeseung's waist, burying your face in his chest. A moment of silence passed between the two of you, before he leaned down and whispered, “I've got you..”

“And you belong to me,” Heeseung murmured, his voice firm yet gentle. He tilted your chin up, his eyes locked onto yours. “No more talking to Jay, alright? You're mine, only mine...”

• september three — 08:56 pm

© iconchae | tumblr

phantom and the opera ; park sunghoon

pairing: phantom!sunghoon x afab!reader word count: 3.9k synopsis: a phantom stalks the opera house you currently sing for. a phantom who has eyes and ears for you and only you. warnings: swearing, smut, unprotected sex, murder, blood, sunghoon is well a phantom obvi so he’s dead, mentions of death, MINORS DNI!!!

Sunghoon doesn’t remember when he died—just that he did. His only other memory before his death is how he died. 

Sunghoon held his arms behind his back, tangling his fingers together as he slowly walked the halls of the opera house he currently, well, haunts. He stopped right in the doorway leading to behind the stage, staring at the spot where he was murdered. 

The experience of being murdered was definitely a zero out of ten in his book. And his murderer? Got a whopping two stars on Yelp for being the shittest murderer ever. Home guy just walks in through the back door in the middle of switching between sets and shoves a dagger straight through Sunghoon’s side and twists. Sunghoon was the only one behind the stage that was ready for the next scene, warming up his vocal cords for the big range he was about to sing out. It definitely took him by surprise to feel the dagger pierce through his skin and feel literally everything leak out of his body as he bled out on the floor. 

The next he knew he was standing there, looking at his dead body and being confused as fuck as to how he was still on Earth. Weren’t you supposed to go to heaven or hell once you’re passed? Guess not in Sunghoon’s case. 

And ever since then, he has stalked the grand opera house. He doesn’t even know how much time has passed since his murder or if the man was even caught. He doesn’t even know why he was murdered to begin with. Who randomly goes into an opera house and kills one of its cast members? That fucked obviously. And for what? NOTHING! According to the talk of the people who’ve made their way in and out of the building after his death, all his belongings and even money, wallet, keys—literally everything—were still on his person. 

Guess the guy just needed to let go of some pent-up rage and Sunghoon was just the unlucky bastard who was his victim. 

Again, two stars on yelp. 

Guy is an asshole. 

So Sunghoon decided to take it upon himself to be the local opera ghost and stop any future crime from happening. 

Or so he tried. 

Because ya know, he’s a boo and no one can see nor hear him. The most homie can do is throw some objects around. Real spooky shit. 

So Sunghoon gave up and spent however long it’s been to watch free opera shows and silently or even loudly, judge the shows. Because again he’s a ghost, who can stop him? 

You. 

It all began with you. 

One long night at the opera, Sunghoon continued his normal walks around the building. The show ended and everyone was gone—or so he thought. Sunghoon rambled on about the cast and setting and how completely shitty that version of Wicked just was. 

“Wasn’t this an opera house? Since when did this place start doing random ass musicals and plays?” he scrunches his nose, staring down at his black boots. 

“The owners decided to expand. This building is just a theater now.” 

Sunghoon stopped walking and looked up to see you standing at the entrance to the dressing rooms. 

He raised a brow, turning to look behind him and seeing no one. 

“How did you get back here? This place is for cast members and staff only.” You asked.

Sunghoon once again looked behind him and everywhere around him. There’s no way you’re speaking to him, right?

“Will you stop fidgeting and answer my question?” You snapped, resting your hands on your hips as you took him in, seeing the pure confusion on his face. 

“You can see me? And hear me?” he asked, now fidgeting with the seams of his cape. 

You rolled your eyes and let out a groan, “Of course, I can see you!” you motioned your hand in his direction, “Stop beating around the bush and state your business here.” 

Sunghoon dropped his hands at his sides, tilting his head ever so slightly while he looked at you. Watching you watching him. 

You tried to keep your composure and not be distracted by the handsome man in front of you wearing a really old version of the phantom’s suit from The Phantom of The Opera. Where did he even get that outfit? It’s so outdated. 

Sunghoon was speechless. How could he not be? Someone finally took notice of him. A beautiful woman at that. 

“I’ve always been here…” he mumbles, not knowing what else to say. 

You open your mouth to question him more, just to snap it shut as you fully drink him in. Taking in his deep brown eyes and the moles that surround his face. The way his hair parts and slightly falls in his face. It’s that moment you realize who he was. Remembering seeing his photo in the halls of this theater as one of the best actors and opera singers this city has known. And remembering how he was brutally murdered behind the stage many many many years ago. 

You were talking to the ghost of Park Sunghoon. 

“How…what?” 

“That’s what I am asking myself too,” he said with a sigh, shoving his hands into his pockets, “Guess you might be something special.” 

And ever since then, Sunghoon has been attached to you. The first person to take notice of him in so long. The first person to react to him. To talk back to him. And he means talk back. 

Sassy thing you are towards him. Always critiquing his comments on this new theme of theater, plays, operas, and everything in between. And honestly? He loved it. 

If he wasn’t already in love with you at first sight, he definitely was the moment he first heard you sing. It entranced him. Your acting and your stage presence as a whole set him on fire. His nonbeating heart felt as if it were working again. The way he stalked outside the dressing room that evening, waiting so impatiently for you to step out. 

“YN!” he called out the minute you took a single step out the door. 

You held a finger up to your lips, quickly shushing him. You knew no one else could hear him, but you never wanted to risk it either. Or risk talking to him when others were still in the building. You’d look crazy. Or worse, someone else would notice Sunghoon and realize he haunts this theater. Deep down, in the small few months you have known this phantom, you’ve grown so fond of him, and if he were to just disappear…

Sunghoon quickly snapped his mouth shut, lifting his hand and pointing down the hallway. With a slow nod, you followed behind him until you reached a small room for meetings, closing the door behind you. 

You noticed his body language, and how nervous he seemed to be, “Everything okay?” You asked, leaning your back against the door, “You seemed eager to talk to me.” 

Sunghoon took a deep breath, placing his hands on the back of the chair at the table, gripping it tightly, “I…I just want to tell you how well you did tonight.” 

He’s seen you perform multiple times. But it wasn’t until hearing you sing tonight that really took him over. 

You softly smiled, glancing down to the floor. It was the first time he’s complimented you. Sunghoon has only ever judged every play and would critique all the actors and singers. But never said anything about you. Until just now. 

“Thank you,” you softly whispered, slowly looking back up to see him standing in front of you, eyes searching yours, “Sunghoon?” 

How could he tell you he was crazy about you? How in love he was with you? He wasn’t even sure he could touch you. Yeah, he was able to touch other nonliving objects, but a living thing? 

“Can I try something?” he asked in a low voice, barely lifting his arm. Your heart pounded in your chest and you could feel your palms starting to sweat. You were so sure he could see the nervousness on your face, yet you nodded anyway. 

Sunghoon hovered his hand over your cheek, then slowly cupped your face. He released an exhale and smiled wide, “I never knew how badly I wanted to touch you until just now.” 

Now you were so sure your face was red. Heart dropped down to your stomach, “You’ve been wanting to touch me?” 

He nodded, “Can I try another thing?” You didn’t even answer him, reaching your arms out to fling them around his neck and crashing your lips to his, pulling the phantom against your body, not wanting any distance to be put between you both. 

You also never knew how badly you wanted to touch him until this moment. And it was everything you could have imagined. He might have been a bit cold to the touch, but you swear he still felt warm against you. How was it even possible to touch him? It was a mystery, one you didn’t care about learning. All that mattered was him. 

You don’t even know how long you stood there, pressed against that door with Sunghoon’s tongue down your throat, not that you cared anyway how much time flew by. Sunghoon eventually sent you home, and you couldn’t wait to see him again. 

Sunghoon lost count of the times he’s touched you now. Lost count of the times he’s pulled you into rooms of the theater. The amount of times he’s pressed you against the walls and roamed his hands up and down your body. He was completely obsessed with you and everything about you. Nothing could get better or ruin this feeling. 

Until something did. 

Not just something. Someone. 

Heeseung. 

A new hotshot actor and singer that was added to the current play due to another one falling ill. 

Sunghoon didn’t like him from the moment he looked at you for longer than a second. 

You noticed a change in Sunghoon’s demeanor. Always wearing a frown and creasing his brows. Eyes always staring off, looking far away. 

Usually during practices, Sunghoon’s eyes were always locked on you as he stood on the balcony. Always giving you smiles. But lately, it’s been nothing but frowns and looks of disgust. 

“YN!” Heeseung called for you, running his hand down your forearm, “Want to help me go over this part?” You kept your eyes locked with Sunghoon, watching how he gripped the railing of the balcony, “YN?” Heeseung said with worry, now pulling your arm towards him and you finally meeting his eyes. 

“What? Yes, sorry. I can help you go over this.” 

Heeseung glanced up to where you were staring, raising a brow. 

It took everything in Sunghoon to not jump from this floor. But what could he do? He can’t just yell at someone who can’t even see him. 

Days passed and the closer Heeseung was getting to you. Always giving you smiles during free moments. Standing way too close to you. Touching you more than Sunghoon’s liking, even though he would prefer Heeseung not fucking touch you at all. 

Sunghoon followed behind you after practice, his hand on your lower back, gripping the ends of your sweatshirt, afraid that you’d disappear if he let go. 

“You’ve been a bit different, lately.” You said, keeping your eyes straight ahead, eyes being aware of the ones still in the building. 

“Different how?” Sunghoon asked, his fingers gripping your sweatshirt even tighter. 

You shrugged, “It’s like you are here but not.” 

Your words hit Sunghoon hard. It made him realize how distant he had been. How more aware he’s been over another male than you, the love of his life. 

“YN, I’m—“ 

“There you are!” 

Sunghoon tightened his jaw. 

Heeseung jogged down the hall until he stood in front of you, “Heeseung,” you smiled, and it killed Sunghoon, “You were looking for me?” 

“Yes,” He smiled back, flickering his eyes over your shoulder, staring directly at Sunghoon. 

He can’t see me…can he? 

Heeseung flicked his eyes back to you and smiled wider. Yeah he can’t see Sunghoon, “I was wondering if you’d like to have dinner with me?” 

“Say no,” Sunghoon said quickly, fighting every muscle in his body from pulling you towards him. 

Heeseung’s muscles in his jaw twitched and Sunghoon could have sworn he saw his ears perk up too, “I just want to thank you for everything you’ve done to help me, being the newbie and all.” 

“Oh, of course!” you awkwardly giggled, reaching behind you in a manner of adjusting your clothing but shoving Sunghoon’s grip on it off, “Thank you, that’s nice of you.” 

“YN,” Sunghoon whispered, “Please don’t go.” 

It was hard to act as if Sunghoon wasn’t behind you. To not react to his pleas, “You don’t have a boyfriend, right?” Heeseung asked, quickly looking at Sunghoon and glancing back at you. 

Did you have a boyfriend? Would whatever you had with Sunghoon count as a relationship? He’s technically dead, was it possible to date a ghost? 

“YN,” Sunghoon whispered your name again. 

You decided on saying nothing and just slowly shook your head, “Let’s just go get something to eat! I’m starving.” 

Before Sunghoon could reach out for you, Heeseung had his hand on your lower back, pulling you along. And the smirk Heeseung flashed over his shoulder when you weren’t looking sent a chill down the ghost’s body. 

There was no way Heeseung couldn’t see him. 

“Sunghoon,” you moan his name as he pounded into you. 

He’d be lying if he told you he wasn’t extremely pissed off that you went to dinner with Heeseung last night. Pissed off over the fact he knew Heeseung could see him, hear him, and knew the feeling he had for you and still made it a point to ask you out. How fucking dare he? 

“Hmm, want to act like a slut huh?” Sunghoon breathed in your ear, gripping his fingers deeper into your hips, “Think just because I can’t leave this building means you can fuck around with someone else?” 

You shook your head, hands gripping tightly to the edge of the vanity he had you bent over against, “Hoonie no, you know why I did it.” 

“Hmm, do I?” he bucked into you harder, your jaw falling slack and wet moans escaping your orifice, “Seems like to me you rather be with him.” 

“No no!” you chanted, pressing your face against the cool mirror, “I only want you. I only want you.” 

Sunghoon knew you only wanted him. He could see it written all over your face every single time he saw you. But that didn’t stop the raging jealousy he felt. And the hatred he felt. 

“Fuck, baby,” he groans, flinging his head back and letting the wet sounds of his cock being buried in your pussy over and over again fill his ears. Sunghoon didn’t think it would even be possible to have sex let alone get his dick hard. But the moment he walked in on you changing after tonight’s practice his desire flooded him. And obviously seeing him get so worked up over you sent you clinging your thighs together. 

“Hoonie,” you breathe his nickname, “Fuck, Sunghoon!” 

“Hmmm, what baby? Tell me what you want huh?” he said slowing down his pace to an undesirable amount, causing you to fuck yourself against him. 

“Please,” you cried. 

“Please, wh-” Before Sunghoon could finish his words, out of the corner of his eye he saw the door creak open, barely being able to see the silhouette of the person on the other side of the fogged-over glass window. 

Sunghoon smirked, picking his pace back up again, making sure he had you screaming and the mirror hitting the wall behind it. 

“Please what, baby?” he growled, “Wanna cum? Is that it?” 

You nodded, “Please let me cum,” 

Sunghoon’s smirk grew, “Tell me you love me,” squeezed your hips, slamming you down even harder on him, “Say how good I fuck you and no other dick can satisfy you, not even Heeseung.” 

You winched at Heeseungs name, piecing together the puzzle of why Sunghoon had been acting so strange. He was jealous. Being protective. Possessive. And you found it so fucking hot. So hot you were spitting the words right back at him. 

“I’m in love with you,” it wasn’t what Sunghoon asked to hear, but you said it anyway, feeling the truth behind it with every syllable, “You fuck me so so so good and no one else can ever satisfy me. Only you, Sunghoon. Never Heeseung.” 

Sunghoon smiled. A smile that was full of love and confirmation that you were his. 

“Fuck, I love you so much,” he moans, towering over your body as he fucked into you, his hands now gripping the tops of your against the mirror, “Fuckkkkk, baby I need to cum. Cum with me. Fuck.” 

The dressing room was now filled with the sounds of your moans as a mixture of yours and Sunghoon’s cum dripping down your thighs. 

When Sunghoon looked back at the door, it was now closed again. 

Heeseung stood behind the stage, cracking his knuckles and stretching out his neck. It was opening night for the play everyone had been working so hard on. It was in between scenes. You were on stage singing a duet with another cast member beautifully for the crowd. Heeseung couldn’t help but smile. He’s had a crush on you since he laid eyes on you, and you never failed to amaze him. 

His smile slowly faded, “I was beginning to wonder when you’d approach me,” he tilted his head to the side, staring into a pair of deep brown eyes, “Park Sunghoon.” 

Sunghoon smirked, rocking on the heels of his boots and twisting his fingers behind his back, “You know who I am? I’m so touched.” 

Heeseung chuckled, “I knew who you were before I stepped foot into this theater,” Sunghoon raised his brows, urging him to continue, “You’re a big name in this town, such a shame what happened to you,” Heeseung fully faced him now, “Death by a stabbing to the left side of your abdomen, right? Went right through your ribs and punctured your lung.” 

Sunghoon was really starting to loathe this guy. 

“I knew you could also see me, there was no way.” 

Heeseung laughed, “At first I thought you were just following and watching our poor YN, until I realized anytime you looked at her…” his facial expression changed to a mixture of anger and jealousy, “She was looking right back at you.” 

Sunghoon tilted his head, “What? Jealous are we?”

Heeseung shrugged, “Maybe over the fact you got to fuck her.” 

Sunghoon was now getting angrier, “You heard her the other day, no one can satisfy her but me.” 

“Are you so sure?” Heeseung took a step forward, “You aren’t even alive.” 

Sunghoon clenched his jaw, “Fuck off.” 

Another step forward, “I bet I could fuck her so so so good,” another step, “Make her cum multiple times,” another step, “Hit all her sweet spots while I bend her over my bed,” and another, “Have her screaming my name so fucking loud she would forget who you even are.” One final step. 

Sunghoon narrowed his eyes, “You won’t fucking touch her.” 

Heeseung laughed, throwing his head back as the sound echoed against the walls. He flung his head back up, now narrowing his eyes back at Sunghoon, “At least she’ll be able to actually have a life with me.” 

Sunghoon’s body twitched. Heeseung took one last step. 

And he was right where Sunghoon wanted him. 

Heeseung barely blinked before Sunghoon was now standing in front of him, faces barely inches apart. Blood filled his mouth, hands gripping Sunghoon’s wrists, “You damn bastard.” 

Sunghoon looked down at his work, seeing the beautiful blade pushed into Heeseung. Right between the ribs and puncturing his left lung, “Ain’t so fun, is it?” 

Heeseung’s knees grow weak, barely holding himself up and eventually dropping to the floor. Sunghoon followed him down, pushing the blade deeper into his body. 

Blood spilled out of his mouth, bloody hands now falling to the floor, “You want to know what is so damn funny?” Sunghoon chuckled, glancing around the back of the stage room, “This is the exact same spot I was murdered all that time ago.” 

Heeseung’s eyes widened, “Well, aren’t you one for an aesthetic.” 

Sunghoon leaned closer to his face, “No, I just wanted to kill you. It just happened to be right where I was killed.” 

It was Sunghoon’s turn to laugh, feeling Heeseung’s blood caking his hands. Is this how his killer felt? The adrenaline rush of hearing skin rip apart by a blade. Feeling the blade graze past two ribs. The feeling of his blood staining his hands. 

Oh, the rush. The excitement. Now he knew why people committed such crimes. 

“Huh,” Sunghoon said with realization, “Full circle. Funny shit.” 

“You’re fucking insane!” Heeseung snapped. 

“Shhhh!” Sunghoon pressed a bloodied finger to Heeseung’s lips, “You’re going to miss the finale of YN’s beautiful voice. 

Heeseung gritted his teeth, his vision fading as he focused on your voice. 

“I’m going to fuck that mouth later.” 

Heeseung jolted forward, using what small strength he had to lift his hands to grasp Sunghoon’s sleeve, “You’re a real piece of shit!” 

Sunghoon shrugged, “I’m the only one good enough for her.”

“You aren’t even alive,” Heeseung said again through gritted teeth. 

Sunghoon slowly pushed the blade in deeper, “I don’t give a shit,” he chuckled, “I’m still as alive as can be because of her.” 

Heeseung’s vision faded more, black spots forming around Sunghoon. He wasn’t going to last much longer. 

He dropped his head to the floor, right at the moment the final echoes of your singing voice bounced off the walls, “I’m going to fucking haunt you.”

“Oh, Heeseung,” Sunghoon cooed with a tilt of his head, “This theater can hold only one fucking bastard.” 

With a final push of the blade in deeper, the color of Heeseung’s eyes faded, body going completely still. 

Sunghoon stood up and backed away from Heeseung’s dead body, taking in his kill. Voices of the cast members appeared from behind him, then screams echoed off the walls. 

“Someone call an ambulance!!!” 

Sunghoon kept his smirk, slowly wiping the dried blood against his pants. 

He slowly turned around, seeing you standing in the doorway. You looked beautiful in the tight-fitted purple dress, hugging your body to show off your curves. So beautiful with the way your hair is curled and pinned to the back of your head. 

Everything about you was beautiful. 

Even the way your eyes filled with tears as you took in your friend's dead body. 

Your eyes shot to your lover, seeing Heeseung’s blood stain his clothing and hands. The tears streamed down your face as you stared so deeply into his eyes. 

Sunghoon’s smirk grew bigger, slowly walking over to you, “What’s wrong, baby?” he whispered, cupping your face between his hands. The smell of the blood filled your senses, stomach turned at the very thought of how it would stain your skin. 

Sunghoon killed Heeseung. 

“I did this for us,” he forced you to look at him and away from the dead body, “I couldn’t let him take you away from me.” You let out a small whimper, “Oh, baby,” he shushed, “It’s okay. I’m right here. I love you.” 

You were at a loss for words as Sunghoon pulled you to his body, holding you tightly. 

No one was ever going to take you from him.

—tags: @alvojake @ikeuverse @woniebae @shawnyle @jwnghyuns

@in-somnias-world @zyvlxqht @aaa-sia @wonniethepoo @addictedtohobi

@eneiyri @skzenhalove @fakeuwus @cherry-park @vousty

@ladyartemesia @criminalyun @enhaverse713586 @wondipity @lhsvibez

@jaeyunq @rikizm @kaykay11sworld @vixialuvs @onlyhyunjin

@enha-cafe @ppanghoon @sunpov @zeeloveshee @hxxsxxng

@moonrisearies @brownsugarbaybee @nshmrarki @vveebee @teddybeartaetae

@kookify @abysofsteel @aileeeeeeeeeeeee @hee-lvrr @1309zip

@moon0fthenight @jakeflvrz @021894s @sendhelpiloveyeonjun @surrik-i

@heeseungsbm @niki-riki-nishimura-riki @star-hoon

Why does it sound like him—

jake 18+ audio ‧˚ ☾. ⋅

Ffs

NSFW 🎸 MINORS DNI

jay eating you out at your parents house

🩷

Listening to it as i post lol

STOP I’M LITERALLY SOBBING

I’VE NEVER CRIED THIS HARD BECAUSE OF A FIC BEFORE 😭😭😭

Our Life | P.JS

jay x reader warnings: fluff, angst, smut (mdni), unprotected sex, cum plugging, oral (f.rec), major theme of death and grievance, character death, mentions of alcoholism (very slight, not for mcs), descriptions of pregnancy and birth, strangers to married couple trope, insane amount of fluff, verging on soulmate au, hopeful ending even though it's sorrowful, some parts not proof read, anything else lmk! wc: 34.8k synopsis: one year after his wife passed away, jongseong reflects back on his life, causing him to miss you more than ever a/n: hi! writing this jay fic has come at a really funny time in my life. it's just a fic, i know, but for some reason i'm writing it so personally - a lot of this has to do with me or how i view things, the relationships i have had with my loved ones etc. this fic is the manifestation of the love i want and love i hope everyone experiences. i know we all deserve to have someone care about us so much that we feel safe and cherished. you deserve to be happy, i hope we all find that person. as always, reblogs, comments and feedback is all welcome! i also cried like 5 times writing this so...be warned.

*this fic has serious themes of death, please do not read if this upsets you or makes you uncomfortable! nothing is murder and nothing is violent, but i understand this theme can be upsetting for people!

As Jongseong hears the door of his house gently push open, he can already hear the familiar sound of tiny feet racing towards him. Moments later, the littlest one, Minji, bursts into the room, her laughter bubbling over as she makes a beeline for her great-grandfather.

“Poppy!” she cries, her small arms already outstretched, launching herself into his lap. Thankfully, Jongseong is seated in his favourite recliner so that helps him catch her. A warm smile plasters on his face, ready for her joyful embrace. Minji, at just five years old, is a whirlwind of energy, always eager to shower her great-grandfather with affection. She’s a bundle of life that never fails to brighten the room.

Minhee, her older brother, is a little more restrained. At nearly eleven years old, he’s beginning to see himself as too grown-up for such open displays of affection, though Jongseong catches the fond glint in his eyes. Minhee hovers near the door, perhaps torn between maintaining his cool exterior and giving in to the pull of family warmth.

The children call him “Poppy,” a sweet nickname coined by their mother, Ara, when she was a child. Grandad and Poppa had apparently been too much of a mouthful for her, and the name stuck through the generations. Jongseong smiles to himself, recalling how it all began.

As he waits for Ara to follow them in, Jongseong is pleasantly surprised when Jeyou steps through the door instead. His son, of course, a father himself, offers him a smile that’s full of love and history. Jongseong’s eyes twinkle as Jeyou enters, taking in the sight of his son with a mixture of pride and nostalgia. So many years had passed, and yet, in moments like this, they seemed to collapse in on themselves, leaving just the simple pleasure of being surrounded by family.

And this day a little more bearable.

"Got yourself a couple of shadows today, haven’t you, Dad?" Jeyou says, glancing at Minji who has made herself comfortable on her great-grandfather’s lap, her head tucked under his chin.

"Ah, wouldn’t have it any other way," Jongseong replies, his voice low but full of warmth. He places a gentle hand on Minji’s back, feeling her soft breathing as she calms down from her excited entrance. "Though, I expect you’ll be getting the same treatment soon enough with your old age."

Jeyou chuckles and shakes his head. "Oh, she’s all yours for now. Ara’s just grabbing some things from the car, but she’ll be in soon. Couldn’t resist having her kids run ahead."

