Jealous

ex!seungmin who thinks about you when he receives his diploma during his graduation in law school because he couldn’t have done it without you, and it breaks his heart that while he’d reached his dreams, you couldn’t be there to see him make it.

he’d remember the countless sleepless nights you’d stayed up with him to review for his tests

or when you’d urge him to get some rest or eat his meals when he’d forget sometimes

you were there to help him realize he could do it, coming with him to apply for numerous universities

you were there from the beginning, so why couldn’t you be there to see him reach the end?

and it was a mutual decision—the breakup. but he finds that, as he reaps the rewards of his efforts, it doesn’t feel right that you aren’t in the crowd

that night, seungmin ponders over whether to call you or not

instead, he sends a few text messages

he doesn’t think he could talk to you without crying, doesn’t think he’s ready to hear your voice again

seungmin (9:57pm): i graduated today haha

seungmin (9:58pm): i just wanted to say thank you. i know that things are over between us, but it’s undeniable the influence you had on me while i was in law school. i don’t know if i’d be able to make it this far if you hadn’t believed in me the way you did. thank you. i can’t say it enough.

seungmin (10:01pm): there’s so much i want to tell you, but i guess i don’t really have the right to do that anymore. still, i hope you realize how much you’ve changed the way i looked at life (for the better, i can hear you complaining already)

seungmin (10:03pm): oh, and i found this letter i’d written back when i was still in my 1st year. it’s addressed to you, and i vividly remember telling myself to give it to you on the day i graduate. haha, somehow i’d thought we’d still be together when today would come. lmk if you still want it or if it’s too awkward then that’s okay too

seungmin (10:06pm): alright that’s it. sorry if these messages freaked you out a little. i’m not even sure this is still your number

seungmin (10:07pm): thanks again, (name). you are the one person who made me believe i could make it and i did :) thank you

SUGAR HONEY ICE & TEA — [18+!]

"But you could have taken a hot guy to your room instead of being with a nerd like me.”

You scoff, “What do you mean? I’m literally on top of the hottest guy at this party right now.”

Jisung sighs again.

“Y/N… Don’t say that. You’ll make me believe that you actually mean it.”

⛓️ SYNOPSIS: Jisung’s initial plan for tonight’s party was to finally gather up enough courage to talk to his long time crush. But for some reason spending time with you instead feels so much more natural and when things get a little more serious, your friend starts wondering if you will notice his lack of experience…

💊 CONTENT INFO: jisung x afab reader, this is part of the completed series Levanter and takes place before its events but can be read as a standalone (there are no spoilers), smut with plot, roommate jisung, friends to lovers/fwb, college au, reader has adhd/is referred to as neurodivergent, some parts are inspired by the show How To Sell Drugs Online (Fast) and the documentary Shiny Flakes on Netflix, content warning and smut tags under the cut

💵 WORD COUNT: 12.7K

🔪 CONTENT WARNING: topics of heavy drug dealing and mention of using, mention of unrequited love (not jisung and reader), alcohol consumption, cigarette smoking, insecurities, mental health topics such as anxiety, addiction and adhd

🔥 SMUT: (includes spoilers) slightly tipsy make out session but rest is in sober state, both sub/dom and dom/sub dynamics, handjob, fingering, oral (m + f receiving), semi-protected piv, praise kink, slight spit play, slight marking, loss of virginity (m), name calling (baby, good boy, princess)

The characters do not portray any of the skz members in real life, the names are just used for fiction. Minors do not interact, this post contains mature topics. By reading you consent to nsw content and agree that you have read all the warnings above carefully.

“Look at this graph.”

You sigh. It’s the seventh time he’s trying to explain this exercise now. You’re giving up. Statistics is a bitch and you don’t wanna fuck with her anymore.

“Sungie… I don’t get it. If I hear the term expected value one more time I’m gonna start crying, I’m honest.”

Your friend chuckles a little, as he scoots closer, before reaching for the computer mouse. Jisung opens a different PDF file then, deciding to repeat the basic theory with you again.

“Y/N, look. You’ve still got enough time. I’m gonna help you, okay? But I fear we have to start with the general knowledge again to understand the exercises.”

You whine, as your head falls back, your eyes closing while a moan spills from your lips. Your roommate feels like a perv that those innocent sounds that come from a source of annoyance do something to him that he would never ever confess. The way you’re sitting there, incredibly exhausted and relying on his help—it makes him feel like the worst friend ever considering you’re here in his room to study statistics.

And Jisung is here to teach you. Definitions. Numbers. Formulas. Stupid values and God knows what because he’s a nerd that is fucking good at everything. He’s studying computer science but for some reason he’s good at everything that is somewhat a part of IT and mathematics.

“Let’s try this exercise one last time and if you still have troubles with it, we will go back to the basics, okay?”

You’re aware it’s nothing personal. It’s honest criticism and you value that so much. After all, it's no use handling you with kid gloves, if you fail your exam that way.

“Alright…”

“Here, look through the list of formulas and read the question carefully again. Maybe underlining the important values and numbers helps you sort all the chaos,” he says with a smile.

“I’ll try,” you answer, skimming through the list once more.

He hates seeing you like this. You absolutely enjoy studying pharmacology, you’re born to be a pharmacist but statistics is getting on your last existing nerve.

Jisung doesn’t know what kind of power washes over his soul but he scoots even closer, laying an arm on the back of your chair before he speaks again.

“You’re smart, Y/N. You’re so good at what you’re doing, you know that, right?”

It’s not meant that way but the praise instantly shoots straight up to your head and then back again down to your core.

You look back at Jisung this time and that’s when you get lost in those eyes again. Those beautiful brown eyes that manage to hypnotise you fully just with a quick glare.

It’s probably just your imagination but for a second it feels as if Jisung is looking back at you with the same energy, as if he’s getting lost in the moment as well.

When your gaze flickers down to his lips—those beautiful lips that you are dying to feel against your own—Jisung’s heart starts beating out of his chest.

Fuck. He’s doomed. He can’t misinterpret those signs, can he?

A knock from the other side of Jisung’s room startles you.

“Can I come in?” A male voice asks.

“Sure,” Jisung allows your other friend entrance. Just when he was so close to you none other than the guy he constantly compares himself to has to ruin the moment. Fucking typical.

He walks into the room then, updating you on the plans for the party later. “I’m gonna go to the store to get some more drinks. Do we have everything else for tonight?”

You turn around to the curly haired, shooting him a quick smile. You’re glad he’s taking care of all the things that still need to be done so Jisung and you are able to fully focus on studying.

Right. Studying. It’s definitely that and not you non-stop staring at him.

“Yes. I’m gonna prepare the remaining snacks. Most stuff is already finished,” you announce.

“Great. Thanks. See you later,” is all he says before disappearing again. You can hear his footsteps in the distance and Jisung is already about to bring you back to the current exercise but your mind is still somewhere else.

Bang Chan. Your other roommate whom you’ve had a crush on since walking into this apartment for the first time three and a half years ago. It’s nothing serious. You swear.

You don’t see Jisung looking your way and noticing you ogling his older friend’s figure and he once again gets reminded why he’s never made a move on you—apart from simply not knowing how.

You’re more experienced, so it’s understandable that you’d rather choose someone in your league that definitely does not include your nerdy stoner roommate Jisung.

But little does Jisung know that both of them absolutely have the capability to sweep you off your feet. Maybe the younger one is even closer to winning the race, practically on the finishing line.

Yes, your crush on Chan was the first one to develop but after such a long time of flirting and no other move happening you gave up. Your older friend brings women home on a regular basis, has had girlfriends over the past years so at one point you stopped wasting your time fantasising about what you could be.

Whereas with Jisung you’re a little more comfortable. It just feels more natural spending time with him and, ironically, you like him that much that all this is enough for you—studying statistics with him, watching some dumb Netflix shows, teaching him how to cook although it’s hopeless, sharing the mediocre weed he bought from God knows where or simply sharing deep thoughts about anything in this world.

You really feel so comfortable around him. As if he’s meant to be your friend. Maybe even more. But you regularly push those ideas aside for a simple reason which also counts for your feelings regarding Chan that are slowly subsiding anyway.

It’s the roommate situation. You don’t want anything serious right now with anyone but you also don’t want to destroy both your important friendships for a casual hookup and demolish your own little feelings with some romance-free sex.

So, that’s why you’ve stopped paying attention to anyone’s attempts a long time ago. Well. Rather Chan’s approaches since Jisung doesn’t really flirt with you except from a few glances that can be categorised as literally nothing as well. You wonder if he’s just not interested or if it’s blamed on his shyness.

He’s not like that with others but then again, you rarely see him interact with women anyway. Or with people in general. Jisung spends most of his time studying, programming some stuff you don’t understand anyway, smoking his joints and playing whatever new video game he found on Steam that week.

“Do you know which formula to use for these numbers?”

Jisung’s question drags you from your daydreams. You hope he just thinks you’ve been zoned out because your head has been working hard to focus on the current task when in reality your thoughts are running free, crushing about your roommates but mostly him.

“No…” you say and it’s not even a lie. You’re simply lost when it comes to statistics. It’s like a whole foreign language to you that doesn’t even include sounds you understand.

“Try this one,” he suggests, as his fingers gesture on one of the formulas on the list. Fuck. Those pretty fingers.

Why did you ask Jisung again to help you study?

Well, because he’s basically a calculator himself and pretty good at explaining even when it comes to helpless cases like you. But, unfortunately, it also plays with your heart and mind a little. Sitting here in his room. Being so close to him.

For fuck’s sake, Y/N. Focus.

You reach for your calculator and turn it on again, typing in the numbers and values for the formula until you realise that some mathematical constant and a certain advanced arithmetic operation is missing on your device.

“Mine doesn’t have that option,” you say, showing all the buttons your calculator has to Jisung. His eyes skim all the letters, numbers and symbols but don’t find it either.

“You can use mine—also for your exam, by the way,” he says then.

Of course, he won’t let you fail your exam because you only own this old version of a calculator. He’s annoyed that your professor didn’t properly explain what supplies and devices you need for your test. But judging from the fact that the old man didn’t really explain anything well, it doesn’t surprise him.

“Thank you so much.”

The words sound so cute spilling from your lips.

“Not for that.”

Jisung searches around, trying to think about where he put his calculator again but it’s hard focusing when you look at him like that. Also, the fact you thank him for such a small gesture does dangerous things to his head. He wonders if you’d thank him as well for other things—like him pressing you against his mattress after you’ve been begging him to shove his cock inside you.

God. Jisung really needs to get laid. It’s getting ridiculous and pathetic.

“I-It’s on the shelf… inside the red box,” he says with a slight cough added after his words. He definitely can’t pick up the calculator himself. You’d see his growing erection, his embarrassing tent, inside his sweatpants. It’ll go away once you get up. He will just scroll through his apps and forget about that look on your face.

You nod before you head towards the furniture, looking around before you find the desired object. The box is pretty big and once you lift it a little, it feels as if there’s a lot more inside than just a calculator and other useful study supplies.

You rummage around, finally finding it but your whole body comes to a halt when your fingertips collide with a plastic bag that is filled with something that feels like candies or pills against your skin. Turning around, you notice Jisung is still busy on his phone.

You really don’t want to spy on him. You don’t. But it’s still weird having a huge back of whatever pills these are and after all you’re studying pharmacology, right? So it’s basically for research purposes.

Laying the calculator aside, you open the box now completely, lid getting discarded somewhere on the shelf.

“Can you find it?” Jisung asks, still with his back looking towards you.

“Yeah. I’ve got it.”

Just one closer look.

No.

It can’t be.

One hundred thoughts are running through your mind when you look at the little tablets that come in every shape, colour and with different kinds of logos stamped into them.

Is Jisung an addict?

You know that he’s at higher risk considering his mental health background and you immediately see red for your friend.

It’s none of your business. But you have to ask. You just have to make sure this isn't what it is but then again, your eyes don’t lie to you. It’s very obvious that he is hiding ecstasy in the box where he puts his calculator and other stuff he needs for university.

So, you grab the plastic bag out of the box, turn around and look at your roommate.

“Jisung… what is this?”

He spins around on his chair. For a moment he feels fear wash all over his body and he contemplates if he should lie but there are two reasons he shouldn’t.

First of all, you’re about to become a pharmacist in a few weeks once you’ve finished your studies, so pretending those pills are Smarties or M&Ms or whatever is useless. Second, as one of your closest friends Jisung knows how much you value honesty—even if it might hurt—and he will forever respect those limits and principles.

Fuck. It’s gonna be okay. You don’t judge people. He can feel comfortable and safe around you without a doubt.

“O-Oh… This is one kilogram of MDMA.”

You look at him. You switch to the plastic bag in your hand. Your eyes find his again.

“Yeah, I can tell. But why?”

Maybe there’s another reason. This doesn’t automatically mean he’s an addict. Perhaps a friend has left it here or something.

“Please don’t be mad at me…”

Shit. Your heart breaks when you hear the fear in his voice. He sounds so small, you want to pull him into a hug and never let go. Just protect him. Be there for him. Because this sounds fucking serious.

But he can get help. It’s definitely not too late.

“I could never be mad at you, Sungie.”

You’re really getting afraid he’s back into some bad drug issue. Sure, ecstasy isn’t as addicting as the ketamine he used back in highschool but due to his mental health background it could be for him on an emotional matter.

“I bought it for the party to impress Molly.”

Oh? Well, that is a plot twist. So it’s not for his own use, which is a good thing. Although it’s pretty dumb to get a hold of one kilogram of ecstasy to impress some girl. But then again, you’ve never witnessed Jisung with a woman before and since you never talk about romance and sex with him, you know nothing about his skills at all. Maybe he’s not that experienced which would explain starting such a stupid idea.

And, yes. Your roommate’s crush’s name is Molly and she tends to consume ecstasy from time to time. It is fucking ironic but it’s also absolutely hilarious.

But you don’t like her. Well, you don’t know her that much. You know for sure that she’s no good influence for your roommate but he’s a little naïve when it comes to things like that.

You don’t want to scold him. You really don’t want to. However, you have to bring him back to reality.

And saying you're shocked would be an understatement.

How did he even come up with this?!

“That is the dumbest idea you have ever had and you have had many of them. What were you thinking?”

Jisungs shoulders sink and his gaze meets his lap, attentively watching his fingers that are playing with the rings around them. Your friend might be a nerd but his style is stunning. Unfortunately, you sometimes catch yourself zoning out while staring at those pretty, elegant fingers—including everything they could do to you—and you dearly hope he doesn’t notice.

But maybe the staring will help you forget about your other roommate.

Fuck. You’re so doomed. Who has a crush on both their roommates?

It’s when Jisungs speaks again, when you wake up from your daydreams about his fingers on your skin, around your neck, grabbing your tits, stretching your pussy all nicely–

“Molly likes that older guy… his name is Changkyun and he buys his drugs from that pizza place in the suburbs and I followed him to his supplier.”

Wow. This is the last thing you’ve expected Jisung to do and you must say, you admire his confidence.

“I accidentally bought the whole stock the dealer had… he spoke something in Albanian which I couldn’t understand so I panicked and paid for all of it.”

Ah, yeah. That’s the clumsy Jisung again. The real version of him.

God. That’s so much to process. He’s five feet sinking into a puddle of dirt and absolute shit. A whole fucking mess.

You have to bring him back to reality, remind him that he can’t just casually store such a huge amount of drugs inside some box along with his calculator.

“What the fuck will you do with the rest of it? Or are you planning to give a whole kilogramm of ecstasy to your crush as a gift?”

It is an honest and important question and something tells you he hasn’t quite thought this whole thing through…

“No, of course not. I was considering reselling it,” he says, leaning back in his seat. There he is again. The Jisung that pretends to be the coolest person in the room until you actually believe him.

But that’s too much. It’s unrealistic. You don’t judge acts like that at all. However, Jisung isn’t the first one who comes to your mind when you imagine a typical drug dealer. Of course, he’s resold his weed before to friends but that’s not close to the idea of a business he is imagining right now.

“Jisung. You can’t even talk to your crush, how will you meet people in a park or a dark alley for dealing purposes?”

You have to bring his feet back to the ground.

“Online. I am preparing a shop online,” he casually says as if he’s talking about selling the drugs on Etsy.

“What?”

“Yeah. Like Amazon but I’m the only seller,” he explains.

“How’s that supposed to work?”

You decide to sit down on your chair again, after you discarded the ecstasy pills back in the red box.

Jisung gulps when you come closer. It was easy talking to you with that space between you. But now that you’re so near again, actually listening to him and not judging you for anything—well maybe except for his naivety but that’s understandable—he fears he will just fall in love with you even more.

So, feeling so absolutely comfortable around you, knowing he can trust you with his life, he explains the plan he’s had in mind and how he even came up with the idea.

“I programmed a website, will take some aesthetically pleasing pictures and start offering what I’ve got. There are plenty of those on the world wide web but all of them lack something so I thought, hey, I can do this too but better. I’ll either call it Shiny Flakes or J.Drugs.”

Hopefully, he will choose the first option. The latter is hinting way too close to his own name.

And, yup. That’s the real Jisung again. It’s funny, almost ironic—while he’s suffering from insecurities and anxiety, sometimes a wave of confidence overcomes him and suddenly he’s the most nonchalant person in the whole room.

“And then you're just gonna deliver it by post?”

He looks at you again.

“Yup. That’s the plan.”

💊

After another thirty minutes of actual studying you feel a lot more confident about your skills. When Chan comes back from his shopping, you help him a little by storing away the alcohol in the fridge before you disappear in your room.

Whilst getting ready for tonight, the ongoing thoughts appear in your head again, running around and doing some parkour to your hopeless little heart.

Were you really about to kiss Jisung? Jisung, your long time friend and one of the guys you live with?

God, you have to get yourself together.

Sure, you’ve been having a crush on him for some time now but you’re convinced those desires are mostly driven by the fact that you crave intimacy in general and that you really, really need to get laid.

Maybe a few drinks and a nice chit chat with a guy attending the party will help you distract from those heart eyes you have when being around your nerdy roommate.

That's how you find yourself in the living room some hours later, beer in one hand and the other one grazing over the chest of the guy in front of you. He’s a friend of Chan’s but you forgot where they met. Your roommate has mentioned it before but it seems as if that information wasn’t important enough to be stored as a memory in your head.

Soobin is kind. Maybe a little too kind that it seems fake.

Sure, you can blame it on your neurodivergent brain that you don’t understand the point behind using useless little petnames with a person you don’t really know but this has always gotten on your last nerve.

You don’t refer to flirting here. It’s fun being called cute words—princess and angel being among your favourites you must admit—but there’s a difference between including them in steamy conversations as well as during sex or just adding them to make yourself seem friendlier.

At least that’s how you perceive Soobin. He’s not really flirting with you, all the approaches have been from your side and he’s just throwing in all those nicknames as if he’s talking to anyone. It won’t make any sense to an outside person and maybe it’s just your brain and the booze trying to find a reason to not like this guy since Jisung and that almost-kiss-situation is still in your head.

But Soobin and you don’t vibe. You’re on a completely opposite level and he just seems so pretentious that it hurts. You don’t like fake people. Honesty is something you value very highly.

“You know what I really hate about social interactions?”

He tilts his head when listening to your question.

“What is it, dear?”

There it is again. Ugh. It really makes no sense. If someone else said that to you it’ll excite you, someone like Jisung–

Y/N, stop.

God, you’re hopeless.

“When people are overall… friendly and sweet from the beginning. As if they’ve known me for years, as if I’ve been their friend forever,” you explain and you actually mean that.

You don’t want to categorise Soobin after fifteen minutes of talking but that’s just his vibe.

“Why is that? You don’t like kind people?” Soobin asks.

You can’t even follow your own track of thoughts anymore and it feels like you don’t make any sense. Although, in a sober state you’d think the same and you’d be better at explaining.

“I wasn’t saying kind. I was referring to useless words to fill some void in your desperate heart.”

Ouch. That was a bit mean. Maybe you’re just honest. A little too honest sometimes. You don’t mean to hurt him but when he speaks again the regret washes away completely.

“What do you have against it? Doesn’t it just make you feel a little more welcomed and appreciated, love?”

You cringe at the petname and down the rest of your drink.

“It’s pretentious. At least it seems so. If you call just any human being out there your darling I know that I am just as replaceable as your next victim. Cheers.”

💊

“I wasn’t aware that you drink whiskey.”

After a quick visit to the bathroom you find yourself in the kitchen, mixing yourself a drink and it seems as if your roommate had the same idea.

“I usually don’t. It was a Christmas gift from Gahyeon and it has a slight hint of cinnamon which makes it tastier.”

Jisung doesn’t know yet that he will grow to like whiskey after tonight and will from now on forever think of you, when he takes a sip from the poisonous beverage.

“Ah, okay,” he says as if he’s an expert in alcohol—which he definitely isn’t. There are other addictive substances in his life he’s been a victim of, such as weed, nicotine and the way you’re looking at him when you believe he doesn’t notice.

“But not good enough,” you add, after taking a sip from the drink you’re currently experimenting on. “I grew up in a small and boring village, I learnt to just mix strong liquor with sugary stuff until it drowns out the bitter or smoky taste. Plus, you get drunk quicker.”

He nods again. Jisung doesn’t know if anything you say is true but he’d believe anything you say at this point. He’s had a beer and was actually on his way to the kitchen to get some snacks after he saw you talking to some tall guy.

Jisung has gotten his hopes up way too high once again. What made him believe that you would actually seek his attention?

Your Y/N. His smart, funny and absolutely hot roommate. You will for sure not spend your time at this party with your shy friend when there are tons of attractive men around here.

“Do you want one, Sungie?”

Fuck. He wants to decline. Alcohol is not a good idea right now. But he’d do anything whenever you call him by that nickname, so he nods.

You grab all the needed ingredients and start with the mixing process, while explaining the steps to him.

“The recipe is simple, similar to boba if you will but instead of tapioca pearls you use alcohol which is also your base. Then you add sugar, honey, ice and tea in that order.”

Jisung looks at you confused.

“Why this order? Wouldn’t it make more sense to pour the ice first because of physics?”

That is correct. However, there’s a meaning behind it.

“Maybe, Newton, but in this order it’s basically the s-h-i-t,” you say, clicking your tongue as you do the finishing touches.

“Ah, Shakespeare, I get what you did there,” he says before taking the drink in his hand.

The glasses clink when they collide and a moment later both of you take a sip from the unusual beverage.

“Woah– that’s fucking delicious,” Jisung compliments you, his voice increasing its volume sharply.

“Thank you.”

You’re the one to become shy now but Jisung doesn’t mind. He likes that side of you, too.

“You wanna go outside? Smoke a cigarette?” he asks.

You’re aware it’s not the brightest idea to do that while drinking but you’re still completely sober just like Jisung and the size of the drinks in your hands isn’t enormous. You’ll get a little tipsy, at best.

Jisung reaches for the cigarette box and bright pink lighter you guys hide under the bench outside. Your roommate stopped smoking some time in highschool and you’ve only ever been a person that occasionally uses cigarettes when attending parties.

Chan—being a med student who is about to become a real doctor in less than a few months—always scolds Jisung and you for sometimes smoking weed or cigarettes. So, maybe that’s why you tend to stow away the tobacco on the balcony and pick it up whenever you feel like it.

When Jisung hands you the box, you take one of the cigarettes and place it between your lips. The lighter—laying in his hand—comes closer to you and a second later the flame meets the tip of the gasper. You take a deep drag, exhaling the smoke a little after and it feels as if time stays still.

Jisung’s eyes are fixated on your mouth, watching every move you make but he manages to come back to reality, as he lights a cigarette for himself.

Giving your own a small nudge, you observe the ashes fall into the little metallic box you guys store outside as well. After all, an ashtray would be too obvious.

“Any success with Molly?” you ask Jisung.

You saw her earlier, she’s definitely around here and at the sight of her pretty outfit, you felt jealousy sting in your heart. Gosh. You’re pathetic. He hasn’t even talked to her. Chan invited her—not knowing she uses drugs since this is a dealbreaker for the older one considering any type of relationship—because she’s a somewhat friend of his.

Yes. Chan apparently knows the whole world. You saw him earlier, too. His hand swung around some girl and it seems as if your stupid little feelings are very susceptible for getting demolished today.