Jongseong nods. That sounded just like Ara. Always the one to let the children take the lead, full of the same unbridled energy she’d had as a child. Even now, as an adult, she managed to keep that spark.

"Minhee," Jeyou calls, his voice gentle but nudging. "Aren’t you going to say hello to Poppy?"

Minhee hesitates for a moment, then steps forward. His gangly limbs betray his preteen awkwardness as if he's still adjusting to his growing frame. He shuffles over, his eyes on the floor, before glancing up at Jongseong with a shy smile.

"Hey, Poppy," he mumbles, and though his words are quiet, there’s warmth in his gaze.

"Come here, son," Jongseong beckons, and Minhee approaches. He leans down for a brief hug, one that’s a bit stiff but no less genuine. Jongseong pats his great-grandson on the back, feeling the familiar ache in his chest - an ache that comes from seeing the passage of time so vividly in the people you love.

Minhee quickly retreats to the sofa, where he pulls out a book from his rucksack, burying his nose into it as if he hadn’t just shared a tender moment. Jongseong chuckles softly, knowing well that Minhee’s quiet affection is just as real as Minji’s exuberant embrace.

"Just like you at his age," Jongseong remarks to Jeyou.

Jeyou raises an eyebrow. "Was I that shy?"

"Not shy, just...reflective," Jongseong murmured, his gaze softening as memories of Jeyou’s childhood flashed before him. Even as a boy, Jeyou had always been deep in thought, though there had never been a shortage of mischief hiding behind those thoughtful eyes.

But before they could slip too far into the past, the familiar sound of the front door creaking open stirred the present moment. Ara swept in, arms full of bags, her bright smile instantly lighting up the room.

"There’s my favourite man," she called out cheerily, her voice as warm as always. She placed the bags by the door and, in her usual way, let her gaze travel from her children to her father before finally settling on her grandfather. The fondness in her smile deepened as she approached him.

"Hello, Poppy," she said softly, bending down to press a kiss to his cheek. "How are you feeling today?"

Jongseong reached for her hand, his grip gentle but steady. "Better now that you’re all here," he replied, his voice tinged with a quiet sincerity.

Today wasn’t an easy day, and everyone in the room knew it - except for Minji, who was too young to understand the weight the date carried. The family had gathered not just for the usual visit but to offer comfort, to keep his mind occupied. Jongseong had been dreading this day for over a week, the memories from years past creeping into his thoughts, but seeing his loved ones around him made it a little more bearable.

Ara steps back to look around the room, her hands resting on her hips as if surveying a scene she knew by heart. "Right, then. Who’s up for a cup of tea?" she announced, though she didn’t wait for a reply. She already knew her answer.

Disappearing into the kitchen, she busied herself with the kettle, placing three cups in front of her and tossing teabags into each. The familiar clink of porcelain and the hum of the kettle filled the air, blending with the gentle sounds of the family settling in. Jeyou, already feeling at home, sank into the couch, his gaze drifting to his father.

"So," Jeyou began, his tone casual but laced with concern, "has the doctor called you yet about your heart? Your review’s coming up in a few weeks, isn’t it?"

Jongseong let out a soft sigh, not wanting to weigh the room down with his health concerns, but knowing it was pointless to brush it off. "Not yet. They’re supposed to get back to me soon, but you know how these things go."

In his mind, his heart is as fit as a fiddle despite the pieces shattered and medical scans telling him otherwise. Being seventy-six puts him at that age where he doesn’t quite fuss over the little things anymore, knowing that when he starts to go, it’s his time. His family don’t quite see it that way, but they always had a knack for worrying.

They get that from you.

Ara returns from the kitchen with a tray of steaming mugs, setting two on the coffee table and one on the side stroller Jongseong uses as a side table. It’s old and it’s definitely not supposed to be purposed for keeping his things close by, but he does it this way anyway. 

“You’re running low on milk and sugar, Poppy,” she states, smiling softly. It’s not like Jongeong to let things run to the last drop, but she supposes it’s probably the last thing on his mind these days. 

“Thanks, sweetheart,” Jongseong returns her kind expression and sits comfortably in his chair.

Jeyou’s eyes drift from the steaming tea on the table to the two untouched cups sitting beside it, their contents long gone cold. His gaze then falls on the doset box, where yesterday's and this morning's pills sit neglected in their transparent slots. A dull ache forms in his chest, growing heavier with each passing second. It’s not like his father to forget things like this. Something in his stomach twists - an unsettling feeling that only deepens when he looks over at Jongseong.

His father, seated comfortably in the old recliner, is absentmindedly running his fingers through Minji’s hair, but his expression is distant. His eyes, usually full of life, are clouded, as though he’s drifting somewhere far away. Jeyou knows that look too well, his father isn’t here in this moment, not really. He’s somewhere in the past, locked in thoughts he won’t share with anyone.

"Kids," Jeyou says, his voice firmer than usual, "why don’t you go play outside? It’s too nice for you to stay in here."

Minji, always eager for an adventure, springs from her great-grandfather’s lap and dashes towards the garden, her giggles trailing behind her like sunshine. Minhee lingers a bit longer, his hesitation clear, but a quick glance at his grandfather’s face tells him everything he needs to know. This was one of those moments where the grown-ups needed to talk. With a quiet nod, Minhee follows his sister outside, leaving the room heavy with unspoken words.

Jeyou scoots forward on the couch, his hands clasped tightly, his heart feeling as if it’s weighed down by a stone. "Dad," he begins, his voice thick with concern, "are you sure you’re looking after yourself?"

As expected, Jongseong forces out a laugh, the sound strained and far from genuine. "Of course I am. What kind of question is that?" He waves his hand dismissively, as if brushing away his son’s worry could somehow make it disappear. But Jeyou can see the cracks in his father’s defences, no matter how hard he tries to hide them.

Ara steps in before Jeyou can push further, her eyes soft but her tone direct. "You look really tired, Poppy," she says, careful not to let too much of her worry spill into her words. She doesn’t mention the state of the kitchen, though it’s hard to ignore. The counters are cluttered with dirty dishes, empty food wrappers, and crumpled paper towels. It’s a far cry from the meticulous space Jongseong used to keep, everything in its place, nothing left unattended. His once-pristine kitchen now looks like it’s seen better days, like he’s given up on keeping it tidy.

And his appearance - Ara notices that too. His hair, usually slicked back with the neatness he always took pride in, now lies flat and lifeless, as though he hadn’t bothered with it at all. Even his clothes seem carelessly thrown on, lacking the care he once put into his daily routines.

"I’m okay, I promise," Jongseong says, offering a weak smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

But they all know better. He’s far from okay, and they can see it in every little detail. His body may be failing, but it’s his spirit that seems most worn down. And that’s not something any doctor could fix with medication or surgery.

Jeyou sighs, the weight of his father’s stubbornness pressing down on him. He knows how difficult it is for Jongseong to open up, especially about something as delicate as his feelings. "Dad, I know it must be tough on you today, with Mum’s anniversary," Jeyou says softly, his voice cracking slightly at the mention of her, "but please, don’t neglect yourself. We need you here. We can’t lose you too."

The room falls silent, the air thick with unsaid things. Jongseong’s face twitches for just a moment at the mention of his late wife, and Ara, sitting by her father’s side, silently curses him with a sharp nudge to his ribs. Her eyes flicker with disapproval, not wanting to mention you so blatantly.

With his smile faltering, Jongseong’s eyes begin glazing over once more as he looks away, as though staring too long into his children’s worried faces might break him. "I’m alright," he murmurs again, softer this time, but no one in the room believes him.

It has been a year since you passed, and while it was easy to put on a brave face for months, something about knowing he has been without you for one entire year puts him in misery, the same misery he felt the day he found you laying on your shared bed, last gasps of breath already evacuated from your body.

jongseong’s heart, once full of love and purpose, now feels unbearably heavy without you. It’s not just the grief that weighs him down - it’s the love. A love that has nowhere to go, nothing to cling to. For over fifty years, his heart beat with the rhythm of your shared life, the quiet moments and laughter you wove into the years together. 

Now, without you, all that love is left to pool within him, filling the empty spaces with a bittersweet ache. He still wakes up wanting to tell you things, still reaches out for you in the night, only to be met with silence. That love, the part of him that was always meant for you, has no place to rest, and he feels its weight with every breath he takes.

He escapes to the past these days, just for the opportunity to see you again.

_____

The party is loud, an overwhelming hum of voices, music, and laughter blending together in a way that makes it impossible to think. The flat is small, much too small to hold the crowd that’s somehow crammed into every corner. 

People from all different majors are squeezed into the living room, the hallway, and even the tiny kitchen, balancing Tesco plastic cups on the edge of counters and bookshelves. It feels like the walls are closing in, the air thick with the smell of cheap alcohol and the heat of too many bodies in one space. Jongseong shifts uncomfortably, standing near the wall with his back pressed to it, hoping to stay out of the chaotic flow of people moving past him.

His friend, Sunghoon, is in his element, leaning over to chat with two girls from the science department. Jongseong can hear snippets of Sunghoon’s conversation - something about biology and "how easy it must be to share a dorm with a future doctor." Jongseong knows what his friend’s after. It’s the same for every party. Sunghoon is smooth-talking his way through the night, hoping to fuck one - or both - of the girls before the party winds down. Jongseong can't help but feel a sense of detachment from it all, wishing he were anywhere but here.

He glances down at his drink, swirling the last bit of beer in his cup, realising he hasn’t even taken a sip in the last half-hour. The music pounds in his ears and the conversations around him blur into a noise that grates against his thoughts. Everyone seems so eager to lose themselves in the moment, but all Jongseong can think about is how out of place he feels, like he’s in someone else’s world.

And then his eyes land on you.

Seated on the worn couch at the far end of the room, you look just as lost as he feels. Your shoulders are hunched slightly, arms folded across your chest, eyes scanning the room with a quiet detachment. It’s like you’re here, but not really. The party swirls around you, but you sit untouched by its chaos. There’s something familiar in the way your gaze drifts, a softness in the way you carry yourself, as if you’re silently wishing to be anywhere else, just like him. 

His heart skips, the noise of the party fading just a little as he watches you, wondering why on earth you are here, or where you even came from. He’s been dragged to enough of these house parties to recognise almost everyone; it’s always the same crowd of wasted university students, all looking for a cheap night and a place to get fucked up.

You shift slightly on the couch, adjusting your position as if you’re trying to get comfortable but failing. The small movement is enough to stir something in Jongseong, a quiet push that breaks through his hesitation of going over to speak with you. He pushes off the wall, weaving through the crowd, his gaze never leaving you. Each step brings him closer to you and further from the loud, chaotic energy around him.

When he finally reaches the couch, Jongseong stands there, smiling down at you. Up close, he notices the small details about you - the way your eyes are slightly glazed over like you're staring through the crowd rather than at it. Your posture is relaxed, like someone who's given up on finding anything remotely interesting in this chaotic scene. You’re lazily twirling a strand of hair around your finger, your other hand drumming absentmindedly on the armrest, and every so often, you let out a quiet sigh. It’s clear you’re bored, as if you're here out of obligation or maybe even on a dare, but definitely not because you're enjoying it.

Jongseong wonders for a moment if approaching you is the right move. Maybe you're waiting for someone, or maybe you'd rather just be left alone to your boredom. But he’s already here, and backing out now would be even more awkward. Besides, there’s a part of him that thinks you might welcome the distraction.

“Hey,” he says, his voice soft but just loud enough to be heard over the music. He gives you a small, tentative smile, trying to convey that he’s not like the other loser men at this party, that he’s not here to make your night more unbearable. “Is that seat taken?”

The sound of his voice pulls you from your thoughts, startling you for a split second before your eyes lock onto his face. And what a beautiful face it is. His sharp jawline, soft eyes, and the hint of smile lines add to his handsomeness. The dyed white hair that’s slicked back to showcase his fresh undercut makes your mouth dry, then water just a little as you catch yourself staring.

Shaking off the daze his looks have put you in, you nod your head and smile. “Actually, my friend, Imaginary, is sitting right here,” you joke, patting the seat next to you lightly, “but I think she might move for you.”

Jongseong smirks, charmed by your wit, and takes a seat, spreading his legs just enough that his knee brushes yours. A subtle, intentional move that sends a tiny jolt of awareness through you. The music pounds around you, and the room vibrates with the beat, but here, with him so close, it feels like you’re in a different world - a bubble separate from the chaos.

"Are you new?" he asks, his voice carrying a warmth that cuts through the cold disinterest of the party.

"No, but I don't normally come to parties like this," you admit, glancing around the crowded room.

"Why not?" His eyes stay on you, curious, almost as if he’s trying to decipher the puzzle of who you are. There is something so intriguing about you, his soul suddenly ignited by even the prospect of knowing you.

You gesture around you with a slight roll of your eyes. "Lots of drunk people with egos even though they're only uni kids? Not exactly my favourite." The words drip with sarcasm, your disdain evident in the flatness of your tone. You can’t think of anywhere worse than this - people stumbling around, half-shouted conversations about nothing of substance, the smell of stale beer and sweat hanging thick in the air. It’s a headache in the making, a mess of too much noise and not enough space, a place where everything blurs into a haze of chaos and bad decisions. You’d rather be anywhere else, where people know how to handle themselves without being obnoxious, where the air is fresh and the conversations have weight.

Your answer earns a snicker from Jongseong. He ducks his head, a smile playing on his lips, and for a moment, he looks genuinely amused - like he’s found a hidden gem amidst all the nonsense around him. He takes a second to soak it in, feeling something light and warm settle in his chest. 

When he glances back up at you, there’s a brightness in his eyes that wasn’t there before. "Okay, let me ask you another question, then - why are you here?" he asks, his tone playful but curious, like he’s genuinely invested in peeling back the layers of who you are. 

You tilt your head, narrowing your eyes at him, a smirk tugging at your lips. "I'm gonna have to start charging you for all these questions, y’know." There’s a teasing edge in your voice, but underneath it, there’s also a spark - something alive and electric, something that catches Jongseong off guard, a flicker in his heart.

He laughs softly, nodding along with a look that says he’s enjoying this more than he thought he would. It’s rare to find someone who doesn’t just play along with the usual small talk but actually pushes back a little, makes him work for it. He hadn’t expected you to have so much spunk and confidence from just watching you sit there, looking lost in thought. It’s refreshing - a sharp contrast to the superficial conversations that fill the room around him. 

In all honesty, he thought you might have pushed him off, unwilling to even entertain him, never mind willingly try and drag out the conversation with him. That’s what he gets for judging a book by its cover.

"I can pay for a meet-and-greet, don’t worry," he says, his voice low and smooth, proud yet playful. His eyes gleam with a challenge, like he’s throwing down a gauntlet he hopes you’ll pick up. There’s an unspoken dare there, a flirtatious edge that makes your heart skip a beat. It feels like you’re both dancing on the edge of something - something that could tip into something real, something interesting, if either of you is brave enough to take the next step.

“So,” he continues, leaning back slightly, more relaxed now, “why are you here?”

He takes a sip of his drink, and it’s then that he notices you don’t have one. You don’t seem to mind, though, and he doesn’t comment on it, but it strikes him as a little odd. Typically, if someone is having a fuck awful time at a party, they drown themselves in alcohol to let inhabitions go and just pray to God they don’t make a fool of themselves. He knows there has to be a story there, and he can’t wait to uncover it.

"Thought I would check it out. I hear they’re all the rage," you say with a wry smile, clearly feeling the distaste on your tongue. 

Truth is, you’re trying new things this year, pushing your boundaries to help form your character. You’re sick of hearing about all these experiences through the lenses of TikTok videos and Instagram posts from your friends; it’s time to start living out the life you want. Not everything will be your cup of tea - tonight if quite evident of that, you can certainly cross parties off your FOMO list - but there is no harm in trying different things,

“Eh, parties are overrated, if I'm being honest,” he replies, his eyes tracing the features of your face. You’re so beautiful but so fucking familiar. He doesn’t know you, he would remember someone as ethereal as you. But there is part of him that feels you deep inside, as though you’ve rocked something in his soul.

Like you’re placing yourself home in his heart.

"Okay. Then why are you here?" you challenge back, your eyes narrowing slightly with curiosity.

Jongseong leans in a little, lowering his voice as if sharing a secret. “I hate these parties. Can’t stand how loud and irritating they are. The noise, the drunk people who can't hold their alcohol, the same shallow conversations...” His words trail off as he glances around, his lip curling in mild distaste. “I’ve always been a people person, but…just not these people.”

Sucking your teeth, you nod, agreeing with every last syllable of his sentence. You feel this on another level, but considering he seems to be acquainted with parties enough to dissect and disregard them so easily, you still ponder your question. 

Raising your eyebrows, you silently wait for him to continue.  

“Y’know Sunghoon? The campus heartthrob?” he asks, raising an eyebrow. He hates to refer to his best friend as such, but that is literally his title within the university. Sunghoon is notorious for having girls and guys falling at his feet, kissing the ground he walks on because he has been voted Korea’s perfect face three years in a row. Jongseong doesn’t grudge it, he votes for his friend too, and he isn’t blind, he can see how attractive he is.

“Yeah?” you respond, intrigued.

“Well, believe it or not, that beautiful son of a bitch is my best friend.”

Considering the way this boy presents himself, you would have genuinely never guessed that he was friends with someone as high profile as Park  Sunghoon. However, it does explain why, even if he hates the parties, he attends nonetheless. 

You chuckle, your eyes glinting as you begin to steer the conversation in the direction you both want it to sail. “You’re saying that like you aren’t equally as pretty.”

Jongseong flushes, his cheeks dusting a faint pink. The warmth spreads across his face, and he bites back a grin, trying to play it cool but failing miserably. It’s the tiny confirmation he needed to know that you want to flirt with him. That information alone perks his confidence up, although still shy under your flattering observation. He quickly plasters on a teasing smirk, fluttering his lashes dramatically and placing his hand under his chin, wiggling his fingers. “Oh? So you think I’m pretty?”

The scene before you brings out an even bigger laugh from you than earlier, though it’s not mocking or condescending - just pure amusement and joy. It’s infectious, and Jongseong feels his heart swell at the sound. He has the sudden urge to make you laugh like that for a long time, to see that carefree sparkle in your eyes again and again. He doesn’t want to say forever, but his heart is sure screaming it.

“I think you’re pretty, yes,” you say, your smile soft and genuine, your eyes sparkling under the annoying table-side lamp with its harsh white bulb - a stark contrast to the warmth you radiate. The lamp is obnoxious and stupid, casting its ugly, sterile light on everything around it, much like several of the people at this party. But Jongseong can't help but find it almost poetic that it’s illuminating something - or rather, someone - so captivating. 

There’s a sense of irony in how this harsh, artificial light only seems to highlight the genuine softness in your expression, the way you carry yourself with a quiet confidence that makes you stand out without even trying. You shine so brightly, even in a room full of noise and chaos, and Jongseong begins to sense just why he was so drawn to you at first glance.

It’s not as if you’re ‘not like other girls’ or whatever cringe, indie-female-lead syndrome that sounds like. No, it’s that in a room full of people competing to be seen, you’re the only one who Jongseong cares to know about. There’s a magnetism to the way you occupy your space - comfortable in your own skin, bored but not bitter, playful but not insincere. You seem untethered from the superficial games playing out around you, and that’s what makes you different. It’s not that you’re trying to be; it’s that you simply are - at least, in Jongseong’s eyes.

He feels a warmth spread through his chest, a lightness he hasn’t felt for a long time. For a moment, the noise of the party fades, replaced by the sound of your laughter, ringing clear and unforced, like something rare and precious in a place like this. It strikes him then - how easy it would be to just keep listening to that sound, to find ways to make you laugh again, to see how your eyes light up when you’re amused.

“How about we get out of here?” Jongseong suggests, his voice laced with a hint of excitement that he can’t quite hide. “Grab some food, and I’ll walk you home.”

You raise an eyebrow, your lips curling into a teasing smile. “Leaving this place does sound tempting...but here’s the thing, I don’t even know you,” you say, your words playful, though the interest in your eyes betrays how intrigued you really are.

He feels a flicker of embarrassment for not having introduced himself sooner. “Shit, sorry. Let me introduce myself.” He straightens up, setting his cup down with a small, almost sheepish grin. Then, with a playful seriousness that makes you chuckle, he extends his hand, inviting and warm. “I’m Jay, I’m 22 years old, I study music technology, and I’m single.”

You can’t help but smile at his theatrics, mirroring his gesture and placing your hand in his. The warmth of his skin sends a flutter through your stomach, your insides skipping in joy all of a sudden, but you ignore it, focusing instead on the easy banter between you. “My name is Y/N, I am 23 years old, and I am also single,” you reply, your tone matching his playful formality.

His grin widens, a flash of confidence in his eyes. “Sounds like the perfect match, don’t you think?” There’s a charm to him that’s hard to resist, an easy confidence that makes you feel like you’ve known him much longer than just these few minutes.

As you hold his gaze, you find yourself drawn to him in a way that surprises you. It’s not just his looks - though there’s no denying he’s handsome - it’s his energy, his wit, the warmth that radiates from him. Never in your life has someone matched your energy so well. He’s like a breath of fresh air in a space that feels stifling, and it’s intoxicating in a way that no drink here could ever be.

You knew, from that very moment, that you wanted to know more about him, and he knew he was going to marry you one day.

_____

"A treasure hunt?" you ask, a hint of amusement in your voice as you raise an eyebrow at him.

Jongseong had thought about you nonstop since the moment he walked you home from that party. A few stolen moments in your company, a brief but memorable conversation - it had not been enough. Not nearly enough. It was as if something inside him ignited that night, a quiet but unrelenting fire, burning through his thoughts whenever your face crossed his mind. The way you laughed, the way your eyes lit up when you spoke - it was intoxicating, and he found himself craving more. So much more. 

His friends had noticed too; he wasn’t subtle in the least. Every chance he got, he’d talk about you, about the brief time you two had spent together, already analysing every moment like a lovestruck fool.

And so, he’d come up with this date: a treasure hunt. A way to get to know you, to create an experience that wasn’t just the mundane dinner or movie date. No, this had to be different. You deserved different. Something unique. He’d spent days working out the details, coming up with clues, places, and the perfect way to make this evening special. He wanted you to smile, to laugh, to feel how much thought he had poured into this. 

Jongseong grins, proud of himself, "Yep. Well, sort of. I'm going to give you an envelope, and you're going to figure out the riddle."

Your lips curve into a soft smile, the kind that makes his heart race in a way he’s almost embarrassed to admit. You're used to men putting in the bare minimum. Dinner and a movie, sometimes even just a text at 11 pm, wondering if you were still awake. But this? This is different. He’d thought about this, actually put in effort. A treasure hunt on a first date? It was quirky, yes, but endearing. It makes you wonder if somehow, during that boring party, you found a ruby amongst diamonds. The idea makes your stomach flutter slightly and anticipation build.

"Okay," you tease, holding out your hand, palm up. "Where is this magical envelope with all the answers then?"

"Well..." Jongseong steps closer to you, the air between you buzzing with unspoken tension, playful and light. He pulls the envelope from his suede brown jacket pocket and dangles it just above your open hand. As you reach for it, Jongseong pulls away at the last second, flashing you a mischievous grin.

“Really?” You huff, your voice carrying more amusement than frustration. He’s playing with you, and you can’t deny you enjoy it.

"Not so fast," he says, heart thrumming in his chest so loud because fuck you look so beautiful, he just wants to be as close to you as possible. So, he steps even closer, his body towering over yours. The warmth from his body feels almost tangible, and the playful gleam in his eyes makes your heart stutter. "You have to answer me one question before I give it to you."

You can’t help but roll your eyes, though it’s all in good fun. "So not only do I need to use my brain and solve a puzzle, I also have to divulge personal information? You really know how to get a girl talking."

"Pretty much, yeah." His smile is smug, and you can tell he’s feeling particularly clever about his little scheme. It’s adorable, really. 

"And if I say no?"

"Then this date ends very quickly," he shrugs, feigning nonchalance, though you can tell he’s trying hard to mask his anticipation. He leans in slightly, voice low and teasing. "And you miss out on my meticulously planned adventure."

His words are light, but there’s a subtle undercurrent of vulnerability there. He’s trying to play it cool, but you sense how much he hopes you’ll say yes. That small spark of emotion hidden behind his teasing makes your heart soften just a little more. There’s something so sweet in how much effort he’s putting in, and you can’t help but feel drawn to it. Feel drawn to him.

With a dramatic sigh, you nod, "Fine, what’s the question then?"

Jongseong chuckles, clearly pleased with himself and his persuading manner. "Straight to the point. I like it." He holds the envelope out again, this time a little closer to your palm. "What’s your favourite type of food?"

You pause, considering for a moment before a smile spreads across your face. "Hmm... Italian, or! Caribbean."

He raises an eyebrow at your sudden burst of enthusiasm. "Both?"

"I mean, how could I possibly choose between ravioli and kabritu stoba?" You laugh, feeling the lightness of the conversation flow easily between you. This is nice, it feels like you have somehow known each other for years.

"Fair enough," he says, nodding approvingly. He waves the envelope slightly, catching your attention. "Now, open this."

You tear it open carefully, unfolding the piece of paper inside. The words are written in neat, careful handwriting, a small clue to the meticulous planning that went into this.

"To taste where flavours meet and blend, Find the 5treet where numb3Rs enD. Look where hungry students convene, The number’s hidden in this scene."

You frown slightly, reading it over again. Riddles aren’t exactly your strong suit, but you try to piece it together. Okay, there's a 53 in there, and R and D are capatilised...hungry students? Then it hits you, a beam of satisfaction at how quickly you managed to solve it shining from your pleased grin.

"53rd Note!" you exclaim, eyes lighting up. "The food stall on campus!" You look at him, a grin tugging at your lips. "I'm right, aren’t I?"

Instead of giving you a verbal answer, Jongseong simply gestures for you to lead the way. What he doesn’t expect, however, is for you to take his hand, intertwining your fingers with his in a way that feels so easy, so natural, it takes him by surprise. His heart skips a beat, something he didn’t think was possible in a moment as simple as this. Your hand in his feels...perfect. Warm, comforting, and everything he didn’t know he needed until now.

You feel the shift too - the way the simple touch adds a new layer to the evening. There’s something electric in the air, a sense of anticipation and excitement. It’s just a handhold, you tell yourself, but there’s more to it. The quiet understanding, the subtle acknowledgement of a connection that neither of you is ready to speak about just yet, in fear of jinxing something.

As you walk together toward the diner, the city lights twinkling above, the world feels a little smaller. It’s just the two of you, hands clasped, both of you teetering on the edge of something that feels new and exhilarating. Jongseong glances at you from the corner of his eye, his heart pounding in a way he knows he won’t forget. He’s down bad for you, that much he’s realised, fuck, he even came to this conclusion when you told him your name. But now, holding your hand, walking beside you on a slightly chilly evening, the sun setting in for bedtime while the moon starts its shift, he thinks maybe - hopefully - you might be down for him too.

_

The walk to 53rd Note is relatively short, yet it feels like time expands as you and Jongseong fall into an effortless rhythm of conversation. There’s no awkwardness, no fumbling through the typical, banal exchanges that often fill first dates - no one asking about favourite colours or talking endlessly about the weather surrounding you. Instead, the dialogue between you flows naturally, easily, as if you’ve known each other far longer than you have.

Jongseong’s questions are thoughtful, pulling you into a deeper conversation that takes you by surprise in the best way possible. "Why did you pick your major?" he asks, genuine curiosity lacing his tone. You find yourself opening up, explaining your passions and dreams, not feeling the need to hold back. There’s something about the way he listens that makes you feel heard, truly heard. His eyes never wander, his attention never falters - he is fully attentive.

"Is silver jewellery your thing, or are you allergic to gold?" he asks with a chuckle, glancing at the small silver ring on your finger. The question is odd but endearing, making you laugh. And when you ask about his interest in food, you learn that cooking is one of his many hidden talents. He admits to almost studying culinary arts before choosing music tech, a decision that sparks even more questions between you both.

The conversation continues, and you feel your guard slowly falling, piece by piece. You even ask him why he decided to talk to you that night at the party. His answer is simple, yet it holds weight. "I just wanted to get to know you."

By the time you reach the little food stall nestled on the corner of the student campus, you’re both lost in conversation and laughter. The place is a campus favourite, known for its amazing food and usual agonising long queues. It’s the kind of spot everyone flocks to after lectures or late-night study sessions. But tonight, something is off. The shutters are down, and the sign on the shutter swings lazily in the breeze, declaring the stall closed.

"I-It’s closed," you stammer, disappointment heavy in your voice, not because you can’t eat here, but because you feel a twinge of guilt knowing how Jongseong must have spent time planning all of this, and now you've hit a hurdle at the first stop. The last thing you want is for his carefully thought-out plan to be ruined so suddenly.

But when you turn to face him, the smile on his face hasn’t faltered. If anything, it’s grown wider, as if he’s completely unfazed by the situation. "Come on," he says, his voice full of quiet confidence as he gently squeezes your hand and leads you towards the shutter.

The stall is small but charming, with a bright yellow exterior and hand-painted menus plastered along the walls. Colourful string lights hang above it, though they’re unlit now, swaying lightly in the evening breeze. You notice a small table tucked beside the stall, probably a place for students to gather and chat as they wait for their orders. Everything about this place radiates warmth, even though it's currently closed.

Jongseong raises his hand and knocks on the metal shutter, the sound loud enough to startle a few birds perched nearby. Moments later, the shutter rolls up with a slow creak, revealing a boy wearing an apron and hairnet on the other side. His face lights up as he sees you both, his excitement palpable.

"Two to go, please," Jongseong grins at his friend, whose eyes gleam with understanding. Jake, nods enthusiastically, already bustling behind the counter. You quickly realise this is all part of Jongseong’s plan.

"You... how did you know he was in there?" you ask, confusion and amusement blending together as you look between Jake, who is clumsily wrapping up your food, and Jongseong, who’s leaning casually against the counter, looking as if everything is going perfectly to plan.

Jongseong’s cool demeanour makes you smile. "I know the owner," he says with a nonchalant shrug. "He let me borrow the hut for a minute."

In truth, Jongseong had to beg Woobin - the actual owner - to close up shop during peak hours. It wasn’t an easy feat. He had offered everything he could think of in exchange: guitar lessons, study help, and even his favourite hoodie. Woobin had eventually relented after enough pleading, but only on the condition that Jongseong wouldn’t touch the stock. Still, it worked out, and now here he is, pretending it was all effortlessly arranged.

"The normal guy isn’t here, though?" you ask, glancing at Jake, who looks completely out of his depth as he fumbles with the wrapping paper. It’s clear he doesn’t normally work here, but you can’t help but appreciate his enthusiasm.

Jongseong shifts slightly, his posture still casual, but you notice the flicker of nervousness in his eyes. He takes a breath, his voice calm but tinged with something deeper. "Ah, well... I cooked this meal."

The words hang in the air for a moment, and you see a flash of vulnerability in him, a rare crack in his otherwise confident exterior. He’s laid himself bare now. The pressure isn’t just about whether this date is going well - it’s about whether you’ll like his food. 

For Jongseong, cooking is an act of love. Growing up, it had always been how his family showed they cared. His mum, his grandmother, they had taught him that food was more than just sustenance. It was a way to express emotion, to bring people together. And now, he’s hoping you’ll understand that.

He watches you carefully, his heart pounding in his chest as he waits for your reaction. This isn’t just any meal. It’s his way of subtly showing you how much he could care for you, not just tonight, but for as long as you’ll have him. You can feel the weight of his unspoken words, the silent hope behind his playful banter. It’s more than just food; it’s a gesture, a glimpse into how deeply he’s already fallen for you.

Jake hands over the dishes with an exaggerated flourish, grinning from ear to ear. "Enjoy, my beautiful lovebirds," he says, winking at the two of you. You stifle a laugh, watching as Jongseong’s face flushes slightly, the tips of his ears turning a light shade of pink. He’s clearly embarrassed by his friend’s teasing, and for a moment, you think he might actually throttle Jake. But you, on the other hand, find it sweet - endearing even - and thank Jake with a bright smile, not at all put off by the comment.

Being lovebirds with Jongseong isn’t hard to imagine, not really.

As you and Jongseong approach the small table near the stall, you take a moment to appreciate the surroundings. It’s a simple wooden setup, aged from the constant exposure to student life - scuffed by countless bags, elbows, and books. Yet tonight, it feels like it’s transformed into something more intimate as if the evening air and the quiet chatter in the distance have turned it into your own private dining space. The string lights above the stall, though unlit, seem to glimmer faintly in the twilight, casting a soft glow over the scene. The air is cool, but not cold, carrying the faint scent of campus greenery and the distant hum of city life.

Jongseong pulls out one of the two chairs for you, a small gesture, but one that sends a flicker of warmth through you. As you sit, he unravels the paper bag, the rustling sound filling the air, and the intoxicating aroma of the food reaches your nose before you even see what’s inside.

The first thing you notice is the kimchijjigae. The spicy tang hits you instantly, its deep red broth shimmering with flavour. The scent of fermented cabbage, tofu, and gochugaru wafts up, causing your stomach to rumble in anticipation. Beside it are two perfectly portioned servings of fried rice, golden and inviting, alongside bindaetteok - crispy mung bean pancakes that look so perfectly golden-brown, you can almost hear the crunch as you imagine biting into them.

Everything looks so carefully prepared, yet it’s simple, unpretentious. The kind of food that speaks volumes about the one who made it. Your heart swells as you realise how much thought went into this meal, into every tiny detail. It's not just about the food, it's about the care behind it.

"You made all of this?" you ask softly, your voice tinged with awe as you gaze at the beautifully arranged dishes in front of you. Despite the simplicity, the food looks incredible, and you can feel the thought and effort poured into it. You glance up at Jongseong, your eyes filled with admiration.

He nods, handing you a cup of water after pouring it carefully from the bottle Jake had given him. "Yeah," he says, his tone casual, but there’s an underlying nervousness in his eyes, as if he’s waiting for your reaction, hoping you’ll like what he’s made. "Everything’s vegan too. I wasn’t sure if you had any dietary restrictions or didn’t eat meat, so I went with the safest option."

That small detail, the consideration behind it, makes your chest tighten. He had thought of everything. You’d never mentioned anything about your diet, yet he had gone out of his way to make sure the meal would suit you, just in case. It’s such a thoughtful gesture, so full of quiet care, that it nearly overwhelms you. It’s not just the food he’s offering - it’s a piece of himself, his heart wrapped up in every bite.

Your heart swells with affection, and you smile so widely it almost hurts. "That’s...incredibly thoughtful," you murmur, feeling the weight of what he’s done settle warmly in your chest. You’re not used to people putting this much effort into dates, let alone cooking a meal tailored to your needs without even knowing them. In fact, you don’t think anyone has ever put this much effort into you as a person. It makes you feel seen, cared for, in a way that surprises you.

Without another word, you take your chopsticks and carefully lift a small piece of bindaetteok, its crispy edges crackling slightly as you bite into it. The taste is immediate; crispy on the outside, soft and delicate inside, with a rich flavour that bursts on your tongue. It’s perfect, so perfectly seasoned and balanced that you can’t help but let out a small, delighted squeal.

Your eyes light up as you look at him, your hands coming together in a quick, enthusiastic clap. "Oh my God, Jongseong!" you exclaim, your excitement bubbling over as your feet bounce under the table. "This is amazing!"

Jongseong lets out a relieved laugh, his shoulders visibly relaxing as he watches your reaction. His eyes soften, filled with a quiet joy that he can’t quite put into words. "I’m glad you like it," he says, his voice a little quieter now, the relief and warmth evident in his tone. But there’s something more in his expression, a look of pure contentment as if seeing you happy has made all the anxiety he’s been feeling completely worth it.

He wants to make you this happy forever.

You dig into the rest of the food eagerly, trying the kimchijjigae next. The broth is spicy but comforting, the heat hitting you just right without being overwhelming. The fried rice is fluffy, with a subtle but rich taste that perfectly complements the other dishes. Every bite feels like a hug, the kind of meal that fills both your stomach and your heart.

As you eat and chatter, you can’t help but look at Jongseong, this boy who’s already managed to sweep you off your feet without even trying, your heart doing most of the soaring. You see the way he watches you, the small smile that tugs at his lips every time you take another bite or tell him another story. He’s nervous, but proud, clearly pleased that you’re enjoying the meal. And in that moment, you realise how much he’s already starting to mean to you. This is more than just a first date - it’s the beginning of something, something that feels real and full of possibility.

As you finish the last bite, you feel a surge of warmth spreading through you—not just from the food, but from the entire experience. The way Jongseong has thought through every detail, from the meal to the riddles, makes your heart swell with affection. You smile, letting the emotion seep into your voice as you look up at him. "Jongseong," you say softly, holding his gaze, "this was...perfect. Compliments to the chef."

Without missing a beat, Jongseong's face lights up with pride. He stands up with an exaggerated bow, playing up his role as the triumphant chef, and gives a few playful nods to an imaginary audience. His movements are full of cocky grace, a confidence that’s both endearing and maddening in the best way. You can’t help but laugh, your body suddenly feeling warmer at how effortlessly charming he is - this is depth to Jongseong that you desperately want to unravel, layer by layer.

In more ways than one.

Still glowing with laughter, he reaches into his pocket and pulls out another envelope, teasingly waving it in front of you. "Now," he says, his smirk growing wider, "you want the next envelope?"

Nodding eagerly, you can barely contain the glee and anticipation bubbling up inside you. The treasure hunt has been so fun, and now you’re ready to see what’s next.

"Okay," he begins, placing the envelope on the table in front of you, his eyes glinting with mischievous delight. "But first, you’ve got to answer my question."

You nod again, this time pretending to adopt a serious game face, your brows furrowing in faux concentration as you prepare yourself for whatever difficult question he’s about to ask.

"Who was the first person you ever went to see in concert?" Jongseong asks, leaning in, his smirk turning a little more playful.

Your confident expression falters as you immediately dissolve into laughter, the memory of your first concert flashing vividly in your mind. You cover your mouth with your hand, trying to suppress your giggles, but it’s no use. Jongseong raises an eyebrow, tilting his head slightly in curiosity. "Oh, there’s a story here, huh?" he prompts, grinning wider. "Is it embarrassing?"

"Not embarrassing... maybe," you begin, still giggling as the memory takes hold of you. "It was... an ‘In the Night Garden’ experience. I was seven years old, and I got to dance with them on stage." You snort, remembering how excited and utterly starstruck you were as a child.

Jongseong blinks once, then twice, as if trying to process the image, and then bursts out laughing. He leans back in his chair, throwing his head back with full, hearty laughter that echoes through the quiet evening air. It’s a deep, unrestrained laugh that makes your heart skip a beat, the kind that feels as warm and genuine as everything else about him. You join in, your laughter melding with his, both of you giggling like children at the sheer absurdity of your revelation.

"In the Night Garden?" he repeats, still chuckling, his voice filled with disbelief. "The kids' show? I was expecting you to say something like EXO or SHINee!"

You hide your face in your hands, the realisation dawning on you that it is, in fact, kind of embarrassing. But you can’t help but laugh at yourself. "I did see EXO and SHINee later on, but they weren’t my first!" you protest between giggles.

"You didn’t think to lie?" he teases, his eyes dancing with amusement.

"Not at all," you say, your voice softening as the laughter dies down. There’s something wistful in your tone now, a hint of sincerity that catches even you by surprise. "I don’t want to lie to you, not about the silly stuff and…not about the serious stuff either."

For a moment, the air between you changes. The playful banter gives way to something deeper, a quiet understanding that passes between you. It’s as if, in this small moment, you’re both realising how much you want to be honest with each other - how much you want to truly know each other. You see Jongseong’s face shift, his teasing grin softening into something tender, something full of affection. He can see it, the way you’re falling a little deeper into him with every word, every shared laugh, and the joy that fills his face is undeniable. His eyes sparkle, and his lips curve into a smile so warm, it feels like a promise.

"Well," he says, pushing the envelope across the table toward you with a soft, satisfied sigh, "I think you’ve earned the next clue."

With a grin, you eagerly take the envelope, your fingers tingling with excitement as you carefully tear it open. The riddle inside reads:

"Under a bridge of lights, a river’s friend. Where music plays, the night will never end. So gather near, beneath the sky so bright, And hear the melodies that fill the night."

The moment you finish reading it, a confident smile spreads across your face. "Oh, this is easy," you say, wiggling your shoulders smugly. "It’s the Han River."

Jongseong nods, impressed but not surprised. "Of course. But there’s a little surprise waiting for you. Come on." He stands, holding out his hand to you, his eyes twinkling with proud knowing.

You take his hand instinctively, your fingers curling naturally around his. As you stand up, you find yourself moving closer to him, your bodies leaning into each other in a way that feels effortless, natural. The walk toward the river feels different, like every step brings you closer, not just physically but emotionally. The night air wraps around you, cool but pleasant, and the distant city lights shimmer like stars scattered along the horizon. The quiet hum of life around you fades into the background as your focus narrows to the warmth of Jongseong's hand in yours and the soft sound of your footsteps together.

Your heart beats steadily, not with nerves, but with a quiet certainty: you’re exactly where you’re supposed to be.

_

As you approach the Han River, the usual serene atmosphere is broken by the soft hum of excitement. A crowd is gathered by one section, and you spot people seated in a semi-circle, the area aglow with warm, delicate fairy lights and scattered fake candles that twinkle like stars against the night sky. Amps are neatly arranged around a modest stage setup, cables snaking across the ground as if drawing people into the intimate space. The whole scene feels like it’s been lifted from a dream—cosy, inviting, and charged with quiet anticipation.

You turn to Jongseong, eyebrows raised in question. "Is this one of those busking things?"

"Not just any busking thing," he corrects you, his grin widening as he pulls two tickets from his pocket. His excitement is hard to contain as he watches you inspect them.

Your breath catches in your throat as your eyes fall on the print: Sam Kim, filming for Begin Again Open Mic.

"How did you—?" you begin, stunned, unable to process how he’d managed to pull off something so incredible.

"I might have stalked your Instagram a bit," he admits with a sheepish chuckle, though his expression is anything but embarrassed. "Saw you post about him a few times and figured it was a sure thing.” The tickets weren’t easy to get, though, that part he isn’t telling you. He had to sell one of his precious guitars to make it happen, but the look on your face right now? Totally worth it. 

Your eyes well up, not from sadness, but from a deep, overwhelming appreciation. There’s something unfamiliar yet beautiful blooming in your chest, a warmth that spreads through you and makes your heart race in a way it hasn’t before. "Thank you so much, Jongseong," you whisper, the words falling out on their own. 

Never have you looked at a man and felt this way, and you don’t think you ever will unless it’s Jongseong.

Before you can stop yourself, you step forward and wrap your arms around him, pulling him into a tight embrace. At first, he seems caught off guard, his body stiffening for a moment. But then, as if the feeling clicks into place, he quickly relaxes into the hug, his arms encircling you with gentle but firm pressure. You feel him bury his face briefly into your hair, inhaling your scent, committing it to memory like it’s something precious he wants to hold onto. His warmth wraps around you like a protective shield, and for a second, the world fades away.

If this is what being with you is like, he never wants to spend another minute apart.

"Come on," he murmurs into your ear, his breath sending a shiver down your spine. "Let’s get our seats."

He leads you toward a blanket with his name written on a small tag in, neatly reserved in one of the best spots. As you approach, he helps you settle down onto the blanket, standing behind you attentively as you smooth out your skirt. It’s a simple gesture - making sure you’re comfortable, that your clothes are fixed just right and you don’t unwillingly flash the poor couple behind you - but it feels like so much more. Your skirt, a flowing, light fabric that swishes around your legs, catches the evening breeze as you adjust yourself, and you find yourself grateful for his thoughtfulness.

Once you’re seated, Jongseong slips down beside you, the space between you both comfortably close. He takes off his jacket and places it over your legs, to shield you from the biting cold wind from the river and reserve your modesty. 

Just as you settle in, the quiet murmur of the crowd dies down, and the soft strum of a guitar fills the air. Sam Kim steps onto the small, makeshift stage, his presence met with excited murmurs and appreciative applause from the audience.

You can’t believe it. Sam Kim, live and in person, just a few metres away. Your heart swells as the first notes of ‘Closer’ begin to play, the song wrapping around you like an old memory, one you didn’t realise you had been holding so close. The smooth timbre of Sam’s voice fills the cool night air, his words resonating deep within you.

You feel yourself lean instinctively toward Jongseong, and without hesitation, he wraps his arm around you, pulling you closer into his side. His warmth anchors you as the music washes over you both, your head resting lightly against his shoulder. He presses his chin softly atop your head, his hand lightly tracing your arm in slow, comforting strokes.

The tenderness of the moment, combined with Sam Kim’s voice singing about longing and love, stirs something deep inside you. As the next song begins - Seattle - its delicate melody and heartfelt lyrics unravel any composure you had left. Tears prick at your eyes, and you can’t help but let them fall as the song’s quiet emotion seeps into every fibre of your being. There’s something about the raw vulnerability in the music, in the moment, that makes it impossible to hold back.

Jongseong notices right away. Without a word, he gently tightens his hold on you, pulling you closer into him as if to shield you from the overwhelming emotion. He presses his lips softly against your temple in a tender, wordless gesture of comfort, his breath warm and steady against your skin.

As soon as his mouth makes contact with your skin, he feels sick in such a profound way, that all his love and realisation is now reaching from his toes, past his heart, and into his brain.

You glance up at him through your damp lashes, and he meets your gaze with such sincerity that your heart skips a beat. His eyes are full of unspoken promises, of quiet understanding. He doesn’t say anything, but the way he holds you, the way he looks at you, speaks louder than words ever could. In that moment, it feels like the music, the river, the night sky, and Jongseong are all blending together in perfect harmony.

The rest of the performance unfolds in a beautiful haze of music and soft touches. Each song Sam Kim plays feels like a gift, and by the time the last note fades into the night, you’re left with a feeling of warmth and connection that goes beyond the evening itself. It’s as though something shifted between you and Jongseong - a silent but profound acknowledgement that tonight was about more than just a date.

The final notes of the performance linger in the air, weaving through the soft hum of conversations around you. As the crowd begins to disperse, you wipe the last of your tears, touched not only by the music but by the entire night, Jongseong has crafted for you. His presence feels like an anchor, steady and reassuring amidst the emotional whirlpool of the evening.

"Are you okay, Y/N?" His voice is filled with concern, his gentle eyes scanning your face as though searching for any lingering sadness. You sense his earnestness, his desire to make sure every second of tonight was perfect for you. Jongseong knew you liked Sam Kim, but he hadn’t expected your deep connection to the music to stir such raw emotion in you. But now, seeing the impact it had, he’s certain Sam is officially his favourite artist too, simply because of what he’s done for you.

Smiling through the tenderness swelling in your chest, you nod and offer a playful pout. "I'm more than okay. Really, Jongseong, thank you so much for all of this. I don’t think I’ve ever had a date like this," you laugh, the joy bubbling up as you stand up, Jongseong quickly offering his hand to help you to your feet. His touch is light, but there’s an intimacy in the way he smooths out the wrinkles of your skirt, his fingers brushing over the fabric as if it’s the most natural thing in the world.

A laugh escapes you again, this one softer, almost wistful. "I don’t even think I’ll ever have a date like this again."

But the truth behind your words hits deeper than you let on. You know someone like Jongseong is rare, a once-in-a-lifetime kind of soul. The universe doesn’t often gift the world people like him so easily, and yet here he is, standing before you, having planned the most thoughtful evening you’ve ever experienced. It feels like a miracle, like some kind of cosmic alignment that allowed you to meet him.

Jongseong, ever so sweet, tucks a strand of your hair behind your ear with a tenderness that makes your heart flutter. "Oh, you will," he says with a soft shake of his head, a playful yet sincere smile tugging at his lips. "Because I’m going to take you on dates bigger and better than this."

His words settle in your chest, a gentle promise that fills you with an almost dizzying sense of happiness. He’s not just thinking about tonight; he’s already imagining the future - your future together. What you don’t know is that during the mini-concert, as the singer’s voice crooned through the air, Jongseong was secretly planning the next date, and the one after that, and the next one after that one, and so many more. In his mind, he’s already picturing you both years down the line, holding hands when you’re old and grey, still laughing, still sharing moments like these. He’s jumping the gun here but that’s how much he wants you in his life, no, needs you in his life.

You reach up, your hand cupping his face, your thumb gently stroking the cool surface of his cheek. His skin feels smooth under your touch, but there’s a warmth beneath it, a warmth that spreads from him to you. "How about I plan the next one?" you offer, the words carrying a weight of confirmation - you want more. More moments like this, more laughter, more adventures. More him.