“Nah. She’s talking to some other dude. I might just give up,” Jisung says, letting his head hang low before tilting it up again to take the last drag from his cigarette.

He thinks the guy was Changkyun. Which also means she probably has gotten the pills she desires and won’t need Jisung anyway. He realises now how stupid the idea was. Molly has talked to him once or twice. In a conversation with Chan and her, his brain just grabbed the idea of developing a crush on her and ran with it.

Does he really have feelings for her, though?

Well, feelings are a little much to say nonetheless, considering he barely knows her.

But that’s not the only reason he’s giving up so easily and deep down he knows that.

And to you, he looks so sad. As if he’s not fighting anymore. Of course you know they’re not that close. But he seemed to like her and for now it doesn’t matter that you don’t. You just want him to be happy.

Yes, you could want him just for yourself as well but all you want is for Jisung to actually feel happiness.

“Sungie…” you start but he interrupts you right away.

“What? I’m just speaking the truth. My love life is even more hopeless than your statistics skills.”

“Ouch,” you cry, placing your hand on your chest as you pretend to be hurt.

“Sorry,” Jisung immeditaly says as he doesn’t seem to catch your sarcasm.

“No worries. That was actually funny,” you reassure him, before putting out your cigarette. Jisung does the same, as he starts laughing along.

“Are you okay, Sungie? You can be honest with me, you know.”

You don’t have to add what it’s about since he already knows.

“Yeah. I am. I swear,” he says but you’re hesitant to believe him.

“You sure?”

“Hm,” he assures you. “I prefer spending time with you anyway.”

Fuck.

No.

He doesn’t mean it that way, does he?

Jisung is just being friendly to you. That’s all. That’s just how he is.

“R-Really?”

A pink curtain appears on his squishy cheeks, decorating his face so prettily.

“Y-Yeah… unless you have somewhere to be and someone else–“

“No,” you interrupt him. “I prefer spending time with you, too.”

Your eyes meet his and the atmosphere from earlier while studying spreads through the air, captures you right here right now and it feels as if the tension is exploding.

Scooting a little closer, your gaze shifts between his brown eyes and beautiful lips. God. You’re doomed. So fucking doomed. Jisung is copying your movements and you’re just about to get even nearer, ready to throw your arms around his neck and press your mouth against his, when the unexpected happens.

The balcony door swings open, revealing some other friends of Chan’s that are apparently just going outside for a cigarette here as well. They ask if they may have interrupted something but since the two of you aren’t smoking anymore, Jisung and you decide to head inside. He excuses himself to the bathroom, whilst you wait for him in the corridor.

Shit.

It was just a matter of a few seconds and you would have almost kissed your roommate.

What a bad idea. You can’t even blame it on the booze because you’re actually not drunk at all, maybe a little tipsy but that would already be an exaggeration.

However, Jisung and you are world champions of bad ideas.

But—this could destroy everything, right?

Definitely.

No.

You’re not gonna kiss him in case a similar opportunity strikes again.

Or will you?

The cold splash of water against Jisung’s face helps him sober up a bit. He’s not drunk on alcohol but drunk on the way your eyes were practically glued to his lips.

Fuck. He has to slow down a bit.

You did actually look at him that certain way again, right?

It was not just his imagination, was it?

Shit.

Just when he thought he was finally over you the feelings are creeping back into the darkest parts of his brain.

Molly is here. He bought that stupid MDMA for her, spent his whole last months’ income on those pills and now he doesn’t even talk to her.

But everyone has always become invisible when you’re with him. You’re the spotlight. The only piece of art he wants to view in a gallery full of incredible paintings.

It’ll be okay. He’s sure. That’s nothing serious. You flirt with everyone anyway. Just like your other roommate Chan. Over all these years Jisung has wondered if his older friend and you would maybe one day become a couple or something but it seems as if he’s the chosen one.

Okay. Slow down, Jisung. Y/N is just being kind. That’s all.

Why is he such a fucking simp?

Well, maybe it can mostly be blamed on the fact that he is not experienced—at all. But also—who wouldn’t admire you to the fullest? You’re literally the best. Funny. Smart. Creative. Beautiful. These are just a few of your attributes that describe your whole perfect existence.

God. He’s fucking doomed.

Jisung takes another deep breath before he heads towards the door and exits the bathroom. A few meters away, he spots you standing in the hallway, back leaning against the wall as you scroll through your phone.

He takes a few steps towards where you are until he stands right in front of you.

Placing your phone back into your dress’s pockets—yes, pockets, you bought that one not that long ago and it’s your favourite piece of clothing of all time—you look at Jisung.

“Long time no see,” you joke.

He’s nervous. You can see it clearly on his face and you wonder if you are the cause for that. Jisung keeps staying there, as if he’s rooted on the spot. His eyes find your own again and in a matter of seconds that atmosphere is back.

Maybe it’s the lack of space in the cramped corridor or perhaps it’s the way he’s looking at you again. Both so innocent and needy at the same time.

You wonder, if he wanted to kiss you and if so, if he would capture the chance if it was served to him on a silver plate.

So, not caring about anything anymore, you decide to just give it another shot.

You’ve waited long enough and nothing has happened yet so in case you have misinterpreted everything so far, you can still backpedal. Definitely. Probably. At least you hope so.

But you can’t keep living this way. The signs are obvious and you have to seize the opportunity now.

With the way Jisung is staring at you again, gaze flickering between your eyes and lips, which grants you enough confidence.

“Sungie?”

His eyes widen at the sudden use of his favourite nickname.

“Hm?”

They look at your own now, unsure what you’re about to ask.

Okay.

You can do it, Y/N.

Maybe you shouldn’t go all in right away. Testing the waters by flirting sounds like a better option.

“You look pretty tonight. Even prettier than usual,” you compliment him, playing a little with your hair.

“You t-think… I’m pretty?”

You nod, looking at him with big doe eyes, “Hm. The prettiest.”

He chuckles until his lips form into a smirk.

“But that’s already you.”

Fuck. Okay. Earth to Y/N.

He’s flirting back, isn’t he?

Of course he is. But you can’t think straight anymore.

Jisung hasn’t even kissed you, hasn’t even touched you but he’s already under your skin, connecting the synapses in your brain in a way that your only thought becomes him and the way he’s staring at you.

“Don’t make me shy, Ji,” is all you can reply.

“No, I don’t think you’re the shy type. Not at all,” Jisung says, clicking his tongue.

He looks so hot like that. You believe the tiny corridor shrinks even further but it doesn’t. It’s just the effect his presence has on you—making you believe he’s the only person with you here right now.

“I am,” you reply. Because you actually are. You don’t know where he’s getting the idea from that you’re not. “Especially around pretty people like you.”

He’s the one to get flustered now, looking away for a second before he tilts his head, catching your gaze with his own.

“Don’t make me blush.”

“What if I do?” you tease him.

“Big mistake, Y/N, big mistake,” he whispers, as his thumb softly grazes over your cheek, the rest of his hand keeping you in place so that you look at him.

“Why is that?”

Jisung takes a deep breath. What he’s about to say might ruin your friendship, might change your whole relationship forever but there’s no purpose in going back anyway.

You seem to like him too. At least enough to be shamelessly flirting with him inside your apartment, not caring if anyone sees you, two of the hosts, practically almost on top of each other, taking off the other’s clothes with their eyes.

He takes another deep breath, before he’s gathered enough courage to speak out loud what’s on his mind.

“It makes me wanna kiss you…”

You softly bite your lower lip, looking at him as if you’re giving a hint that he should come closer to you. Jisung must be reading your mind since he places his lower arm right next to you, as he cages you between the wall and his body.

Fuck.

You’ve never realised how athletic he looks. Occasionally leaving his bedroom and hitting the gym with Chan seems to pay off.

He can’t hold back. You can’t hold back.

And neither of you wants to.

“You know what I wanted to do earlier while studying and also on the balcony?” you ask him, confusing him a little with the sudden question.

“W-What?”

“I wanted you to kiss me,” you admit.

“R-Really?”

You wet your lips a little by brushing with your tongue over them, as you make sure to keep your eyes on his.

“Hmm. I still want to, if I’m honest,” you add.

Shit. Jisung’s heart is about to explode out of his chest, he fears. Besides the loud music inside the apartment and all the people chatting, he’s sure you can hear the speed of his pulse.

“Are you sure?”

You’re glad he’s so considerate to ask once more, although you don’t want to talk anymore.

There’s just one thought on your mind by now.

It’s Jisung.

Jisung, Jisung, Jisung.

So, you give him the final permission.

“Yes, Sungie. Kiss me, please.”

That’s when his lips practically crash into yours, a grunt leaving him when they align together. They stay pressed against each other, before you grab his face and start moving a little, setting a rhythm for the both of you.

Fuck. It’s actually happening.

Jisung is making out with you. His hot roommate.

Shit. It’s been some time that Jisung kissed someone and he prays you don’t notice.

But you don’t seem to. You’re completely occupied in the feeling of his mouth moving against yours and the way he welcomes your tongue in.

“You’re a great kisser, Sungie,” you praise him and you mean it. You’ve never kissed someone who is both so eager and passionate and at the same time makes you feel like the centre of attention just by the sensation of their tongue dancing with yours.

He wonders where all this will lead to. If you want more than just this. What you expect from him and if you will be disappointed once you find out how inexperienced he is.

Jisung knows that you’re very open when it comes to anything sexual—whether talking about it or bringing someone home with you.

At the same time, you’re worrying about something, too.

You have to make sure first that Jisung doesn’t regret this and anything that might follow.

Pulling away for a second, you can instantly notice the fear in his eyes. The scary look that you may have makes him believe that you have changed your mind, that he’s gone too far, that you regret what is happening right now.

But it’s something completely different.

“Wait– What about Molly?”

He scoffs.

“Don’t care about her– fuck,” he says before he goes in for another kiss but you stop him.

Jisung asked you for permission more than once and you want to make sure you’re really on the same page here.

“You sure?”

“Yeah. Absolutely,” he repeats.

His mouth wanders over your jaw and neck, creating the prettiest route of flowers with his kisses and bites. God. This is even better than the making out session already was.

This all feels as if it’s meant to be. As if Jisung and you are meant for each other and it breaks your heart a little, knowing that at this time you’re not ready for something serious. But it doesn’t hold you back from letting destiny do its thing, when you allow your roommate to continue the assault on your skin, turning it into the prettiest artwork.

Very soon, you realise that you need more. Well, you’ve realised this a long time ago, if you’re honest. But it’s your body, your deepest animalistic desires, encouraging you now to make the next step.

You’re pretty sure Jisung won’t do it. He’s not as shy as half an hour ago or all those other times when there has been utmost sexual tension between the two of you but you highly doubt he’ll be confident enough to propose more.

Maybe he doesn’t even want more. Which would be fine, too.

But you’d rather regret something you did, than mourn over a lost chance, so you’ll just ask him.

You tilt your head, your glistening lips separated from his ear by a thin layer of air.

“Sungie…”

He stops for a second when he hears you speak, no, whimper his name and it sends a sensation right to his pants, as he feels them tighten around his slowly growing bulge.

“Yeah?”

And with the most innocent looking pout and the most sensual whine, you finally ask him what you’ve wanted to for so long.

“Can you fuck me, please?”

Is this really happening right now?

No. This can’t be. This is a dream. He’s sure.

But his doubts all vanish away, when you speak, no, cry out once more.

“Please, Sungie, I need you so bad…”

Jisung gulps. God. You look so needy. Just for him and him only. He could cum like a stupid teenager at the sole sight of your already fucked out face.

The way you’re literally begging him to touch you sends utmost arousal straight down to his cock and he prays that no one else at this party notices the tent that is forming inside his pants.

“A-Are you sure?”

Your eyes find his, as you nod.

“Hm, absolutely. But only if you want me, too,” you reassure him.

“I-I do, yeah. I want you,” he eagerly replies.

You catch your lower lip between your teeth, looking at him with dark eyes, utmost lust swirling around in them.

You need to be under him, on top of him, whatever. Now. Right now.

Never in your life before have you been so eager to be touched, to be kissed, to be fucked but that’s what he does just with that shy look on his face.

“Great,” you say. “You’ve got condoms or should I grab one from my room?”

Jisung doesn’t even realise that your question also indicates you want to go to his room. Not that he minds, though. He’d let you have your way with him everywhere.

“I– I’ve got condoms, yeah,” he answers with slightly broken words and you blame it on his shyness again.

God. He’s both so adorable and fucking hot.

How are you supposed to survive this?

And the consequences? Well, they aren’t present anymore. You can deal with whatever relationship this will evolve to tomorrow. It’ll be fine. You’ll see.

For now, you need his hands all over your body and his cock filling your pussy until the only thing you remember is his name.

“Cool. I’ll go to the bathroom real quick and meet you in your room, okay?”

Jisung nods before he heads to the meeting point, while you disappear behind the door of the bathroom.

Fuck.

A quick fresh up makes you somewhat come back to reality but also not really.

You wonder what Jisung is like in bed.

If he’s more submissive—similar to his shy personality—or dominant—perhaps doing a one hundred and eighty degree turn which makes sense as well.

What his favourite position is, if he likes to be on top of you or prefers you to be on top of him.

If he prefers soft or rough sex. If he likes to cum inside, on your body or all over your face, perhaps inside your mouth.

You’ll see.

God.

You won’t regret this. Jisung and you have an immense connection, wild chemistry, it’s insane.

A last check in the mirror will do and a minute later you leave the bathroom, heading straight to your friend’s room.

You knock, opening the door after he tells you to. After entering, you make sure to lock it.

Jisung is sitting on his bed. He looks so shy, it’s so freaking adorable.

Maybe you will take the lead, see if he likes to be in control too and after some teasing allow him to be the one in charge.

When you’re about to approach him, your phone vibrates. You’re gonna discard it, but make sure to skim through whatever message got sent to you in case it’s an emergency.

Gahyeon, your best friend, texted you who is also attending the party.

You quickly read the message.

[Gahyeon 👯‍♀️]: i’m in your room with the girl from my medieval literature class sorry babes will clean everything once we’re done <3

You would be annoyed about the situation but, then again, she is your best friend and would go to the stake for you, do anything and everything just to see you happy. You’ll forgive her.

In the meantime, Jisung is getting second guesses if you regret coming here and you observe it by the look in his eyes, so you know you need to reassure him immediately.

“It was Gahyeon. It seems as if she took her title as Y/N’s bestie a little for granted and decided to fuck her new fling in my room.”

“Oh,” is all he says.

“I sincerely hope that bitch changes the sheets,” you mumble under your breath.

Laying the device aside, you receive another message.

[Gahyeon 👯‍♀️]: have fun with Jisung 🤪

How does she know?!

It doesn’t even matter anyway.

You’re here with Jisung.

Your roommate. Who is currently waiting for you to join him on his bed which you immediately do. The mattress shifts, when you plop down next to him.

“What’s on your mind?” you straight up ask when you notice his thoughts running free.

“Can I kiss you again?”

Who are you to decline this offer?

A few seconds later, Jisung and you are back again at what you were doing in the corridor not that long ago.

His lips feel so soft against your own, completely opposite to how rough the movements have become. Not that you mind—at all.

Your tongues are practically experts at being entangled with each other and taking the lead for now, you climb on his lap, receiving a surprised reaction from him.

Jisung thinks, no, he knows you look like a fucking goddess like this. Literally perfect. And he’s the chosen one that you’re on top of.

Fuck.

Sooner or later you will find out, how inexperienced he is.

He doesn’t really talk about sex with you but mainly because there’s nothing to talk about. Sure, he’s had pretty girls kissing him before, even straddling his lap like you’re doing now—although none of them can compete with you in the slightest—but that’s it.

Maybe that’s why he’s a little startled when you suddenly start grinding against him, letting out a desperate whimper when you feel the friction—your panty covered pussy gliding over his growing bulge.

And the sound of your helplessness is even more perfect than all those whimpers of yours that he’s imagined in his head at night.

Your hand is slowly grazing over his thighs, before it wanders further and stops right at his crotch. You start palming him through the fabric of his pants, his erection already prominent and Jisung feels bigger than you would have imagined him to be.

Which you have done quite a few times. Especially whenever you have been alone at night and couldn’t sleep.

Fuck. You sincerely hope he’ll fit. But then again, he’s gonna stretch you out so nicely, you’re dying to try more.

Apart from all that, Jisung is your type. One hundred percent. Both looks and personality wise and the fact you already have a stable base because of your almost four year long friendship, makes you feel even more attracted to him.

You use a little more pressure now, squeezing his cock through his jeans and he lets out the prettiest moan your ears have ever witnessed.

God. There’s really nothing better than the whimpers of a man.

“Y/N– wait,” Jisung says all of a sudden, catching your hand with his own.

Shock washes over your face.

Shit.

Maybe he regrets it. Perhaps because of Molly. Or he simply doesn’t want you, either doesn’t want to destroy the friendship or generally isn’t attracted to you so he rather stops before it’s too late.

Your hand leaves its place then, as you look at him with scared eyes.

“Did I do something wrong? Was I too fast? I’m sorry I–“

“No. No. It’s– I– fuck, this is embarrassing,” he cuts you off.

Okay. So, maybe it’s not about Molly and neither about you but more a question of how he’s imagined the time with you.

Possibly, Jisung actually prefers to be the one in charge but is—ironically—too shy to propose it. Perhaps, he prefers to be the dominant one, make you crumble underneath him, show you what your body wants and needs.

“Do you want to take the lead instead? I can be submissive, too,” you offer.

No, I’d like quite the opposite of you being submissive.

“No, it’s–“

Okay. Then it’s not that.

But what is he so scared of?

You’ll have to remind him that you won’t judge him for what is plaguing his poor heart.

“Whatever is on your mind, Sungie, won’t change anything between us, okay?”

He sighs, “Promise?”

“Promise,” you say with the warmest smile.

He exhales, before taking a deep breath.

“I’m– I’m a virgin.”

You look at him with wide eyes, the surprise plastered all over your face.

“Oh…”

Jisung’s gaze sinks again. Fuck. He shouldn’t have confessed. But then again, you would have noticed sooner or later anyway.

Well. At least he got to make out with you. That’s a dream come true already. What a pity it wasn’t enough for more.

“Fuck– I knew this would be a problem– I am aware o-of the guys you bring home with you and your ex boyfriends and–“

“Hey, Sungie, slow down.” You stop him now. Shit. He’s definitely gotten insecure because of your reaction. You should have thought this more through. “I was just surprised. That’s all. This doesn’t make a difference to me. We can go at your pace or just stick to making out.”

You still want him?

“But… you could have… could have taken a hot guy to your room instead of being with a nerd like me.”

You scoff, “What do you mean? I’m literally on top of the hottest guy at this party right now.”

Jisung sighs again.

“Y/N… Don’t say that.”

“Why not? I’m just saying what I think,” you explain.

“You’ll make me believe that you actually mean it,” he says and the sadness in his voice, forced out of him by all the insecurities, breaks your heart into a thousand pieces.

“I do. I mean all of it. You’re incredibly attractive, Sungie. My type, if you will. If all, I was just surprised that you’re inexperienced, considering how funny and handsome you are. Who’d turn someone like you down?”

There are too many thoughts sprinting through his head.

He is your type. Your fucking type and you’re just telling him this now.

And in addition to that, he has to clearify something.

“I– there were possibilities but… I have waited for when it finally feels right…”

If Jisung is completely honest to himself, he knows exactly why he turned the other offers down.

Unfortunately, he’s had the biggest crush on his roommate for God knows how long and maybe that whole thing with Emma or what her name was has just been a trick of his brain to finally get over you.

“Does it feel right with me though?”

He nods, finding your hand with his own.

“One hundred percent. I don’t trust anyone as much as you.”

That’s pure honesty towards you. Otherwise he wouldn’t have told you about the one kilogram package of MDMA pills chilling in the box on his shelf. He hasn’t forgotten about them, whereas the other Molly has escaped his mind a long time ago.

“Do you want to continue, Sungie?”

He nods, “Yes. Always.”

A minute later you’re back at the previous scene—you’re grinding on top of him, getting a little friction as your mouth is attached to his. You start palming him through his pants again, feeling him grow bigger and bigger with every squeeze.

“Y/N…”

God. His voice sounds so desperate you fear you will cum untouched.

“Yeah?”

His next words are a little muffled but you still catch them.

“T-Touch me…”

You need to tease him. You can’t resist.

“What was that?” you ask with a smirk.

Suddenly, he grabs your face and it’s in this moment that you realise how drunk on desire he is.

“Touch me again, please.”

You chuckle, “Of course, baby.”

When he’s calmed down from the sudden use of the petname, Jisung is taking his shirt off, a smirk erupting on his face when he catches you staring at his firm chest, defined abs and those arms. God. And his waist. You’ve never known how hypnotising his waist is.

Once you stop gawking at him, your hand comes in contact with the belt, fumbling with it before it lands somewhere on the floor. His zipper gets pulled down next, before you help him out of his pants. Now only in his boxers, the separation of your hand and his length is thinner, making you get a better impression of how big he actually might be.

“Can I…?”

Jisung nods, “Please.”

In one swift motion, you slide his underwear down, discarding the fabric wherever the pants are. When his hardened cock springs free, you fear you might start drooling all over him. Fuck. He’s huge.

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

You can’t hold your thoughts back. It’s impossible. Jisung gets nervous now, not quite able to define your reaction and you would notice, if you weren’t so busy staring at his pretty cock. He’s definitely way above average, probably the biggest you’ve had. Apart from that, he’s insanely pretty, too, as well as painfully hard and the tip is already glistening with precum.

Fuck. Despite the fact he’s very inexperienced, it makes you believe that he wants you just as much as you want him.

“Sungie– you’re so big, just know you’ll have to prepare me well so I’ll be able to take you.”

But Jisung gets nervous again when the words click in his head.

How the fuck is he supposed to prepare you when he’s never touched a pussy before?

“Y-Yeah– o-okay…” is all he’s able to let out in broken syllables.

“Don’t be shy, baby,” you reassure him, looking back at him. “It’s about you first, yeah? And if you want to continue after that, I’ll teach you.”

At least three pieces of information in one sentence that almost make Jisung faint.

You called him baby again.

You’re gonna take care of him first.

You’re gonna teach him how to pleasure your body.

Fuck.

He could cum at the spot but that’s the last thing he wants. Not before you’ve touched him. Maybe it’s a good thing that he’s jerking off—mostly too you—on a very regular basis, after all. Otherwise he would have risked premature ejaculation and that’s the last thing he wants to happen.

“Y-You would be okay– if… if I don’t make you–“

“Of course,” you say. “I would never pressure you. Besides that, I’m much more of a giver anyway.”

And apart from that, you just really want to suck him off. You’ll probably explode if you don’t.

There’s another detail he notices now.

You don’t seem to care about what you get from this.

How are you real?

Jisung is head over heels for you. Well, he has been before all this but you’re a dream come true, even better than that.

Where the hell have you been hiding this side from him?!

You wrap your hand around his shaft, making sure to keep eye contact throughout the movements. Until you realise how very much naked he is and how much clothing you’re still wearing. Deciding to correct that difference, you pull your dress up, throwing it somewhere on the carpet in front of Jisung’s bed.

“Wow…” he lets out when he sees you in your underwear. Not a second passes by, that you’re already unclasping your bra and getting rid of that fabric, too.

His eyes widen when he sees your breasts on full display for the first time.

“Touch them, if you like.”

Jisung doesn’t need to be told twice. His hands come up to cup them, pinching the sensitive buds between two fingers each. You sigh, letting your head fall back, as you allow the pleasure to take over you.

“You’re… pretty,” he says and he does want to say more but Jisung is already deep in trance by now. It leaves him breathless how much you react to him, already arching your back and he doesn’t even do much.

You’re not forgetting about him, though, by now stroking his length with a steady pace. He feels rock hard against your fingers and palm and you can’t wait to taste him.

“Sungie?”

He looks at you, big doe eyes telling you how captured he is by your sensual movements. “Yeah?”

“Can I suck you off? Please…”

“Yes, of course, please.”