Jongseong’s eyes light up, his heart swelling with happiness. "Deal," he says, his voice low but laced with excitement. His gaze, however, drifts lower, his eyes falling to your lips. The air between you shifts, suddenly charged with a new kind of energy. He’s no longer just thinking about the next date; he’s thinking about now. The urge to kiss you swells inside him, consuming his thoughts. He wants to feel your lips on his, to communicate the emotions he hasn’t been able to fully express with words. His pulse quickens as he realises just how close you are, how easy it would be to lean in, close the gap, and make this night even more unforgettable.

You sense his desire, and a matching one blooms within you. Your heart beats faster as you step closer, rising onto your tiptoes. Slowly, almost hesitantly, you press your lips against his.

The kiss is soft at first, a delicate brush of skin against skin, but it carries the weight of all the unspoken feelings between you. Jongseong stills for a moment, his breath catching as he savours the sensation of your lips on his. There’s a gentleness in the way he kisses you, a quiet reverence as though he’s afraid to break the spell. His hand comes up to cup your jaw, his fingers threading through your hair as he deepens the kiss, but never rushes. Each movement is careful, slow, filled with a tenderness that makes your heart swell.

Your body tingles with warmth, a soft hum of pleasure spreading through you as you kiss him back. The world around you fades into the background—the quiet murmur of the river, the distant buzz of people - all of it disappearing as you lose yourself in the moment. His lips are warm and inviting, moulding perfectly to yours as though they were always meant to fit together. It’s sweet and unhurried, as if you have all the time in the world to explore the depth of this feeling.

As the kiss lingers, you feel the intensity of his emotions bleeding through, each press of his lips a silent confession. He’s telling you, without words, how much he’s already fallen for you. How he’s imagined a future with you, a lifetime of nights like this one. There’s a vulnerability in the kiss, an openness that makes your chest tighten with something more than affection. It feels like trust, like promise, like everything you’ve ever wanted but didn’t know you needed.

When you finally pull away, your breath mingles with his in the cool night air, your lips tingling with glee. His eyes are still closed, savouring the aftertaste of the kiss, as though he’s replaying it in his mind, etching it into his memory.

You both stand there for a moment, soaking in the adoration that seems to swirl around you. The Han River, mixed with the lights of the busking, and the love in the aire from the other couples, you feel it, all so immensely. Something has shifted. This isn’t just the start of something new - it’s the beginning of something deeply powerful. Something neither of you can quite put into words yet, but both of you feel it. It’s in the way he looks at you, in the way your lips just met, and in the way your hearts are already intertwining, bonding you to him for a lifetime.

Pulling himself away from the moment, Jongseong opens his eyes and grins down at you, kissing your forehead, desperate to keep his lips on you in some way. “Ready for the next one?”

“Oh, Absolutely.” Your answer is so self-assured and confident, there is no apprehension in your tone, only sheer enthusiasm to spend every waking minute with him.

Jongseong feels the same way, maybe even more than you. And he can’t wait for the day he gets to tell you how he fell in love with you in this moment.

_____

Laying in Jongseong’s bed, you slouch lazily against his headboard as you lose yourself in the words on your Kindle. The paragraphs of The Handmaiden grip you, pulling you into their twisted world, stirring a whirlwind of emotions inside you - a cocktail of disgust, hope, fear, and love. Love especially lingers on your mind, but little do you know that someone beside you is feeling that emotion just as intensely, perhaps even more, because the reason for his swirling heart is real and currently wearing his AC/DC t-shirt.

He stares at you engrossed in your book and for some strange, inexplicable reason, his chest feels tight and the pressure behind his eyes hurt, like he is a bottle of coke and there is a packet of Mentos just landing inside his soul.

"I fucking love you so much," Jongseong says suddenly, his voice soft yet undeniably passionate, carrying a depth that cuts through the silence of the room like a bolt of lightning. His body language or facial expression doesn’t change, in fact, the feeling has been inside of him for so long that speaking the words into fruition doesn’t change a thing about him. 

You freeze, the words on your screen blurring as your mind tries to process what you just heard.  Did he really say that? Maybe you misheard him. “What?” you ask, turning your head to face him, and once you see the sincerity in his face and the fire in his eyes, your heart begins to race, and your question is answered.

“I love you,” he repeats, more pointed this time so you know there is not even a wiggle of doubt, his eyes locked onto yours with a look so sincere it leaves you breathless. “More than my heart or my chest can hold in.” 

His confession takes you completely by surprise. It feels so sudden, so unexpected, that for a moment, you’re left speechless. You knew he cared deeply for you - his actions and gentle gestures have always spoken louder than words - but hearing it now, on a random Wednesday night, three months into your relationship, when you were just lounging in his bed, didn’t seem like his style at all. 

And you were right, Jongseong was always the one for grand gestures, for perfectly planned moments. He wanted to tell you over a candlelit dinner, complete with a big speech about all the reasons he fell for you, fighting the urge to tell you on your very first date. But he knew his feelings, he couldn’t deny them nor did he ever want to, however, maybe blurting out ‘I love you’ when he didn’t even know your favourite colour was a bit quick, so he decided to wait for the perfect moment, which he had guessed would be planned.

But there’s something so genuine about this moment - him saying it while you’re here, wearing his oversized t-shirt, your glasses perched on your nose, so absorbed in your book that you didn't even realise he was watching you. There’s no grand setup, no orchestrated plan - just pure, unfiltered feeling. Sometimes, you don’t need a big, fancy gesture; sometimes, the love is enough.

His hand reaches out to cup your jaw, his thumb brushing softly against your cheek. His touch pulls you in, makes you forget about everything else except him and the love reflected in his eyes. Somehow, he looks even more beautiful than he did 10 minutes ago.

You place your Kindle to the side, giving him your full attention, and clasp his fingers with yours, feeling the steady thrum of his pulse under your touch. “You love me?” you whisper, almost as if saying it too loudly might shatter the magic of this moment.

“Of course I do,” he replies, his voice as easy as breathing, because that’s exactly what it feels like to him. Falling in love is supposed to be scary and daunting, placing your heart in the palms of someone who could break it with one wrongdoing is enough to put people off giving and receiving the emotion. But Jongseong? He would give you every part of his body for you to keep hold of - for you to own. You are everything he needs in life, the only person he would start a war for, he trusts you completely; he has never felt anything this strongly before. 

Your chest feels like it’s suddenly desperate to connect with his, to close the gap between you both and merge yourselves as one whole being. His words sink into you, filling spaces you didn’t even know were empty. 

With a shaky breath, you hold back a tiny sob, the aura in the room too overwhelming for your heart. But not overwhelming enough to stop you from saying how you feel. “I love you too, Jongseong,” you confess, your voice trembling slightly, but not with uncertainty - rather with the sheer intensity of the truth.

He looks at you, searching your face for any hint of doubt. It’s not that he doesn’t believe you, but it’s just the slight thread of insecurity in being so vulnerable with someone. "You mean it? You aren’t just saying it out of obligation? Because you do-”

You interrupt him, squeezing his hands tighter. “I mean it. More than anything else that has ever left my mouth. I love you.”

A Cheshire smile breaks across his face, bright and unrestrained. He grabs your face in a rush, his big hands enveloping your cheeks as he begins to pepper kisses all over your face - your forehead, your cheeks, your nose, every inch of skin he sees squished between his palms - until you’re giggling uncontrollably. 

“Jongseong!” you squeal, your laughter infectious, and thus he keeps going, pinning you down gently, his weight warm and secure over you, his lips finding every spot that makes you laugh even harder until your sides hurt. This is what love is supposed to feel like, childlike and free, just as you two always are.

You are in love. So incredibly in love.

When he finally stops, he rests his forehead against yours, his breath warm against your skin. “I will love you until my dying breath, Y/N L/N,” he promises, his voice low and solemn. The serious current that accompanies the joy in his voice tells you all you need to know, instilling you with confidence that this man means every word and every emotion he is pouring into you.

A grin spreads across your lips, and you can’t help the heartfelt response that tumbles out: “I’ll love you until we’re food for the worms to eat.”

Your morbid but romantic description makes his heart thump, his expression turning even brighter. He laughs, a rich, melodic sound that fills the room, and tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, looking at you like you’re the only girl in the world. “Had to one-up me, huh?” he jokes.

“You know me, always one step extra,” you tease, pulling him down by the collar of his shirt.

The kiss starts slow, tender - a soft press of lips that speaks of newfound confessions and the quiet promise of forever. His lips are warm, moving gently against yours, and you can feel the way his breath hitches like he’s savouring every second, every little brush of skin against skin. Your hands find their way into his hair, tugging slightly, eliciting a low, rumbling groan from deep within his chest.

The kiss turns heated, a spark catching flame as his hands slide down your body, tracing the curve of your waist, pulling you closer until there’s no space left between you. He slots his body between your legs, his hips situated on yours as his member hilts against you. Your legs spread wider to let him fully lay on top of you, your boyfriend’s heart kissing your own with each beat.

His lips part, deepening the kiss, and you respond in kind, matching his intensity. The world around you blurs; all you can feel is the heat of his body against yours, the way his lips mould perfectly with yours, and the electric current that courses through you with every touch, every breath. 

Jongseong’s hand grips your hip, fingers digging in just enough to make you shiver, and his lips move with a hunger that matches the rapid beat of your heart. He’s pouring everything into this kiss - all his love, his need, his promise - until you’re both breathless and burning with a desire that you never want to end.

The kiss breaks for just a moment, enough for both of you to catch your breath and him to discard your t-shirt, but Jongseong’s lips don’t leave your skin for long. His forehead rests against yours, and the two of you share a lingering moment of closeness, eyes locked, hearts pounding in sync. There’s an unspoken understanding between you, a shared desire that flows in the charged air between you.

With a soft, almost reverent touch, Jongseong begins trailing kisses along your jawline, slow and deliberate, as though he’s memorizing every inch of your skin with his lips. Each kiss is a whisper of warmth, igniting sparks of pleasure that ripple through your body. You tilt your head back, giving him access, and he doesn’t waste a second. His mouth continues its descent, moving down to your neck where he plants open-mouthed kisses, his tongue brushing lightly against your pulse point, causing a shudder to run through you.

His hands, warm and steady, explore the curves of your body as he works his way lower, lips grazing the sensitive skin of your collarbone. He lingers there for a heartbeat, nipping gently before soothing the spot with his tongue. Your fingers tangle in his hair, urging him on, and he responds with a low growl that reverberates against your skin, sending a fresh wave of heat through you.

Jongseong shifts, his lips now trailing down to the valley between your breasts, each kiss more purposeful, more heated than the last. His breath is hot, his touch sure, and every movement, every press of his lips, leaves you aching for more. You arch your back, pushing yourself into him, craving the sensation of his mouth on your body.

As he continues his descent, kissing lower and lower, until he is at the band of your panties, his breath fans across your skin, and the anticipation builds with every second, every soft press of his lips against you.

"I love you, I love you, I love you," he murmurs between kisses, his voice thick with adoration.

You giggle, hiding your face at the chanting confession. You can’t believe a man so perfect is in love with you. Gently, you run your fingers through his hair and pout down at him, “I love you, too.”

The words brush down your torso and into Jongseong’s ears, eliciting a smile from him. That is all he has wanted to hear, from the moment he met you. He knows love like this is precious, and he never intends to waste it.

Carefully, his fingers hook into the waistband of your shorts and pull them down, your legs instinctively opening, showcasing your bare, glistening pussy for your boyfriend to see. It’s delicious, succulent, and all entirely for him to devour.

"So fucking pretty," he whispers, sending chills down your spine. The room feels hotter as he settles between your legs, tongue poking through his lips oh so teasingly to wet them, your clit weaping for attention. He does this to you a lot, makes your body react in ways it never has before, even after your first date you felt your panties soaking more and more to the point you dragged him into your dorm room and fucked him. 

Was it a smart idea to fuck a man on the first date? Not usually, but you knew from that day that you were willing to spend the rest of your life with him so, what was the harm in some fun?

Kissing your clit, Jongseong looks up to watch you as he always does, loving the way your face conveys the pleasure you feel. Even the simplest of touches has you under his mercy. As he begins to lap at your core with his tongue, you can't help but clutch his hair, your fingers tangled in the strands as you grind into his face. Your back lifts from the bed as you seek even more pleasure.

Overcome with how you taste, he doesn’t even register your fingers in his hair, pulling at it harshly when he circles your clit with his tongue. You’re so wet as he slurps you up but there’s so much it’s dripping onto his chin. It serves as motivation to keep going, to pleasure you as much as possible, to show you how much he wants to devour you, both body and soul.

Jongseong doesn’t get pussy drunk with girls, but he does with you. Addicted to the taste and smell of you, he just wants to rub himself all over you, covering himself in your slick as if to scent him, like you’re both wolves in some ABO universe.

“Don’t stop, Jongseong,” you groan out, the backs of your feet digging into his back as you pin him down as best you can, signalling to him your need for more. 

Smirking at your desperation, Jongseong’s tongue runs itself along your entrance and it makes you buckle, pushing his head in further. He continues his effort, making you a panting mess. His tongue was a gift from God and you’ll need to thank the big man later when you meet him for blessing you with a sex-god boyfriend.

A sex-god boyfriend who is in love with you.

Dipping his tongue in a few times helps him gauge how tight you are, seeing how much prep he needs to give you before he can fuck his love into you. As if reading his lewd thoughts, he feels your pussy squeezing, his tongue taking advantage and swirling around to hit more circumference of your walls. 

“I can’t wait to be inside of you, baby. To show you how much i really love you.”

It’s funny that he thinks sex would showcase his love any more than his eyes and heart already do. You know he loves you, you might have been shocked at how abruptly he said it tonight, but you’ve always known. It’s in the way he kisses you, how he cooks dinner for you even after long days, and it’s in how he would give up anything to see you happy.

Your clit is suddenly being simulated by his nose, it poking at it slightly the more bountiful he inserts his tongue. It feels otherworldly, “Jongseong, s’good, so good, fuck,” Your fingers harshly massage his scalp as you wiggle, close to cumming.

He knows it too, you’re dripping so much it’s leaking over half of his face. It’s so fucking hot how you’re a mess like this, just for him, only for him. Jongseong switches his tactics, lips now encircled around your clit and sucking harshly on it, the new sensation causing you to cry out, a new wave of your juices dripping down his chin and onto his bedsheets 

And just a few seconds later, you’re coming undone. 

Jongseong, ever pleased with himself, cleans you up with his tongue, sucking up the slick that’s flowing form your hole and drinking it greedily. You taste so good he could spend hours down here. But unfortunately, and selfishly, he needs to fuck you. Right here, right now.

Wiping your essence from his mouth, Jongseong crawls up over your body, placing gentle kisses up your torso, past your heaving chest, and back to your lips. He stares at you with something deep in his iris’, a promise that he will always make you feel this inspired, this gleeful, and never cause you any harm. 

When you’re so in love with someone, all the emotions come with it. And while you both encompass the very being of adoration and love, sometimes that red that represented your passion for one another, turned into a shade none of you liked.

_____

Your heels slam against the tiled floor of the hallway as you march through the dimly lit corridor of your apartment building, the sound echoing like the beating of a war drum. Every step sends a jolt through your aching feet, but the pain is nothing compared to the simmering rage boiling in your veins. You fumble for your keys, hands trembling with a mix of exhaustion and fury, the metallic clinking of the keyring mocking your every failed attempt. When you finally manage to fit the key into the lock, it sticks, just like it always does. You curse under your breath - a small, infuriating reminder of the list of things that should have been fixed, but like so many other things lately, were neglected.

You give the door a sharp push, the old wood groaning in protest as it swings open, the gust of night air brushing over your flushed skin, cooling the anger that’s blazing just beneath the surface. Without thinking, you slam it shut behind you, the force sending a jolt through your arm as the door rebounds off something - or rather, someone. Your boyfriend. The door collides with his face, eliciting a pained grunt as he catches it just in time to prevent further damage.

“Really, Y/N?” he groans, rubbing his jaw where the door had made contact. His voice is strained, more exasperated than angry, but it only fuels the fire burning inside you.

You toss your clutch onto the nearby table with a careless flick of your wrist, the sharp clatter slicing through the tense silence. Kicking off your shoes with more force than necessary, you whirl around to face him, your vision clouded by a searing flash of red-hot anger. You know you should apologise, at least for the door, but the apology sticks in your throat, smothered by the bitterness that’s bubbling up like a storm ready to burst.

Raking your fingers through your hair, you grip tightly at the roots, desperate to hold onto something, anything, to stop yourself from unravelling completely. “I don’t even want to look at you right now,” you spit, voice thick with venom, every word dripping with the weight of betrayal. Your expression twists into one of pure disgust as if just the sight of him is enough to set you off all over again.

You spin on your heel, determined to escape, but before you can make it to the sanctuary of your bedroom, you feel his gentle grip on your elbow. It’s a light touch, but it might as well be ironclad, and despite every fibre of your being screaming to pull away, you find yourself turning back to him, drawn by a force you can’t quite resist. You wish you could fight it - fight him, fight this magnetic pull that always seems to reel you back in - but your heart, traitorous as it is, weakens at his touch.

His eyes are steady, calm even, but the way his jaw tenses betrays the storm brewing beneath his composed exterior. You can see the flicker of frustration in the tightness of his clenched teeth, but it’s not directed at you; it’s aimed at the mess that’s wedged its way between the two of you, threatening to tear apart everything you’ve built together. He’s not angry with you, not even a little, but you can see the weariness in his gaze - the weight of a thousand unspoken words hanging between you like a fog.

“Too bad, because I don’t care if you don’t want to see me. We’re talking this out right now,” he says, his voice low but firm. He is not letting you stew in this mess, he hates the way your brain works, how it overthinks for hours, creating a mountain out of a molehill when he knows that one simple conversation can solve all problems.

He does fear that this might not be solved with a quick debate and kiss. This is going to take more than that.

You yank your arm away, swallowing the painful lump forming in your throat as you catch the brief flash of hurt in his eyes, like a knife twisting deeper. “Oh, sorry,” you snap, sarcasm dripping from your words, the sound bitter in your mouth. “What would you like to discuss first? The fact that you embarrassed me in front of my entire family and ruined my sister’s engagement party, or the fact that you punched my dad?”

Each word leaves your lips like a punch, each accusation sharper than the last. You watch as his calm exterior fractures, his eyes flickering with a cocktail of regret, anger, and something you can't quite place. The room feels like it’s closing in, the air heavy with the weight of things said and unsaid, as the silence between you sharpens, poised to snap at any moment.

Jongseong flinches, his expression flickering for a moment, the crack in his composure barely visible but unmistakable to you. He’s always been so unshakable, so infuriatingly composed during moments like this, and for a split second, you see the vulnerability beneath the mask - the guilt, the pain, the anger at himself. But he quickly steels himself, his gaze locking onto yours with a resolve that sends a shiver down your spine.

“You think I wanted that to happen?” he shoots back, his voice low and rough, trembling slightly with the effort of keeping it steady. His eyes bore into yours, dark and intense, as if searching for some kind of understanding in the sea of your fury. “You think I planned to lose it like that? That I wanted to make a scene in front of your whole family?”

His words hang heavy in the air, every syllable a plea for you to see him, to see the mess of emotions churning inside him, but all you can feel is the sting of humiliation, the sharp edge of betrayal slicing through your chest. 

The scene replays in your mind like a broken film reel, each frame more painful than the last. Your father’s slurred words, the way Jongseong’s posture stiffened, the moment things spiralled from heated words to fists flying. You remember the sickening thud of your father hitting the ground, the horrified gasps, and the wave of whispers that rippled through the room. Your heart had dropped to the floor along with him, and in that split second, everything had shattered - your sister’s engagement, your mother’s fragile composure, and the image you’d built of the man you loved. You can still hear the murmurs, each one laced with judgment, each one a knife twisting deeper.

Your dad has always been a kind man at heart, but the bottle changes him into someone unrecognisable, a man who lets the worst parts of himself spill out. You remember the nights as a child, hiding in your room while your parents fought, your mother’s angry voice telling him to sober up or get out, how he would vomit over the living room floor and have no recollection of it in the morning. It’s those memories - the helplessness, the fear, the shame - that have kept you from ever picking up a drink. 

You vowed never to touch the stuff, never to let alcohol turn you into someone altered, and Jongseong understood that about you from the start after you trusted him with your memories. He made the promise to you that night, quitting the moment you told him how much it meant to you, swearing he would never touch another drop again. You didn’t ask him too, he simply did it because that’s how much he loves you.

You step back, folding your arms across your chest, a protective barrier against the storm brewing between you. “You punched my dad, Jongseong!” you shout, your voice cracking under the strain of holding back tears. “You humiliated me in front of everyone. My mom was crying, my sister - God, do you even know what you did to her tonight? It was supposed to be her moment, and you ruined it!”

He steps forward, reaching out as if to touch you, to comfort you, but you take another step back, the distance between you widening. The urge to let him hold you, to fall into his arms and let the weight of tonight melt away is so strong it hurts, but you can’t. Not yet. Not when everything is still so raw, so jagged.

Jongseong breathes out and calms himself, “Listen to me,” he steps forward once again and he’s relieved that you don’t move. “I should not have acted like that, and that is what I am sorry for. But I will not let a man who has caused you so much pain talk about you like you are less than what you are. As long as my heart is beating, even when it stops, I will protect you from anything and anyone. I do not care if it’s family, or a stranger, or even yourself. You mean more to me than any other person on this planet and if I think for a second your heart is in danger, I am willing to do anything to protect it.”

His words hang in the air, raw and intense, vibrating with a passion that cuts through the tension like a blade. His gaze is locked onto yours, unwavering, filled with a fierce, almost desperate determination that pulls at something deep inside you. He’s closer now, just a step away, and you can feel the heat radiating off him, mingling with the cold ache of your own heartbreak. For a moment, all the noise in your head quiets, leaving only the thundering rhythm of your own heartbeat and the weight of his promise.

The room feels smaller, the walls closing in as the intensity of the moment settles around you. You’re torn between the anger that still simmers beneath your skin and the undeniable pull toward him, the man who’s both your solace and, tonight, your greatest source of pain. Jongseong’s words are like a salve, and though they don’t erase what happened, they start to soothe the jagged edges of your hurt. You can see the fear in his eyes - fear of losing you, of becoming the person you’ve always dreaded. There’s a vulnerability in him now, raw and unguarded, and it stirs something soft within you.

You take a deep breath, letting the tension drain from your shoulders, just a little. Your grip on the anger loosens, and the tight knot in your chest begins to unfurl, replaced by a slow, tentative warmth. Your fingers twitch, wanting to reach out, but you keep them at your sides, not quite ready for the full embrace of forgiveness but open to something gentler, something that feels like understanding.

“Jongseong,” you start, your voice quieter now, less a weapon and more a tentative bridge. “I know you meant well. I know you were trying to stand up for me. But you have to understand… that’s not what I need. I don’t need you to fight for me like that. I don’t need you to get angry on my behalf. I just need you to be here, to help me feel safe. Not like…” You trail off, your eyes dropping to the floor as you fight to find the words. “Not like this. We’ve been together for 5 years now, I told you my dad has his moments like this and as a family, we all chose to stick by him and support him, for mum’s sake. He is trying and sometimes he slips. Punching him and lashing out because he said some stupid shit he won’t remember in the morning isn’t the answer, it’s not what I want from you.”

Jongseong’s expression softens, the fierce determination in his eyes giving way to something deeper, more regretful. Honestly, he hates that you’re all so kind to a man who has caused you grief and misery your entire life, but you, your mum, and your sister are the kindest souls in the universe, it’s in your nature to see the good in people. Jongseong wishes your dad saw you all that way too, rather than taking advantage of the chances you give him.

He steps closer, his hand finally making contact with your skin and you instantly calm, the weight of his palm on your cheek grounding you. “I’m so sorry, baby,” he repeats, his voice breaking slightly, carrying the weight of his remorse. “I know what I did was stupid. I still don’t regret it,” he admits, his honesty ringing clear despite the regret in his tone. “I’d fight anyone who tried to hurt you, physically or emotionally. That’s how much you mean to me.”

You look up at him, the tears you’d been holding back now spilling freely. His confession doesn’t erase the pain, but it does offer a window into his heart - a heart that, despite its flaws and mistakes, beats fiercely in your defence. You can see the struggle in his eyes, the conflict between his protective instincts and the reality of his actions.

“I know,” you whisper, your voice quiet but unwavering. “I know you’d do anything to protect me. But if we’re going to be a family - when we get married - you’ll be part of all this. You have to understand that. You have to respect my mum and dad’s needs.” Your words are a bridge between your love for him and your love for your family. “If you can’t do that, then I can’t let you be a part of their lives. I need you to know that.”

Your voice trembles slightly at the weight of what you’re saying, and the look in Jongseong’s eyes shifts. He doesn’t speak right away, but his silence is filled with understanding. You can see your words land like stones in his chest, the gravity of your family’s importance settling in. He knows how much they mean to you, and the unspoken warning lingers: if he messes this up again, there’s no way forward. The very thought of a future without you sends a ripple of fear through him. He’s never imagined that possibility because, to him, there is no option. He won’t let it happen.

His stomach churns at the idea of losing you, but his hope brightens as you say ‘when we get married’ rather than ‘if’. “I’ll do better, Y/N. I promise, I’ll support you in whatever way you need me to.” His shoulders drop slightly as if conceding to the truth you’ve laid bare between you. “You’re strong. I should’ve known that, and I’m sorry for not trusting that strength.” His remorse is palpable, and you can feel the weight lifting slightly from your chest, the anger and hurt that had clouded your mind beginning to dissipate.

The room seems to settle, the tension slowly dissolving into something calmer, something more manageable. You look up at the man you love, really look at him, and see how much he truly cares - how deeply he regrets what happened, not just for you, but for everyone. His eyes are sincere, remorse shining in their depths, and for the first time since the night began to spiral, you feel a sense of peace.

You exhale, your own apology forming on your lips as the fog of anger clears from your brain. “I’m sorry too. For lashing out, for hitting you with the door…it was childish. I shouldn’t have acted like that.” A flush of embarrassment heats your face, the shame of your actions making you feel small.

Jongseong reaches up to rub his jaw, faking a wince, and thankfully, the playful gesture lightens the air between you. “Nothing a kiss can’t sort out,” he teases, his lips quirking into a small, pouting smile, trying to bring a bit of levity to the conversation.

You laugh softly, shaking your head. “Let’s just make sure we don’t cause a fiasco at any more engagement parties, okay?”

Jongseong chuckles slightly, his grin widening as he tilts his head. “What if it’s at ours? Do I get groom rights to cause chaos then?”

You raise an eyebrow, crossing your arms as you play along. “Well, you’d have to propose first for me even to consider that.”

Jongseong’s eyes twinkle with mischief and that same love that has always projected through from his soul as he leans in, lowering his voice to a playful whisper. “Just you wait, baby.”

_____

The heavy wooden doors of the chapel creak open, and Jongseong straightens his suit jacket, his fingers smoothing over the fabric of the black suit you had so carefully picked out for him. It’s tailored to perfection, hugging his broad shoulders and tapering down to a sleek fit at his waist. The crisp white shirt underneath feels a little too tight around his collar, not because of the fit, but because of the sheer enormity of the day. He inhales deeply, gathering all the breath he knows he’ll lose the second he begins his walk down the aisle.

At 34 years old, he’s finally getting married, and it still feels surreal. Even this morning, as he stood in front of the mirror, carefully adjusting his tie, it all felt more nerve-wracking than he could have imagined. His hands trembled slightly, not with doubt but with anticipation. It isn’t cold feet - far from it. Marrying you is the most certain thing he’s ever felt. In fact, the only thing weighing on his chest isn’t whether or not he’s making the right choice - it’s the fact that, for the first time in what feels like forever, you’re not by his side.

Last night, the night before your wedding, was the longest you’ve spent apart in years. You’d stayed with your sister, following the superstition that the bride and groom shouldn’t see each other before the ceremony, and while it seemed trivial at first, Jongseong missed you more deeply than he ever thought possible. Since that party so many years ago, he’s spent every moment he could by your side, and now, after sharing a home, building a life together, the thought of you not being there in his bed last night left an ache he hadn’t expected.

It wasn’t the marriage that was causing him anxiety. He couldn’t wait to marry you—to say the vows, to see you in your wedding dress, to call you his wife. No, what had his stomach in knots was the thought of walking down the aisle with all eyes on him. The idea of being the centre of attention, of every gaze following his every move, from the ball of his foot to the tip of his toes, made his skin crawl. Even as a kid, Jongseong hated being the focus of a room. 

You’d always been the one to handle social situations with grace, navigating crowds, talking to guests, and subtly keeping the two of you out of the spotlight when he needed it. God, he wished you were here right now to hold his hand and whisper something to ease his nerves.

But of course, you weren’t. Tradition had stolen you away from him this morning, and now, he had to face this moment alone. The chapel, though filled with friends and family, felt overwhelmingly empty without you by his side. His heart pounded harder in his chest as the reality of the moment hit him.

Suddenly, the soft notes of music swelled from the organ, pulling him from his thoughts. It was the cue the wedding planner had told him about, the signal that it was time for him to make his way down the aisle. He stood still for a moment, nodding to himself as he acknowledged what lay ahead. The attention, the eyes on him, the anxious fluttering in his chest - it would all be worth it the second he saw you at the other end of the aisle.

With a deep breath, he steps forward. His polished black shoes make a quiet click against the stone floor of the chapel, the sound echoing in the stillness of the room. Jongseong’s gaze flickers up briefly, catching sight of familiar faces in the pews. His mother, sitting proudly near the front, offers him a warm, reassuring smile. He tries to return it, but it feels stiff, nerves still crawling beneath his skin. His father gives him a subtle nod of encouragement, and Jongseong straightens his back, feeling the weight of their support behind him.

As he continues to walk, the scent of lilies and roses, the same ones you picked out together for the ceremony, fills the air. Sunlight streams in through the stained-glass windows, casting vibrant colours across the chapel floor - deep reds, purples, and golds dancing around his feet like blessings from above. He hears the faint rustle of fabric as guests turn their heads to watch him, but he keeps his eyes forward, focusing on the path ahead.

His palms are sweaty, and his pulse quickens with each step. The aisle feels impossibly long, like a steep hill with a drinking fountain waiting at the top. The rows of guests stretch on and on. Jongseong fights the urge to tug at his collar, to loosen the tie just a bit, but he knows it won’t help. Nothing can calm the storm inside him except you.

But as he nears the front, something shifts. The nervousness, the anxiety of being under watchful eyes, begins to ebb away, replaced by something else. Anticipation. Because just after this walk, after these few moments of discomfort, comes you. The love of his life. His future.

He greets your family with fondness and love as he reaches the end. Each one has become integral to his life, the definition of his second family. Jongseong's smile softens as he approaches them and offering a slight bow in respect. 

His future mother-in-law is sitting to the side, her eyes filled with warmth. Her hands are clasped tightly in her lap, fingers intertwined, though her expression is calm and composed. She has always been a strong presence in your life, and he feels the same quiet strength radiating from her now. She nods to him, her lips curving into a gentle smile that puts him a little more at ease. There’s a silent understanding between them - one forged through shared moments, family dinners, and heart-to-heart talks that had transformed Jongseong from a visitor into a son.

Standing next to your other bridesmaids is your sister, fidgeting slightly with the lace of her dress, her excitement palpable as the number one supporter in this relationship. She beams up at him, her eyes twinkling. She’s always been the one to bring lightness into any room, to ease tension with a well-timed joke or a teasing comment, and seeing her now, vibrant and full of life, reminds him of all the times she’d teased him for being so nervous about today. Her laughter and encouragement had helped him through many anxious moments, and her unspoken support right now is a comfort he hadn’t realised he needed.

They are his family now, just as much as his own parents sitting a few rows behind, and knowing that fills him with a sense of belonging.

Jongseong takes his position at the altar, trying to shake off the nervous tension building inside him. His friend Sunghoon is already there, waiting with a grin that’s equal parts mischief and pride. Sunghoon, who had been there for every milestone in his relationship, claps him on the back. It's surreal for both of them; after all, it was Sunghoon who dragged Jongseong to that dreadful party where you first met. Sunghoon had refused to let Jongseong skip it, even though Jongseong had dramatically declared he’d rather run naked through a field of nettles than attend. Now, Sunghoon stands by his side, proud of the role he played in bringing you both together and wearing the title of groomsman like a badge of honour.

"You look like you're about to get married," Sunghoon teases, laughter dancing in his voice. From where he stands, Sunghoon sees his best friend transformed. Jongseong’s usual cool demeanour is present, but there’s a deeper layer today - one of anticipation and raw emotion. His usually steady hands are clenched slightly, his jaw a little tighter than usual. Sunghoon notices all these small signs, but underneath them, he can see that Jongseong is just waiting to call you his wife, the need to call you Mrs. Park is what’s making him shake.

"Yeah? Too overdressed?" Jongseong jokes, trying to mask the nerves that refuse to leave him completely.

"Just a little," Sunghoon nudges him playfully. His smile fades into something more sincere. "You ready?"

Jongseong takes a deep breath before responding, his voice quiet but confident. "I don’t think I’ve ever been more ready in my life." He ignores the whispers and murmurs from the crowd, sounds he can't quite decipher. Will they be bad? Probably not, but that doesn’t stop his brain from trying to twist them into something else. What if they all think you’re settling? Still, he pushes it all aside, focusing on the one thing that matters: you.

He is so excited to see you. You had kept everything a secret - your dress, your hair, even down to your nails. He had tried every trick in the book to get even the smallest detail out of you, from sweet persuasion to playful pestering. He’d casually ask while you were busy with wedding plans or playfully guess what colour you might be wearing, trying to gauge your reaction. Each time, though, you would just smile coyly and shake your head, refusing to give anything away. Jongseong had groaned in mock frustration, but deep down, he knew it would be worth the wait. He was absolutely certain you’d look breathtaking, no matter what. You always look like the most beautiful person in the world, like the earth around you, only blooms to keep up with your beauty.

Sunghoon grins, breaking Jongseong’s thoughts. "I saw her earlier, y'know. Tried to talk her out of making a massive mistake." His tone is light, there’s no mistaking the fondness in his eyes. Sunghoon had actually visited you before the ceremony, not to convince you of anything, but to tell you how happy he was that you had come into Jongseong’s life. He had joked that he wanted a child named after him, but beneath the teasing, he was sincere. He told you how lucky he felt to witness true love up close, to see two people so in sync that it was like watching a real-life fairytale.

For Sunghoon, it was like one of the bedtime stories he read to his daughter, tales of love that transcended everything else. Sometimes, when he read those stories, his mind would drift to you and Jongseong, imagining the two of you as the characters destined for each other. Even his wife is amazed by the connection you share - two people who fit together so effortlessly that it was hard to believe. Sunghoon and his wife love one another so much, but they can recognise that you and Jongseong’s love is once in a lifetime, and they learn so much from you.

"Yeah? How did she look?" Jongseong asks, his voice tinged with hope. "Nervous? Cold feet? She’s definitely coming, right?"

Sunghoon throws his head back, laughing loudly, the sound echoing through the quiet church, eliciting some confusion on the faces of the guests. "She looks way out of your league, but no, she’s not nervous. She’s ready. In fact, she told me to let you know that you should cry when you see her. If you don’t, she’s marrying Jake instead."

Right on cue, Jake, the other groomsman, pops his head over Sunghoon’s shoulder with a wide grin. "And I will marry her in a minute, so you better get those waterworks going."

Jongseong can’t help but laugh, shaking his head at the ridiculousness of it all. But he knows you’re serious about the tears. Your man is not one for crying, he rarely feels the need for tears, but he has a sneaking suspicion you’re going to get your wish.

The music starts, and Jongseong stiffens, his heart slamming against his ribs as if it’s trying to escape his chest and rush down the aisle to meet you. It’s only been a night since he last saw you, but to him, it feels like an eternity. The shared bed had felt too big, too cold without you beside him, and in that quiet space, he realized just how much you completed him. He missed you, and though it might seem dramatic, the longing reminded him that this wasn’t just about nerves. It was about the indescribable excitement of committing himself to you, completely and forever.

He had wanted to do this years ago, perhaps two years into your relationship rather than waiting twelve. But you had been the practical one, insisting that you both build your careers, settle into life without the added pressure of a wedding. He hadn’t minded too much; after all, what was a few more years when you had forever to spend together?

As the soft strains of music fill the chapel, Jongseong freezes. It’s an original piece - the one he had composed for you way back in the beginning of your relationship. The ballad, a quiet testament to the love he held for you even then, was something he’d never expected to hear today. Each note flows seamlessly into the next, blending together like the way his love for you has always been: fluid, effortless, natural. 

For him, loving you has never been complicated. It’s as though the melody was written not just with the keys of the piano, but with the strings of his heart. The tears, which you had so eagerly asked for, begin to gather at the corners of his eyes.

Then he sees you.

You appear at the end of the aisle, and his breath catches. Words escape him because they’re not enough to describe how radiant you are. The light from the stained-glass windows dances across your white gown, making you look as if you’re wrapped in sunlight itself. The lace of your dress hugs your figure delicately, each intricate detail shimmering as if woven from the stars. Your veil, soft as gossamer, floats behind you, catching the gentle breeze that filters through the open chapel doors. Your eyes, bright and full of love, meet his, and in that moment, Jongseong knows - if ever there was perfection, it is you.

Your beauty is beyond anything he could have imagined, like a dream come to life. You are the embodiment of every love song, every poem, every whispered promise. As you walk toward him, it feels like time slows, like the world pauses to let him savour every second, every step. You are grace personified, and all he can think is how lucky he is that this is real, that you are his.

Beside you, your father walks proudly with his arm linked through yours. His face shines with pride, his entire being glowing with joy. Jongseong feels a surge of pride for him as well. Their relationship had a rocky start, but now, four years into his sobriety, your father has become someone Jongseong admires deeply. 

The way you and your family never gave up on him taught Jongseong valuable lessons in patience, compassion, and what it means to truly love someone through their struggles. Watching your father today, standing tall and proud, Jongseong knows that all the hardships were worth it. He understands now that loving someone through their demons isn’t easy, but it’s something only the most special people can do - and you are one of those people. You have made Jongseong a better man, and he is and always will be eternally grateful for that.

When you and your father finally reach the end of the aisle, Jongseong’s breath hitches as he sees you up close for the first time. He’s lost for words, his emotions threatening to overwhelm him. The tears that had gathered in his eyes finally spill over as he gazes at you. Your smile is so bright, most likely happy at his reaction, and he suddenly feels like his heart is trying to burst through his chest just to meld with your own; he is so privileged you hold his heart this way.

“You look…” he starts, but the words catch in his throat.

“Like I’m ready to be your wife?” you finish with a teasing smile, your voice warm and steady.

Jongseong shakes his head, his voice cracking with emotion. “Like my everything.” 

The way he says this, so pure and genuine, your smile falters just ever so slightly, your face now wanting to express an earnest love, the kind of expression you only look at the love of your life with.

Your father, watching the exchange, beams with satisfaction. There’s a tenderness in his expression as he shakes Jongseong’s hand, pulling him into a firm embrace. “I know you’ll look after one another,” your father whispers, his voice thick with emotion. “I’m so proud to call you my son.”

The words settle deep within Jongseong’s heart, and when your father steps back to take his seat, the ceremony begins.

As the officiant begins speaking, his voice soft but clear, Jongseong can’t help but marvel at how your hand fits so perfectly in his, your fingers warm and familiar, yet somehow new, in this moment. Every word that spills from the officiant’s lips feels like background noise; all Jongseong can focus on is you. The way you stand before him, radiating beauty and calm, is enough to make his heart swell to the point of aching. You squeeze his hand softly, pulling him back to the present. His thumb brushes over your knuckles in response, a silent message of reassurance, of love. It feels as if the two of you are existing in your own world, tethered together by this secret moment amid the hum of the ceremony.

Even in a room full of people, he will always only see you.

He glances at your face, catching a fleeting look of emotion dancing in your eyes, and it takes everything in him not to pull you into his arms right there. You’re holding it together so well, but he knows you too well. The slight tension in your grip, the way your breath catches every now and then - it all betrays the storm of emotion beneath the surface. And it matches his own.

When the officiant calls for the vows, Jongseong inhales sharply. This is the part he’s been waiting for, and yet, the part that terrifies him the most. Not because he’s unsure, but because there’s so much to say, so much love to express, and he hopes he can convey it all with the right words.

He turns to face you, both of your hands now clasped together. He can feel the slight tremble in your fingers, mirroring the nervous excitement coursing through his own veins. The vows - this is where he gets to tell you, in front of everyone you both love, just how much you mean to him. But even as he opens his mouth, his heart beats in time with yours, each pulse echoing a silent promise of forever.

Clearing his throat, he pulls the paper from his suit pocket, calming himself.

“Y/N. I should start by saying how in love I am with you. I think it’s pretty obvious, I don’t think my heart is even mine anymore with the way you hold it. I remember the first time I ever saw you, so bored and begging to be saved from that god awful party. But it’s funny if you think about it because I didn’t save you from anything at all, you saved me - in more ways than I could ever thank you for.

You are my heart, soul, courage, fear, wonder, and love. I am you and you are me. ‘Love is a condition in which the happiness of another person is essential to your own.’ I remember hearing that quote and never fully knowing what it meant. But since we are two people sewn together with the thread of fate, I began to understand that for me to be happy, to live in this world without regret or misery, I need to make sure I love you with every fibre of my being, to make sure you’re happy, safe, and cherished until the very end.

So today, my love, I vow to love you exactly as you are. I vow to protect you, not just from the world, but from any doubts or fears that ever try to steal your light. I vow to be the one who stands by your side when life feels too heavy, to hold you when you need comfort, and to celebrate with you when life brings you joy. I promise to love you on the days when life feels effortless, but more importantly, I vow to love you even harder on the days when it’s not.

I promise to cherish the smallest moments, the quiet mornings and the late-night talks, the laughter and even the silences that only we understand. You have made me a better man, and every day with you feels like a gift I don’t deserve, but one I will never take for granted.

I vow to never let a day go by without reminding you just how much you mean to me. To wake up every morning and choose you, choose us, over and over again. I vow to be your protector, your partner, your best friend, and your greatest supporter. Whatever life brings our way - whether it’s joy or challenges - I will be there, by your side, holding your hand through it all.

And above all, I vow to love you endlessly, fiercely, and without reservation, because you are my heart’s home, and there is nowhere else I would rather be.

Today, tomorrow, and every day after, I am yours. Forever.”

As Jongseong finishes his vows, his voice steady yet laced with emotion, you feel tears slip down your cheek. Despite your best efforts to stay composed, the overwhelming love in his words makes it impossible to hold back. You mourn the people in the pews who don’t get to experience Jongseong’s love because it is unfiltered and pure, the love people dream of and never have. He watches you closely, his eyes softening the moment he notices your tears.

Without missing a beat, Jongseong reaches up, gently brushing away the tear with the pad of his thumb, his touch as tender as his words. His fingers linger for a moment, his smile growing fond and warm as if he’s silently telling you that it’s okay, that he’s here, and that he understands how deeply his words have touched you.

Jongseong leans in just slightly, close enough for you to hear him whisper, "Maybe I should have vowed to never make you cry." His playful tone does little to hide the way his own eyes glisten, the deep emotions brimming just below the surface. 

Your lips tremble into a small smile through your tears, feeling both overwhelmed and reassured by the way he’s looking at you - as though you are the most precious thing in his world. And in that moment, you realise, you don’t have to hold anything back. You’re standing here, with the man who will cherish you for the rest of his life, and there is no need for composure, no need to hide the tears or the love that pours from you so naturally.

The officiant gives a gentle nod, signalling it’s time for your vows, but Jongseong keeps his gaze on you, his hand still cradling your cheek as if to give you strength. His smile never falters, and in his eyes, you see nothing but encouragement, affection, and a quiet promise that he will be right here, every step of the way.

You take a deep breath, your fingers trembling slightly as you hold your vows, and the room quiets in anticipation. You glance at Jongseong, your heart swelling as you realize you’re about to marry the love of your life, the man who has been your everything for so long.

“I kinda wish I went first now,” you laugh softly, stepping back to wipe your tears, earning a round of laughter from the guests. Even Jongseong chuckles, his eyes full of warmth, and the pressure lifts just a little as you prepare to speak from the heart.

“I really can’t believe I’m standing here today, two seconds away from becoming Mrs. Park. Though, let’s be real - I’m never going to be the best Mrs. Park. That title is clearly reserved for your mum,” you say with a playful smile, looking over at Jongseong’s mother. She places a hand on her heart, her eyes shining with affection, and nods back at you.

“Jongseong, standing here before you feels like a dream I’ve had my entire life. It feels like everything in the universe has led me to this moment, to you. You are my heart, my home, and the one person who makes the world feel safe and beautiful just by being in it.

People think a soulmate is your perfect fit, and that’s what everyone wants. But a true soulmate is a mirror, the person who shows you everything that is holding you back, the person who brings you to your own attention so you can change your life. And you have changed my life Jongseong, so beautifully so. I am more confident, resilient, and passionate about my life because I have you beside me. 

There is so much love inside my body that is only reserved for you. Love is the reason we all continue to live, even through tragedies and heartbreak, we seek love in all of those moments because it’s worth living for. Jongseong, you make life worth living.

I vow to honor you with every beat of my heart, to cherish you with every breath I take. I promise to stand by you in every season, to be your unwavering support when the world feels heavy, and your biggest cheerleader when you need encouragement. I will hold your hand through the trials and celebrate with you in the triumphs, always knowing that together, we can face anything.

I vow to love you as deeply as the ocean, to be your steadfast anchor when the waves of life try to pull us apart. I promise to nurture our dreams, to build a life filled with wonder and discovery, and to always remember the simple, profound joy of being together.

You have taught me that love is not just a feeling, but a practice - one that grows and deepens every day. It is in the way we laugh together, the way we support each other’s dreams and the quiet moments when we simply hold each other close. I promise to practise this love with you, to make it a living, breathing part of our lives, one that we can carry into the afterlife and know that even if our bodies are apart through death, our hearts are always linked.

I want to be a wife who deserves you, one who never takes you for granted and gives you back tenfold the love you have for me, and God knows your love is vaster than anything else in this world. You are my heart’s truest song, and I vow to be the harmony to your melody, the gentle refrain that sings of our forever. I promise to be patient, to listen, to understand, and to always come back to you with an open heart.

Jongseong, today and every day, I choose you, not just as my partner but as my greatest adventure, my greatest joy, and my deepest love. Together, we will write a story that is uniquely ours, filled with love, laughter, and a bond that only grows stronger with time. You are my most cherished muse, wholly and completely.”

As you finish your vows, your voice quivers with emotion, and the room seems to collectively hold its breath. Jongseong’s eyes glisten with tears of joy and admiration as he kisses your forehead, his touch is tender and reassuring, and he smiles at you with a look of pure, unadulterated love. The room sighs with appreciation, moved by the heartfelt exchange.

The officiant, his own eyes misty with the beauty of the moment, clears his throat to address the couple. “Having heard these vows of unwavering love and commitment, it is now time for us to proceed with the ring exchange.”

Jongseong and you gaze deeply into one anothers eyes, the ceremony reaching its most poignant moment. The officiant gestures to Sunghoon, who steps forward, holding the rings with great reverence. With a knowing smile, he hands the rings to Jongseong, who looks at them with a sense of awe. This is it. 

“Jongseong,” the officiant prompts, “please place the ring on Y/N’s finger and repeat after me.”

Jongseong’s voice is steady but filled with emotion as he recites the traditional vows, “With this ring, I thee wed. It is a symbol of my love and devotion, a promise to cherish and honour you all the days of my life.”

As Jongseong slides the ring onto your finger, you feel its weight - a tangible representation of his love and commitment. You repeat the same words to him, your hands slightly trembling with the depth of your feelings.

The officiant smiles warmly at the couple. “May these rings be a constant reminder of the love you share and the vows you have made to each other.”

With the rings exchanged, the officiant addresses the gathering. “By the power vested in me, I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride.”

Jongseong leans in, his gaze locked with yours, and the world seems to fall away, leaving just the two of you in this perfect moment. His lips touch yours with a tenderness that is both electrifying and soothing. The kiss starts softly, a gentle brush of affection, but it quickly deepens into something more passionate and heartfelt. His hands cradle your face, his thumbs gently brushing along your cheekbones, anchoring you both in the intimacy of the moment.

The warmth of his breath mingles with yours, and as the kiss unfolds, it feels like a dance - delicate and full of emotion. Jongseong’s lips move with a tender urgency, conveying the depth of his love and the gravity of the vows you’ve just exchanged. There’s gentle pressure, a shared promise in the way his mouth moves against yours as if he’s pouring all the love he holds into this one kiss.