It’s so cute how you’re begging so desperately for each other. You’ve never felt or been so confident with someone else before—it just feels so natural. As if you’ve been doing this for years with him.

You crawl off his lap then, before you gesture to him to get a little comfortable as you scoot down and place both your legs beside his. Leaning forward, you’re at eye level with his cock now, your hand still pumping him eagerly.

“You’re such a good boy, Sungie.”

His eyes close shut when the praise makes it to his ears and he wants to calm down for a second but he simply can’t.

Not when your mouth is already wrapping around his tip, giving it a few kitten licks. A sensual stripe along his shaft follows until you get back to your previous position and take him into your mouth—a few centimetres first, until your head goes down further, trying to fit as much as possible. Whatever doesn’t, gets a little more attention from your hand.

Your head is bobbing up and down and he feels so good inside you. Slurping sounds are echoing through the room, when you start drooling all over him. You hum in eagerness, sending vibrations through his length and whole body.

Fuck.

You seem to enjoy this a little too much.

And you do. You can tell by the way your pussy walls are clenching around nothing, the arousal by now practically trickling through your underwear but this doesn’t hold you back from continuing.

And Jisung is already close. Dangerously close.

“Fuck– princess–“

The name just slips out of his mouth with no warning. Jisung has always wanted to call you that. Princess. His princess. But it fits. You like it more than you should. After all, it’s one of your favourites.

One of his hands is placed on your head now, softly stroking your hair.

And Jisung can’t get enough of this view. He’s never imagined those dreams that have been filled with his darkest desires would ever come true. The way you’re looking up at him, mouth stuffed full with his cock, as you’re triggering your gag reflex when taking him in even deeper—you in fact look like a goddess like this and Jisung is by now convinced you actually are one.

He won’t be able to keep going that much longer but it doesn’t matter. Jisung truly hopes it won’t be over after this—he’s dying to find out what it would feel like to be buried inside your cunt but he knows he’s already the happiest man on this planet with what has happened so far.

With the way your eyes are on his own, you encourage him with a little nod but no words—since you’re not able to speak right now—as well as with the motions of softly massaging the sides of his stomach that he can let go whenever, it’s okay.

A few seconds later, you feel him twitch inside your mouth, his cock shooting thick ropes of cum down your throat. You continue with your movements, swallowing every last drop until he’s empty, as he calls out your name under broken moans.

Letting go of him, you get back in a seating position, looking at him.

“That was… wow…”

You chuckle, reaching for a strand of his hair to tug it behind his ears.

“You wanna continue, Sungie? Or do you need a break for a minute?”

He tells you that a short moment of rest will be alright and you get the bottle of water from his desk that has been there since your study date earlier. You let him drink first, before you do the same, thinking it’s not a bad idea to get hydrated after having alcohol earlier.

You discard the beverage again, crawling back into his lap.

Jisung’s hands come in contact with your breasts again and you soon realise that he seems to enjoy that a lot.

“Princess…”

God. That petname is practically dragging you to your knees of you weren’t already.

“Yeah?”

“Can I… uhm–“

You know what he means. But there’s a hidden emotion in his eyes. Of course, you’ll have to guide him through whatever is going to follow next. Jisung probably wants to return the pleasure you granted him but he’ll need a little help and, even more importantly, encouragement.

“Hey, baby, it’s fine. No need to be nervous, yeah?”

He shyly nods, but it’s not enough for him to gain confidence. Your expectations are probably insane. He knows how experienced you are by how openly you talk about your encounters so the bar is set very high.

“What if I… disappoint you?”

Your hand wanders to his cheek, softly stroking it.

“You could never. Besides that, it’s normal that you’re not perfect at it from the beginning, okay? Lower your expectations a little. I’m sure I will like it nonetheless,” you tell him.

“But… why?”

“Because I’m doing this with you and…” you pause for a second to sheeply chuckle, “everything you do is perfect. Because you are the one doing it.”

He smiles at you. Jisung is too shy to say anything else even though he wants to add more.

“You wanna keep going?”

He nods, “Yes.” And that's when the typical Jisung confidence washes over him. “Teach me how to touch and pleasure you, baby.”

A few minutes later—after another makeout session because it seems as if Jisung’s new favourite activity is kissing you and you feel the same about him—you find yourself on your back, legs sprawled for your roommate. Jisung is in a similar position to the one you were in prior.

You reach for his hand, guiding it towards your panties. Telling him to graze a little over them, he does exactly that. When he finds you drenched, arousal practically soaking through the lace material, his head starts spinning again.

“Take them off, if you want to,” you encourage him.

Jisung slips his fingers under the fabric, pulling them down. His eyes widen once again when he sees you bare naked, totally eager just for him. You spread your pussy lips with your own fingers now, showing him how ready you are, as you play a little with yourself. Your other hand is massaging one of your breasts and although it's not that long ago that he came undone, Jisung can already feel his cock stiffening again.

His hand gets closer to your own and you reach for it again, dragging two of his fingers over your wet folds, smearing your arousal all over them. With your help, he’s grazing over your sensitive nub next and that’s when your eyes meet his.

“You feel this here, Sungie?”

He nods.

“Y-Yeah…” You set a pace and movements for his fingers, teaching him how to touch you there.

He chuckles a little, before he speaks, “It was easier to find than expected. Why are all men complaining about it?!”

You giggle along. The duality of this man is unbelievable. One second he’s your shy, nerdy, stoner roommate and a moment later he becomes that bratty menace that wants to get a reaction out of you at all cost for the sole sake of satisfying you.

“Try starting with slow circles, that’s how I like it,” you advice him.

Jisung follows your command, touching you the way you enjoy but you soon realise he’s still a little too much in his head.

“Don’t concentrate on making me cum, concentrate on the moment, yeah?”

He nods, trying to do as he’s told. It takes him a few minutes but at some point he gets the hang of it, playing with your clit, while you’re clenching around thin air.

You need more. Now. Right now.

Besides that, Jisung will really have to stretch you well so that you’re able to have him inside you.

“You can…” you start but decide to show him instead, as you guide one of his fingers into your hole. Your walls immediately clench around it and Jisung lets out a few curse words under his breath.

“Add another one,” you encourage him and he instantly follows your command.

He doesn’t need to be told about the next step, Jisung starts thrusting his fingers into you on his own. You arch your back again, as you—under mumbled sentences—tell him to bring his thumb back to your clit.

“Like this, baby?”

You hastily nod, trying to not lose your mind completely when he calls you by that name.

The sensation is occupying your whole body by now and you want to ask him for more but you’re unsure if he’s ready for that yet.

But fuck it.

Just gonna give it a try.

“Sung–“

Your words get cut off.

“Yeah, baby?”

You sigh, letting a moan follow.

“Mouth– tongue– please.”

Despite his lack of experience, Jisung knows exactly what you need. He may not be educated in practice but he for sure knows how to pleasure you in theory.

His tongue takes the place of his thumb next, swirling over your clit the way you showed him. You taste amazing. Jisung will never get enough of you, you’ve ruined him for anyone else.

“You’re so wet… fuck…” he grunts.

You are. You believe you’ve never been this wet before, if you’re honest.

But you need even more. You just can’t get enough of him.

“Spit, Sungie.”

He chuckles, admiring your fragile figure, completely under his spell.

“Hm, you like it messy, don’t you?”

You nod.

A string of saliva hits your exposed cunt, running down over your clit and towards your entrance, where his fingers are still pumping in and out of you.

“I think I like it, too,” he whispers with a husky voice and the sound of it almost lets you tip over the edge.

Jisung is fast to bring his tongue back to its previous position, passionately making out with your sensitive nub.

“Hm, you’re so good for me, princess.”

Where the hell is this coming from?

Both the dominance and the sudden use of the nickname again?

“Sungie– I–“

His eyes find yours and you’re the one to admire the view now with your last remaining sanity, until you can’t hold back anymore. Your thighs start shaking, intuitively bringing your legs together but he doesn’t let you. Jisung is still vigorously scissoring you open with his digits, when you reach your sweet relief, making a mess all over his fingers.

His name spills from your lips like a mantra, as you hold his wrist, gesturing to him to stop once you’re coming down from your high. After pulling out of your throbbing hole, he guides his fingers to his mouth to lick them clean. Jisung lets out a satisfied moan, when he tastes your juices on his skin.

“You wanna continue, princess? Or do you need a break for a minute?”

You giggle when you realise he’s copying your words from earlier.

Faster than you’re able to reply, he’s already bringing the water towards your mouth, watching you gulp down the liquid.

“Are you sure this is the first time you’re doing this?”

Jisung chuckles and you witness a red layer appear on his squishy cheeks again.

“Yes…”

Once he puts the bottle away, still sitting between your legs, you look at him until your gaze shifts down to his cock—he’s painfully hard again, the tip leaking precum.

“Do you want to… keep going?”

He nods.

“Wait– I’ll get a condom–“

“Ji, wait,” you say, grabbing him by the wrist.

“Unless you don’t want to,” Jisung adds in a shy voice.

God. No. This is absolutely not what you meant.

“I was just about to suggest… to go raw. I recently got tested, I’m clean, and I’m also on birth control. Of course, only if you want to–“

“Yes. One hundred percent yes, baby.”

You smile before you pull him closer to attach your lips with his own. For some reason the kiss starts playing little, evil games with your heart but you decide to ignore it for now.

“Is there… a certain position you’d like to try?”

That infamous mischevious smirk erupts on his beautiful face again.

“Uhm… your favourite?”

You ignore the small butterflies gathering together in your stomach. Calm down, Y/N. It’s just Jisung. Your roommate.

But despite his lack of experience he knows exactly what he’s doing. You explain to him what you prefer and Jisung is afraid he’ll start drooling at the idea of it—an image he’s head in his head so many times before, his cock buried deep inside you, a stunning view of your tits just for him, as your legs are thrown over his shoulder.

Fuck.

He can’t believe yet another one of his dreams is actually coming true.

You correct your posture, spreading your legs as you start playing with your pussy again. A seductive look is on your face and that’s all the reassurance Jisung needs to scoot closer.

His fingers are at your entrance again, replacing your own, playing a little with you, as his other hand is giving his cock a few more strokes.

“Sungie… please…”

You can’t wait anymore. You just can’t.

“Keep begging for me, baby,” he says.

Where the hell did he learn this?

When has he gotten so fucking confident?

Jisung knows it’s the effect you have on him. You make him a little less shy solely because he feels so comfortable around you and knows for a fact that he can trust you entirely.

“Please, fuck me, please–“

He aligns the tip with your hole, before he pushes a few centimetres in. You immediately clench around him but tell him to keep going, you’ll soon get used to the feeling. Once you’re adjusted to his size and he’s pushed himself all the way in, you tell him to start moving.

“You feel so good inside me, you’re so big, Sungie.”

Just a minute in, the both of you come to the realisation that neither of you will last long but that’s okay. Jisung is pleasuring you so good that you’re sure this isn’t the last time you’ll let him fuck you.

“Right there– Sungie– hm–“

The steady pace from the beginning has evolved to a faster one by now, the clumsy movements he started with have gotten a little more coordinated.

“Fuck– how are you so fucking good at this, baby?” you ask him.

Your legs are already placed on his shoulders, changing the angle perfectly so that he’s able to hit that spot. Eyes rolling back, you let him take the lead when you realise he’s confident enough in his movements and Jisung is sure he’s never enjoyed anything as much as that.

The way you’re lying underneath him—caged between the mattress and his strong body, allowing him to be the one in charge, trusting him completely and probably forgetting this is the first time he’s doing this. But after all, you’ve taught him quite well and still do, when you praise him with your words that turn more and more into babbling.

“You like that, princess?”

You nod, by now a whimpering mess under him, as you let out a few words that don’t make any sense. You’re begging for more, telling him to never ever stop again, as the only two syllables you seem to remember are his name.

Jisung is bucking his hips into you, rutting in and out of your squelching cunt and you can’t withstand it anymore—after a high-pitched whine follows silence interrupted by giggles, when your legs start shaking and your second orgasm takes all over your body.

Fireworks are rushing through your veins, your whole system is driven by ecstasy, when you cum around his cock, squirting all over it but Jisung doesn’t stop. He slows down a little, when he sees your fucked out face and all the cute little pleas that spill from your lips. Some instructions make it out audible, guiding him and yourself through your climax.

Once you’ve come down from your high, you give him a sign to continue. You want your cunt to milk his cock empty, watch the pretty face again that he makes when he reaches that sweet relief. Rutting into you at a merciless speed again, Jisung feels himself twitch inside you.

With your last energy, you tell him to pull out, admitting you’d enjoy it the most if he came all over your body. He does exactly what he’s told—after all this has been one of his favourite fantasies about you for years—stroking his length a few last times, before he spills his seed all over your tits and stomach.

For a solid minute, you stare at each other, erupting in shy little giggles when the post-climax realisation hits you.

Jisung gets up from the bed, grabbing a towel from his wardrobe with which he cleans himself first before he approaches you and takes care of your limp body.

Fuck. The sheets are drenched. There’s a puddle underneath you but he’ll take care of it later.

Sitting a little afar from the mess you made, you look at him, trying to find the words for what you’re about to say.

“I am completely honest with you. This was the best sex I’ve had in my whole life,” you confess.

“Mine too,” Jisung says.

“Sungie…”

He just now realises how little sense his sentence made in comparison to what you were referring to.

“Oh– well– wait, I meant that you put the standards and expectations way too high, princess.”

You smile.

“Good thing you know where to find me, right?”

You want this to happen again. You really do. You’re unsure if Jisung is into something more casual since this is what your life situation fits the most right now. Despite those feelings for him…

Is there regret?

Not at all.

But you’re scared. Scared what this will evolve to.

Maybe you will just see what the future holds. You’ve always felt comfortable and safe around him. No need to rush things. You’re sure this can become something serious very soon, once the both of you are more aware of your feelings for each other.

❤️ AUTHOR’S NOTE: Thanks so much for reading! If you enjoyed this chapter, please consider reblogging it and sharing your thoughts with me—there are no limits, from keyboard smashes to long essays, every kind comment is dearly appreciated and the number one motivation for authors to keep going. Have a nice day!

© j-0ne25 2023 | copying, translating or stealing my work is prohibited

LUST

☾⋆⁺₊ pairing: OT8 x fem!reader ˖⋆࿐໋ 𝒔𝒚𝒏𝒐𝒑𝒔𝒊𝒔: Lee Minho plans a little getaway with his closest friends, their wives, and you, his girlfriend and most adored and prized possession, right after he intentionally reads your private diary and leaves him wandering with your writing about something particular.

𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ 𝒈𝒆𝒏𝒓𝒆 — 𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔: MDNI 18+, smut, cuckolding, mention of age gap, cheating, est. relationship, pet names, edging, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, orgasm denial, daddy, dreg, corruption & praise kink, impact play, handjob, oral sex, fingering, clitplay, boob play, slight roleplay, gangbang, double penetration, bukkake, unprotected sex, creampies, cumplay, & more !! ̊ ̟ ꒷꒦ ̊ ̟ ꒷꒦ word count: ~15k

ʚ⁺˖ 𝔴𝔢𝔫𝔱𝔬𝔟𝔢𝔯 ˖ ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ (𝗸𝗶𝗻𝗸𝘁𝗼𝗯𝗲𝗿 '𝟮𝟰) ₊˚🕯️♱‧₊˚. 00: THE INTRO

main masterlist ; taglist ⭑.ᐟ

a/n: happy and spooky october! my very first kinktober event! (and ot8 lmk what u think:3) i tried to put a tiny plot lol

“I decided to take a couple of days off, well, starting with this weekend at least” expressed your boyfriend calmly, turning the page of his book, disinterested.

You sat up, turning your body to see him and slightly loosening the grip of his arm over your shoulder as you lifted your head from his chest and watched him happily and confused.

“Why is that…?” you asked him with a smile on your face.

Your eyes sparkled and Minho, your boyfriend, saw them directly, causing him tenderness, you knew there was something about him, you noticed something different from the first instant since you knew him so well, it was the first thing you noticed in the morning, but for some reason, you didn’t ask him and now you felt like you were about to know the reason.

“I just… want to relax, I haven’t done that in a while, even before my birthday” he expressed, with his typical tone that you knew so perfectly, that there was something more in-depth in his short and simple answer.

Also, he wasn’t the kind of guy who brings up the topic of his birthday and doesn’t seem fazed by surprises.

You squinted your eyes for a moment and watched him, every faction of his perfect, chiseled face, watching him closely and you knew what a lousy liar he was, Minho wasn’t making eye contact with you all of a sudden and was about to burst out in nervous laughter.

“It’s okay love” you finally replied, genuinely happy for his decision, “you know how happy it makes me that you take these breaks and be with me, it’s to be with me, right?”

He smiled warmly at you, tenderly showing his front teeth and hugging you again as he finally closed his book. You melted at his expression and countenance, you really loved every part of him. You were both there, on a quiet Sunday on the couch reading placidly, Minho sitting and you lying on his chest, enjoying each other’s warmth and company. But in a way, he was a little unsettled and you hadn’t noticed that yet since he was acting so natural and calm.

“Of course I do, honey, I adore being with you… I’ve planned to go to the cabin, shall we?”

You nodded happily, pulling your face closer to him.

“I love the idea…”

And before you could kiss him, he spoke again saying:

“And have the boys come with me…”

Minho blinked suddenly waiting for your answer, but you pulled away from him a little and quickly thought that’s what all the mystery surrounding him during the day was about.

“Oh, you’ll go only with t…”

“No love, I want us to go, them and I thought I’d invite their wives.”

You didn’t know what to say for a moment, you just stared at him for a few seconds and you could think that it was his cabin anyway, his own property and he could decide what to do with it at his own will, so you just smiled, deep down a little disappointed because you had already got the idea into your head to spend a weekend alone in the relaxing forest with your boyfriend, an activity he really loved; but you respected him a lot, absurdly a great amount that you used to be so modest with him to what led you to be submissive to him, something you have discussed previously, in that you may have different opinions and you were more than free to express everything with him, yet you didn’t know exactly why you couldn’t accomplish it. You loved the cabin, it was so spacious, it was literally a big house, the landscapes were beautiful and Minho had it very well kept as it was like his own sanctuary. There was this idea that if he didn’t have to be a civilian and functioning adult with a job in the city, he would live in the quiet of the forest without thinking about it, but it was a few hours outside the city and its access was not so easy. He always offered you his cabin as a way of escape for inspiration in your new work, but he was busy all the time and couldn’t stay with you there, causing you fear and uncertainty to be alone in the forest so you just politely declined every time.

“It’s okay, Minho, it will be fun” you replied kindly, giving him a quick kiss anyway.

You felt the softness of his lips for a brief moment, thinking about that homely, adventurous, and manly side you loved about him, he adored his typical ‘man activities’, being outdoors, camping, fishing, building things, giving you instructions when you didn’t know how to do something he knew almost automatically like fixing a car, putting together a piece of furniture and all those little things he took care of, sighing softly, every now and then letting out an aghh in a whine and looking at you with his big eyes in a falsely disapproving joking way to continue to help you anyway with all his willingness and affection, all those small and simple actions in huge contrast to how you met him, so formal, academic and modestly. You loved him so much and he loved you too.

“I knew you’d like the idea, princess. Do you want me to buy you a new wardrobe to go into the woods this time? It’ll be cold and the last time we went it was summer…”

Your cheeks turned warm quickly, something about him spoiling you too much, buying you and giving you everything, absolutely without whining and you without even having to lift a finger, still caused you some shame, you wanted to earn it, you had been unemployed for months now after graduating, but Minho was supporting you and he used to tell you that you shouldn’t think like that, you did work hard, in writing your new book… but simply, you didn’t manage to finish it. He has given you everything and so many opportunities that even the slightest thing shocked you, despite your already long-standing relationship.

“I’ll see what I can buy myself…” you wanted to emphasize the words buy myself, implying that you would use the money they used to pay you from time to time when you sent the manuscript of some chapters.

“Buy all you want, use my card, dear” he sentenced with a smile, “Do you want more coffee?”

You didn’t even reason his question and nodded somewhat stunned, the next thing you saw was your boyfriend get up from the couch to grab your cups on the nightstand before you and walk to the kitchen. You followed him with your eyes, you wanted to be so grateful to him in such a way that he could feel it and touch it, he kept telling you that he knew you were grateful and that your final art will be a delicious reward for him, but sometimes you felt the need to do something for him… but you couldn’t think of something concrete, not like the things he did for you. You also thought, as you leaned your body back against the couch, how much he loved the cabin, and his 7 closest friends, so when he mentioned ‘the boys’ you knew exactly who Minho meant. You met them over time in your relationship, at reunions and birthdays, you got to be at the birthday party of Seo Changbin, Han Jisung, Lee Felix, Kim Seungmin, Bahng Chan, and the upcoming was Minho’s, you met the rest of his close group, Yang Jeongin and Hwang Hyunjin. Only four of them were married, Chan, Changbin, Seungmin and Hyunjin, and of those four, all except Chagbin already had children, about the others, you really did not know their love situation. But you also knew their respective wives and to be honest... They seemed to you, like women with eccentric but empty personalities, and it was not as if you took the time to know perfectly well Minho’s best friends, you only knew their occupations and their approximate age, all of them were older than you, even the youngest was a decade older than you.

Suddenly curiosity flooded you… why would Minho suddenly want so many people on his property, Minho was so reserved and enjoyed solitude, and his home being invaded by 11 people sounded so exhausting, even for you who hoped not to be the main hostess, you thought that he definitely had a reason and you wanted to find out what it was about. Minho on the other hand was nervous, it was more than obvious that there was a reason but he didn’t feel completely confident about sharing the idea with you… without you calling him sick. A very very sick man, invading your privacy and abusing your trust, but since just a few days ago the disturbing idea did not leave his mind and he wanted to act slow, seeing the result of his craziest thoughts.

๋࣭ ⭑๋࣭ ⸙ ᨒ↟ ⋆｡°

“Do you want to say goodbye to our privacy for the weekend?” you mentioned cheekily, moving dangerously close to Minho.

It’s been five days already, since your boyfriend prepared each one of them with every little detail to go to his house in the forest and make a good impression as a host, with his closest friends and some of their wives.

He frowned in confusion, small dewdrops falling on his straight, short, dark hair, as he closed the back door of his SUV where he had stowed all the luggage.

“Huh?”

“I mean… I love fucking in the cabin with you and now we’ll be with more people around” you commented, pouting a little.

Minho chuckled, incredulously running his tongue along his cavity, amused by your comment, he looked so fucking good, his face just awake, still him in all his senses.

“God, y/n, it’s seven in the morning” he smiled amused with his hands on his hips, almost indignant, “You’re thinking about sex this early?”

You blushed, “Mmm, I’m kinda horny.”

“Wasn’t last night enough?”

You denied frantically, wrapping your arms around his body, “I can never get enough of you…”

Minho released a chuckle, returning your tight embrace, wrapping his strong arms around your lower back and drawing you into his body as an adorable but mischievous smile graced his pretty face and he looked at your countenance in amusement.

“Mmm, okay, but we can’t be late, it’ll be quick…” he mentioned in a low, thick voice, moaning softly in jest as he walked around moving your body trapped in his arms, alerting all your senses.

You were glad, you smiled happily moving the muscles of your face and raising your ears on the spot, being touched by Minho always put you in a perfect mood.

“We’ll be right on time” you replied, lost in the closeness of his face, lips, and soft chin.

“It better be because that fucker Seungmin is always on time.”

You laughed, somewhat stunned letting yourself be carried by his steps to the entrance of his home, where once inside, Minho pushed you against the door and took your lips passionately, surprising you a little, you tasted the fleshiness of his lips and his fresh breath from his oral hygiene just a few minutes ago, his left hand held your cheek while with the other he squeezed your waist tightly; you had dressed so cute and autumnal that your boyfriend had to kiss you after seeing you all dressed up, hair and make up done, dressed in your denim mini skirt, sweater and thin scarf while he was telling you in your ear and between kisses how cute you looked, how much he loved you and how you looked like a cute little doll like that, completely ruining the random lip combo you had chosen, he also got horny seeing you like that, with your mini skirt and such a candid look, getting even jealous for slight seconds that his friends would also see you like this every day, since you weren’t confident enough with them to walk around in your comfortable and loose clothes inside the home, so you had packed different and elaborate outfits with all your necessary makeup, Minho was heated halfway through your kissing session, but unlike you, he knew how to calm down and didn’t ask to do it right there, but it certainly left you wanting more, with your poor core muscles tingling restlessly, but you just watched as your boyfriend stopped, pretending to be shocked and busy, saying he had to get everything into the car and if you would help him, leaving you pining, but right now he was kissing you with much more intensity than a few minutes ago, his body was getting closer and closer to yours to the point where you could feel the hardness of the door on your back and the stiff denim of his crotch with his hard penis trapped in it, rubbing against you.

It took you small seconds to keep up with him, his lips and tongue moving nimbly across you and you couldn’t help but feel the typical tingle in your bottom, enjoying the moment and fantasizing about how much you love sex and intimacy with your boyfriend. It wasn’t something you used to remark on, but your mind kept spinning on how much of an expert Minho was with you, it wasn’t like you were the most expert at sex either since, after all, he was the first with you in everything and he was the only person you knew sexually, but he made you feel so great, he knew exactly where to touch you and how to drive you crazy, if that made you young and naive you didn’t care, you loved every moment of the day you got to explore with him, explore the endless desire and pleasure you had until you were panting after you climaxed so intensely.

Minho loved every part of you, he used to ignore the fact that you were younger than him and were slightly a doll to him, so moldable and manipulable to his desire, but he put that aside —or at least he convinced himself to do so— and was quite the gentleman with you, because he loved you, even though sometimes, most of the time, he notices the way you love to be treated a little rough in bed, driving him absolutely wild, fantasizing in all the ways you both could get to fulfill both of your fantasies. In fact, he notices every detail about you, it is inevitable for him not to be aware of you and to be deeply obsessed with you, your relationship started that way, with piercing glances from him to you in places where he should have been professional and kept his posture, but you were the fucking temptation in person, making his life miserable the time he couldn’t have you.

But now, he had you all to himself, all the time, every moment you both desired, Minho adored every inch of you, he praised the ground you walked on, he loved that you were his and taking you around as his most special person and his most prized possession and award, nothing took away his smug smile every time he held your hand in public, he adored possessing you so his deep kisses trapped every part of you as you felt the warmth of his organ separate from you to go down to your neck, gently pulling the thin fabric of your scarf, causing you to tingle and shiver but the feeling didn’t stop, as you suddenly felt his lips on your neck, breathing in your scent, kissing your skin, losing himself in the pure paradise that the sweetness of your being was giving him.

Minho took a deep breath, his libido on edge and his cock throbbing at your slightest proximity, he was losing his mind, he wanted to bite your skin, to revel in your sweet moans of his teeth mistreating your docile young skin but he held back, like a man aware in his senses, but lately he has been holding back a lot when it came to you, one part of him wondered why and the other knew exactly the reason, with a slight prickling sensation in his chest, Minho has been thinking too much about it.

“Fuck, bunny, I can’t fuck you right now, but I’ll be quick and take care of that needy part of you” he whispered into your neck, his heaving breath rocking you, “We can’t be late…. or, fuck it, do you want me to fuck you now?”

His right hand traveled from your waist to your pussy, cupping it for a moment, sending a pang of sudden surprise arousal through your body, you bit your lip, still with the feel of his on yours, with his taste and the madness it was taking you to feel the tip of his nose brush against your neck.

“It’s okay, Minho” you answered without thinking, and without even reasoning a single word he had said, you weren’t thinking clearly, your hormones were high, and you just enjoyed the pressure of his palm on your clit.

“Yeah, what?” he murmured in amusement, pulling away from you to stand in front of you, with a half smile, enjoying your docile expression of pleasure.

You looked up at him into his huge, completely dark eyes which watched you expectantly. You blinked to try to reason but he pressed his hand against your center again making you release a soft moan.

“We’ll be late…” you replied with difficulty, your face was turning red, you were starting to get hot, “You can do whatever you want…”

“Say what you want, now” he ordered, his sudden switch surprised you but you liked it at all, he sounded so serious.

“Can you take care of me quickly, please” you almost gasped in supplication.

“You just love when I make you feel good, don’t you?” he replied haughtily with a smile on his face, giving you a fleeting kiss.

Minho quickly slid to the floor, staying right at the height of your skirt, which he lifted it and his smile somehow got bigger as he saw you wearing tiny protective shorts under it, something in him quickly fantasized about the fact that you were not a bad girl looking for evil, you could be spontaneous and naughty and only wearing your underwear underneath, instead you were protecting yourself as you would be at least almost 72 hours along with more men.

“Good girl” he whispered, panting and mumbling, yanking roughly at your shorts and panties.

You watched Minho, glancing down at him from above, you couldn’t deny how incredibly aroused you were and of all the areas of your body that cried out to be touched, it was in more desperation your sweet throbbing cunt, you wandered between your thoughts and his lewd acts; if only you had ignored the fact that Minho had to receive his friends and decided to be completely filled by him, you would already be naked, pressed against his body as the two of you created more tension, as he prepared your body well before fucking you hard because Minho loves to have you so wet, messed up before finally inserting his well-endowed manhood into you, it was something so common with him, but no, instead, before you could even process it, your handsome boyfriend captured your pussy in his mouth, leaving you stunned and gasping, kissing your area dirtily and nimbly, his lower lip and tongue caressing your folds, labia and clit, his upper lip rubbing on your pubic skin, sucking finely. You thought about how much you enjoyed having him eat you whole and, that if he decided to do it with the same delicacy and passion with which he always gives you oral sex, you would only drag out your orgasm and that might lead you to fall behind with your journey, but you were so needy all of a sudden, that a little bit of your boyfriend’s magic and movements in your desperate spot was enough for you just now.

Minho looked into your eyes raising his gaze and did not take his mouth away from you, he closed it, daintily brushing his lips to gently kiss your mons pubis and moved towards you again, parting your folds and losing himself in your pulsing clit, sucking on it, not caring about your skirt in his mission, as it was tight enough to stay stuck above your hips. You intertwined your hand in his soft hair, enjoying your boyfriend’s warm cavity in your slick. Minho was equally or worse exasperated, so he couldn’t help but torture himself further and in one swift movement he unbuttoned his jeans with one of his hands and pulled his cock out, almost grunting with your pussy in his mouth at the sensation of his hard piece of flesh exposed, pumping in pleasure, he stroked it, filling his hand with his own precum and began to masturbate gently, while with you he remained somewhat rough.

His suction increased in intensity, making you let out a squeal and then bite your lip, his tongue was increasing in speed, his licks were more constant and deeper, you were building your orgasm magically, but you lost your mind as you felt his fingertips caress your folds and then run them more roughly through your wetness until they sought your entrance, teasing you with a single finger, then inserting two, effectively thrusting them inside you, you were a mess of sighs and heavy breathing but you let out an audible moan again as you felt his third finger in you and the gentle nibble of his teeth on your sensitive area.

You were both in bliss, his cock being stimulated by himself to orgasm but not missing a beat in you, finding himself multitasking as he satisfied you with his hand and mouth. You began to shudder, feeling the tense climax in every inch of your body, his fingers were filling you, his tongue licking you all over making incredible shocks of pleasure come to you as you looked into his eyes from time to time, his whole pretty face buried in your core as he struggled with himself masturbating. You gasped in exasperation as you moaned his name, you loved moaning his name, stroking his hair, watching him satisfy you. Your stiff muscles ached but your core was being divinely pleasured and without warning, you cum on your boyfriend’s magical fingers fucking your insides.

Minho pulled his fingers out to taste every part of you one last time, jerking his cock hard until he squeezed and expelled every drop of cum loaded in his sizzling arousal, groaning through his teeth as he ran his thick tongue naughtily cleaning every part of you, making you slightly restless again and hard to recover from your orgasm, because you knew it was a little provocative game Minho liked to play on you, but before you could become aroused again, he broke away from you, raising his face to look at you, his mouth glistening from you, smiling genuinely happy as if he had tasted something finely delicious.

“Go on, princess, go get cleaned up, I’ll do the same and meet you here at the front door to go, okay?” spoke Minho softly.

You were both agitated, but satisfied that you couldn’t have asked for anything better before starting your little adventure in the forest of which you had no idea what you were in for or about to do so in the meantime you kept calm about it, but the more you thought about it and the closer and closer you got to your destination, you were terrified of the idea of looking like an immature girl who was all the time next to her boyfriend because she didn’t have enough confidence with the rest of the people who would be there, because the more you thought about it the more absurd it seemed to you the matter or the reason for such a weekend. You tried to look on the bright side, but deep down you hoped it wouldn’t be a long or tedious weekend at all.

You two went to get cleaned up and returned with big smiles to get into Minho’s car and drive a little over two hours out of the city to officially head into the woods. You fixed your makeup on the way as Minho drove, gently squeezing your thigh as he gave you a smile and headed off on his way to his property, you returned the sweet gesture with a smile and excitedly, did your best not to sleep, talked the whole ride with Minho and had fun selecting music.

“Play something from IU, baby” commented your boyfriend watching you holding your phone to handle the music, then looking back towards the highway.

“IU…” you replied playfully, squinting your eyes and pouting at him, annoyed.

Minho laughed and the rest of the ride was so enjoyable, you were a little sleepy but it was enough for you to see the attractive profile side of your partner and suddenly you would blurt out something that came to your mind. But in moments of silence, when the music was the only thing that accompanied you, you thought about the situation, it was obvious that Minho wanted to spend some time with his friends and he would leave you with the wives of his best friends but… what the fuck could you talk about? You were a recent college graduate, your hobbies were so normal and banal to those of a young girl your age, but from there also came your uncertainty and insecurity that you would be judged and that they would think of you exactly the same but with Minho, if you are young and your vision or ambitions were oriented differently, then what were you doing with Minho, but it was an answer that you could respond surprisingly with the most cheesy and even childish words, but because you loved him, the support was mutual and that’s why you were with him.

“Maybe… this weekend you can finally find inspiration, sweetie.”

You hummed in response as you nodded softly as he interrupted your thoughts, but right after hearing that you went back to diving into them and the constant worry you had about writing something; Minho noticed your silence immediately wanting to remedy the problem.

“Oh, my dear, I wasn’t telling you that to pressure you, you have time, enjoy, I love you” he said worriedly, speaking fast and controlling his impulses to let go of the steering wheel to hug and touch you.

“Oh, it wasn’t that” you replied unconcerned and somewhat guilty that you made him feel bad, “It’s okay, I’m sorry, Minho. Thank you.”

All the things Minho did for you. Or at least you always thought so. You just wondered if you could ever give it back to him.

Some time later you arrived at his house, your excitement and nerves grew once the tires of his car passed through the forest dirt and on a cool, beautiful October morning, two lovers stood in front of the house you never thought held surprises for you.

The cabin, as Minho used to like to call it, looked the same as you remembered it the last time you went, in the summer just a few months ago, but the atmosphere was cooler, the sky was gray and it was adorned all around by the beautiful autumn color palette, it was cozy, it was absolutely all the essence of your lover Lee Minho in one property.

“I’ll take the things out, hon. If you want to sleep you can go inside, it’s all ready, the housekeeper left it spotless” he added, coming up to you to hug you and pin you against his car door.

“It’s okay. I’m not sleepy, really” you wrapped your arms around his neck, “Besides your friends could be here any minute.”

And just as you said that, you both could hear perfectly besides the sound of the wind and leaves flying, the sound a car driving up to your direction. You both turned your head to the left waiting for the car to show itself, until it did a few minutes later.

“Was he coming behind us and we didn’t see him?” added Minho amused, not releasing his grip on your waist.

You didn’t react, you were so comfortable with your arms on his shoulders that you both watched in anticipation as the car parked and the people got out of it.

Kim Seungmin. Just the person Minho had said would arrive first. Minho had all these characters as best friends. Kim Seungmin, superstar baseball player married to the model and creative director and manager of one of the most famous girl groups currently, basically she was a socialite and businesswoman, Jung Jisook, but better known as Kim Jisook legally taking her husband’s last name.

You felt the woman’s judging look as she lowered her Chanel sunglasses from her face, watching as you and Minho continued like two lovebirds cuddling. You felt bad for a small moment and slowly stopped hugging your boyfriend, who also gently pulled away from you to move closer to his friend.

“Fuck, Minho, I’m early again” Seungmin said suddenly, putting his hands on his hips falsely indignant.

“Nice to see you again, Minho, the house is beautiful and you have the lake for yourself, amazing. I want a lake house too now” added the woman happily, approaching your boyfriend to greet him, “Thank you for inviting us.”

“How are you Jisook? It’s good to see you too, and don‘t worry, my house is your house. How’s Jungmin?”

Jungmin, the Kim’s little two year old boy. You haven‘t met him yet.

“My sister is taking care of him by herself these days” Seungmin replied, “Why did you bring us here again?” he joked, “Ah, by the way, nice to see you again…. Y/n, I’m Kim Seungmin in case you don’t remember.”

You let out a giggle, you were absorbed by the situation around you that you had even forgotten to speak.

“Hello” you replied shyly, waving your hand, “Mr. and Mrs…”

“Seungmin, please” he interrupted you with a smile to which you nodded, he looked straight at his wife, waiting for her to do the same.

“Jisook” she replied despondently.

You bit your lip nervously, you understood and felt her slight disdain for you as before you, in Minho’s life there was someone else, his ex-wife Miyeon, who you were very much aware is still a close friend of his best friends‘ current wives.

“Well, settle in, make yourselves comfortable, Y/n will show you to your room."

“You seriously have rooms for everyone? That’s great” Jisook added, “Honey we should get something like that, wouldn‘t that be fun?”

“The forest at night?” her husband replied, “No thanks, Minho likes it because he’s a maniac.”

You laughed at his comment and waited for Seungmin to put their bags down. You watched him carefully, you had to confess that each of Minho’s friends had their own particular charm and, each of them were really attractive men. Seungmin had innocent looking, droopy-kind eyes, short black hair and a manly, elegant and slim build, with a clean and slightly boyish appearance.

You finally opened the house and led the Kims into the room your boyfriend had previously indicated. You saw Jisook inspecting the place as she walked in and somewhat awkwardly you were about to leave them alone when a “Thank you, y/n” from Seungmin stopped you for a second.

You didn’t know if you were crazy, if you were seeing things that weren’t but Seungmin’s tender and kind look at you changed for a second, his dark eyes were shining and you could notice how he subtly checked you out, somewhat mischievously. You smiled and walked out, frowning and wondering if it was all in your imagination.

But there were so many of their intentions that you didn’t know, Minho’s big little secret baiting you, you were the main attraction, the real reason for those men‘s stay at Lee Minho’s cabin.

You rejoined Minho outside the house, watching each of his friends arrive, taking surprise after surprise as you watched each attractive man walk through the door of the house behind you as you directed them to their room since that was the task Minho had assigned for you.

Next, Seo Changbin, who complained when he arrived and did not think he would be early, but it was all arranged by his wife who wanted to be near the lake; he was an aeronautical engineer with a PhD and a professor at the prestigious university where Lee Minho himself was also a faculty member; accompanied by his pretty model wife and owner of a women’s sportswear line, Seo Chaeryeong. Changbin, in addition to mathematics, loved to keep his image healthy and exercise, so his appearance was muscular and his eyes were so uniquely shaped.

Next, Lee Felix, arriving alone, something about him looked anxious but happy, he was a handsome, freckled, big eyed man with long, blond, dyed hair, he arrived confident with a blue designer suitcase, Felix was a programmer who worked importantly designing video games or something like that you understood from Minho. Right behind him came Hwang Hyunjin, a painter who owned galleries with his wife Vittoria, an exclusive interior designer, who had, together with Hyunjin, been involved in much of the cabin’s interior for years now.

Later at about the same time, Bahng Chan, owner of a boxing academy, which Minho attended, and chief of police in the city, together with his wife Miah, who you had no idea what she did but lived a good life with Chan. After him, Yang Jeongin, the youngest of your group of friends, editor-in-chief of a major fashion magazine, arriving with a huge smile and charisma, secretly being one of your boyfriend’s favorites.

At this point you were exahusted, you didn’t expect to see so many people all of a sudden, you had forgotten your social battery, but finally, your boyfriend’s best friend, Han Jisung, the handsome Han Jisung, producer and composer of major entertainment companies, could not be missed.

They were all, the house was certainly full, a few hours had passed and you were already starting to judge each one with a bit of your writer’s mind, but you decided to ignore it, letting yourself be carried away by the simplicity of the time. Minho had planned it all, cooking for you, getting together for lunch, setting up around the house so you could relax, you were having a good time leaving the fact that you felt highly judged by the four women older than you.

The first day went so well, you went to sleep with Minho kissing him sweetly good night but… the nightmare came the next morning, when your boyfriend distanced himself from you to spend some time with friends and you were forced to spend time with the eccentric and millionaire women, at first it went well, Chaeryeong, the youngest after you, invited you to run early along the forest, which you accepted, when you were about to do so, her husband was outside, preparing some things with the other guys, setting up camping tents because apparently they would be spending the night outside today and after she gave Changbin a quick kiss and started jogging, he gave you a half smile and you couldn’t help but feel watched again, just like the first day Seungmin did, in fact you have been feeling watched, heavy gazes on you.. but you thought you were starting to get paranoid, they didn’t bother you, but they confused you too much… why were they looking at you, as if you were in the spotlight and suddenly they wanted to eat you with their eyes.

You didn't give the matter a second thought, you came in from your little exercise, clearing your mind by jogging through the trees, feeling the cool air hit your face, leaving you breathless and in a cold sweat. You went back to the cabin, showered and dressed up again this time slightly more comfortable and natural, you thought you were going for a quiet afternoon, but your boyfriend forced you to spend the rest of the afternoon with the women in the town 40 minutes away.

You couldn’t believe it, there you were, in Hwang Hyunjin’s car while his wife was driving, you didn’t know if Minho was waiting for them to become your best friends overnight, but it was absurd… they were something unbelievable. You didn’t want to judge them as women blinded in the perfect life and glamour, but they were exactly that, you didn’t blame them, if you had the necessary money god knows how unbearable you would become too, but, being with other people, seeing the sunsets and the sunrise from a new perspective, all those little factors that were making you become yourself again little by little, you were inspired.

You arrived, spent a nice night under the stars and a campfire, eating smores, telling absolutely everything, each one was so talkative in their own way, you could feel why Minho appreciated them a lot, but the robots at their sides didn’t help them at all, you wanted to love them, you wanted to feel in the closeness and trust of women, but you had such neutral opinions about them, they judged with their eyes every time they laughed loudly and you understood that sometimes it was annoying, but not to be reflected that way all the time. The camping tents were in vain, in the end everyone went to sleep inside, that night Minho surprised you, being overly affectionate all of a sudden.

“Look at the view” he said, hugging you from behind, sniffing the smell of your hair as he pointed to the window.

Darkness and more darkness, only a pine tree being dimly illuminated by the light outside. You never stopped to think how scary it looked at night because you were all the time accompanied by Minho and you felt completely safe.

“It looks scary” you spoke your mind.

“It really does, a little bit” he spoke in your ear, turning you unexpectedly to face him.

You looked into his eyes, you understood exactly what was going on.

“I need you” he confessed to you.

Your cheeks turned pink, you were a little shy to have sex because it was so likely that they could hear you, in that case, Felix, Jeongin and Jisung who slept in the same room near yours.

“I don’t know, Min, I don't want to be vulgar and be overheard…” you expressed apologetically.

Minho’s mind spun around, vulgarity, noise, scandal, it was all he could think of lately.

“If you don’t want to do it princess that’s fine, but if you want to do it we can be so, so quiet” he whispered, seducing you as he brought his face dangerously close towards you.

You kissed him. And he got his way that night, it wasn’t like you refused either and, with a hand over your mouth, trying to cancel out any noise coming from you, you and Minho fucked that night. The forest was silent, your muffled moans and Minho’s withheld moans decorated that night.

๋࣭⭑๋࣭⸙ᨒ↟⋆｡°

The next morning you woke up without the silhouette of your lover by your side, you took a shower and got ready to go downstairs for lunch but everything was particularly quiet that Sunday morning, your last day of adventure.

You looked around a bit scared, it was as if there was no one else in the house, giving you chills, lunch was ready, at least yours, set on the kitchen island, but there was no one there, but suddenly Minho’s presence managed to scare you a bit.

“You’re awake, baby. Come, we’re outside, have lunch here with us.”

Minho spoke softly to you, giving you a kiss on the cheek and taking the plate of food, the glass and the cutlery to head towards the back area of the house where Minho had a sort of balcony or small living room outside to relax. You were glad not to be alone for a moment, but the strange feeling inside you returned when you saw that it was only his seven best friends sitting there. You felt the piercing gaze of each of them with every step you took.

“Hey, Y/n” Chan greeted you to which you smiled nervously, sitting down.

“Hi” you replied to everyone in general.

You just wondered where their wives could be and how seeing you there alone among them all was questionable, or was it just your mind making you think that.

You were a little shy, yet you dared to look at each of their faces, it really seemed as if they knew something you didn’t, they were hiding something.

The rest of your lunch none of the wives showed up and you felt so shy to ask, but none of them felt shy with you, questioning you down to the smallest detail.

You didn’t understand what was going on, but they did.

๋࣭ ⭑๋࣭ ⸙ ᨒ↟ ⋆｡°

Finally back home almost at dusk, you couldn’t help but think about the way you met Minho and that maybe that’s one of the main reasons why you were getting disapproving looks from wives, you knew it was wrong, it wasn’t the best of cases but it happened, you released sparks and your love was born unexpectedly. You had met Minho in a somewhat unfavorable way, in your last winter at the university before graduating, Lee Minho was your professor. At first there was nothing but sighs and complicit glances that you thought were only coming from you, but you didn’t know you were driving Minho crazy and over time… it was inevitable, you got closer and closer to each other on winter break, he took you on clandestine dates, showed you his home, showed you his heart and a side of him that he didn’t think would ever come out again after his divorce, but by January he was already confessing to you that he had never flirted or fallen in love with a student… that the fatality of the situation was inevitable… but that if somehow you both had to try, you didn’t hesitate, at that point you were so immersed in him, everything had his name written all over it and it was perhaps because he was your first great love. You started dating secretly until you graduated and by June he offered you to live with him to which after thinking it over, you accepted and everything with you had been wonderful so far, everything could have been perfect if it wasn’t for your constant feeling of stagnation at work.

You looked at your boyfriend’s profile side and reenacted in your mind the slightly weird moment when he almost forced you to spend with his 7 best friends, you knew you shouldn’t take it that way, but all the women leaving and leaving you alone with 8 men was a situation you were left to think about… but you were so sweet and naive that you didn’t have the slightest idea of the thoughts that ruled the mind of the one you used to think of him as a sweet and tender lover, Minho’s thoughts.

Minho had a degree in languages, literature, in grammar, courses and postgraduate degrees in publishing and among countless other things that surprised you, his family owned a popular and old publishing house which only further developed Minho’s passion for literature and one of the things that made him fall in love with you was your sensual and unique way of writing, the way you chose the words to develop the perfect paragraph of whatever it was you wanted to put forward, the subtlety of your eroticism in words, for when you were both secretly lovers you used to write short stories from a compilation of these in a book he published under his publisher under a pseudonym you both chose, the thrill of something so morally wrong, the ephemeral and forbidden sex in his office, all that motivated you so much, but now he lived with a broken heart that you couldn’t find something concrete to write about so you could have your first book.

Minho saw you frustrated even though you tried to hide it, and on several occasions he witnessed how much you used to write in a notebook, by hand, to which he curiously asked you one night what it was about, to which you nervously answered that it was just your personal diary.

At first he didn’t care, he thought it was cute the way you still wrote by hand, when even he couldn’t keep that level of commitment, but one night, a Saturday night to be exact, a week before he proposed to visit his house in the forest, you went out with one of your friends leaving him alone, so he came into your office, really without any purpose, he saw the chair in front of your desk and remembered how tenderly nervous you were when he found out you had a personal diary, suddenly, curiosity invaded him: Minho knew he shouldn’t, that he was invading your privacy but he was so curious to know, he shared all his secrets with you, but how many of them you kept.