The chapel’s applause and cheers seem distant, fading into the background as you’re wrapped in the warmth and sweetness of Jongseong’s kiss. His fingers gently trace the curve of your jaw, adding a touch of reverence to the moment. You can feel the thrum of emotion in every touch, every caress, as if he’s imprinting this perfect moment onto both of your souls.

As you slowly pull away, Jongseong’s eyes are filled with a mixture of joy and reverence. The intensity of the kiss has left both of you breathless, your hearts racing with the shared exhilaration of this new chapter. His gaze holds yours with profound happiness, and you see in his eyes the same depth of feeling that you’ve always known was there.

“I love you so fucking much, Y/N,” Jongseong confesses with more earnestness than you have ever seen in one human being. 

“I don’t think you’re supposed to swear in church,” you giggle, pecking his lips to rid him of the sin.

But he’s unbothered, his emotions outweighing etiquette. He shrugs and takes your hand in his. “I think the big man upstairs will forgive me this one time.”

As Jongseong takes your hand, the two of you walk down the aisle together, the applause from your friends and family echoing through the chapel, though it now feels like nothing more than a distant murmur. His thumb gently strokes the back of your hand, and every glance he steals your way is filled with an overwhelming sense of love and pride. The weight of the moment lingers sweetly between you, as if you’re both walking on air.

Once outside, the soft sunlight bathes you both in warmth, and you can’t help but let out a contented sigh. This is everything you could want. 

Jongseong, ever the gentleman, jogs to reach the car first, dramatically pulling the door open with a playful grin. “After you, Mrs. Park,” he gestures with a flourish, eyes turning into sweet crescent moons as the light beams from him.

You raise an eyebrow and chuckle at his antics. “You’re enjoying this, huh?”

“Can’t help it,” he winks, guiding you gently into the car. “I love how it sounds on my tongue,” he leans down until he’s level with your face, “Mrs. Park, Mrs. Park, Mrs. Park.” 

He will repeat it until he gets bored of hearing it, which will be never and a day.

As you settle into the seat, he quickly slips in beside you, and before the door is even shut, his lips are on yours again, more urgent this time. The kiss deepens with a fervour that wasn’t quite there at the altar, and you can feel his restraint fading. He pulls you closer, his hand resting possessively on your waist, as if he’s making up for all the time he spent holding back earlier - he would have gone all in but something about tonguing you down in front of a priest and about 30 of your closest friends and family didn’t sit well with him. His lips move hungrily against yours, each kiss more intense than the last.

You let out a soft moan in response to the sudden heat, and Jongseong smirks into your mouth, pulling back just enough to catch his breath, but not before brushing his lips teasingly against yours once more. The car starts moving, but his focus is entirely on you. His forehead rests against yours for a moment, his breath coming in shallow, heated bursts. The playful glint in his eyes returns as he taps the driver on the shoulder.

“Could you take us back to the hotel for a quick pit stop?” His tone is mischievous, eyes twinkling with intent.

You blink in surprise, your thoughts returning briefly to the chaos of the wedding day schedule. “But…we need to get our certificate signed, take pictures…the reception?” You eye him curiously, though a part of you already knows where this is going.

Jongseong just shrugs, utterly unbothered. “That can wait a minute. Do you have any idea how hard it was not having you last night?”

His words send a ripple of heat down your spine, and despite your initial protest, a smile tugs at your lips. “It was one night, Jongseong,” you laugh incredulously, though you know deep down you shared his struggle. There’s a certain magnetic pull between you that’s only intensified since the moment you exchanged vows.

But before you can say anything else, his mouth is on your neck, his lips trailing heated, deliberate kisses along your skin. He finds that spot just beneath your ear, the one that always leaves you breathless, and you melt into him instantly. Your earlier concerns about timing and schedules vanish, replaced by the undeniable, almost primal need for him.

Every touch, every kiss, is fuelled by the weight of the day’s emotions, and soon you’re lost in him entirely, giving in to the desire that’s been simmering between you. From love to passion, your relationship flows seamlessly between them.

Jongseong’s kisses are searing against your neck, sending shivers down your spine, and any remaining thoughts of the day’s schedule fade into nothing. His hands grip your waist firmly, pulling you closer as you feel the heat building between you both. The car ride blurs by in a haze of stolen kisses and whispered promises, the tension growing heavier with every touch.

Before long, the car pulls up outside the hotel, and Jongseong barely waits for the driver to open the door before he helps you out, his grip on your hand tight, his thumb brushing your wedding ring with fondness despite the heat pumping through him. 

The hotel lobby is a blur, neither of you paying attention to anything around you as he tugs you towards the lift. Once inside, his mouth is back on yours, pushing you gently against the wall, his body pressed up close, a low groan escaping his lips.

The moment the doors open to your floor, you’re both stumbling down the hallway, hands roaming, clothes being tugged at impatiently. The urgency is palpable, as if every second spent not touching is a second wasted. By the time you reach the room, Jongseong fumbles with the key card, barely able to keep his lips from yours as he finally pushes the door open.

You stumble inside together, the sheer size of your wedding dress catching between you as you attempt to navigate the small space. Jongseong laughs softly into the kiss, but neither of you cares as you pull at each other, the weight of your emotions taking over. His hands work swiftly to find the buttons and zippers hidden beneath layers of fabric, and you can feel his need for you in every motion.

Your lips part briefly, just long enough for you to gasp out between kisses, “We need to be quick, baby.” Your breath is ragged, your voice barely above a whisper, but the desperation in your tone mirrors his own.

“Quick…right,” he mutters, though there’s no sign of him slowing down. His hands are everywhere - your waist, your back, your hips - gripping and pulling as though he can’t get enough of you. He presses you up against the nearest wall, his lips finding yours again, deeper and more urgent than before.

As you pull him closer, the fabric of your dress rustles and tangles between you, but it only adds to the delicious mess of the moment. His hands slip beneath the lace, fingers tracing the sensitive skin of your thighs, making you gasp. He smiles against your lips, that same playful glint in his eyes, but his kiss is nothing but intense.

Finally, after what feels like an eternity of fumbling, Jongseong’s fingers work the last clasp on the back of your dress. The fabric slips from your shoulders, and the sensation of it gliding down your body makes you shiver. He steps back just slightly, allowing the gown to pool at your feet, his eyes following every movement with hungry intensity.

The moment he sees you standing there in nothing but the white lace lingerie beneath, his breath catches, and a flicker of pure desire ignites in his gaze. His hands, which had been so impatient before, now pause in reverence, as though he’s taking in every detail, committing this moment to memory.

“God,” he breathes out, voice thick with awe and hunger. “You’re fucking perfect, have i ever told you that?”

His words send a wave of warmth through you, your heart racing even faster under the weight of his gaze. Before you can respond, his hands find your waist again, pulling you to him. His lips crash against yours, the intensity of the kiss somehow even more fervent now that there’s nothing between you but the thin lace of your thong and his trousers.

His fingers trace the delicate patterns of the fabric, teasingly brushing over your skin in a way that makes your pulse quicken. His lips move from your mouth, trailing down your jawline to your collarbone, then lower, each kiss deliberate, driving you wild with anticipation.

“Jongseong…” You gasp, your body reacting to every touch, every kiss. The urgency from before still lingers, but there’s something deeper now - a need not just for passion, but for connection. The feeling that you’ve finally, truly become his in every way.

He smirks against your skin, clearly enjoying the way your body responds to him, his hands sliding over the lace as though he can barely restrain himself, feeling how wet you are for him. His lips find yours again, but this time slower, deeper, as if he’s taking everything in, the moment, you, all of it.

“Quick, right?” he teases softly between kisses, but there’s now no rush in his movements now. The two of you are lost in each other, and any notion of time or urgency is forgotten as he continues to explore you, making every second feel endless and yet not nearly enough.

Jongseong’s teasing words hang in the air, and you can’t help but smile against his lips, your heart pounding in your chest. The fire between you is still blazing, but there’s a tenderness now, an unspoken understanding that this moment is more than just physical. It’s the culmination of everything - every shared glance, every whispered promise, every touch over the past 12 years.

“I’m gonna fuck you, fill you up and have you walk around the reception with my cum inside of you,” he breathes out, his hands busy undoing his dress trousers, fingers fumbling before pushing them down, the fabric pooling to his ankles, quickly making friends with your wedding dress.

The mere thought if it has you deperate, and instantly, you’re jumping up and wrapping your legs around his waist, your heat craving his touch.  Jongseong lets out a low groan as you cling to him, the weight of you pressing against his cock driving his need to the surface. He catches your lips again, this time more fervently, his hands gripping your hips tightly as he practically traps you between the wall and his chest. The coolness of the hotel wall contrasts with the heat of his body, and the sensation sends a shiver down your spine.

“You drive me crazy, you know that?” he mutters against your lips, his voice a mix of frustration and affection. His breath is heavy, matching the rapid beat of your heart. He needs to be inside of you, and he needs it now.

As he adjusts his grip on you, his hand slides between your thighs as he pushes your thong to the side, lining himself up. The anticipation builds, and you moan softly, arching against him, silently pleading for more, the tip of his cock poking at where you need him most. He pauses for a moment, his eyes locking with yours, a small, knowing smile playing on his lips.

“Ready?” he whispers, his voice low and gravelly, as if daring you to answer.

You don’t need to say a word - your body tells him everything he needs to know, but your nod anyway. “Yes, fuck, Jongseong please.”

With one smooth motion, Jongseong thrusts into you, filling you completely. A gasp escapes your lips as your bodies meld together, the intensity of the moment sending sparks of pleasure coursing through you. He groans deeply, his breath ragged as he begins to move, each thrust deliberate and powerful, driving deeper into you.

Each thrust sends waves of pleasure through your core, your senses overwhelmed by the feeling of him inside you. The curve of his cock drags down your tight walls, each bump of your inner core being kissed by his bell, making your eyes roll to the back of your head.

His pace quickens, the need between you intensifying. Your nails dig into his back, holding him closer as he drives into you harder, deeper, the friction and heat building to an unbearable crescendo. The way he looks at you, his eyes dark and intense, filled with raw need and adoration, makes you feel like you’re the only thing that matters to him in this moment.

“God, you feel so good,” he breathes out, his voice hoarse with desire. His hips snap against yours with more urgency, his hand gripping the back of your neck as he presses his forehead to yours. “Gonna fill you up, yeah? Give you all of me just like you deserve.”

You can’t hold back the moans that slip from your lips, your body trembling as you near the edge. Every thrust, every touch, every breath sends you spiraling closer to that sweet release, and you can feel it building, tightening in your core.

“Can’t wait to start a family with you, baby,” he confesses, the sentence thoughtful yet primal, “What if I got you pregnant right now, huh? Would Mrs. Park like that?”

“Fuck, yes!” you mewl out, the way he says your new government name along with the promise of a family is all too overwhelming as it mixes in with the utter lust your body feels. You need him to fill you to the brim, to have each inch of him buried to the hilt of you while he pumps his seed deep into your womb. “I need you… so close…” you whisper, your voice trembling with desperation.

Jongseong's thrusts become more urgent, each one deeper and harder than the last. Your bodies move in perfect rhythm, his name slipping from your lips in a desperate moan as pleasure coils tighter within you. The world fades away, your senses filled only by the heat of his skin against yours, the heady scent of desire, and the raw intensity in his gaze as he watches you unravel beneath him.

“You’re so fucking beautiful, Mrs. Park,” he whispers, “So pretty, and all mine.” His tone is loving if through gritted teeth, parts of the syllables coated in the desire he has running through his veins.

“I love you, Jongseong,” you whisper, kissing all over his face as you feel yourself getting closer to the brink of euphoria.

He chuckles softly, eyes almost filling with tears. “I love you too, Y/N. So fucking much.” And without another word, he kisses you with so much passion and devotion that if you weren’t already breathless from the raw fucking he is giving you, you definetly would have felt the air escape your lungs.

The pressure inside you builds relentlessly, your muscles clenching around him, drawing him deeper. He groans, a low, guttural sound that sends a thrill of electricity through your veins. His lips trail back up your neck, leaving a burning path in their wake before they crash into yours again, his kiss filled with hunger and need, as if he can’t get enough of you.

"You're perfect," he breathes against your lips, his voice strained, thick with lust. His hands tighten on your hips, pulling you down harder onto him with every thrust, making you feel every inch of him. “Ready to be a mum, baby? Ready for me to fuck you senseless each and every day and use the excuse of trying?”

“Fuck yeah, Jongseong, I can’t wait.” The grin on your face contorts with pure pleasure as he takes your words and runs wild with them, making good on his promise. If it isn’t today, or tomorrow, or even in the next year, he will make sure he keeps fucking you, until both of you create something wonderful, until you create a family that’s bigger than what you both are now.

You cling to him, nails scraping against his back as waves of pleasure crash over you with every buck of his hips. His pace is relentless now, hips slamming into yours with raw, unfiltered passion, each motion pushing you closer to the edge. Your vision blurs, the world spinning as the sensation intensifies, your body trembling uncontrollably.

You can feel him pulsing inside you, the tension in his body telling you that he's close, just as you are. His name is the only word you can form as your release builds to a peak, the pressure inside you unbearable. He presses his forehead against yours, his eyes locked on you, completely focused as he watches you fall apart in his arms.

"Cum for me," he growls, his voice a rough command that sends a shudder through you.

At his words, the coil inside you snaps, and you let go completely. A cry escapes your lips as the orgasm tears through you, your entire body trembling violently as pleasure floods your senses. You grip onto him like he's the only thing grounding you, your nails digging into his skin as wave after wave of ecstasy courses through you.

Jongseong’s own release follows soon after, his body shuddering as he empties himself inside you, his groans of pleasure vibrating against your neck. His movements slow but remain deep, deliberate, prolonging the sensation as both of you ride the aftershocks of pleasure. You can feel his warmth spreading through you, just as he promised, and the thought of it sends a final tremor through your body.

For a moment, neither of you move, the heat of the moment still clinging to you as Jongseong’s weight presses you gently against the wall. His chest heaves against yours, and the only sound is the ragged rhythm of your breaths mingling in the charged air.

Slowly, Jongseong pulls back just enough to meet your gaze. His fingers trace softly over your flushed skin, and the intensity in his eyes gives way to a tenderness that makes your heart flutter. A satisfied smile tugs at the corner of his lips as he leans in to kiss you again, this time with a slow, sweet tenderness that deepens the connection between you.

“You okay?” he whispers, his voice soft and reverent as his thumb caresses the curve of your jaw.

You nod, breathless and still tingling from the afterglow. “More than okay,” you murmur, your lips brushing against his as you speak.

“Good,” he chuckles, his eyes glinting with mischief. He sets you down gently, supporting you until your legs regain their strength. “We have a reception to get back to, after all.”

With a deft, almost intimate touch, his fingers slip between your sensitive folds, gathering his essence before gently pushing it back inside you. His gaze remains locked with yours, a mix of possessiveness and adortation. “Keep that in there until I can steal you away again and give you more.”

Giggling, you nod, biting your lip. You really cannot wait for the day you have this man’s child.

_____

Jongseong bursts into the hospital, his breath ragged, his vision blurred by the panic that clogs his thoughts. The fluorescent lights overhead feel too bright, their sterile, clinical glow only exacerbating the coldness gripping his chest. A sharp antiseptic smell wafts through the air, mingling with the faint hum of machinery and the occasional cough from sick patients in the waiting area. The beeps of heart monitors and distant murmurs of conversation all blur into a single cacophony, lost on him as his sole focus narrows to one desperate objective: finding you.

His eyes dart wildly across the expanse of the lobby, scanning for some kind of guidance. There, tucked away in the corner, is an oak reception desk. The receptionist, a middle-aged woman with a sympathetic smile, taps away at her computer, unaware of the storm about to come her way. Jongseong rushes over, his heart pounding, each thud reverberating in his ears like the ticking of a countdown he can’t afford to lose.

"Excuse me, do you know where the maternity ward is?" The words tumble from his mouth in a breathless jumble, barely coherent even to his own ears. It doesn’t sound like him - this frantic, uncollected version of himself - but he doesn’t care. He can’t afford to. His gaze flickers briefly to the woman behind the desk as she begins to reply, her voice gentle, almost calming, in stark contrast to the chaos raging inside him.

"You're in the wrong section, sweetheart. Maternity is ward 48, it's down the ha-"

But he doesn't wait for her to finish. Her words are cut short as he spins on his heel, legs propelling him down the long, seemingly endless corridor. His heart is racing, but not from the sprint. It’s the weight of fear, the gnawing dread that tightens his chest and churns his stomach. He might miss it. He might miss you. Miss being by your side when you need him the most. The thought alone makes his insides twist, as though someone had reached into his ribcage and clenched his heart in a fist.

This is supposed to be a joyous moment - the birth of his son, your son, the culmination of months of waiting, preparing, and dreaming. But right now, all he feels is the gnawing anxiety that he won’t make it in time. That he won’t be there to hold your hand, to look into your eyes and tell you that you’re doing great, that everything will be okay. 

His mind races back to when he received the call from your sister, the news hitting him like a freight train. He had been at work, neck-deep in paperwork and deadlines. He had barely believed it at first. You weren’t due for another two weeks; surely, this was a mistake. Yet, here you were, two floors above him, about to deliver his precious son into the world.

But none of that matters now. What matters is getting to you, being by your side before it’s too late. 

His legs burn as he pushes himself forward, following the overhead signs that guide him toward ward 48. The corridors stretch out before him like a maze, every turn only amplifying the desperation pooling in his chest. The sharp click of his shoes echoes loudly in the silence, but all he can hear is the blood rushing in his ears, the frantic beat of his own heart drowning out everything else.

When he finally crashes into the ward’s front desk, it’s not graceful. His body slams into the counter, breath heaving, his muscles taut with adrenaline. He grips the edge of the desk as though it's the only thing keeping him upright. "Excuse me, what room is Y/N Park in?" The words come out strained, his voice thick with tension. Every fibre of his being feels stretched to the breaking point, as though his body is barely containing the swell of emotions surging through him.

The receptionist looks up, a soft smile tugging at the corners of her lips. There’s a knowing look in her eyes, one that says she’s seen this before - fathers on the verge of breaking, desperate to be there, to not miss the moment that changes everything. "Down the hall, third door on your left," she says kindly, nodding toward the direction he needs to go.

He doesn’t wait. With a sharp intake of breath, he pushes himself off the counter and bolts toward your room, his legs moving on autopilot, every step pounding with urgency. His mind races, imagining you lying there, scared or in pain, and it tears at him. You shouldn’t have to go through this by yourself. He swore to be there, to hold your hand through every step of this, and now he’s running on borrowed time.

The corridor leading to your room feels impossibly long, each door blurring past him as he counts them off in his head. First door, second door...third door. His hand trembles as it reaches for the handle, the weight of the moment crashing over him like a wave. He takes a deep breath, trying to steady himself, but the truth is, nothing can prepare him for this. The surge of love, fear, and anticipation battling inside him is overwhelming, but all of it pales in comparison to the thought of you.

When he opens the door, his heart nearly stops. There you are, lying in the hospital bed, your face flushed with exertion but glowing with a strength he has always admired. You look up, and the moment your eyes meet his, it’s as if time itself stops. Relief floods your features, and he rushes to your side, gripping your hand as though it’s the only tether keeping him grounded.

"I’m here," he breathes, his voice cracking with emotion, kissing all over your hand. "I’m here, baby."

And as you squeeze his hand, the world narrows to just the two of you. The chaos of the hospital fades into the background, replaced by the steady rhythm of your breathing, the soft murmurs of encouragement from the midwife, and the quiet reassurance that, despite everything, he made it. He’s here.

“Okay, Y/N, I need you to push again for me. You’re doing so great, hun.” The midwife's voice is soft, almost a lullaby amidst the storm of chaos within you. It’s as if her words offer you a momentary anchor, a delicate thread of calm amidst the crashing waves of pressure building up inside your body. You nod, gasping for breath, your entire body trembling with exhaustion, but her voice mixed with the familiar warmth of Jongseong’s hand in yours somehow gives you strength. His fingers, strong and steady, wrap around yours, grounding you in this moment of overwhelming intensity.

He whispers soothing words, his thumb brushing over your clammy skin, wiping the sheen of sweat from your brow. But you barely register them. The noise of the hospital fades into the background as your body screams for release. It’s all-consuming, this pain—a deep, primal ache that makes you wonder how anyone could endure this more than once. You’re making a vow to yourself in this very moment: this is definitely the last time you’ll be giving birth.

The midwife’s calm encouragement pulls you back into the moment. “That’s it, you’re doing brilliantly, sweetie! He’s crowning!”

Her words send a jolt of both fear and anticipation down your spine. He’s almost here. You’re almost at the end. But it hurts - God, it fucking hurts. You can feel your body stretching, tearing, and it feels impossible, like your entire being is being pulled apart at the seams. You wonder how anyone survives this. You wonder how people choose to do this again and again. But the end is so close now, you can feel it, and it’s that thought, that hope, that pushes you to dig deep into a reserve of strength you didn’t even know you had.

Jongseong leans in, his face inches from yours as he wipes the sweat off your forehead. His touch is gentle, careful, as though you might shatter under the intensity of what’s happening. “My beautiful girl, you’re doing so well,” he murmurs, his voice thick with emotion. His words are meant to comfort you, but in your overstimulated state, they fall flat, like a pebble tossed into a stormy sea.

"You did this to me!" you cry out, your voice a strangled mixture of rage, exhaustion, and raw pain. The agony, the pressure, the sensation of your body trying to expel a living, breathing being from your core - it’s all too much. The frustration bubbles up and spills out as you glare at him through half-lidded eyes, loathing him, if only for a second, for putting you in this impossible situation.

Jongseong doesn’t take offence. Instead, he chuckles under his breath, a sound almost swallowed by the sheer intensity of the moment. He presses a tender kiss to your knuckles, seemingly immune to the iron grip you’ve got on his hand, your fingers squeezing so tightly it’s a wonder his bones aren’t crushed. “I’m sorry, baby,” he says with a grin, trying to lighten the tension. “I’m a bad man for giving you the best fucks of your life and putting you in this situation, aren’t I?”

Despite the searing pain wracking your body, you manage a weak, breathless laugh. His words, paired with the earnest yet amused look on his face, somehow cut through the fog of agony. For a brief, fleeting moment, the tension in the room eases, and even the nursing team joins in with a soft chuckle, their eyes sparkling with fondness.

“You’re the worst,” you retort, your voice strained, yet the humour dances between you like a fleeting lifeline. You don’t mean it, and once your beautiful baby is in your arms, you’ll forget every resentment towards your husband, the pain long gone and only love clouding your senses.

But the pain comes roaring back in full force, and the midwife’s voice cuts through the moment. “Alright, Y/N, I need you to push again. Just one more big push, okay?”

You nod, though you don’t trust your voice to respond. Your entire body tenses as you prepare for the final stretch, the last hurdle. The pressure builds, an unbearable weight pushing down on you, and with one last groan - deep, guttural, like a battle cry those old vikings used to do - you bear down, gripping Jongseong’s hand with all the strength you have left.

“You’re doing it, Y/N! That’s it, keep going!” The midwife’s voice is urgent but encouraging, guiding you through the overwhelming sensations. The room seems to blur at the edges, your vision tunnelling as you focus on nothing but the task at hand. You feel the burn, the rawness of your body stretching beyond its limits, but you push through it, every fibre of your being screaming for this to be over.

And then, with one final, agonised push, it is.

A high, piercing cry fills the room, cutting through the tension like a blade, and suddenly the world stills. The pain, the fear, the exhaustion - all of it fades away as you hear the first wail of your son, your precious baby boy. You collapse back against the pillows, your chest heaving, tears slipping down your cheeks as the reality of what just happened sinks in.

Jongseong is crying too. His hand is shaking as he wipes his eyes, his gaze locked on the tiny, wriggling figure in the midwife’s arms. “He’s here,” he whispers, his voice breaking with emotion. “Our boy… he’s here.”

The midwife checks your son over for a moment, and once she deems everything is perfectly healthy and fine, she offers you a small smile. “Would you like skin-to-skin?”

Without hesitation, you nod, exhaustion clouding over you. “Yes, please.”

The midwife places your newborn son on your chest, his tiny body warm and wet against your skin. You feel a rush of emotions - love, relief, awe - all of it crashing over you in waves so powerful they steal the breath from your lungs. Jongseong’s hand is reaches up to your face, his fingers trembling as he brushes a tear from your cheek.

“You did it,” he breathes, his eyes shining with pride and wonder. “You really did it, my love.”

You look down at your baby, his small hand curling against your chest, and despite the exhaustion weighing down your limbs, you can’t stop the smile spreading across your face. “We did it,” you whisper, your voice barely audible over the sound of your son’s soft cries.