And then, he looked for your diary, finding it after searching, you had hidden it. He wasn’t going to sit down and read every page of your privacy as if it were the damned newspaper, he was just curious about what you were saying most recently, to which, that night, with his heart racing, he opened the journal and read, with a smile as he visualized your calligraphy on the paper.

I have had fantasies. I honestly don’t know why if sex with Minho is wonderful. It’s just… at first it was these dreams, so hot I’d wake up in a daze, with wetness in my panties, feeling it so real, but I’d forget them right away, they were blurry memories of this one and sometimes I just thought they were dreams where I recreated something sexual with Minho, sex on the couch, sex in the kitchen but, god, I sound like a perverted, sexually frustrated older woman in her declining sex life, but, I had this encounter, with one of Minhovs best friends ...

Minho’s heart almost stopped beating for a second and he turned pale when he read that, continuing in panic with the reading, almost wanting to close the journal and not thinking that it could be about what he feared the most, an infidelity. He read on.

… and I think from there, for some reason my subconscious has gone crazy. I was always a firm believer that dreams sometimes had meanings, sometimes they were random products of your mind… but the fact that you imagine even when you are asleep seems incredibly fascinating to me, I always liked dreams, even if they are nightmares, it’s just that, it’s an indicator that your brain never turns off even for a second, I don’t know, it’s something difficult to explain that fascinates me too much. The point is, I ran into one of his best friends while I was doing some grocery shopping and we had a nice talk and I couldn’t help but think how different he was from Minho but the way I liked him so much, he is so handsome, I must admit, he has an exceptional charisma and I think from there my fantasies have grown, I think he is the one I dream about.

Minho stopped reading for a second to look at your manuscript in disbelief. While thousands of not so friendly thoughts ran through his mind: who were you talking about? What the fuck was that all about? Did you like a friend of his? Who? What was going on?

For a moment I had the idea of writing about that, about a woman who frequently has fantasies about her boyfriend’s best friend, but I don’t know, I hope to elaborate and not fall into cliché, besides, what purpose can it serve? Will it be a book about infidelity? Am I unconsciously being unfaithful to Minho? I know minho is not like that, that if I tell him the idea and show him a draft he will be brutally honest and judge as a critic and not as a boyfriend, but I am so uncertain, what if he thinks it is something that happens to me, something I am somehow becoming very familiar with, or am I just overthinking it?

I talked about it with my friends, they told me it’s normal at the same time yes and at the same time no, they laughed at me saying that after all I just wanted to fuck his best friend, but then they argued something that left me thinking more than I already was.

First times and only loves. Minho is the only thing I know of love and I love him. But, it was also my first sexual relationship and my friends argued that it’s only because I’ve never tried another man other than Minho before.

I thought it was absurd, I love him, everything with him is great, the way he touches me and makes me feel, I can easily say that I want to be all my life with him, but the idea had already been embodied in me, they were right, he has been the only man, but it is normal that only sometimes I think what will it feel like to explore with more?

I don’t want to leave him, I love him, I don’t want to cheat on him either, but I’m young and I want to experiment. But I’m also young and I don’t think clearly.

The more Minho read, the more dizzy he became, the next thing, he was astonished, words written by you of an explicit description of everything you would like to do, or at least, everything you dreamed of with a man who was not him. You described him as stronger, firm and rigid fingers going through your core, strong thighs hitting your body every time he penetrated you… god, Minho read absolutely everything with frightened eyes, he wished he didn’t.

Curiosity killed the cat. Minho had stopped fantasizing about other women because with you he had it all… but your argument drove him crazy, he did have experience with more women, but for you Minho was everything, he didn’t know whether to be flattered or confused.

He knew it was wrong and he shouldn’t have read it in the first place but, the stunned left his body after a couple of days and something in him was ignited, the fact that you were so sexually turned on and wanted to try all kinds of sizes… his thoughts weren’t exactly sweet, he imagined your sweet face while you were being fucked, wasn’t that what you wanted and craved so much?

If you wanted to experiment with more men, why not do it with what he already knew and had full trust in.

The idea was unhinged and he didn’t know how to put it to his friends, until he said it, so suddenly and in a serious tone as he used to be, a simple and classic Minho, gathered in tranquility, he blurted out:

“Mmm, I think we should fuck Y/n.”

His friends looked at him puzzled, doubting if they had heard right. They knew how special you were to Minho, why would he offer something so insane? Or was it a joke?

It was a crazy idea, but in the end, they all agreed.

On the other hand, on the way Minho questioned you if you had felt good and if you had noticed the unhappiness and frustration on his friends’ faces about the marriage, you found it strange because you idealized marriage so much and expected it to be the most sacred thing, hoping that one day you could unite your life forever with his.

๋࣭ ⭑๋࣭ ⸙ ᨒ↟ ⋆｡°

And then you were seduced to another weekend in the forest, you were happy as your writing had flowed so naturally and your boyfriend’s gentle proposal filled you with excitement again.

“Let’s go one more time to the cabin, finally without so many people” he mentioned to you spontaneously, while you were tending the garden in autumn as he gave you a resounding kiss on the cheek.

There you were again, but just as you arrived you got the huge surprise that you already had visitors.

“What is this? I thought we would be alone” you said to Minho before getting out of the car.

You weren’t upset just confused by his strange behavior lately.

“Relax, princess. It’s just 3 of my friends, they adore you, come on.”

Minho was quick to get out of the car. It seemed as if Bahng Chan, Hwang Hyunjin and Lee Felix were waiting for you. Again you felt inside you that feeling that they were planning and hiding something you had no idea about.

You greeted them. You tried to be okay but it bothered you that Minho was telling you half the things, or so you felt.

“Hi, Y/n, what do you want to do today?” greeted you sweetly Hyunjin of which you were a bit confused.

Minho gave him a withering look as you both walked towards the entrance. Everyone was nervous but tried to hide it.

“Campfire? Camping? A movie?” added Chan.

“Go to the lake with me” interrupted Felix.

You looked at them strangely because just a week ago your talks were still a bit formal, you didn’t talk much like you could say that with all the confidence, but you didn’t take it badly, you liked them, you saw the kindness of their intentions, or at least you thought so, they were nice men worthy of Minho’s love so, you liked them too.

“No” Minho replied almost annoyed.

“I’m fine, thank you, what can we do Minho?” you asked innocently.

You managed to raise the gazes of the other men, seeing how you sought Minho’s opinion on everything.

They remembered that moment in the backyard of Felix’s house where Minho summoned them when he told them about his crazy idea.

“She's… pretty and submissive, it’s cute, she seeks my approval but honestly I’ll could never be able to say no to her.”

“Too pretty I’d say” Changbin added amused.

Minho gave him a dirty look.

“And she asked you that she wanted to be fucked by 8 guys and you couldn’t say no to her?” joked Seungmin.

“No. It’s not like that, it’s just, it’s something I know.”

“Who in the world asks his friends if they want to gangbang his girlfriend?” provoked Seungmin.

“Shut your mouth, Seungmin, if you don’t want to participate then forget this” Minho spat.

“Oh no, I’m in” he quickly replied scoffing.

The rest of the friends laughed.

“Then why the fuck do you have to…” Minho was about to comment but was interrupted by Felix.

“What do you know, you said you knew something.”

Attention went to the freckled man but once as soon as Minho warmed up his vocal cords to respond, all 7 pairs of eyes focused on him.

“I read something from her, how she’s young and currently has been fantasizing about being with more men because…. shit, I don’t want to stir up your dirty fantasies, but-”

“As if this wasn’t dirty enough already” Jeongin muttered with a grin. Minho continued.

“… I’m the only man she’s been with, she has no other experiences besides me so, I don’t know, it came to my mind to give her more experiences, me, deciding with whom, maybe it’s fear so she won’t go and cheat on me with some idiot I don’t know.”

“Then it’s better that she cheats on you with your idiot friends, how thoughtful” Jisung spoke, joking.

But the idea that you were inexperienced flew in the heads of each of the men, they always wondered how Minho could have you, but now the most important issue for them was that now they could have you too. They were more than delighted.

Eight guys for you alone seemed so aggressive to Minho, so he divided his group of friends, Chan, Hyunjin, Felix and him on Friday; Jisung, Changbin, Seungmin and Jeongin would arrive early tomorrow.

The afternoon went fast. The men were so ready, but you had no idea.

During dinner, somewhat early, you felt Minho’s hand provoke your center under your skirt, caressing your thighs, squeezing your clit. You hadn’t thought about sex until Minho touched you.

Although you had to admit, seeing Chan always turned your cheeks red, because he was the one you fantasized about. Chan was so cute, he had a cute and contagious laugh, his face changed harmoniously every time he smiled, he was attentive, you got to know him a little more at the supermarket, when he had left work and was doing his shopping. But… none of his other friends were bad at all, if you looked at them in detail, it was hard to say you weren’t attracted to at least more than one, or all of them, you felt like a little slut but, you were young and they were handsome men.

After that, you tried to watch a movie, but after 20 minutes they all went outside with the weird excuse of wanting to go get some air, you watched them confused leave and you were just left with your boyfriend, sitting on the couch.

“Uh, it’s going to start raining, they should go inside” you said, suddenly remembering the weather forecast and the sounds of thunder falling recently.

Heavy rain was coming, and not just meteorologically.

“Y/n” Minho spoke softly to you, placing his hand on your bare thigh.

Your attention returned to him, you were turned facing the direction the boys had left a short while ago.

“Yes?”

Minho sighed, nervous, you put your hands on his back worrying immediately, you were about to speak but he said.

“I have this crazy idea, if you don’t want to do it that’s fine. Seriously, we can forget I said it…” you looked at him scared, every faction of his face lit up by the TV as the movie continued to play, “I want you to experiment more, I want you to be free to try other men.”

You couldn’t believe what you were hearing, it was as if he had entered your head for a second, you turned pale. Minho looked into your eyes, his eyes were shining, they were bigger and pleading as you looked at him scared.

“You have every right to do it” he continued, “But I don’t want it to be behind my back or with any asshole. If you want to do it, that’s what boys are for.”

You looked at him puzzled.

“What?”

“You don’t want to have sex with other men? Isn’t that what you’ve been fantasizing about? Honey, I’m telling you seriously, you can tell me anything, your every thought and desire and I’ll see about fulfilling every one of them.”

You wanted to scream noo! Logically at those questions, but you kept quiet… how did he know so much? Is it true that after all Minho knows you so perfectly that he could now read your mind?

You bit your lip, your world was spinning thinking about what he was implying that you should have sex with his friends. He was right, you thought, the idea was crazy and you should forget he even said it.

But… was it true? Or were you dreaming?

A loud thunderclap made you a little jumpy. You needed him to be clear.

“Minho, I- … what do you mean?”

“That if you want to try more men and have sex you can do it now. Chan, Felix and Hyunjin are waiting for you” he replied slightly cooler.

You felt a cold breeze hit your skin. If you said yes… you were really going to have sex with them, if you said no, nothing will happen.

“Are you for real?” you replied in disbelief.

“I never joked for a second with you, my baby” he gave you a quick kiss on the lips.

You were perplexed.

“I know it’s hard to think about it, you can take as long as you want…”

“And if I say yes?” you replied uncertainly.

“Then you’re going to have the experiences you wanted so badly.”

The rain came down heavily all of a sudden. The boys went into the house giggling and slightly wet.

Your heart raced, you heard their voices and laughter approach and in the adrenaline of the moment, you responded.

“Yes, okay. I accept.”

Minho squeezed your thigh and smiled at you. The three men entered the room slightly wet with huge smiles plastered to their faces, you made eye contact with each of them and then averted your gaze, thinking that all this time they were here so they could fuck you.

You couldn’t hide the fact that this strange situation excited every part of you, but then you thought that two of them are married, but one of them is Chan, you were going to try him for the first time. You bit your lip, your mind told you that you should feel remorse but you were not the least bit guilty of being Hyunjin and Chan’s mistress for one night.

๋࣭ ⭑๋࣭ ⸙ ᨒ↟ ⋆｡°

You prepared yourself. You were nervous, rambling about the situation that you even took a shower, went back to fix your hair and put on makeup. You knew it was just sex but your mind kept thinking about it, not the dirty act but, what it will be like itself.

Minho came into the room. You were ready, you wanted to look your best for the other men waiting for you downstairs.

“Are you sure you want to do this, sweetheart?”

A flash of lightning illuminated the dark forest. You smiled and nodded, letting yourself be escorted by your boyfriend.

Minho turned on the house lights. He set up the main room, pushed aside the small table to leave the spacious carpeted floor space clear.

The three men sat waiting for you, leering and hungry for some of your young skin.

You sighed and Minho led you to the front of them. From left to right, Hyunjin, Chan and Felix. The rain was still echoing outside as you heard your loud heartbeat even in your ears, you were aroused like you had never been before that you were even afraid to tremble from the excitement built up in your body.

Their appearances, the way they were different and sat differently, their respective looks towards you… everything made you shudder.

“Well” Chan spoke, ”can we begin?”

You nodded softly.

“You look beautiful, Y/n, by the way” Felix suddenly blurted out making you blush.

“Rules” warned Minho, ”we won’t do anything she feels uncomfortable about, as soon as she asks to stop or that she doesn’t like something, we listen to her, okay?”

The men nodded.

“She’ll love it” Hyunjin stated with a smile.

“Who do you want to start with, princess?” spoke Minho to you.

The question took you by surprise, Minho saw your innocent confused face.

“Oh… you can start with yourself and, teach us” whispered your boyfriend seductively, tugging at the hems of your sweater to take it off and leave you in your bra.

The thermostat was on in the house, yet you felt a sudden chill on your exposed skin.

Chan and Hyunjin bit their lip, one hand resting on their thighs as they stirred restlessly, uncomfortable from the large erection trapped in their pants. Felix averted his gaze shyly, but then stood in awe watching the spectacle.

You noticed the bulges in each of their crotches and yours began to throb, you thought how dirty it was, fucking four hot men at once, you had never had another experience beyond Minho and now you were going to have three more at the same time. You were wet and restless.

Minho pulled your skirt down, letting it fall gracefully to the floor, leaving you half naked in front of them.

“Fuck, you’re beautiful” Hyunjin murmured, finally stroking his erection.

“Take off her bra” ordered Chan in a thick voice.

You truly felt like a doll, letting yourself be undressed. Minho removed your bra and couldn’t resist the sensation of massaging your breasts with both of his two strong hands. You bit your lip.

“Shit, Minho, don’t touch her yet” Chan complained.

Felix watched you with wide eyes, scared but he was so excited, he wasn't sure if he wanted this, he was a little shy, but as soon as he saw you spread your legs and exposed you to the sun, he was ready to give you a little kiss.“Come here, babygirl” ordered the older one.

Minho slowly let go of you and you obeyed his action by moving closer to him.

“Sit on that end and start touching yourself for us, show us your sweet beauty, baby doll.”

You listened to Chan and watched as he pointed to the edge of the couch, to one side of Felix.

You almost moaned at the sensation of your slick fluids, you were so wet and the manly voice that was ordering you around was making you more and more sick. Felix watched you with wide eyes, scared but he was so excited, he wasn’t sure if he wanted this, he was a little shy, but as soon as he saw you spread your legs and exposed your glistening pussy, his cock throbbed and his mouth salivated, you look so appetizing he wanted to lick you whole.

The four men moaned softly at the sight of your exposed pussy as you pulled the fabric of your panties aside. You leaned back against the armrest of the couch and acting on a voracious instinct for pleasure, you looked down at your exposed intimate area and began to touch yourself, then looked up at the other men.

You massaged your clit, felt your slick and let yourself go, trying to hide your shyness. You watched each of them closely, Hyunjin and Chan’s slitted, piercing eyes, in contrast to Felix’s big, kind eyes, almost as cute as Minho’s, who was standing there watching the show you were giving his friends.

You moaned and closed your eyes letting yourself go, you slipped two of your fingers in and they became engrossed in the softness of your digits sliding into your wet entrance; their limbs ached, asking to be touched, while you enjoyed yourself, thinking that something else might be filling you right now. You quickened your pace without thinking, about to bring yourself to orgasm, but Minho interrupted saying.

“Stop” he walked over to you, squatting down in front of you, ”Kiss me baby, then show the boys how you do it.”

You looked at him confused. You were shaking, a mess, you never thought you would be this excited in your life. You took Minho’s lips who kissed you wildly, leaving you breathless. Then you felt yourself being taken by someone else, you stood in front of Felix and the man kissed you shyly, enjoying the act.

Felix’s lips were a different sensation than Minho’s, his timing, his tongue on you that you lasted some time with him, Felix was not able to control himself with you, he wanted you too much. But suddenly, a big hand grabbing your forearm and pulling you away from the blond boy.

Chan took you with ease to settle you on his lap, sitting right on his erection for your pussy on it, taking your hips, pressing you down as he kissed you sensually and made you grind on his cock. You were breathless, your pussy throbbing hard, again enjoying a different and greater sensation of his erection on you, his hands on your body and his lips and tongue exploring you.

When you came to Hyunjin you felt once again like a toy which was being passed between boys, but Hyunjin did not take you desperately like the rest, he took hold of your hand with which you had been masturbating and brought the fingers you were pleasuring yourself with closer to your entrance, to put them in his mouth and suck them erotically while he looked into your eyes.

“Mmm” said Hyunjin happily with a tender expression of pleasure, “You taste just as I thought, so fucking sweet, baby.”

Finally he took your face between his big slender hands to kiss you, his lips were fuller to the rest, his tongue was slow but skillful, you felt like you were slowly going to heaven.

You had the feeling that you were about to be destroyed.

Chan noticed how lewdly Felix was watching you while you had your moment with Hyunjin, Chan wanted to have some fun, letting the younger one decide first.

“What do you want to do, my little mate?” said Chan amusedly to Felix.

Felix swallowed nervously, looked at Chan and then returned your gaze to you. Felix said in an exquisite thick voice.

“Let me eat her.”

You shuddered. As you pulled away from Hyunjin. Your lips were already swollen, each one of them adoring your tenderly agitated expression.

“Okay” Chan spoke, biting his lower lip and licking them afterwards.

“Babygirl, come here, settle in.”

Chan took you by the hips again and sweetly gestured for you to position your body with your knees on the couch, given the view of your ass to Felix, your torso passing over Chan’s thighs and your face and arms reaching towards Hyunjin.

“Well, enjoy yourselves. You know what to do” you heard your boyfriend say.

You could imagine what this was about and it made you nervously worked up. Felix was the first to expose his cock, you turned your eyes towards him and could see him stroking his exposed member, to pull down your panties and settle in to bury his pretty face in your core, licking your folds and searching for your clit. You moaned as you felt his warm tongue on you and Chan ran his large hand down your bare back enjoying the view, his hand was gentle but it burned in every part he touched you, you were lost in pleasure, you were reaching levels of arousal you never thought you were capable of feeling.

Chan sought your entrance and teased it with his fingers while Felix kept pleasuring himself on your pussy, you began to shudder and lose strength.

“Fuck” muttered Hyunjin excitedly at the pornographic scene of his blond friend licking your pussy and your submissive position.

Hyunjin pursed his lips and released his cock as well. His was right in front of you, it was big, erect, veiny, its pink tip was covered with his white precum. You felt dirty but you loved every second of it.

“Come on, sweetheart, you can take it.”

You stopped looking at his cock to look him in the eyes and then lowered your gaze again. You moistened your lips and took it between your hands, it felt so good, Felix kept stimulating you and Chan started playing with your breasts while still caressing your back and ass, squeezing it hard at times. You licked Hyunjin’s glans and when you opened your mouth wide to take his hard cock fully, Felix thrust his thick tongue inside you, teasing you uncontrollably. You gasped with Hyunjin’s big cock in your mouth, Felix was stimulating the rest of your cunt with his free hand while he couldn't help jerking off.

You were losing your temper, you wanted to explode in your orgasm, but you continued to taste Hyunjin’s cock, licking his entire length, running your lips along it feeling its thin skin and notorious veins, being accompanied by the sweet gasps of that young artist. Hyunjin grabbed your hair, giving you support as you took his shaft, bobbing your head, but you were getting more and more breathless, your eyes began to glisten, you were so close, you were being distracted by the sensation of your nipples being pinched and your breasts being fondled and how very sticky the oral sex Felix was giving you was getting.

“You’re doing it so good princess” Minho’s voice came next to your ear, “You’re so cute taking Hyunjin’s cock so well, good girl.”

Your eyes searched for his image, you were sure your expression was a mess, you didn’t understand how he looked so cute and peaceful as he witnessed the dirty act of his girlfriend’s mouth being filled by his best friend’s dick. It was sick, twisted, it was so fucking hot you had no self-control.

You were collapsing, losing strength, and struggling not to drop your abdomen onto Chan’s thighs. You whimpered with Hyunjin’s cock in your mouth, drooling, with Felix’s tongue inside you and his fingers on your labia and clit, you collapsed in your first climax, making your body quiver. You pulled Hyunjin’s cock out of your mouth for a moment to enjoy your orgasm, took a breath and moaned loudly. Felix felt his hard penis throbbing and in a low moan he cum in his hand as well.

“Aw, baby girl’s first orgasm of the night," Chan spoke tilting his head as he appreciated your trembling body, “Good job, Felix.”

You were weak but skillfully aroused. Your chest was rising and falling with difficulty, you were dizzy between so much pleasure but your mind kept asking that now how would they have fun with you.

He placed you in front of him on his lap again and whispered in your ear:

“Now you’re going to ride daddy’s cock, yes, baby girl?”

His words rocked you. You nodded with big, bright submissive eyes, driving him crazy.

Chan left you in his old place on the couch, stood up and began to undress. Minho plopped down beside you, all watching the little spectacle of the older man undressing.

“Ah, this dude can’t keep his clothes on” Minho commented amused.

You turned to see him, he was also so agitated and excited that you felt bad that you didn’t have him and could attend to him.

When Chan pulled down his pants and boxers to take them off you were engrossed. He was huge. You bit your lip and subtly denied, feeling afraid and insecure, that was going to break you in two, it wasn’t going to fit. But, remembering your boyfriend’s big thick cock there was a good chance you would enjoy it.

“Come here.”

Chan carried you in his arms. You automatically wrapped your legs around his waist, his body was strong, he had big pecs and marked abs. You looked into his eyes… you had never been this intimate and vulnerable with anyone but Minho… now you were being shared with his best friends.

Chan carried you with one arm while his available hand held the base of his erect cock to rub his soft glans on your pussy. You moaned as you were teased and you fliched in surprise.

“Fuck, it’s big” you suddenly blurted out between a sigh, causing a smug giggle to come from Chan, you looked up at him still surprised and blushed.

“You cant take it, babygirl.”

And the next thing you felt was his cock sliding inside you making you whimper. The others watched the act of your body weakening and shuddering as you held tightly to his neck, how your entrance stretched adjusting to Chan’s size as you whimpered louder and louder the deeper he got inside you.

“You feel so good” moaned Chan feeling your walls wrap around his cock completely, “Fuck you Minho, he had all of you to himself?” he mumbled.

His cock slid in easily, you were so wet, you shivered hugging yourself to his neck, resting your face on it, you were as full as you had ever been, slightly fuller than Minho made you, the bulge of his cock was noticeable in your lower belly, Chan came deep inside you, staying a few seconds without moving so your walls could get used to him. “Can I move now, little one?” he whispered sweetly to you.

You nodded quickly, sore but excited, "Yes, please… daddy."

Chan’s ears turned red as he heard you call him daddy and fill him with his fantasies. He grabbed your buttocks and began to control your body over his cock, going up and down slowly, giving them the erotic view of your sensitive hole being penetrated, of his glistening cock thrusting inside you, capturing the arousal of each of you, causing their hands to go to their respective penises and begin to masturbate at the grotesque image of your entrance being abused by Chan’s big cock as you both moaned in pleasure. Even Minho couldn’t take it anymore and pulled his erect cock out to stroke it at the image of your body being absolutely fucked by someone else.