And in that moment, as the three of you are cocooned in the quiet warmth of the hospital room, the world outside ceases to exist. There is only this. Only the love, the relief, and the overwhelming sense of joy that, despite everything, you’re finally a family.

Bringing life into the world is a moment of pure wonder, filled with a sense of awe and joy that nothing else compares to. The arrival of a new soul, fresh and full of potential, feels like the universe itself holding its breath in reverence. It’s beautiful chaos, tears of relief, the quiet weight of a newborn in your arms, the sweet fatigue that follows the storm of labour. There's a rawness, a vulnerability to it that makes it sacred. The start of life is an unspoken promise, a beginning with endless possibilities stretching out before it.

But as beautiful as the act of bringing life into the world is, it's devastatingly cruel when life is taken away. 

_____

Jongseong ascended the stairs slowly, each step sending a dull ache through his brittle bones. His knees groaned under his weight, no longer the strong, agile legs that had once carried him with ease through the vigours of life. The years had settled deep into his joints, a reminder of a long life lived. At seventy-five, his body had become an archive of memories, each wrinkle and creak a testament to the passage of time. But he didn’t mind, not really. He knew aging was inevitable, and while he wasn’t the fit man he used to be, he had grown accustomed to the slower pace, to the small sacrifices his body demanded. Today, though, his knees seemed to be protesting more than usual.

The morning was still quiet, the kind of peaceful stillness that only early dawn could bring. Jongseong had woken up earlier than you, something he had done a bit more often lately. Your still frame lay blissfully as he slipped out of bed, careful not to wake you. He wanted to surprise you with breakfast in bed, nothing extravagant, just something simple and sweet. Toast, a little bowl of fruit, and your favourite yoghurt arranged neatly on a tray. And, of course, a tiny daisy from the garden, a little burst of yellow and white placed beside the cutlery - a small token of the love he still carried for you, as bright and fresh as the day he’d first met you.

He smiled to himself as he finally reached the top of the stairs, breathing out heavily. His chest rose and fell slowly as he gathered the air back into his lungs, a satisfied chuckle escaping his lips. “Y’know, baby, maybe we should invest in that stairmaster,” he muttered to himself, shaking his head at the thought. “My knees are giving up on me here.”

He pushed open the door to your shared bedroom, the familiar scent of lavender and old wood welcoming him in. The room was a sanctuary, a place where the two of you had spent decades creating a life together. The walls seemed to hum with memories - of laughter, whispered arguments, nights spent comforting a scared baby Jeyou when he was small, his little body tucked between the two of you as you soothed his fears. Even now, the room felt like a cocoon of warmth, filled with the quiet reassurance of a life well-lived together.

Jongseong’s eyes softened as they landed on you. There you were, lying so peacefully, your grey hair splayed across the pillow, half of your face buried into its softness. Your lashes rested delicately on your wrinkled cheeks, and even now, after all these years, you looked so beautiful to him. He’d always loved watching you sleep, loved the way your face relaxed into a soft serenity. He stood there for a moment, tray still in hand, just looking at you, his heart swelling with the same love that had carried him through all the challenges, all the joys and sorrows of life. Every wrinkle on your face told a story he cherished, every line a map of the life you had built together.

But as he stood there, something shifted. The quietness in the room felt...different. The silence was deeper, more still than usual. He tilted his head, waiting for the familiar soft snort you made when you exhaled in your sleep, or for the small rise and fall of your chest that always reassured him. 

But none of that came.

His heart, which had been so full just moments ago, plummeted in his chest. A chill washed over him, the warmth of the room suddenly replaced with a growing panic.

“Love?” His voice was uncertain, his body moving on instinct as he placed the tray down on the dresser by the door. His legs, tired just a second ago, suddenly felt weightless as he rushed to your side. “Y/N?” He sat on the bed, his voice trembling now. “Baby, come on, wake up.”

He reached out, brushing the hair from your face, the strands falling softly between his trembling fingers. His hand lingered on your cheek, feeling for the warmth he had always known, but your skin felt cool beneath his touch. Too cool.

“Y/N,” he whispered, his voice cracking. His other hand found your shoulder, shaking you gently at first, and then with more urgency. “No, no, no. Come on, baby, stop joking around. Wake up. Please.”

The stillness of your body was a stark contrast to the frantic tremor in his hands. He shook you again, harder this time, but you remained as you were - so peaceful, so unbearably still. His chest tightened, the tears pooling in his eyes blurring his vision. He blinked rapidly, as though he could chase away the truth that was slowly sinking in, but it was there, gnawing at the edges of his heart.

“Please, baby, please. Don’t do this. I need you to wake up.” His voice was barely a whisper now, broken and fragile, like a child pleading for a nightmare to end. He pulled you closer, his trembling fingers gripping your arms as he collapsed over you, his body draped across yours as the sobs tore through him. The tears fell freely now, landing on your skin, tiny droplets of his heartbreak mingling with the softness of your stillness.

“I can’t lose you,” he whispered into your hair, his voice strangled by grief. “Please. Don’t leave me. Not now. I’m not ready.”

The room, once so full of love and warmth, felt unbearably cold now. The silence stretched on, suffocating him, pressing down on his chest until he could barely breathe. He held you tightly, his arms wrapped around your lifeless body, as if by sheer will alone he could pull you back, make you breathe again, make your heart beat again. But you didn’t move. You didn’t stir.

Jongseong’s tears soaked into your skin, his sobs shaking his frail frame. His heart felt like it was being ripped apart, every beat more painful than the last. He pressed his cheek against your forehead, inhaling the faint scent of your skin, the scent that had been a constant comfort to him for all these years. But now, even that was fading, slipping away like you had.

“I can’t do this without you,” he cried, his voice breaking as he held you tighter. “We’ve always done everything together. How am I supposed to keep going if you’re not here? Please, baby, please...just come back to me.”

But there was no response, no stirring beneath his touch. Only silence. The kind of silence that comes with finality, with the weight of something precious being stolen away forever.

He stayed there, curled up beside you, his tears flowing unchecked, his heart heavy with the unbearable realisation that the love of his life, the woman who had been his everything for decades, was gone. The weight of it settled into his bones, deeper than any ache he’d felt before. This wasn’t just the weight of age, but of loss - a weight that would never truly lift.

For a long time, Jongseong didn’t move. He stayed wrapped around you, whispering soft apologies, broken words of love, promises that no longer had a future. His tears mingled with the daisy he’d picked for you, now wilting beside the untouched tray on the dresser, a small, fragile symbol of the life that had once bloomed between the two of you.

Jongseong's sobs gradually gave way to a trembling stillness as he lay beside you, his breaths coming in ragged, shuddering gasps. The tears had begun to slow, leaving trails of salt on his cheeks, mingling with the remnants of the breakfast tray that had once held such promise. The quiet of the room felt like a heavy blanket, oppressive and final. It was the kind of silence that seemed to stretch endlessly, a cruel reminder of what was now lost.

He pulled himself up slightly, lifting his head from where it had been buried in your shoulder. His eyes, red and swollen, scanned the room - the room that had been a sanctuary of shared dreams and countless memories. He looked at the framed photographs on the bedside table: the smiling faces of a younger you and him, the family portraits, snapshots of Jeyou through the years. It was all a tapestry of a life lived together, and now, it felt like a cruel joke.

“C’mon, love,” he said, his voice hoarse but resolute. He took your hand in his, holding it gently, trying to draw strength from the familiar warmth that was no longer there. “We still have so much more to do.” His voice cracked, but he pressed on, his mind desperately clinging to the plans they had made, the future they had envisioned.

He cleared his throat, trying to compose himself, his fingers tracing the lines of your hand with a tenderness born of countless shared moments. “Remember, we were going to finish the garden? We talked about planting those roses in the front yard. You always said you wanted to see them bloom better than the witches next door. And the trip to the lake -  Jeyou’s been asking about that fishing trip for ages. You promised him, remember? We were going to take him and Minhee out there and teach them how to catch those big trout.”

Jongseong’s tears began to flow again, mixing with the desperate, pleading edge in his voice. “What about Jeyou?” he continued, his voice breaking. “You can’t leave him behind. We’ve always been a family. He needs you, just like I do. He’s grown up so much, and he still needs his mum. We were going to watch him grown old and brittle like us, how can you do that if you don’t wake up, huh?”

He bent his head, his forehead resting against the cool, unmoving surface of your hand. “Fuck, baby,” he whispered, the words barely audible through the sobs that wracked his body. “If you can’t come back for me, come back for him. Please, please, please. Don’t leave him with just memories of you. He needs you. I need you.”

His pleas hung in the air, a desperate cry to the silence that had become so final. He squeezed your hand, the small, gentle action a futile attempt to make you respond, to bring you back. The room felt impossibly cold now, the warmth of shared dreams replaced by the chilling finality of loss.

He stayed like that for what felt like hours, holding your hand, whispering promises and plans that would never come to pass. The light from the morning sun filtered through the curtains, casting a soft glow over the room, but it seemed to mock him now. The day they had planned, the future they had envisioned together, was slipping away, drowned in the ocean of his grief.

Jongseong’s heart felt like it was breaking into a thousand pieces, each shard a fragment of a life that would never be. He tried to imagine moving forward, but every vision was tainted by your absence. The world outside, with its ongoing rhythm and pulse, felt distant and irrelevant compared to the hollow ache that had settled within him.

_

Jongseong stood by your grave, the ache in his chest so profound it felt like it had hollowed him out completely. He had known, of course, that your funeral would be difficult but nothing, not even the endless condolences and the gentle words from well-meaning friends and family, could have prepared him for this kind of pain. The grief gnawed at him, relentless and unforgiving, leaving him feeling raw and exposed. It was the kind of hurt that no words could soothe, no embrace could soften. Nothing - except you.

His black suit hung loose on his frame, a stark contrast to the confident man he had once been. His posture, usually straight and proud, was slouched, his shoulders weighed down by the unbearable burden of loss. His face, pale and drawn, was a shadow of the man who once carried the light of the world in his heart. That light, he feared, had been taken with you. Since the moment you passed, the world had dimmed, and he wondered if he would ever feel warmth again. When the earth loses the sun, there is only darkness that remains.

He hasn’t slept. How could he? The bed is too big, too cold, too empty without you. Every night since your passing, he had lain awake, staring at the ceiling, his hand reaching across the bed to where you used to be, only to be met with nothing. He would run his fingers over the cool, empty space, the ache in his heart growing stronger with each passing minute. The silence was unbearable, the kind that swallowed him whole. He wondered how he was supposed to go on without you when every reason for his existence was tied to you. You had been his purpose, his love, his everything.

Since he was twenty-two years old, he had known nothing but being your other half. You had been there with him through every step, every joy, every heartbreak, every victory. Now, you weren’t here, and it felt as though half of him had been torn away, leaving a void that nothing could ever fill. His hand felt empty, void of your comforting squeezes, the way you used to reassure him with just a touch. He would never feel that again. He would never hear your laugh, never see your smile light up a room, never feel the warmth of your embrace. The thought was unbearable, a suffocating weight on his chest that made it hard to breathe.

Choking back a sob, Jongseong clenched his jaw and squeezed his throat shut, trying desperately to keep himself together, if not for himself, then for the family who stood around him. He knew they were hurting too, how could they not be, when you had been the centre of their lives as well? But it was hard. It was so hard to stand there and be strong when his insides were crumbling, when every fibre of his being screamed for you. He stared at the ground, his vision blurred by tears, the earth below looking so final, so cold.

The sky overhead was grey, a dull blanket of clouds that seemed to mirror the grief that hung in the air. The wind was gentle, but even the breeze felt like it carried sadness, the chill sinking into Jongseong’s bones. It felt as though the world itself had lost its colour, its vibrancy, ever since you had gone. The trees that surrounded the cemetery stood still, their leaves barely rustling, as if even nature was mourning. Every corner of the graveyard seemed muted, the flowers on the graves dull and lifeless, the headstones stark and lonely. Even the birds seemed quieter today, as though they too understood the magnitude of the loss.

Jongseong forced himself to look up, his eyes finding Jeyou across the gravesite. His son stood beside his wife, his shoulders shaking as he sobbed, his gaze locked on the casket that had been lowered into the ground. Jongseong’s heart ached even more at the sight of him. 

He wanted so desperately to be strong for Jeyou, for your son. He wanted to walk over and put a hand on his shoulder, to tell him everything would be alright, to hold him the way he had when Jeyou was a little boy, scared and unsure of the world. But he couldn’t. He couldn’t be anything for anyone right now, because the one person who had always given him the strength to carry on was gone.

Ara came up beside him then, slipping her arm through his. She didn’t say anything, after all, what could she say? There were no words that could take away the pain. Jongseong felt her presence beside him, her quiet support, but even that couldn’t bridge the gap that had opened up in his heart. Ara’s touch was gentle, her hand squeezing his arm, but the void inside him was too vast, too deep for even the love of his granddaughter to reach.

The priest’s voice droned on in the background, speaking the final words of the burial, but the words seemed to drift away, lost in the weight of the moment. Jongseong could barely hear them over the pounding of his heart, over the sound of his own ragged breaths. He clenched his fists, trying to hold back the sobs that threatened to break free again. He didn’t want to fall apart, not here, not in front of everyone. But how could he not, when the love of his life was leaving him forever?

Jongseong bit his lip, his eyes glassy as he glanced down to your coffin-covered body, as if searching for some kind of reassurance. But there was none to give. This was it. This was the end. You were gone, and there was no miraculous happy ending where you would come back to him, where you would smile and tell him you were never going to leave. There was only the harsh, brutal reality that he would have to live the rest of his life without you.

Jongseong’s knees buckle slightly as the final prayer is spoken, and he feels Ara tighten her grip on his arm, grounding him, keeping him upright. He wants to collapse, to lie beside you and never get up. He wants to close his eyes and pretend that this was all just a terrible dream. But it isn’t. The casket in the ground is real, the earth that will cover it is real, and you are truly gone.

Jongseong let out a shaky breath, the air catching in his throat as he continued to stare at the grave. The casket, now partially covered by the earth, felt like a cruel finality, the last barrier between him and the love of his life. The flowers scattered around the site seemed dull in the overcast light, their once vibrant colours muted by the grief that hung over the cemetery like a thick fog. Everything seemed too quiet, too still, as if the world itself had paused in reverence to the enormity of his pain.

His heart pounded in his chest, each beat echoing with the agony of knowing that this was the end—no more shared mornings, no more gentle touches, no more stolen glances. The weight of it all made his chest tighten, a crushing force that left him gasping for breath. He could hardly believe that this was real, that the woman who had been his reason for living for so many years was now gone, leaving him to navigate a life he no longer knew how to live.

Ara tugged gently at his arm, her silent plea to move, to take a step forward. Jongseong hesitated, his feet rooted to the ground, unwilling to leave the spot where you lay. His eyes remained fixed on the grave, as if by staring hard enough, he could will you back into existence, could bring you back to him. But he knew it was futile. You were gone, and no amount of wishing or hoping could change that.

With a deep, ragged breath, Jongseong finally allowed Ara to lead him away. His feet dragged against the soft ground, every step feeling like a betrayal, a distancing from the life you had shared. Ara’s head stayed resting on his shoulder, her silent support both a comfort and a reminder of the family you had built together. He felt the weight of her love, the warmth of her presence, but it wasn’t the same. It would never be the same without you.

As they moved slowly away from the grave, Jongseong couldn’t resist one last glance back. His eyes, swollen and red from the tears that had yet to stop, locked onto the casket once more, now almost completely covered by the earth. It looked so final, so unbearably permanent. The soft hum of the wind through the trees seemed to carry with it a whisper of the life they had once known, a life that was now out of reach.

The grey sky overhead mirrored the dull ache in his heart, its heavy clouds hanging low as if they, too, mourned the loss of something irreplaceable. The air was thick with the scent of damp earth and fresh flowers, but even that felt too bittersweet, a cruel reminder of the beauty that could still exist in a world where you no longer did.

As Jongseong allowed himself to be guided away, his shoulders hunched under the weight of grief, he knew that a part of him would forever remain at that graveside, buried alongside you. The rest of the world moved on around him, but for Jongseong, time had stopped the moment you left. Each step he took felt like a journey into an unknown future, a future without you by his side.

And as they walked further and further away, the image of your grave growing smaller in the distance, Jongseong couldn’t help but whisper under his breath, a final, desperate plea to the universe. “Wait for me, love…just wait for me.”

His words faded into the wind as Ara squeezed his arm gently, and together, they walked away from the place where his heart now lay, buried with you.

____

"I miss her," he says, his voice trembling slightly, breaking the stillness. It’s not just a simple statement—it’s a confession, raw and unfiltered, the kind that makes his chest ache as though his heart is being twisted by an invisible hand. He can feel the familiar sting of unshed tears burning behind his eyes, but he fights them back.

The living room is quiet again, but the kind of quiet that suffocates rather than soothes. Jongseong sits on the edge of the worn couch, his eyes fixed on the photographs that line the mantle. They are still - frozen moments of a life that once brimmed with joy and love. His mind drifts back to the present after the painful journey through memory, and he sighs, his heart heavy with the weight of a year without you.

The pain, sharp as it is, feels like a key turning inside him, unlocking emotions he thought he had long buried. A year. A whole year without you. Not a single day has passed where he doesn’t think of you. The mornings are the worst, when he still, out of habit, sets out two cups for coffee. He never drinks the second one - it just sits there, untouched, a quiet tribute to your absence. The daytime programmes you loved continue to play on the television, though they bring him no comfort, just the dull hum of voices filling a void. Visiting your grave has become his ritual, the only place where he feels some semblance of peace, though even that is shadowed by the overwhelming loneliness.

Jeyou shifts beside him, his own expression mirroring his father’s grief. He reaches out, gripping Jongseong’s hand with a firm, comforting squeeze. "I can't imagine what this day is like for you, Dad," Jeyou says, his voice soft, heavy with understanding. After all, he lost his mum, the one woman who sacrificed everything for him to attend the best schools, follow his dreams, and always made him feel like he belonged in this horrible world. 

He misses your soothing words, particularly on days like today, when he would give anything for your advice.

Jongseong swallows the lump in his throat, shaking his head slightly. "I only pray that you go first before your partner, so you don’t have to deal with this suffering," he replies, his voice hoarse but sincere. He knows how morbid it must sound, talking so freely about his son’s death, but he means every word. Losing the love of your life is an agony he wouldn’t wish on his worst enemy, let alone Jeyou. It’s not something you ever get over. The pain is deep, cutthroat, and unrelenting, carving out pieces of your soul until you’re hollowed out, just an echo of who you used to be.

They continue talking for the next few hours, the conversation a gentle distraction, though the sorrow lingers in every pause, every shared glance. Minji and Minhee return from outside, running about the room, their laughter a bright but distant sound in Jongseong’s ears. He watches them, a small smile flickering on his lips. Their energy, their innocence, is a reminder that life does go on, even when it feels like yours has stopped.

As the night begins to peer it’s head, it’s time for them to go. Jongseong hates goodbyes now, even the small ones. Ara looks particularly reluctant to leave, her brow furrowed in worry as she watches her grandfather. She’s always been able to read him like a book, even as a child, and now she can see the light fading from his eyes, just as it has been ever since you left.

"I’ll pop around tomorrow, okay? We’ll get you some shopping in," Jeyou says, standing up and shrugging into his jacket, his eyes lingering on his father’s frail form. Jongseong looks thinner these days, the years catching up to him faster than ever before.

"Thanks, son," Jongseong replies, his voice filled with genuine appreciation. He knows how much of a burden it must be, looking after him, checking in on him. He should be the one taking care of everyone, the way he used to, but these days, it’s hard just to get out of bed in the mornings. The world feels heavier.

Minji and Minhee run up to their Poppy, throwing their arms around him in a tight hug. He leans down, pulling them close, inhaling the sweet scent of their hair as he squeezes them back with as much strength as he can muster.

"Be good, okay? I’ll see you soon," he murmurs, his voice thick with emotion. Minji giggles and gives him one last squeeze before darting off towards the car, while Minhee sighs in compassion for his great grandfather before following his little sister. He doesn’t know the full extent of everything that goes on, but he knows the old man is hurting. 

Jeyou lingers a moment longer, his eyes searching his father’s face. There’s concern there, etched deep into his features. "Look after yourself, Dad. I mean it," he says, his tone firm but filled with love.

Jongseong nods, offering a faint smile, though it doesn’t reach his eyes. "I will," he says quietly, but they both know it’s more of a promise to make Jeyou feel better than a commitment Jongseong truly believes in.

As the door closes behind them, Jongseong stands by the window, watching as the car pulls away, his heart sinking deeper into the loneliness that has become his constant companion. The house, once filled with life and laughter, feels far too quiet now. He turns, his gaze drifting back to the photographs on the mantle - snapshots of a life well-lived, of love shared, of a happiness he fears he will never feel again.

With a sigh, Jongseong walks to the mantle and gently picks up the frame holding your picture. His thumb brushes over the glass, tracing the contours of your face, his chest tightening with the ache of missing you.

‘Look after yourself,’ Jeyou had said. But how could he, when the one person who made life worth living was gone?

As the silence wraps itself around him once more, Jongseong sets the picture back in its place, his heart heavy with the weight of another day without you.

Climbing up the stairs, he makes his way to your bedroom, the day draining him of everything he has left. Jongseong steps into the bedroom, the air feels heavier, thick with memories and the lingering presence of you. The familiar scent of lavender still clings to the room, though it’s faded over time, much like the vibrant colours of the quilt you both once shared. He pauses by the doorframe, his eyes falling instinctively to your side of the bed. It’s exactly as you left it - untouched, sacred. He’s been afraid to disrupt it, afraid that even the slightest disturbance might somehow break the fragile connection he feels with you, like it might shake you wherever you are in the universe.

But tonight is different. Tonight, the ache of missing you is unbearable.

Slowly, Jongseong crosses the room, each step feeling heavier than the last. His heart hammers in his chest, his breath shallow as he reaches the bed. He hesitates for a moment, his trembling fingers reaching out to touch your pillow, the one that still sees your head laying upon. Tears well up in his eyes, blurring his vision, but he doesn’t wipe them away. He lets them fall freely, each drop a testament to the love he’s carried for you all these years, a love that still refuses to fade even in your absence.

With a shaky breath, Jongseong lowers himself onto your side of the bed, feeling the mattress dip under his weight. It feels strange at first, like he’s intruding on a space that should remain untouched, but the yearning to feel close to you again overpowers the guilt. He lies down, resting his head on your pillow, his chest rising and falling with uneven breaths as his tears soak into the fabric.

“I love you, Y/N. More than my heart and chest can hold in,” he whispers into the empty room, the same words he had once said to you all those years ago when he first confessed his love. It feels like an echo, like his heart is trying to reach across the vast distance between him and wherever you are now, hoping that you can hear him, feel him.

He swallows the lump in his throat, his body trembling with grief. "I don’t know how to do this without you, Y/N. Everything... everything is so hard now. Even getting out of bed in the morning. There’s no joy in anything anymore." His voice lowers to a near whisper, almost as though he’s confessing to the universe itself. 

The room feels impossibly quiet, the stillness pressing down on him. His mind races with memories of you, of your laughter, the way your smile could light up even the darkest day, how your hand in his made everything feel right. He presses his face into the pillow, inhaling deeply as if he could somehow capture the last remnants of your presence.

Jongseong closes his eyes, exhaustion creeping up on him, though it’s not the kind that can be cured by sleep. It’s a soul-deep weariness, the kind that comes from carrying too much pain for too long. He hasn’t allowed himself to cry like this in a while, always trying to stay strong for the family, but here, in the silence of your bedroom, he finally lets himself feel the full weight of his grief.

"I'm sorry, love," he whispers, his voice barely audible now. "I don’t know how to live in a world without you. I miss you so much it hurts... I just want to feel you beside me again, even if only for a moment."

He feels the tears slip down his cheeks, hot and unrelenting, but he’s too tired to wipe them away. His body sinks deeper into the bed, the familiar warmth of the blankets enveloping him, though it’s not the same. It’ll never be the same without you.

Jongseong closes his eyes, his hand clutching your pillow as if it were you, as if holding on tight enough could bring you back. The exhaustion weighs heavier on him now, pulling him under, and before he knows it, he’s drifting off to sleep - something that has eluded him since you passed.

Jongseong lies still, his breath slowing as the quiet of the room wraps around him like a blanket. The familiar scent of your pillow soothes the ache in his chest, though not entirely. His hand remains clutching the pillow, his knuckles white against the soft fabric, as if holding on just a little tighter might somehow bring you back.