Chan was tearing open every part of you, his pumping cock bouncing into you, his thrusts were gentle, slow and deep, manipulating your body up and down in a sweet rhythm, at that point you were both a mess, your breasts and hard nipples rubbing against his marked pecs as fluids from both of you slid along his cock, trickled out of you onto the floor and stained his sensitive testicles every time you had him deep inside you.

“Shit” gasped Chan, ”Come join in, someone can take her from behind.”

The phrase altered your senses amidst the whimpering mess you were being.

“Is that okay with you, angel?” Chan asked you again breathlessly, “Fuck your beautiful ass?”

You looked him in the eyes, Felix and Hyunjin were already to the side of you with their hands stroking their cocks.

“Y-yes.”

You answered, not sure what could happen. You looked around for Minho with your eyes, he was sitting there watching absolutely everything.

“Good” Chan replied, giving you a tender smile disappearing his lips for a second.

Chan pulled out of you suddenly making you whimper, his cock touched his abs as it was loose. Chan didn’t hesitate, he laid down on the carpet, dropping you down sitting on his cock with your labia between his rigid member.

“This way we’re going to fill you completely,” Hyunjin said.

Chan lifted your body to slip his wet cock between your ass, trying to prepare it before they could enter you that way too. You bit your lip at the sensation, you had long felt the knot in your stomach but you were only prolonging your climax. You became restless and nervous again.

“Fuck, nobody has any lube?” commented Chan somewhat exasperated.

He didn’t want to hurt you, at least he didn’t want Hyunjin to, as he positioned himself behind you and Felix stood in front of you, leaving right in your face the sight of his stiff cock.

“It’s okay, I’ll be gentle” moaned Hyujin, getting on his knees close to Chan’s thighs.

Chan pushed you gently and you quickly understood it was to take his cock again, he lined it up with your entrance as you slowly let yourself fall on top of him, causing you to sigh. You shuddered as you felt Hyunjin’s tip moisten your rear area, rubbing his precum, he parted your buttocks with his hands digging into your skin and entered gently, making you scream louder than Chan’s penis in your vagina.

You whimpered, closing your eyes tightly and biting your lip as the male presences took guilty delight in your suffering. Hyunjin moaned in ragged gasps at the extremely tight sensation of your conduit.

You held yourself tightly in Chan’s abs, whimpering each time you felt his cock deeper in you. You had never had anal sex before and it was burning like hell itself, but the lust in your body was greater than your pain.

“Is it okay, baby doll, are you liking it?” whispered Hyunjin slightly concerned.

“Yes” you whimpered.

Hyunjin was also big and within moments, you were being penetrated on both sides.

"Move slowly, Hyun, let her adjust a little" cautioned Chan.

They both began to move in you leaving you hoarse and breathless, Chan lifting his pelvis and pounding your pussy while Hyunjin buried himself into you, they started slow but their pace gradually increased, leaving you with the most unique experience you were ever going to forget. Chan held you firmly by the hips and Hyunjin squeezed your right buttock with his hand while another hand played naughtily with your breasts.

Then you looked at the blond boy’s genital area, his stubble pubic area with tiny freckles on it, you were transfixed, thinking how uniquely beautiful Lee Felix was, you looked into his eyes before taking his cock and did your best to please him while two of your holes were being completely filled and used.

Your movements on his cock were imperfect due to the constant pounding of Chan and Hyunjin against your body that was driving you crazy. But Felix didn't stop panting, he loved it, he stroked your hair more delicately to how Hyunjin took you a few moments ago. You felt dirty, used and aroused, all your possible entrances occupied and each of them dripping in some fluids, your cheeks were shiny from the little tears shed. You were on the verge of collapse again, once again, your body could no longer hold it in.

On the other hand, Minho smiled happily, happy that lust won on that rainy night, he was in glee at the dirty image of your little body destroyed among men, he was as happy and excited as a young hormonal boy discovering his favorite porn. He was happy to have been able to fulfill your fantasies.

Chan babbled things that left you in the clouds, the moans of the three of them set fire inside you and the situation again seemed like a dream, a very dirty one.

Each of the best friends were enjoying it like they had never experienced sex before, everything was full of lust and passion, a sweet young woman at the beck and call of the pleasures and dark fantasies of men in search of forbidden sansations.

You pulled Felix’s cock out as you felt it quiver in your mouth and happily let him cum on your tongue. You became somewhat foolishly confused letting yourself be carried away by Chan and Hyunjin’s thrusts and whimpered again letting yourself release in the most intense and long lasting orgasm. You wanted to collapse in surrender, but both men continued on you some more until moaning and cumming hard inside you.

“Good girl-” Chan mumbled.

“Fuck, she’s full of cum now” Hyunjin smiled happily.

They both pulled out of you to contemplate the collapse of your twitching muscles expelling their glistening semen.

You finally felt yourself breathing, you thought you had tachycardia, you were out of your senses waiting to recover. You saw Minho approach you, again with his cock sheltered in his pants, with a calm expression and suddenly he carried your weak and naked body in his strong arms, you breathed in his scent and saw him with some embarrassment with your already flustered face.

“You did very well my princess. I love you” he whispered and gave you a tender kiss on your forehead, “Do you want to try something new tomorrow?”

Your boyfriend carried your exhausted body to the warm bathtub that he had already prepared, taking care of you after the unexpected night you had.

๋࣭⭑๋࣭⸙ᨒ↟ ⋆｡°

The next morning you didn't know how to act. It was strange, but the first thing you saw when you came downstairs were Minho's other friends at the entrance, Yang Jeongin, Kim Seungmin, Han Jisung and Seo Changbin. You greeted them shyly with a smile, as it was obvious what awaited you next as soon as night fell.

You went to the kitchen, where you heard voices, finding the men who saw you naked and vulnerable a couple of hours ago, the same ones responsible for each of your sighs and pleasure that crazy, rainy night. Everyone sat down to breakfast but it was obvious that the main course they wanted was you right now.

Chan, Hyunjin and Felix left in the afternoon, confusing you, but you quickly realized it was someone else's turn. None of them wanted to lose you from the spotlight, but just four of them got away with it.

Just when you were alone, in the quiet of the balcony reading a book, not paying attention and with your mind spinning trying to process what the fuck was going on; Minho went with Chan to buy you some birth control pills at the town pharmacy because you had forgotten yours and that was the perfect time for the four of them to take you and lure you into a little game.

They told Minho before they left you, “We'll take care of her.” Minho wasn't stupid and knew of the high probability that they would end up fucking you without him being there, which annoyed the hell out of him, but he would see a way to arrange it, that night.

“Want to play baseball?”

That sentence from Seungmin was a total lie and you knew it, still you followed him into the woods, in an area far away from the house, not only him, but the three other guys followed him too.

“Shit, Seungmin, do you know where we are?” mentioned Jisung annoyed.

Seungmin innocently looked around and stopped in his tracks.

“This is the place.”

Everyone remained silent.

“Oh no, we're lost,” Jeongin added dejectedly in jest.

The four of them watched you, again with leering and hungry looks, you wondered for a second... why you had to follow them there, but it wasn't as if your legs were moving on their own.

“Isn't that right, little one? You're lost but you have the good fortune that four kind men will help you get home, only if you obey and thank us, or we could help each other.”

Your breath shortened, you understood Changbin's dirty game perfectly. You saw Jisung, Seungmin and Jeongin, then turned your focus back to the closeness of Changbin and his strong grip on your waist.

“And how will I ever be able to thank you?”

Changbin flashed a half smile, “Just be a good girl and obey our directions so you can get home.”

You nodded, “Kiss Jisung, he's waiting for you” he softly ordered you.

Jisung opened his eyes in fright once you approached him, surprised that he is the one you were going to initiate with. You kissed him, letting yourself be carried away by the sensations of other lips on yours and in the heat of things, the excitement and pleasure traveled fast in your bodies, you were being fucked by Seungmin and his long cock while doing your best to give a good blowjob to Jisung who was holding on to your body, as both of your hands were busy masturbating Changbin and Jeongin, whose long and nimble digits found a way to play with your clit.

It was a very different baseball game than how you thought.

But your actions had consequences. There you were, in a different pleasure session very distinct from last night, this time Minho was part of it, no longer being sweet and attentive to you, he was spanking your ass hard, forcing you to confess everything you did in the woods with his friends in the afternoon, until you were sore, your ass burning with pain and your eyes shining. His friends enjoyed the spectacle of the game of your pleasure and suffering.

“Take her, guys” Minho said coldly and pushed your body, not so exaggerated but you didn't put up any kind of resistance so he almost threw you. Seungmin came closer to you,

“See? You're nothing but just a fucking slut desperate for some sex. Isn't that so? Look how fucking needy you are.”

His words turned you on, it was the disdainful tone he used and the annoyed expression on his tender face, plus he suddenly started to finger you.

“Should we take turns...? I wanna fuck her” Jisung commented somewhat confused causing Minho to let out an unexpected giggle.

“I'll go first.”

You sighed as you listened to Changbin and let him take your body to the couch, moaning at the pain in your ass at the slightest rub. He spread your legs apart and began to taste your center, rolling your eyes.

“You're rewarding her that way and I think it was clear what a bad girl she was” Seungmin said.

Changbin pulled away from your pussy just at the sweetest moment, controlled your body with ease, turned your body quickly and started to fuck you hard making you squeal.

“Right, you're a little whore” Changbin moaned, spanking you harder on your already red and hurting ass.

You whimpered in pain but his thick cock felt so good around your walls.

“Fuck you, Changbin” Jeongin expressed somewhat frustrated.

Everyone took Jisung's idea, the next one inside you was Jeongin who pulled on your hair as he penetrated you in a delicious pace, the next one was Seungmin, who kept spanking your ass and his body slammed into yours at every deep thrust. And the last one was Jisung, he flipped your body as he fantasized about the movement of your tits while he fucked you hard, he was the one who left you the most breathless and the only one who managed to cum in you.

The others unloaded their cum on your chest as they vigorously pulled their cocks, making you feel dirty and humiliated, but it was something new that you liked.

๋࣭⭑๋࣭ ⸙ ᨒ↟ ⋆｡°

Sunday night was the high point of that crazy weekend that seemed to have no end. All it took was telling Minho:

“Why did you split up your friends? On you-know-what…”

“I thought eight guys was absurd.”

“Maybe it's not at all.”

And there you were, naked with eight needy, stiff cocks eager for you. The best part, was the men who carried it. You adored seeing their distinct and attractive faces and bodies begging for you, from the sensations they were giving you.

This time all eight of them were naked, looking so intimidating waiting for the next move. You were a helpless little deer in the woods, surrounded and in the sights of hungry beasts.

Hyunjin was the first to approach you, putting on a show for his friends as his mouth feasted on your breasts and his hand worked fast on your core, then his hand focused mainly on your clit as Jeongin's fingers were sunk deep into you after Hyunjin had happily invited him.

You slowly watched the silhouette of everyone approaching between your blurred vision due to the high level of libido in you and your body trembled in excitement, trying to think in what way they would make your body enough for each of them.

You were still in awe, not understanding the reason that brought you there, but just enjoying and letting yourself be carried away by the lust of the moment. But you had no idea that it was all caused by the domino effect of Minho's curiosity that led him to read your diary that night.

꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶ ๋ ࣭ ⭑꒷꒦ ꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶ ๋ ࣭ ⭑꒷꒦

𐙚TAGLIST: @rylea08 @hann1bee @iovecb97 @armystay89 @lolareadsimagines @lailac13 @ayyonoona @do-you-remember-summer-127 @wildtokay @korthbum @oddracha @hyune-sssne @velvetmoonlght @shadowhunterathene @compersian @binniesbabe @strayywayy @mallielovssyou @isabel-018

lmk if u want to be added for more kinktober, or if i omitted u oopsi, and pls have an age indicator! also I can’t tag some u :p but there’s ur username w luv

!! DONT SKIP !! donations urgently needed They are only at €5,561 out of €50,000 goal

I was contacted by Nader to draw pictures for and help spread his brother Abdulsalam Al-Anqar’s fundraiser to save their family. Nader is a 17 year old boy who lives in Gaza with his family: parents Ahmed (54) and mother Iman (49), brothers Abdulsalam (26), Mohammed (14), and Omar (21) and Abdulsalam’s wife and their one year old daughter Iman. Imagine it was your sibling, your friend, your son, who should be in school or with his friends, who instead has to hide from bombs and ask for help online to save his family. His family have suffered through one year of genocide. All of you are their hope to get to safety.

This fundraiser is vetted by @gazavetters, number four on the spreadsheet here

Abdulsalams daughter Iman is only one year old and has lived most her life in a war zone. She is suffering from malnutrition. It’s every fathers worst nightmare to see their child starve and not be able to feed her. Please help him feed his daughter and get her to safety. No child should grow up hearing the sound of bombs. Every child has the right to food and safety. You can help give Iman the childhood she should have, where she can sleep in a safe bed at night with a full stomach.

Their father Ahmed has cancer and needs surgery and medication. It is not possible to get the treatment he needs in Gaza. every day his illness is left untreated, the cancer will continue to spread through his body, so he very urgently needs money for treatment and travel. If you help them get to their goal, you are saving their fathers life. Don’t let this family who have already lost so much lose their father, husband, and grandfather

Nader has showed me pictures of this explosion close to them, thankfully they were able to get away. Every day they stay in Gaza their lives are at risk from israeli bombs. Every day and hour counts. I know there are compassionate and kind people who are willing to help. every euro helps, YOUR donation will bring them one moment closer to safety. With love and hope I’m asking you to give what you can, I believe in the kind people of the world and I beg you to not let them die. If you can’t donate, please share so it may reach people who can.

Never forget that palestinians are not numbers on a list of deaths. Please think of each of them, think of their names and faces and know that you can help them. I think of them every day. I think of the hopes and dreams they should achieve, I think of their education, their future, and the love they show when they work hard every day to get help. You may feel powerless to stop this genocide, but you have the power to save Abdulsalam and his family. I dream that the day will come soon where they may use their days to rest and recover from what they’ve been through, where they can share a meal and laugh and the children will play, instead of having to use their time to beg the world to listen and help them. We can make this possible.

50 000 euros is a lot of money for one person to give, but for all of us together, it can be done. Please don’t look away.

(drawing above by @neechees)

Thank you for reading their story. Please don’t keep scrolling without sharing

here is the link again to their fundraiser

tagging for reach:

@90-ghost @heritageposts @gazavetters @neechees @butchniqabi @fluoresensitive @khanger @autisticmudkip @beserkerjewel @furiousfinnstan @xinakwans @batekush @appsa @nerdyqueerr @butchsunsetshimmer @biconicfinn @stopmotionguy @willgrahamscock @strangeauthor @bryoria @shesnake @legallybrunettedotcom @lautakwah @sovietunion @evillesbianvillain @antibioware @akajustmerry @dizzymoods @ree-duh @neptunerings @explosionshark @dlxxv-vetted-donations @vague-humanoid @buttercuparry @sayruq @malcriada @sar-soor @northgazaupdates2 @feluka @dirhwangdaseul @jdon @ibtisams @sawasawako @memingursa @schoolhater @toesuckingoctober @waskuyecaozu

( drabble ) he knows ̨ ! ୨୧ 一 김승민 ՞

⸃ ⸰ ⌁ thinking you can get over on him too bad he knows your body better ヾ

harddom!seungmin・ fem!reader ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ g ・ smut ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ cw ・ ‎ rough sex , degradation, unprotected sex‎ ‎ wc ・ ‎0.6k ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎| ‎ ‎click to library

「 ୨୧ authors note 」 for all the seungmin stans out there<3

if seungmin liked to do one thing when he was fucking you; it was edging you. there was never a time he wasn't bringing you tears by fucking you just to the edge — only to come to a full stop , your blissful orgasm ripped from you.

and to make it worse , you were fully aware that he was gonna ruin your orgasm; because he made you tell him when you were cumming — you swore he got off on that the most , the fact that you submitted yourself to him that much , you allowed him to do this to you … this was all about to change.

“fuck you're slutty little pussy is so tight.” your boyfriend had you folded in half , pounding into you , his cock hitting deep inside you , your boobs bouncing as he fucked into you. “you like my cockk stretching you out like this?” you nodded dumbly. “fuck minnie so much , please don't stop!” you screamed , he smirked. “who's gonna stop me baby?” he asked. “not you baby you're so fucked out , you can't even talk properly.”

you babbled nonsense , his cock clouding all your senses. “you know what to do slut , tell me when you're about to cum.” you sobbed out , knowing what was coming , he was gonna pull out of you , laughing as you cried for him to put his cock back inside your needy hole; you didn't want him to, you knew you could've told him your safe word and he would've kept going , but you wanted to be a brat for once , if he could do what he did , why couldn't you?

except you didn't even bother to realize your boyfriend knew your body; so even though you remained silent , the way you were dripping and tightening around him , your eyes rolling to the back of your head — he could tell you were about to cum. “fucking slut.”

you knew you were in trouble; feeling him slip out of you , ruining your orgasm anyway , his hands coming up to your neck. “you think you can get away with shit like that?” he slapped your sensitive cunt. “you think i don't know when you're about to cum?” your eyes were wide. “m’sorry minnie.” you whimpered. “i just wanted to cum.” you yelped as he slapped your sticky cunt again. “and who are you to decide when you cum?” he asked. “this pussy is mine , you don't get to make those decisions.”

he flipped you over , lifting your hips up. “my fucking pussy.” you felt his hand coming down on your ass. “fuck minnie!” you shouted. “you wanna cum so bad?” he lined himself up with your hole. “cum.” his cock slamming inside you , you screamed , his hands coming up to your hair , pulling your head back , plowing inside you. “that's it slut , cum.” he hissed. “cum.”

you screamed out in pleasure as he abused your cervix , his cock bullying inside you. “fuck im cumming!” you screamed , cumming all over him. “fuck , you're soaking me.” he cursed , his thrust never letting up , you moaned. “m-minnie , i came.” you stuttered. “sl-slow down.” he pressed your head down against the pillows. “you were the whore that wanted to cum so bad.” overstimulation taking over. “so cum , im letting you cum.” you felt another orgasm approaching. “fuck minnie im cumming again!”

he still didn't stop; in fact he went harder , you were surprised at how he was able to keep going , he hadn't even cum yet. “to-too much.” you whimpered , he let out a tsk. “you wanted to cum , now you can't take it.” he growled. “too bad , you know your safeword , use it if not, shut up and take my cock slut.” you moaned out , letting him use you. “exactly.”

“you wanna cum? you're gonna cum until your messy pussy can't cum anymore.”

©LUVYENI translations to other sites prohibited, reblogs are appreciated but not forced !

Hey stayblr, I've been thinking of ways we can unite to help Palestine in the current genocide. With Israel closing borders again, no aid is allowed in and local organizations on the ground urgently need our help. So, i thought of rallying to raise donations for Palestine, big or small, as every dollar counts and can truly make a difference.

Initial target : 3000 dollars ✅

‼️ Next Target : 3500 dollars.

To be split between Care for Gaza, UNRWA and Palestine Children’s Relief Fund.

We’ll raise the target goal according to our progress!

update as of 15/06/2024- [10:03 a.m.] : 3107,35 dollars!!

For transparency, donations will be received through my Kofi, with daily updates on our progress. Here are the links to UNRWA’s, Careforgaza’s and PCRF’s work in Gaza!

Palestinians are saying that this is the worst phase of the genocide yet. They need as much of our help as we can give them, so please, let’s all stand together for this.

If you cannot donate

- please reblog and share around!

- stream hind’s hall (all proceeds will be donated to unrwa!

here are the receipts of our 1000$ donation to UNRWA & 1000$ donation to Careforgaza (to their paypal acc)

im waiting for paypal to release the 1k on hold to donate it!

I’m so glad you’ve finished your school! I know school can be rough especially end of the year. Speaking of free time. 🥺👉👈 How about (surprise) angst/hurt with Han this time (at this point I’m trying to go through all the members at least once) Y/N is having just like, the worst day. They come home to Han for comfort but he is also having just like, the worst day. So they argue and Han walls out, but later there’s a fire at the apartment complex and when he comes back there’s like a whole scene and he freaks out. Y/N is already in the back of an ambulance and they’re fine but Han takes five ever to find them and is freaking out the entire time.

Calling you clingy

Han Jisung x Reader 한지성

a/n: Hi! I’m sorry if this took so long but I’m kinda struggling with my emotions lately and I don’t really like the way I write… hope you’ll like it tho

The day felt doomed from the moment you opened your eyes.

Your alarm hadn’t gone off, leaving you scrambling to get ready. You spilled coffee on your only clean shirt, missed your bus, and when you finally arrived at work, it was like the universe conspired against you. A project you’d poured your heart into was torn apart in a meeting, and the snide comments from a coworker still rang in your ears. By the time you walked through your apartment door that evening, you felt like a frayed wire—one spark away from snapping.

Han sat on the couch, earbuds in, a notebook balanced on his lap. His pen moved furiously across the page, his frustration evident in every stroke. Seeing him there, a small part of your tension eased. He’ll make this better, you thought. He always does…

“Hey,” you said softly, closing the door behind you.

He didn’t look up. “Hey.”

You hesitated, unsure if he’d even heard you. “Han… I’m sorry to bother you but I had the worst day. I don’t even know where to start. I just… I really need you right now. Please…”

You had always been nice to him, always making sure to give him his space. And he knew.

But this time, he sighed, setting his notebook aside but still not meeting your eyes. “Y/N, I can’t do this right now. I’m kind of drowning here myself.”

His words hit you like a cold wave. “What do you mean?”

“I mean,” he said, rubbing his temples, “I’ve been dealing with my own stuff all day. I’m exhausted too.”

You stared at him, your throat tightening. “I’m not asking you to solve anything, Han. I just wanted… I needed you to be here with me... I’m sorry-”

Finally, he looked at you, irritation flickering in his eyes. “Stop saying you’re sorry! It’s like… you can’t handle anything without me. You’re always leaning on me, and it’s—” He paused, running a hand through his hair. “It’s clingy, Y/N.”

The word sliced through you like a knife. “Clingy?” you echoed, your voice cracking.

Han stood, pacing in the small space. “Yes, clingy. Every time something goes wrong, I’m the first person you run to, and I can’t—”

“And what?” you interrupted, anger bubbling up. “You can’t handle that? I thought that’s what relationships were for—being there for each other!”

His voice rose to match yours. “It is! But I’m not your emotional punching bag! I have limits too!”

Your chest tightened, tears prickling at your eyes. “Fine. If I’m so clingy, maybe I should stop coming to you altogether.”

“Maybe you should.” His voice was cold.

He grabbed his keys from the counter and stormed out, slamming the door behind him. The silence that followed felt deafening. You stood frozen, tears spilling over as his words echoed in your head.

You’ve never seen him like this. It hurt so bad it felt like you were drowning in your own tears.

You decided to listen to some music to distract yourself, until..

*Sniff sniff*

The smell of smoke was faint at first, so faint you ignored it. You thought it was coming from outside—someone burning leaves or a neighbor cooking. But then the fire alarm shrieked through the building, and the panic set in.

When you opened the door, smoke poured in, thick and choking. Flames flickered at the end of the hallway. Grabbing your phone and bag, you stumbled into the chaos, your heart pounding as the smoke burned your lungs.

By the time you made it outside, the cool night air felt like relief, but your head swam, and you couldn’t stop coughing. Paramedics found you, guiding you to an ambulance. You barely registered their words as they placed an oxygen mask over your face, the world spinning around you.

While you were fighting for your own life, Han wandered the city, replaying your argument in his head. At first, he felt justified—you’d been overwhelming lately, hadn’t you? But as the minutes stretched into hours, guilt started creeping in. You weren’t clingy; you trusted him enough to lean on him when things got tough. And he’d thrown that trust back in your face.

He turned toward the apartment, ready to apologize, when he saw smoke curling into the sky. His heart stopped.

“No. No, no, no,” he whispered, breaking into a sprint.

The fire was massive, consuming the upper floors of the building—your floor. His lungs burned as he ran, panic rising with every step. By the time he reached the scene, fire trucks and ambulances surrounded the complex.

“Y/N!” he shouted, shoving through the crowd of evacuees. “Have you seen Y/N?”

No one answered. He called your name again, louder this time, his voice cracking. His legs felt like they might give out, his thoughts racing to every worst-case scenario.

Finally, he spotted you in the back of an ambulance. Relief hit him so hard that he nearly collapsed.

“Y/N!” he cried, rushing to your side.

You looked up, your face pale but alive, the oxygen mask resting on your lap. “You came back,” you said hoarsely.

Han dropped to his knees in front of you, his hands shaking as he reached for yours. “I—I thought—I thought I lost you,” he stammered, tears streaming down his face. “I’m so sorry. I never should have left. I was selfish, and I was wrong. I’m so, so sorry.”

You stared at him for a moment, your expression unreadable. Finally, you pulled the mask down, your voice trembling. “You called me clingy, Han. You left me when I needed you most. Do you know how much that hurt?”

His face crumpled. “I know. I was an idiot. I didn’t mean it—I was overwhelmed, and I took it out on you. But I’ll never do that again. I swear. You mean everything to me, Y/N. Everything.”

Your lip trembled, tears welling up in your eyes. “You made me feel like I didn’t matter to you. Like I was just… too much.”

Han cupped your face gently, his thumb brushing a tear from your cheek. “You’re not too much. You’ll never be too much. I’ll spend the rest of my life proving that to you if I have to. I’m so sorry.”

For a moment, you hesitated, the pain still fresh in your chest. But the sincerity in his eyes—the fear, the guilt, the love—broke down your walls. You nodded slowly, leaning into his touch.

“Okay,” you whispered. “But it’s going to take time.”

He pressed a kiss to your forehead, his hands steadying as he held you close. “Take all the time you need. I’ll be here.”

That night, you stayed together in your apartement, after making sure you were all right at the hospital, the weight of the day still heavy but no longer unbearable. Han didn’t let go of you for a second, whispering soft reassurances until your eyes closed.

You weren’t sure how long it would take to heal, but as you drifted off, you knew one thing: Han was willing to try.

@intartaruginha @hannamoon143 @omgsecretsecret @inlovewithstraykids @whoa-jo @madirye062 @vixensss @sseawavee @emilyywhyy @halfwinterhalfuniverse @velvetmoonlght @flourishmoon

greed | by design chapter three

pairing: hyunjin x reader ; chan x reader | wc: 30k | genre: adult romance | warnings: heavy angst ; mutual pining/sexual tension ; dark ideation ; age gap ; hurt/comfort ; adult and sexual content. reader discretion is advised. this series contains heavy themes that could be upsetting to some. if you're concerned it might be an issue for you, please read the detailed list of warnings. this work is for adult audiences.

Hyunjin, unhurried, handsome, so tangible and so close, raised his hand then, bringing it near your face, gently pressing his index finger onto your cheek to collect a raindrop. His touch lit a wildfire inside of you that no deluge could put out. “It’s raining,” he said, his deep, expressive gaze fixated on the drop he had stolen from you, but not for long because he looked into your eyes then. “It’s okay,” he added with a smile, offering you his hand. “Come with me.”

Greed is, perhaps, among the most complicated concepts of the human psyche, mostly because it can take so many forms that one is often completely unaware it has woven itself into their heart. It camouflages itself as something else—sometimes, even, as something noble, like concern. 

One time, when you were nine years old, some girls in your class started some sort of unofficial hopscotch tournament. The prizes were nothing more than pretty rocks found on the beach or cheap chapsticks that were supposed to smell and taste like fruit but smelled and tasted like anything but fruit. There was also a fake, dollar store pearl necklace. A small dalmatian plush toy. An old Tamagotchi. Stuff like that. Everyone brought something from home. 

Long story short—you were very good at hopscotch. You quickly climbed your way to one of the two finalist spots in the tournament, but unfortunately twisted your ankle at the end of recess. It was nothing. It didn’t even hurt by the end of the day. 

The next day, though, the girls prevented you from participating in the tournament because they didn’t want you to get hurt. Insisting did nothing. Part of you knew these girls didn’t want to get in trouble because exchanging items like that was not allowed at school, and if you got hurt for real, you’d need to see the nurse and it would risk exposing the whole thing.

Part of you knew you were better than them at hopscotch. You didn’t even want any of their trinkets. Well, maybe except for the Tamagotchi. But still. You just wanted to play and make new friends. Back then, your father often told you that Christopher was a good boy but that you should hang out with girls more instead of spending your weekends looking for frogs under rocks with him.

You were too young to understand the entirety of the situation then. It was only later that you were able to see it as a whole. You were only nine years old but your father was witnessing you growing older and approaching that frightening moment in a young girl’s life—puberty. And maybe he figured it wouldn’t be long before Christopher would drag you into the forest for purposes other than frog hunting and he didn’t like that. 

The girls had been children, just like you were. Maybe Monica wanted Lexi’s plastic diamond ring. Maybe Stef wanted, badly, the little Sailor Moon figurine you brought to add to the prize list. If she had asked you would have given it to her. 

But asking. Asking was one of the most difficult things anyone had to do in the course of their life. Because it exposed them. It bared them, displaying their want, their desire, displaying what they lacked. What was missing from them. It showed the world how greedy they were, and there was real shame in that—unwarranted, but it was still there, and very real. So of course Stef wasn’t going to just ask for it. In this world, we all strive to look like we don’t care. About anything. Ever. It’s easier to live this way, to hide ourselves under several layers of nonchalance—because it makes sure we don’t have to make ourselves vulnerable to others.

Greed took so many forms. Envy and jealousy were symptoms of greed, manifestations of it. So was longing, or selfishness. You had reached a point in your life where you wondered if all those words, all those emotions, perhaps, were just synonyms. Maybe they all meant the same thing. 

You were not above it. You had been greedy, too. You couldn’t tell for sure but maybe you had always known you would never be good enough for Chris, yet you had let him love you nonetheless. You let him kiss you, then you let him confess his love and let it grow into something so big, so rooted into him that some parts of himself became parts of you and vice versa. Then you let him marry you. And then you let him put a baby inside you. 

You had been greedy when, all those years before, you had let Liam fuck you just because you wanted to feel something. Anything. Just because you thought it would be your only opportunity in life to feel desired and wanted, as shallow as it might have been. You had been greedy when you found out you were pregnant and that your first thought had been that you, for sure, could not keep this baby because it was going to wreck your entire life. 

Judith was your punishment for it all. Not her, but her loss, which was just as heavy and tangible. The jealousy you had felt when Chris would hang out with girls. How selfish it had been to let Liam touch you and then fuck you even though you did not want him. Because maybe you did it to see if it would get a reaction out of Chris. 

It felt as though you could not be that anymore—greedy. Because it required some stamina. It demanded some life, some… something. Anything. And you had been stripped of all of it. You remembered the last greed that haunted you for a long time, and perhaps the ghost of it still did. 

You wouldn’t have been able to tell this to anybody, but you had been greedy to let Chris stay. To hope that he would love you again. And you were ashamed. It had been greedy at first and now it was just… cowardly. Which might just have been another version of greed anyway. 

It took too many forms to compile them all, which, you felt, made it the most insidious feeling of them all.

Insidious because you had genuinely believed all this time that you had gotten rid of it. That your heart was dead and would remain dead and that it meant you would never taste the sweetly bitter taste of greed on your tongue. It was true, it was an honest thought, but you had never believed it made you a better person than anybody else. It just made you an empty person.

And then one day, everything changed.

The morning after your conversation with Hyunjin, you went to sit outside to watch the sunrise. You refilled your water bottle and closed the shop, walking the short climb uphill for a better, unobstructed view. Most days, you did not mind the trees. If anything you found it quite beautiful. The way light filtered through them, reflected in hundreds of echoes of luminescence, scattered on the grounds or structures, caressing them, changing them. 

But that morning you were craving for something different. Something had changed within you and you weren’t sure what it was, you just knew it required action to make it real, to make it official. 

Maybe you had known all along. That aloneness might have been forced upon you—that you had been made alone and lonely and miserable, but that you would need to do something about it to test the bars of this prison, to challenge them. Not escape them, per se, because you did not believe you would ever not be alone. But, it turned out, no matter how unattainable you were, no matter how broken, somebody had visited that prison. And you were still alone, sure. But a different kind of it. 

So you walked. The sky was a dull gray when you set out, making your way on the dirt road leading to the gate and the main road. There was nothing else in the area—nothing that could be seen anyway. Just a forest and a road and the sound of the river flowing downhill. On some days, the iodine breeze, coming from the shore, made it all the way here, blending with the other scents. The evergreens, the decaying pine needles on the ground, the damp riverbank. Together, they became something else. Still very much distinct—nobody could mistake the smell of the ocean for the smell of trees—yet changed by one another. 

It gave you something to think about.

That day was one of those days. Saltiness permeated in the air along with the rest of it. The morning dew on the grass, rendering it cold and slippery. The trees releasing their pollen. Flowers growing in patches at random places. You walked unhurriedly, knowing you had plenty of time, listening to the forest waking up around you. Finches and chickadees flew over you, crossing the narrow dirt road to get from one tree to another, searching for food or a mate or perhaps both. As you progressed, the trees became more sparse, allowing you to see the river.

It was wide here, and the water was always calm in that spot, making it look like a lake. You had seen it all your life and yet it fascinated you still to this day. Once, when you were little, you had gathered all your courage to ask your parents why they called it a river when it didn’t look like one. Your mother explained that it was a river and just that. That day, your mother found an old school book of hers. You wouldn’t have been more than five or six years old, small enough that every aspect of the world seemed grand to you. It was your mother who taught you that lakes became rivers—that they were the same body of water. She used the poetic approach with you, adding that rivers, even the smallest ones, would ultimately spill into the sea and that it meant everything was somehow connected. She said the place where the river curved and became wide and calm was not really a lake, just a river taking a break before continuing its journey to the estuary and the ocean. 

You thought of your mother that morning when you slowed down to take in the sight of the river taking a break, becoming something else while remaining exactly what it was—a river. Just that. 

You heard the common loons before you saw them. Stretching your neck as you walked uphill, trying to see anything as the dawn was still shy and the world still quite dark. Dark but not opaque like night—dim but see-through. Gossamer. Your mother had taught you that word when she showed you her mother’s wedding veil, made of delicate tulle and lace. Your mother had taught you many things but she wasn’t done schooling you when she died. 

You wish she were still alive because things were weighing on your heart that only a mother would be able to untangle. She would have been the only person to truly understand how it felt when Judith died. And all that it entailed. 

The common loon’s haunting call filled the air, loud and quiet at once, occupying as much space outside as it did inside you. You kept walking, knowing their voices would follow you. When you reached the top of the hill, you went to sit past the trees, on one of the big flat rocks that had been put on the edge of the river to stop people from descending into it. It was enticing after all, this place where the river rested before it became something stronger, but it was treacherous as the undercurrents were quite strong here. 

But the ducks did not mind the undercurrents this morning. You watched them as the sun slowly rose on the horizon, breaking through the forest on the other side of the river. It was a pair. Two adults and their two chicks. It had been your father who told you that common loons mated for life, which meant the same pair would reunite in their chosen place to nest, mate, and raise their young. And when the time to migrate would come, they would go their separate ways more often than not but still reunite come spring.

Since that day, you had nothing but admiration for them. How much faith did one need to have to leave the partner you had known all your life and the place where you had raised maybe dozens of chicks, only to hope that you would see them again when winter ended? 

But what happens if one gets lost? you had asked your father. And he told you that common loons would only pair with another if their mate passed away. Last year, your father attended a high school reunion. Long story short, he reconnected with an old friend—Marcy. Marcy and he had briefly dated when they were teens, and it looked like she would have been down to relive the experience. You understood that he did not want to betray your mother, but sometimes, you feared for him, because he could not move on. 

You reminded him of the common loons one day, thinking it was a solid argument as to why he should call Marcy back. And then you were faced with a truth so ugly and so terrible that you had buried it somewhere deep within you—you had discovered the difference between could not move on and would not move on. Your father would not move on. By choice. Maybe, like you, he refused to let greed permeate him, and chose misery instead. 

The ducks swam gently on the water, the parents feeding their chicks with whatever they found under the surface. You wondered if they were the same two common loons that you had seen for the past several years. Or if one had been lost and the other had moved on. If it were the case, you wondered if they remembered their old mate. If they missed them. 

You wished your mother were here. Right now. Sitting next to you, watching the ducks and the sun as it rose in the sky. 

You would tell her about Hyunjin. 

You would tell her about his paintings. About the kindness with which he treated you—you, a complete stranger. You would tell her he didn’t feel like a stranger the way other people did. Others were strangers in the sense that there was distance between you and them, and perhaps even a wall of sorts. Hyunjin was a stranger but it was not a wall that separated the two of you—it was a door. And he had opened it last night, politely but decidedly. 

You would tell your mother you had never spoken with someone as direct and as honest as him, and that it made you want to be more like him. Because you liked being treated like that. You would tell her he did not hesitate to make space for you, to share weed and liquor with you. You would tell her about the charcoal sketches he showed you.

There was no one else in the world you could possibly tell these things. That you had forgotten what happiness felt like the way expats forget their home country—they remember it like one remembers a movie instead of their past. 

You would tell your mother that Hyunjin was the closest thing to a genuine memory of happiness that you had felt since that awful day when they put your daughter’s dead body in your arms. 

You would tell your mother that you did not want to let him be more than that. That it had already been too much. That each smile was a betrayal to Judith. 

Every flutter of your heart was a betrayal to Chris. 

It could not be stopped—something about last night’s encounter had reignited your heart. And you felt it this morning. It seemed like a frequency emanated from it, steady, echoing the sun rays or perhaps bird song. 

Greed.

Complicated. Intricate. Unavoidable. 

You wanted it all. You wanted to respect your daughter’s memory. Also, you wanted to respect your marriage to Christopher because you had loved him all your life. Also, you wanted to feel something other than the crushing weight on your heart—in other words, you wanted to let Hyunjin soothe some of that pain, let him hold some of that burden for you. 

But you couldn’t have it all, could you? 

You stared at the horizon before you, making sure to notice the beauty in it. But all that you could see was the way Hyunjin looked a lot like the place where a river could come to rest before it started again, only to become something stronger. Grander. 

You had never been one to believe in fate before—there had been no need for it in your life. Not really. 

It had been so long since anything made sense. Harmony had ceased to exist the moment Judith’s heart failed. 

But before her, there had been a painting for which you developed a liking, a fascination. The fascination extended to its creator. The painting depicted loss—the same loss that would be forced upon you years after you discovered it. Maybe you loved it even more after. You certainly understood it better. Unfortunately. 

It had not been a comfort, not really—Loss, the painting, was more like an anchor to you. Something that you could look at and remember that you were not dreaming. That even though it felt like it, you were not trapped in a nightmare. You needed to be reminded of that sometimes, or else you started to hope you would wake up soon. 

Out of all the camping grounds in the world, it was at yours that Naro’s direct descendant ended up. And the colors of Hyunjin’s soul were familiar to you—so was the damage in it. 

And so, it made sense. Somehow. That it was all related. For so long, the pieces of the puzzle had been floating in chaos. And now, one by one, they were finding their place within one another, showing you little by little the illustration their whole would become. 

And you did not know what it would become. 

But today, for the first time in a long while, you wondered what it would all amount to. With genuine curiosity. Today, you wanted to see what the pieces of the puzzle might reveal—if they revealed anything in the first place. Chances were that the image would be abstract or blurred or maybe something terrible. 

However, you still wanted to know. And if that wasn’t the manifestation of whatever changes had occurred within you, then what was it?

You left the shop in Allie’s hands after staying with her a little longer than you needed to, but the cause was noble—you helped her set everything up for the opening, and then you stayed even as the first clients came by. It was almost always the same kind of clients who were here this early into the day. You had the smokers who wanted to make sure they wouldn’t run out of cigarettes with their coffee. You had those who would go fishing and needed bait. You had parents who absolutely needed milk or juice for the kids. Then you had what you called the true vacationers—they were up at sunrise just because. For no other reason than they might as well stay up if they got awoken by a bird nearby or something. They had no worries at all, and often felt like taking a little walk around—they stopped at the shop to get a coffee or a bottle of water, or just to have a conversation with another human being. 

Allie was just the right person to work the mornings. A widow in her 50s, she applied for the job last year, admitting that she craved human connection and wanted an opportunity to find it in a place like Riverside Campground. Neither you nor Chris had any hesitation in hiring her. 

“I think you’re all good here,” you told Allie after doing a last checkup of the self-serve coffee machines. 

“You go sleep now, stop making excuses not to,” Allie retorted with a playful smile. The smile faded a little and her eyes took an inquisitive look. “Are you alright?” 

The tone with which she asked the question shook you, as though you knew it meant much more than just how are you.

“Yes I’m alright, what is it?” you responded with that rehearsed voice and that rehearsed smile that you hated so much.

From behind the cash register, Allie tilted her head slightly, observing you. A group of four, all of them in fishing gear, was approaching. You could hear their voices through the windows. They sounded excited. 

“Nothing,” Allie replied. Then she immediately added, “I don’t know, you seem a little different.”

Part of you wanted to run away from this place—and this conversation—as quickly as possible. You were not the kind of person who talked about these things, certainly not with your employees. Not because you didn’t like them but precisely because you did. You wanted to pretend that you were whole. You didn’t want them to know they worked for a wreck of a human being. Out of concern for them. Out of shame and guilt. Out of greed, perhaps. 

The few seconds it took for you to come up with an appropriate and believable response were more than enough for Allie to understand that whatever you were about to say would not be the truth.

“I’m not used to working overnight,” you said anyway. A lame attempt, but an attempt nonetheless. 

“That’s not really what I meant,” she told you. “I meant different in a less melancholic way.”

You stood near the coffee machines, your eyes fixated on the woman behind the counter, frozen in shock. Panic took over you—you had never told Allie about Judith, not directly. But the older employees, or your father, or Christopher’s parents, would sometimes talk about it, and word usually got around. The team was very sensible about this and never really brought it up. Allie had talked to you about it last year. Because she was a mom, too, and only a mother would understand this loss. She said you reminded her a little bit of her daughter. She hugged you that day, but never talked about it again.

Case in point—Allie knew about it all. She knew about the gaping wound in your chest. 

Today, right now, Allie had become the first witness of your betrayal to your daughter. And you did not know what to do about it. 

“It’s a good thing,” Allie added, her smile returning to her lips. She shook her head and pushed a strand of graying hair behind her ear. “Remember what I told you last fall?” 

Yes, you remembered. It was something that had been told to you before, in passing, in less direct words. It happened last year on the last day of the season—much like opening day, the camping ground organized a big party to end the season. Bonfires, music, barbecue, drinks of all kinds. Allie wasn’t even scheduled that day but she came anyway and sat with you by a bonfire while you were making for her your famous ‘fire apple’, which was an apple coated in butter and brown sugar, slow-roasted over flames. Few words had been said, except Allie had told you, “You’re allowed to be happy, you know?” And when that hadn’t gotten her a response, she added, “Or at least, you’re allowed to be something other than sad.” 

You did not think it was true. The others didn’t know. They didn’t know about what had happened when you were seventeen. The baby that you had been too scared to keep. So it made sense that they couldn’t comprehend the entire situation—they simply did not know that you had failed so many times. That life was punishing you for what you had done. For the thoughts you had. The doubts you had—how you had not been sure that you wanted to have a baby with Chris.

That you had wanted to want it. 

There were no doubts, however, about the very real love you had for your unborn daughter. From the moment you knew she existed within you. That love became unconditional. That love became an integral part of you. But maybe none of it mattered, not if you had been secretly wishing that it would take a long time for you to become pregnant.

Was there a word for wishful thinking, but in a negative context? 

Just a manifestation of your deepest, darkest thoughts, perhaps? 

Whatever it had been. It was all your fault. 

“I remember,” you told Allie with a nod. “I’ll try to keep that in mind.” You didn’t really mean that and you could only hope she hadn’t noticed. “Have a nice day, Allie.” 

And she wished you a good day in return, urging you, again, to go home and sleep. 

You grabbed your things and made your way toward the employee parking lot where you immediately saw that Chris’ truck was there already. You sat behind the wheel of your car, pondering over Minho’s breakfast offer. He sounded like he meant it when he invited you, and the truth was you kind of wanted to go. But another, worse truth was also lingering in your chest—you needed time to process all those thoughts crowding your mind. 

You needed time to get used to the bitter, unpleasant taste of shame on your tongue, and no amount of bacon or orange juice would help with that. How much time? It was hard to tell, and maybe you’d never actually get used to it. Maybe you’d just be forced to live with it. The same way the rest had been thrown at you against your will. 

The same way aloneness was forced upon you.

You dreamt.

The dream was fuzzy, neither good nor bad. A nightmare but not really. It was hard to call a dream a nightmare when it was just a copy of your life. It would be like admitting to something terrible, something that should remain secret, unspoken. 

But you dreamt of a city you didn’t know, a metropolis, walking in its crowded streets, everything around you a blur. In this dream, you were making your way to the cemetery where Judith had been buried, only, you were lost. And you couldn’t at all figure out where to go. You asked faceless passersby for directions but they did not see you, or pretended not to. Only, you were not scared. You were unhappy and upset but this was no different than your usual. 

I want to see my baby, you kept telling these strangers. Tell me where to go, please.

But they said nothing at all, and somewhere in your heart, you knew it was because there was nothing to see in the place where your daughter’s name was engraved onto a pretty crescent moon-shaped tombstone. No amount of tears that you would cry into the soil that covered Judith would ever bring her back, nor would it change anything. 

In this dream, you kept walking in the city you did not know, stopping in front of a building, a shop of sorts, with a large window at the front. There was something displayed in the window—a painting, almost as large as the glass that separated you from the canvas. This painting did not exist in reality yet you recognized it as a self-portrait. It showed a young man sitting in front of an easel, painting a lake. His face was mostly hidden behind his dark brown hair. Black but not quite. You stared at the painting for a long time. It seemed like the lake inside of it was almost too lifelike, as though the man was bringing it into existence just so he could drown in it.

And then you woke up.

The house was quiet. Quiet in a way a house was quiet nowadays—so not really. The steady humming of appliances in the kitchen did very little to cover the noises coming from outside. Cars. Their engines, the tires on the pavement. It was a small street and there weren’t too many cars passing by, but when there were, you heard them. 

Your neighbors too. You heard them. On the left of your house was an empty lot but on the right was a couple in their 70s. Lovely people. They had a few children who were no longer children because they had children themselves. Many parties and barbecues occurred over the summers with everyone in this beautiful family reunited. They weren’t too loud and it’s not like the parties went on until impossible hours. Truth be told, you were so busy during the summer that it didn’t bother you. 

It’s just that you heard them. Cassie and John, and the cars, and the children on their bicycles. And while you were aware that hearing anything at all was a privilege and should not be taken for granted, you couldn’t help but wish that you didn’t, sometimes. 

This—all of this—just reminded you that life went on for everyone else except you. You were stuck somewhere in the past or perhaps in many places. In a mall in the next city over. In a hospital room. And yet nowhere at all. Maybe somewhere under the river, buried, forgotten. 

You rolled into your bed, lying on your side, facing the space where Christopher should be. Would have been if you were anything other than… this. You touched it. The mattress, the sheets. You pressed your face onto his pillow, inhaling his scent. It was just strong enough that you knew for sure he had slept here last night, sometime before you came home. At least he had been alone, because your pillow smelled like you and not like Summer. 

It was with your head on your husband’s pillow that you remembered your dream. You rarely dreamt and when you did, the memory of it didn’t usually follow you into the real world. But it did today, images from it lingering behind your eyelids, playing like scenes out of a silent movie. A city. You, just walking. A man and a lake. A shop.

You opened your eyes again, realizing that you were having an idea. A dangerous one. Frankly, a stupid idea. And you really shouldn’t listen to it. You should forget that dream and the reasons it haunted your mind, but instead you pushed yourself up and made your way to the bathroom for a shower, telling yourself that whatever was occurring in your head was more like being colonized by thoughts rather than having them sprout within your mind. You took your time, more than you ought to. You shampooed your hair twice. You conditioned it mindfully. You washed your body carefully, the way you would if you loved it. Pretending that you loved it and that it was not a graveyard. You rinsed everything off. You applied lotion. 