His frail body begins to relax, the weight of the years and grief easing off his tired shoulders. His eyelids grow heavy, the darkness behind them more inviting than the empty, lonely room. He inhales deeply, filling his lungs with the scent of you; he swears he can feel you surrounding him.

Jongseong’s heart, worn and bruised by your absence, finds a strange calm. The sharp pain of loss that has haunted him for so long softens, as if your presence - though unseen - soothes him, guiding him gently. He can almost hear your voice, soft and familiar, calling his name from somewhere far off, yet so close.

Exhaustion weighs heavier now, pulling him further into that quiet space between sleep and memory. His body sinks deeper into the mattress, the aches in his bones easing as his breathing slows. In the stillness, each breath comes softer, more rhythmic, like the gentle ebb of a distant tide.

As sleep pulls him in fully, a peaceful expression settles across his face. The lines of grief soften, replaced by something close to serenity. His grip on the pillow loosens, his hand falling gently to his side.

And in that stillness, Jongseong rests, his breathing gentle, his heart finally at peace, as though in the silence of the room, he has found his way back to you.

_____

“Dad?” Jeyou’s voice echoes through the house as he steps inside, the door clicking shut softly behind him. A strange, unsettling quiet fills the space, not the kind of silence that welcomes you home but the kind that makes your skin prickle. There’s no familiar sound of his father calling out from another room, no clattering of dishes in the kitchen or the hum of the TV from the living room. It’s still. 

Too still.

He pauses at the base of the stairs, staring up as if expecting his dad to appear at the top, grinning, telling him to come up. But nothing. The quiet presses down on him, growing heavier with each passing second. Everything in the house looks exactly the same as it did yesterday - the framed photos of family lining the hallway, the shoes left in a pile near the door, and the faint scent of yesterday’s lunch lingering. Something feels...off.

Jeyou swallows hard, dread settling in the pit of his stomach as he places his hand on the bannister, fingers trembling slightly. He starts up the stairs slowly, the soft creak of each step the only sound breaking the silence. With every step, his heart pounds harder, his breath growing more unsteady. The house, once full of warmth, now feels cold, unfamiliar.

As he reaches the top of the stairs, the hallway stretches before him, just as it always has. But the air is different. It feels heavier, like it’s holding its breath, waiting for something to happen. Jeyou walks toward the bedroom, his pace quickening as he reaches the door. His hand hovers over the handle, the knot of anxiety twisting tighter in his chest. He pushes the door open slowly.

There, lying on the bed, is his father.

Jongseong is still in the clothes he wore yesterday, his body lying peacefully on the bed, his hand hanging limply off the side, fingers curled and unmoving. His face is calm, serene even, as if he’s just fallen into a deep sleep. But the sight is all wrong. His chest doesn’t rise and fall with the steady rhythm of breath. The colour in his cheeks has faded, his skin now ashen and pale.

Jeyou’s breath catches in his throat, his chest tightening painfully. "Oh... no..." he whispers, the words trembling as they leave his mouth. His jaw clenches, trying to hold back the wave of emotion crashing over him, but it’s no use. His eyes burn, tears pricking painfully at the corners before spilling over, running down his cheeks before he can even bring himself to step closer.

He drops to his knees beside the bed, his hands shaking as they reach for his father’s limp hand, the warmth long gone. His fingers brush Jongseong’s skin, but there’s no response, no twitch, no familiar squeeze. His father is gone, and Jeyou feels the reality of it shattering through him like a blow to the chest.

He leans over the bed, resting his forehead against his father’s hand, the sobs he’s been holding back finally escaping his throat in broken gasps. “No... please... not yet, Dad,” he chokes out, his voice strangled by the tears, the grief clawing at his insides. "Please..."

Jeyou lifts his head, staring at his father’s peaceful face, and for a moment, it feels like he’s just sleeping. But the quiet, the terrible, awful quiet, tells him everything he needs to know. His father, the man who had been his rock, his guide through life, is no longer here.

There is a sweet irony in this moment.

As Jeyou's sobs echo softly through the room, Jongseong’s spirit hovers nearby, watching his son with a tender, bittersweet smile. Although he mourns the pain of his son, there’s no longer any weight on his heart, no sense of loss or longing. Instead, there’s a warmth, a gentle, reassuring presence by his side. He feels it before he even turns. A familiar hand slips into his, fingers intertwining with his in the way they always had, fitting perfectly, like pieces of a long-lost puzzle finally reunited.

He turns, and there you are, standing before him with that radiant smile that never failed to brighten his darkest days. It’s the smile that spoke of every quiet moment you shared, every laugh, every whispered confession of love. His heart, which had carried the unbearable ache of your absence for so long, suddenly feels whole again. The years of sorrow and longing melt away in an instant, replaced by the purest form of joy.

“Took you long enough,” you say with a soft pout, your voice light and teasing, just as it had been in life. There’s no hint of sadness or bitterness in your tone, only the playful warmth he’s missed so much, the kind that had always made his heart flutter.

Jongseong smiles in return, a gentle, peaceful expression settling over his face. For the first time in a year, he feels truly at ease. “I was caught up, sorry, baby,” he replies softly, his voice filled with love as he gazes at you. His hand squeezes yours gently, his fingers brushing over your skin as if to reassure himself that this moment is real, that you’re really here.

And then, without hesitation, he leans in and presses his lips to yours in a kiss so tender, so full of longing and relief, that it feels as though the time apart vanishes in an instant. The kiss is soft yet meaningful, filled with all the words he could never find to express how much he had missed you. It's like coming home - like slipping into the warmth of an embrace that was always meant to be. 

The sensation of your lips against his is more perfect than anything he remembers, as if all the love he ever felt for you has been distilled into this one beautiful moment. The warmth of it spreads through him, igniting his soul with a peace he hasn't felt in a long time.

Jongseong pulls back just enough to look at you, his forehead resting against yours. His soul feeling light yet beautifully full, free from the ache that had weighed him down for so long. He finally feels whole, finally feels like he’s where he belongs - beside you, where he’s always meant to be.

For a moment, he glances over his shoulder, back at Jeyou. His son kneels by the bedside, his shoulders shaking with silent sobs, the pain of his loss fresh and raw. Jongseong watches him with a soft expression, understanding the weight of the grief that will soon settle into Jeyou’s heart. But even in his son’s sorrow, Jongseong knows he will be okay. Time will heal the wounds, and Jeyou has the strength to carry on. He has a family, a loving wife, beautiful children, and the memories of both his parents to guide him.

Jongseong’s lips curve into a sad yet hopeful smile as he watches Jeyou. ‘You’ll be alright, Jeyou' he thinks, though no words leave his lips. He knows Jeyou will heal, just as he himself did once, after his own parents passed. There will be sadness, yes, but there will also be love, laughter, and life to carry him forward.

With that comforting knowledge resting in his heart, Jongseong turns back to you, his grip on your hand tightening just a little, as if to reaffirm the bond you’ve shared for decades. The past, the pain, the loneliness - it all falls away, leaving nothing but peace and love.

“Ready?” you ask softly, your eyes sparkling with a familiar warmth, as if you’d never been apart.

Jongseong nods, a contented smile playing at his lips. “Always,” he replies, his voice steady, filled with a quiet, unwavering certainty. With your hand in his, he takes the first step forward, leaving behind the world of sorrow and stepping into forever with you.

And as the two of you walk together, the light grows brighter, the burdens of the mortal world disappearing entirely, now walking hand in hand, just as you were always meant to.

_____

perm taglist: @immortalvee @sunpov @heeseungspookie @strawberrysavi @monstanctiny21

@diorsyun @heexzbae @yzzyhee @baekhyunstruly @zeeloveshee

@haechonly @berryblog @no-mannerism @jaehoonii

@notevenheretbh1 @shawnyle @addictedtohobi @jiminie-08

@emberuby @nctislifue @lilyuwon @skzenhalove

@heeshlove @idkdykilr @chocminteu @y4wnjunz @rikibun

@ivesti @parksunghoonsgf @branchrkive @brownsugarbaybee

@xxbluestrifexx @bambangan @dollyyun @iluvikeu @deobitifull

@yawnazzz @st1llm0nster @woorcve @heeseungsbm

@star-hoon @heelee-01 @wonnienyang @alternativelix

Sunghoon calling reader bunny while they’re fucking please please please. maybe she had a high sex drive and always bothers sunghoon for cock but he doesn’t mind

warning: phone sex, implied fisting lmfao, reader is always horny

It's not that Sunghoon can't handle your libido or anything, it's mostly just that you're horny all the time and more often than not, at times he can't realistically take care of you.

You're quite demanding though. He also can't really say that he doesn't love that about you either. With the way he'll be presenting a new idea to his team and his phone will start blaring with repeated calls until he takes a step out with an apology, only to hear the way your fingers slip in and out of yourself with moans of his name.

More times than not, he'll see himself to the bathroom just to listen, just to admire how much you need him. How much you wish he could keep you and fuck you all day, every day.

A fuck bunny, is what you are, and you're fucking proud of it. ~ "Babe-" Your boyfriend interrupts the ringing in your ears through the muffled speaker. "Please, I'm with my mom." You whine, making a fuss all while moaning out, needing him more than ever at this moment. Your body feeling hot, needy, and insatiable for a cock that belongs to this specific, pleading voice. There's a small threat when you respond, one that always, always works on him. "Jay wouldn't be igno-" "Stop fucking bringing him up." Sunghoon whispers angrily into the phone, a door closing on his end. "Do you want to cum or not?" "Mhm-" You half moan, already close if he so much as demands it of you. "I have a minute, Mom thinks I've just gotta piss." Sunghoon explains. "How many fingers?" "Four." You seethe, wishing he'd let you use all of those toys that are abandoned, locked in his dresser. "Want more." Sunghoon can't help the way his cock jumps, knowing exactly how you look when you try to angle your body to somehow fit more. Such small hands, you could take it all if you manage to last long enough to need it. "One more." Sunghoon instructs, gripping himself through his pants, leaning against the bathroom wall and wondering if he needs to cum or force his arousal down before seeing his mother again. God, he wishes he was home. You really have him wrapped around all four of those slippery fingers, don't you? He hears you gasp, knowing you've fit the last finger in. "Push." He smiles through a bite on his lip, listening to your struggled breathing. "Push, bunny, you can fit more for me, can't you?" You do, feeling a stretch so painful that you let out a near animalistic cry. You feel yourself sweating, your pussy drenching each finger your right hand has to offer, and you push. "Now-" He catches a breath, squeezing his pulsing length once, already feeling the dampened spot leak through his pants. "Cum for me once, and stay there until I get home, okay?" You nod, knowing he can't see you but more than aware that he knows you'll do it. All for him. You'll do anything, everything, for him. Starting with the orgasm, ending with the feeling of emptiness until he makes it home and fills you up. Instantly, you shake, plunging and pushing as much into yourself as you can manage, listening closely to the way his line is silent. You love when he listens, love how he loves you back, fucking adore how his own mother would never know her son is so filthy good at getting you off. And, you keep that promise, dripping, drenching his bed and not moving a muscle after the fact. Even after he hangs up, you lay in your mess, playing with your clit through the sensitivity up until you feel you could take far more than all five of your fingers. On Sunghoon's end though, he's embarrassed. Walking around with his mother as if his cock isn't tucked under his waistband threatening him if he doesn't get home to fuck you soon. Thankfully, excuses are easy for such a clean cut and well-behaved man. Really, His mother doesn't even doubt him when he apologized and says he needs to get home. Not a single hug, barely even a goodbye.

Hi hii! ♡︎ If you like kpop, please join our new community, Kpop Angels! ♡︎ This community is mainly for finding friends and mutuals, and we'll even be having some activities in the near future as well!

Guidelines! ミ❤︎︎

❤︎︎ Be Respectful

Please be sure to respect everyone!

❤︎︎ No Racism, Homophobia, Transphobia, or any other forms of hate and discrimination will be allowed

❤︎︎ No Harassment

❤︎︎ Age

General tumblr guidelines, so if you're under 13 you will be kicked!

If you'd like to join, please ask any of us for an invite! Or, please leave a like and reblog to be sent a request! :> ♡︎

Admins/Moderators:

@yourdolletteprincess @dollywons

@l33j3n8

Jake finally taking you after months of uncertainty whether you like him or not. Pushing you against a wall, rough and passionate making out, and him being a softdom. Pleaseeeeeeee.

i imagined jake wearing glasses 😋 bonus points if the neighbors are heeseung, jay and sunghoon and they all hear jake fuck you lol

***

It all started with a stupid semester project.

Jake hates group work. He hates relying on people and he hates when his partners don’t complete their portion of the work. Jake thinks they’re lazy and good-for-nothing, even though he knows he’s being dramatic. He hates being the only person to contribute to the Google doc and he loathes it when the grade is dependent on everyone as a whole and not individually.

He meets you in Advanced Research Methods. It’s a required class for mathematical and physics majors in order to graduate, and Jake has pushed off taking it for as long as he could because he hates the idea of researching data with a partner. He knows the professor well enough to assume that there would be group work (he assumes correctly) but absolutely nothing could’ve prepared him from laying eyes on you for the first time.

When Dr. Kang announces the partners for the semester-long research project, Jake’s tapping his pen against his leg when he starts to hear names being called out. His ears perk up when he hears his own. When your name is said, Jake looks up and finds that you’re staring right at him.

You look so put together. Jake doesn’t know what it is about you that makes you look like you’ve got it all figured out. Maybe it’s because your hair looks particularly neat compared to all of the other people sitting around him. Perhaps it’s your laptop and notebook right next to it. Whatever it is, he finds himself a bit nervous to inevitably approach you in order to begin working on the project.

Dr. Kang allows the students to mingle and get to know one their project partners during the last ten minutes of class to exchange information. When you take initiative to walk to where Jake is sitting and occupy the seat next to him, he finds himself stuttering.

“H-Hey,” he says pathetically. You’re prettier up close.

“Hi! Jake, right?”

“Yeah, that’s me.”

“Here’s my phone. Why don’t you put your number in.”

Jake’s hands are almost shaking as he holds your phone between his hands and settles with ‘Jake Sim - Research Methods’ as his contact so you remember him. When he hands it back to you, he watches you type away before he feels his own phone buzz.

Unknown Number: hi! it’s yn.

He saves the contact quickly before class ends and the two of you decide to wait until the next class to set a time to meet to work on the project.

Jake’s worries about group projects disappear when he begins working with you. You’re punctual, never a minute late when the two of you agree to meet after classes to work on it. You contribute to brainstorming sessions and crunch data numbers like you’re the best at it. Jake finds that he’s able to divide up the work evenly and sleeps at a decent hour because he doesn’t have to stay up late to finish an extra portion.

Your intellect is attractive to him. You’re able to explain difficult theories and statistical processes to him better than any professor he’s ever hard. Only, it becomes hard to listen to you talk because he keeps staring at your lips.

They’re so kissable. Jake wonders what they must feel like against his own. He imagines grabbing your face with his hands and planting one on you when you talk about SPSS but he doesn’t act on it, fearing that he may make you uncomfortable. Jake loves it when you start to wear shorter dresses and skirts because the weather is warming up. He likes seeing your thighs stick to the seats and watching you pull the fabric down to prevent flashing everybody.

As the months go by, he realizes he’s learned a lot about you. You’re not from around and you dream of working in astrophysics one day. You love the color green and you’re obsessed with tangerines to the point where he bought a bag just to present you with one at every session. You’re a night owl and you love all kinds of music except country, and you prefer coffee over tea.

Jake also knows that your body is gorgeous. Your legs look stunning in shorter skirts and your tits look beautiful when they almost spill out of your crop tops. He knows what your thighs look like when you sit and how your skirt rides up to accommodate the new angle you’ve put yourself in.

It messes with his head because sometimes, he swears you might like him, too.

You laugh at his corny math jokes and ask him to hang out with you on the weekends. You let him buy you coffee and meals when it’s late into the night. You let him walk you home and you even allow Jake to nap on your bed when he comes over to work on the project after long, hot days.

It all comes to a boiling point one Thursday evening when he’s alone with you in your dorm. Your roommate is gone until Monday and Jake is sitting on the bed whilst you’re sitting on the desk chair, stretching your arms above your head until your shirt rides up. He can see your skin and wonders how soft you must be.

For just a moment, Jake wonders what your bare skin would feel like against his palms. Your breasts look plush to the touch and he’d bet anything that your pussy would feel so amazing against his fingers and cock when you’re wet. He imagines sliding his dick in and out of your tight hole, pumping until he’s coming inside of you and making you messier than before.

But he regrets this thought because he’s half hard in his sweatpants and there’s no way to hide it.

“I, uh, think I’m gonna head back to my dorm,” Jake announces as he puts a notebook in front of his crotch.

“Already?” You turn around and pout at him. “But you got here thirty minutes ago.”

Jake shuffles to the door. “Sorry, Y/N. I think I’ll do my portion there.”

“Jake, I really need you here to complete my part. We’re supposed to turn in the second half of the report this week and I need your help to do it.”

God, you sound so hot when you’re asking him to stay.

He panics when you stand from your seat to approach him as he motions to open the door. The sound of your chair scraping against the floor startles him until he drops the notebook that’s been covering his semi-hard dick. You gasp.

“Are you hard?”

Bashfully, Jake sighs and tries to back away from you. “This I why I wanted to leave, okay? I…I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

You look at his crotch and then back up at him. “Why are you hard?”

Jake’s face heats up even more. “I-I don’t know.”

“Jaeyun.” Your voice sounds so delicate saying his name like that.

“It’s because I like you and you’re wearing shorts that leave nothing to the imagination, okay?!” He sighs. “I’ve liked you since the second time we worked on the project because that’s when I knew I could rely on you. Everything else was just circumstance and now I need to go to my dorm so I can take care of this.”

“I can help,” you tell him. You say it just shy of confidently and he can’t tell if you feel bad for him or not.

“You don’t have to say or do anything. I already made this weird.”

You force yourself to stop looking at his cock. Knowing Jake, he’s too embarrassed to realize that your proposition is genuine and that you’ve harbored a crush on him since becoming partners with him too. So you muster up enough courage to press your lips to his and hope the message is clear.

Jake’s eyes widen against your mouth and you pull back after a few seconds to see the astonished look on his face. “I like you too, dummy. Have since you started bringing me tangerines after knowing me for two weeks.”

“Really?”

You nod. “Mhm. Can I kiss you again?”

Jake captures your mouth in a kiss the way he wants to—his hands grab your jaw and he pushes his lips against yours until he’s turning you. You feel your back hit the hard wall and gasp into the kiss, allowing Jake to lick your bottom lip with his tongue. The sensation dances across your chest and you gush out a stream of wetness at Jake’s urgency.

“Could’ve been kissing you all this time,” he mutters against your neck as he drags his lips down your skin. “Feel what you do to me.”

Without detaching himself from you, Jake puts your hand on his hardened cock and hears you whimper at the feeling. He coaxes you to squeeze him through the fabric and moans against your neck when you do.

“Such a good girl, listening to me like that.” He pulls away and pushes his hips into your palm. “I’m always hard for you.”

“R-Really?”

“You’re so hot, Y/N. You have to know that.”

Jake doesn’t let you respond. He grips your waist and pushes his plump lips back on yours and kisses you with fervor until your own lips have become swollen. The two of you emit breathy moans in the quiet of your dorm room and your free hand pushes Jake’s sweats down until his cock springs free. The hand around his dick collects the precum that has oozed from his swollen head and you smear it over his skin.

“Fuck me,” he moans to himself. “You’re perfect.”

“Your cock is perfect,” you choke. “So big.”

“Yeah? Can you spit on it for me?” You do as he says, leaning forward until a wad of it touches his slit. Jake smiles at you lustfully and squeezes your hips. “Good girl. Always so good, aren’t you? Makes me wonder how good you’ll be for me when I fuck you.”

“I’ll be so good,” you whine as you twist your hand up and down his length. Jake resumes kissing your neck and the electricity makes your pussy quiver. “I want you inside of me now.”

“Now? You think you’re wet enough?” You nod. “We’ll just have to see, now won’t we?”

Jake’s movements are hurried as he pushes your shorts down until they’re at your knees. You aren’t lying. You’re really wet. The cute baby pink panties you wear are soiled and he feels it when his fingers come in contact with the fabric.

The short whimper you let out is enough for Jake to short circuit. He doesn’t believe this is real. Even less so when you maneuver his cock until the tip it pushing against your covered core, gathering your wetness to coat his cock.

“Fuck, you really are perfect,” Jake whispers against you. He pulls back to watch as you stroke him while keeping the tip plush against you as if to coax him into fucking your hole. Jake’s mouth hangs open at the delicious sensation of the wet fabric against his cock head and decides you’re wet enough to take all of him.

He relishes in your gasp when he forces you to turn around. You push your ass towards him and Jake slaps your right ass cheek with his big hands until the sound reverberates in the room. Jake pulls your panties down until they join your shorts halfway down your legs and pushes his cock against you.

“How are you so fucking wet?” he mutters.

“It’s all for you.”

“Fuck yes it is.”

Without bothering to pull his sweatpants off, Jake uses his hand to slide the tip up and down your slit until you’re arching your back and clutching the wall to the best of your ability. The wet splashes make him even hornier and he pushes the head into you until you envelop him.

Slowly, Jake pushes into you inch by inch and holds you by the waist. He rubs your bare skin and coos at you when you wiggle your ass to get more of him. The pain feels exceptional. You can’t remember a time where you fucked someone as big as Jake and you don’t want to live without his cock inside of you like this.

Jake takes his shirt off to prevent it from obstructing the view of his cock disappearing into your pussy. He pushes himself inside of you until he’s completely sheathed and catches you by surprise. Jake silences your moan with a kiss to your mouth and rubs soothing circles on your waist, kissing you like his life depends on it while you get used to the new stretch.

He pushes his tongue against yours and uses the spit to coat his lips. You taste exactly like the pink lemonade you’ve been drinking all night and the innocent flavor makes his hips buck into you.

“Fuck me,” you beg. “Please, Jake. Don’t make me wait.”

He obliges. Jake fucks into you with all his might and his strong, muscular arms hold you in place as you push your chest against the wall and hold onto the door handle. The string of moans you let out is surely loud enough to let the neighbors know what’s happening behind the door but neither of you care about that right now. Jake wants to make you come and he’s slinging his hips into you from an upward angle, bending his knees to make sure his cock impales your g-spot.

“You’re so hot,” he moans. “I think about fucking you all the time.”

“M-Me too,” you confess.

“Yeah? What do you think about?”

“I think about—Ah!—Fingering me in class and eating my pussy.”

“Fuck yeah. I can do that for you.” Jake grips your hips tighter. “I can make you cum.”

“Make me cum, Jaeyun,” you plead, pushing your ass back. “I wanna cum on your cock.”

Jake pistons his hips into you until you’re parallel to the floor, holding onto the handle for dear life. He pushes into you so hard that you’re afraid you’d fall if it weren’t for his strong grip on you. Jake pushes and pushes, saving his orgasm until you come first.

It hits you like a tidal wave crashing over the shore. Your orgasm is long and drawn out as he keeps his brutal pace. Your release seeps from between the two or you and drips down his balls. Jake bites his lip at the tingling sensation and smacks your ass when you clench around him.

“Use me to make yourself cum,” you tell him. “Please, Jake. Please cum for me.”

“Say less, Princess.”

His orgasm follows shortly behind yours. Jake pulls out after five more thrust and pumps his cock until his cum spurts all over the globes of your ass. The warm, thick liquid feels so good against your skin that you push your bare pussy against him until Jake is letting his hot cock rest on you too.

When he regains his breath, he spots a roll of paper towels and gives your cheek a quick kiss before cleaning the both of you up. His touch is gentle, juxtaposed to his fucking just a few minutes prior. Jake cleans himself up before wiping the cum off of you and wiping your pussy gently too. He coaxes you to change into fresh undergarments and lets you collapse onto the bed with your eyes on him.

“I really do like you,” Jake says. “I didn’t say that just to fuck you.”

You pull him down and kiss him until all that’s left is soft pecks and the sound of lips smacking. Jake lets you pull away to lay on top of his chest and you feel him kiss the crown of your head.

“Sleep, Y/N. I’ll be here when you wake up.”

***

comments and reblogs are appreciated! x

WHY DOES IT KIND OF SOUND LIKE HIM WTF

subby jake💗

(without music as someone asked before)

Ffs 😭😭😭

fuck…. i need to ride him

LET ENHYPEN REST‼️‼️‼️🗣️🗣️