It didn’t take a lot of time before the smell of coffee invaded the first floor—you let the coffee machine brew your cup while you returned upstairs to put some clothes on, scrolling your phone to find an address. You had been to that shop before but it was a few towns over and you just wanted to make sure. 

It was greedy. What you were about to do. It looked like a generous thing—to an outsider and perhaps even to yourself if you were less self-aware, it would appear as an act of kindness. And it was. But it was so many other things too—things too frightening to even think about. 

So instead of thinking about them, you put on some comfortable clothes, poured your coffee in your favorite travel mug—it had a funny frog on it—and left your home only to get in your car and drive away. The whole time, you wondered what it meant. That you were going where you were going and doing what you were about to do. You wondered if it was as significant as it seemed to be to you. 

You wondered why your heart was fighting so damn hard to stay alive—to keep beating, to keep feeling, when you had wished for the exact opposite for so long. All this time you thought you had some semblance of control over it all. You thought you had some anchor somewhere, something keeping you where you needed to be, which was to say, as far away from happiness as you could be. 

But that day, you drove the hour it took to get to a small art supplies store, run by a lady who liked to visit the camping every other year or so. It was so tiny it was difficult to imagine the shop could hold much and yet you knew that any artist could find what they wanted here, and more. It was a sunny day but the shop was cool because the lady installed air conditioning two years back. 

She recognized you from behind the counter, calling you by your first name, which she remembered, and offering you a kind smile. The wall behind her was covered in shelves that were covered in so many things. Canvases. Paintbrushes. Archival grade glue. Wax, pencils, ink. 

You had no control over the smile you offered her in return. 

“What can I do for you today, young lady?” She always called you that but you did not feel young anymore. “Are you planning another art workshop for the camping ground?” 

You always planned an art workshop at the camping ground, most often for kids, but sometimes one for teens and adults, too. But there was rarely much of a crowd on those, as though grown-ups were too intimidated, whereas children felt no pressure to perform. They came, they spread colors on a canvas and they were content with just that. It was more complicated for adults. They thought they had to be good. They thought they had to know how to paint. But nobody in the world needed to be good at what they did for the first time. Or for the hundredth time. The truth that adults seem to forget, intentionally or not, is that you can keep trying and doing things even if you suck at them. 

“Yes, but that’s not why I’m here today,” you replied, scanning the wall behind her and then the other shelves around you, searching for what you were looking for. “I would like to buy your best, fanciest watercolor paints, please. And aquarelle paper and brushes obviously. The whole kit someone of high skill would need to paint.” 

Those words released a tangible taste on your tongue. Something sweet. It reminded you of honey with the way it coated the inside of your mouth and went down your throat as you attempted to swallow it down. It didn’t get stuck in your throat. It just existed within you. 

You had never really been good at any of it. Making friends, talking to people. Being happy. 

Healing. 

But it didn’t mean you should stop trying even though you sucked at it, right?

It was mid-afternoon by the time you made it back home. You would have been expected over at Riverside some time ago but you also knew that nobody would actually care enough to text you, not unless the campground was short-staffed. Or on fire. And you had been extra careful, checking the schedules twice, making sure that nobody had called off. 

You weren’t Chris, so it meant they wouldn’t notice you weren’t there unless somebody needed something specific from you. Or if they couldn’t find Chris, for one reason or another. 

There was something comforting in that. Invisibility. It felt like your own little superpower—to have the ability to disappear from people’s minds. You left no trace where you went. You were polite and kind and understanding, and yet so forgettable. You were not fun or special the way Christopher was. Christopher stayed in people’s minds long after he had parted from them.

You, on the other hand, did not. 

Which is why you drove back home instead of going straight to Riverside Campground as you initially planned. The thought had occurred to you about halfway through the ride—that Hyunjin had probably forgotten you. 

Nothing about you was substantial enough to leave any mark on people. While it could be comforting, it was not an easy thing to accept and it would have been a lie to say you were one hundred percent okay with it, but you were also aware of the situation and knew better than to keep any sort of hope. Like the hope that you existed somewhere in Hyunjin’s mind even today, several hours after your private moment with him.

What a humbling experience it was. Because you couldn’t get him out of your mind. You thought of his paintings and the way he used color or the way light hit some of his pieces, giving life to them through his agile impasto technique, adding depth with the shadows it left behind. And that made you wonder if there could be beauty buried somewhere within you, should you be seen under the right kind of light. That led you to wonder what kind of light would ever be the right one for such a miracle to happen. 

So you went home, unnoticed, leaving the brown paper bag containing the art supplies on the kitchen table and immediately making your way upstairs. You had showered earlier but you needed to be under the water again, perhaps to wash away some of the things lingering within your skull. You shouldn’t even be thinking of him at all. Hyunjin. It was cool that he was related to Naro but it was another thing to remember fondly the way his lips moved when he spoke. The exact shape of them as he said certain words, like alone, or love. Or when he said your name.

You shouldn’t be remembering the words he said to you because he must have said them to be kind after you forced your secret upon him. When he said that your soul had many colors in it, or that he hoped he would see you again for drinks.

You shouldn’t be remembering the way it felt when he hugged you, holding you in his arms for a brief instant. He was strong but he held you delicately, almost like he was afraid to break you. Couldn’t he see that you were beyond that already? Crushed? Destroyed?

Distracted would have been another good word to describe you as you returned to your bedroom, wrapped in a towel, to find some clothes. You asked the smart speaker for information on the weather to help you figure out your outfit and settled for a sundress, as the day would get warmer around the sunset, and cooler overnight. 

You got dressed. The whole time, you wondered if perhaps you ought to use wrapping paper for the art supplies, or maybe just slap a colorful bow on the bag. But then it would seem like a gift and not just an apology for not keeping the right kind of paint at the general store. However, it really was a gift, because no fucking camping ground sold high-end art supplies at their shop. They were lucky if they had a shop at all. Nobody in their right mind should have expected to find such art supplies in the same shop where they bought live worms for fishing trips. Or tarps. Or toys to play in the sand.

It was just a way for you to say thank you. Something had changed within you thanks to him, and because he had forgotten you didn’t mean you shouldn’t be grateful. He had shown you an exclusive sketch by Naro himself, and that alone meant more than he could even realize. 

You were thinking of Hyunjin’s hands as you went down the staircase, remembering it from videos seen online where he was painting, and it was all that you could see—his hand, the paintbrush he held, and the canvas on which he applied colors. He held the brush in a very particular way. His fingers were long and graceful, and his brushstrokes were just as elegant, perfectly balanced. Strong when they needed to be and delicate when it was required. The videos he posted were pretty short but you could watch him for hours, truly. There was something fascinating about the way he painted. As though he painted like one danced, or played the violin. Like it was his soul the paintbrush was spreading onto the canvas, not paint.

But you shouldn’t be thinking about any of that. At least not in the way you were. 

Which is why you almost collapsed from shock when you heard a voice coming from the kitchen.

“What’s that?” 

Chris. 

Your first reflex was to look through the front window to verify that you weren’t hallucinating. You gulped when you saw that his pick-up truck was indeed parked right next to yours. He must have come in when you were in the shower.

After taking a deep breath, you made your way to the kitchen only to find Chris holding the paper bag and inspecting its contents. Your heart dropped before it entered a frenzied race—your pulse quickened so much you could feel it through your ribcage. In fact, you feared he would hear it from where he stood.

You figured it wouldn’t feel much different if he had caught you straight-up cheating. With a cock in your mouth and all.

It was difficult to read Chris, today especially. You had no idea why he was here as it was past his lunch break and he usually avoided you unless he really couldn’t. His shoulders and neck were stiff as though he was nervous and it made you wonder if something had gone wrong back at the campground. 

Then Chris proceeded to grab one of the items from the bag to look at it under the light spilling from the nearest window. A slight frown appeared on his already tense face. “You picked up painting?” He looked at you in a way that hinted he was trying to be nice about it, but after knowing each other for so long—and after many lost games of Pictionary—he knew you did not have the capacity to sketch even the simplest of objects. 

You ran your tongue on your lips. Your mouth was very dry all of a sudden, enough that it felt a little like your trachea was closing in on itself. You cleared your throat to rid yourself of the lump getting stuck in it, which was shame-shaped. 

The mere fact that you wanted to lie to Chris about this excessively minor event said a lot about the entire situation. In this instant, a vast sadness overcame you. As though you were realizing something that had been under your nose all this time. Only, your brain wasn’t letting you access the entirety of the revelation. 

All that you knew was that despite how seemingly inconsequential this was—meeting Hyunjin—it had shifted things within you, things you previously thought were cemented to your bones.

You inhaled deeply, bracing yourself so you could be brave and not lie to your husband. Because there was nothing to lie about. “It’s for Hyunjin. He traveled with art supplies and the airport lost his bag.”

A cloud passed in Christopher’s eyes but it was only temporary. You saw it but you pretended you didn’t—for your own sake. For his, too. It was barely anything anyway. The kind of cloud that covers the sky momentarily one afternoon and you wonder if it’s going to ruin your day or not, and in the end the blue returns and it doesn’t rain. And you realize there was never even a risk of precipitation.

Maybe, deep down, you were hoping Chris would be angry. Upset. Jealous. Because at least that would mean he still cared. That would mean there was still something to be upset about. After all, you were upset when you saw Summer wearing his hoodie. But he stood there in the kitchen with sunlight caressing his handsome face, on which an expression that was neither anger nor jealousy or even disappointment had appeared. 

“He paints?” Chris said, his voice steady and low, but clear as day. 

“He’s the guy who asked for watercolors yesterday, remember? Jeongin wanted to know if we sold any,” you reminded him, causing Chris to nod before he returned the tube of Phthalo Green to the paper bag.

“I remember.” He stretched his neck—Chris seemed less nervous, or maybe more of something else. It was difficult to tell. “That’s really nice of you.”

The worst part of knowing Chris had fallen out of love for you was that he was still your best friend. He was still the guy you grew up with, the one who would take you frog hunting, the person with whom you shared the most memories. But it was as though that best friend was buried underneath layers of dead soil and you no longer had access to him. Or maybe you did, only you didn’t know which tool to use for the excavation. Today, Christopher looked more than ever like an archeological miracle. Something perfectly preserved, but no longer active. Just remains. The skeleton of what once was. 

You couldn’t help it—you shared your enthusiasm with him anyway. It was greedy. Maybe you just wanted to get a reaction out of him. Something. Anything. “You know, Naro?”

Another nod. 

“Well, they’re related,” you explained. “Naro is his great-great-grandfather or something.” 

A strange smile painted itself on Christopher’s lips, this place that was once so, so familiar to you. “Wow,” was all he said, with a sigh he tried to conceal. 

Every second without a burst of anger was like another blade in your heart. 

“What a coincidence,” you chose to say. You did not know what to say, but you knew you had to say more. You knew it had to be you—it always had to be you. Who soothed the awkwardness of conversations. It was your ball and chain, your burden, your duty. “Are things okay at Riverside? I wouldn’t have expected you at this time of the day.” 

Chris went to the fridge to pour himself a glass of pineapple juice. You could tell it was out of nervousness—he needed to be moving because it was easier than standing there and looking you in the eyes. You couldn’t blame him. 

“Everything’s fine with the campground,” he replied, and he sounded a bit more like Chris then. He drank his juice and put the glass in the dishwasher, turning to you. “I came to see you.”

Your heart jumped but you immediately caught it, making sure to give it a good kick as a warning. Christopher was more than your husband—your lives had been intertwined for as long as you could remember. There was a plethora of reasons why he would have wanted to see you and the scenario in which he suddenly loved you again was the least possible of them all. 

Your words got lost somewhere between your brain and your lips, falling back into your throat as that lump that was still stuck there made breathing difficult. You gulped, staring at Chris as he made his way back to you, closer than he had been, studying you. “I worry about you,” he said under his breath. “When’s the last time you had a real meal?” 

This wasn’t new. There were times when you figured Chris possibly felt guilty about not loving you anymore so he overcompensated in other ways. You hated those thoughts. You hated that they lingered in your brain, no matter how hard you tried to push them away. You wouldn’t want him to know you felt that way. It was so ugly, so awful. 

“Did you eat breakfast?” he insisted. 

“I had coffee,” you recalled, realizing you couldn’t answer his first question. 

“You don’t look well. Sit down.” Gently, Chris nudged you towards the nearest chair. “Your dad called me. He’s worried, too.” With this, he proceeded to grab food from the fridge. By the look of it, he was making you a turkey sandwich. 

“Ah, I understand your surprise visit now,” you sighed. Honest to god, you did not mean for it to come out as caustic as it did. You really were an awful wife. When the hell was he going to divorce you, for fuck’s sake?

“I’m not here just because of him,” Christopher went on, carefully spreading spicy mayo on your favorite bread. “I’m here because I know you lied to Jake. I spoke to him. I don’t care that you lied to Jake to take the night shift,” he added, turning to you. “I just wish you didn’t feel like you had to lie to me about something as insignificant as that.” 

You felt so small then, in your sunlit kitchen, sitting with your hands on your knees. You felt small and stupid and ridiculous, even. Of course. 

“There would have been a time you would have just told me,” he kept going, still making that fucking sandwich. “So it made me worry.” 

Your fingernails sank into the skin of your thighs. You looked through the window—from your point of view, all you could see was the sky and the trees in the backyard, which were beautiful. You liked this house. You wished it had been a happy one. 

“I just wanted to be outside,” you admitted, and it was true. 

“I know.” And you knew he knew. He knew that you liked spending nights outside to put your thoughts back in order, or as close to orderly as they could be anyway. “You didn’t have to lie to me, you know?” His voice was soft but firm at the same time. “You never do.”

You buried your face into your hands. Chris was right. You fought the tears as best you could because you didn’t want him to see you like that. Next thing you knew, gentle fingers were wrapping themselves around your wrists, pulling your hands away. He was right there. Chris. He had lowered himself to look you in the eyes, and he didn’t do that often these days. You loved him in that moment, or maybe you loved the memory of what he used to be.

You did your best to memorize it all. The shape of his lips. The color of his eyes when the sun spilled into his irises. His scent. The feeling of his fingers on your skin. You didn’t want to forget any of it, no matter how painful. You never wanted to forget what it had felt like to be loved by him.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, your vision blurring. 

“Don’t.” A frown appeared between his brow, and he thumbed a stray tear away as it rolled down your cheek. “Just tell me if I need to call Dr. Carroll.” 

The therapist you saw from time to time, no more than once a year, mostly to appease your father. You had nothing against him. Dr. Carroll was an excellent psychotherapist, it’s just that it was a waste of time for you. Nothing would ever fix you. Nothing.

You flinched, understanding the implications of what Chris was saying.

“I’m not going to kill myself if that’s what you’re thinking.” 

It was him who recoiled this time—Chris physically pulled back a few inches, letting go of you. He hated it. He couldn’t stand it when you said those words out loud, but after having them haunt your mind for so long, you were familiar with them. Chris seemed to believe life was sacred. You believed that too, once. Maybe. Happiness had never found you easily but maybe you used to think something like that at least when Judith lived inside you. 

Any parent would tell you the same—if they lost their child, they wouldn’t want to keep going. Simple as that. 

But you went on. For some reason. And now you were here in this kitchen, with your husband staring at you like you were a horror movie, and maybe you were. 

“Don’t say that.” Chris stood, returning to his sandwich-making duties. “You know I hate it when you say that.” 

In some ways, you envied him. His sorrow was undeniable but presented itself so differently than yours. It was as though Chris had this urgency to live, and to live fully. Like doing otherwise would be a dishonor to Judith. You felt the complete opposite of that. It’s not that you wanted to die—it’s just that you didn’t know how to exist in a way that didn’t fill you with shame, so you were stuck somewhere between two worlds. 

“I know. I’m sorry,” you mumbled as Chris slid a plate in front of you. You stared at the sandwich like you had never seen a sandwich before, or like you had seen a million. 

“It’s alright.” Chris put his hand on your head and ruffled your hair a little. Gently. Kindly. Almost like he still loved you. “I’ll call your dad to tell him you’re fine.” The smell of his cologne blended with the scent of the outdoors that clung to him. He had been around someone who mowed a lawn and you knew what that meant. “I have maintenance tonight but wanna have dinner at Marlene’s tomorrow? Some of the staff will be going to celebrate the season.” 

He did that sometimes. When he pitied you. Or maybe it was for other, more complicated reasons. It didn’t matter—you fell for it almost every time. 

“Sure, why not?” You did love Marlene’s cooking, and it was always comforting at the campground restaurant. It had been renovated since but it reminded you of your childhood nonetheless—bonus if Chris was present. 

Chris nodded and proceeded to put the ingredients back into the fridge. He took his time but you knew it was just because he wanted to make sure you were actually eating the sandwich. It was good. He had used all the things you liked. You ate it while staring at the sky and sometimes at him.

But he got a text from Jeongin—there was a problem back at the campground, something minor about an electric panel. So Chris left. He wished you a good rest of your day and said, “I’ll see you later,” and he left. And the paper bag with watercolors was still on the table and he hadn’t been angry about it, or jealous, and you wish he had been. 

How greedy of you. 

You ate your sandwich in the empty, quiet house. And then you put the plate in the dishwasher and headed out, driving the short ride to Riverside Campground while listening to the local radio station. It wasn’t particularly good but it was distracting enough that while it played, your brain wasn’t full of stuff. You knew it was effective as soon as you turned the engine off because the noise in your mind came back.

One might have believed you were a religious woman if they could hear your thoughts as you walked through the camping ground, holding this paper bag. They were closer to prayer than to rational thinking.

I hope he won’t be there. I hope Minho also won’t be there. But deeper, quieter—I mean, I’d like to see Hyunjin again. I hope I don’t see Chris around. I hope he cancels dinner tomorrow so I don’t have to pretend to be alright around him. I hope I see him tonight. Maybe I should call Dad and ask him to come for dinner at Marlene’s, too. And then, when the familiar sound of an electric lawn trimmer echoed from one side of the campground, you decided to go the other way, even though it would add twenty minutes to your walk. I don’t really feel like seeing Summer today. Chris will probably be with her. I don’t hate her. I wish I hated her. I wish I was her friend. I wish Chris had been angry at me.

It all came down to the same thing—the thoughts were expressed with different words but they held a similar hidden meaning, which was that you wished you were somebody else. Or rather that you weren’t you. Maybe life would be less complicated if you weren’t… that. If you weren’t a woman selfish enough to secretly want her husband to be jealous because she bought art supplies for a handsome young man while secretly wishing this aforementioned handsome young man somehow remembered her at all. The same way she remembered him. Which is to say, a way that involved her lips and maybe her hair, and the way her body felt against his.

How greedy of you. 

Before you knew it, you were walking on the path leading to the RV shared by Hyunjin and Minho. It was mid-afternoon on a bright sunny day and regardless of your abstract, prayer-like thoughts, you really didn’t imagine anyone would be there. Realistically speaking. You figured you’d leave the bag somewhere near the door, hidden from view, and go back. Maybe you’d go hang out at the shop or at the park office. Most people spent the day doing all sorts of outdoor activities before coming back to rest in the evenings. 

Needless to say, you found yourself a little puzzled when you saw that Minho was standing outside the RV. Though a part of your brain reminded you that people were free to do whatever the hell they wanted to do with their time, you still found it strange. You allowed yourself to observe him as you walked, slowing down your pace. He was taking things from larger containers to put them in a fancy backpack. There was a radio playing at a low volume somewhere inside the RV, the sound of it spilling from the open windows. 

That didn’t stop him from hearing you as you approached. To be fair, this was the quietest part of the entire campsite. “We missed you at breakfast,” was all he said at first.

You were far away enough that you thought you misheard him. Surely you must have misheard him. “Excuse me?” You picked up a pace, finding yourself curious and eager to see where this conversation was going. 

“Buh-reak-fast,” Minho repeated, exaggerating his pronunciation. “I made food for you!” 

He looked up from his task then, studying you from where you stood, which was a few feet away. He put the backpack down, leaning against the RV, adopting a comfortable, nonchalant posture, which invited a conversation. 

You took a step closer, a frown appearing over your eyes as they danced around the perimeter as though they were looking for something. Or someone. And maybe they were. But you didn’t want to be looking for anything so you focused on the man before you, only no words came to your mind and even less on your tongue. 

His inquisitive expression turned a shade darker as his eyes squinted. “You didn’t think I meant it when I gave you the invite, did you?”

You gulped, wondering if you were an open book for just about anybody who came across you. “I mean—” But nothing else came, so you pressed your lips together, your heart beating erratically. 

“Hyunjin was right I guess,” Minho sighed. “He said you wouldn’t come because you probably thought I was just being polite,” he added as an explanation. “He said you guys spent some time together last night.” 

“He told you that?” But really you meant, Hyunjin talked about me? And it was stupid. Naive.

“He tends to be right about people. Annoys the shit out of me,” Minho sighed. “For future reference, when I say something, it’s because I mean it, not because I’m trying to be nice.” 

You nodded, giving yourself a few seconds to evade his gaze and let your cheeks cool off. “Noted.” 

As you came closer, it became evident that Minho was gathering fishing gear. He took a few instants to secure everything and zip up the backpack. 

“I’m sorry,” you said, and you meant it. “I worked all night and then… It’s true that I wasn’t sure if I should come or not.” 

Minho offered you a gentle smile, motioning you to sit down. “Do you want lemonade? A beer?”

“No, but thank you so much though.” You realized you spoke the words before really thinking them over. You were just used to staying away from people, especially strangers. “I just came here to drop this.” You gave the paper bag a little shake. “Is Hyunjin here?” 

“He’s around.” Minho scanned the area, twisting his neck. “He said he was gonna walk by the river. Is that for him?”

“Just a little something.” You could leave it right here. Only you didn’t. “I’ll try to find him. Thank you,” you added with a smile that you almost meant. 

You followed the same path you had last night when you unexpectedly smelled weed—you went over the short fence and landed on the soft grass, the feeling of it familiar underneath the soles of your sandals. Today, the air smelled like the first few days of summer, when the trees and plants were still a little shy but undeniably alive. You remembered feeling like this, once. 

Around you, the river was just as alive too, flowing urgently and sparkling under the bright sun. You held onto the handle of the bag as you walked cautiously, still wondering what the hell you were doing here. And also, what the hell you would tell Hyunjin.

Your train of thought came to a stop abruptly when you heard his voice. It came to you faintly at first, as though it was carried by the wind. But you kept going, reaching the spot where you could see the space where you and Hyunjin had been last night.

He was there today again, sitting on the big boulder, his phone to his ear and a closed sketchbook with a few pencils on his lap. He wore knee-length jean shorts and a loose, white tee. You wondered if Hyunjin’s beauty ever didn’t look effortless. 

The silence lasted long enough that you thought the call had ended, but then he spoke again, in Korean. You didn’t understand what he was saying but you caught the tone of it, the shakiness of his voice. You felt it somewhere within you like an echo, like you had heard it before but on your own lips. 

He said a word then—Dara—and you knew it wasn’t a word. You knew it was a name. He spoke it with pain and with love, and it seemed like you understood the sorrow you had seen in the man’s brown eyes. 

Dara. 

Who was she? A lover, obviously. Only a lover would evoke such deep emotion in someone, and you could hear that in his voice. Was she his girlfriend? Ex-girlfriend? Future girlfriend? 

And then it hit you—it was violent enough that you had to retreat and hold onto the fence behind you, hiding to make sure Hyunjin wouldn’t see you after you let out a faint gasp. 

Resentment. The painting. The two lovers, bound together by pain and tragedy. And all of the other paintings about love that you had seen on Hyunjin’s page, like the one whose background was a deep Alizarin Crimson, only the background spilled over the two subjects who were kissing, turning them red, too. Hyunjin’s perspective on love was soul-stirring, sentimental, painful. Only somebody who went through true heartbreak would feel this way—or be able to recognize it in others. 

The greedy, ugly part of you wished Hyunjin’s heart didn’t belong so ardently to this Dara so that he would fall in love with you someday. Or maybe not fall in love with you—maybe just… whatever it was that people did these days. You weren’t exactly sure what it was. It seemed like everybody was in some sort of situationship with someone they met on an app. The others were waiting for their crush to get out of the situationship they were in. It wasn’t that you wanted Hyunjin to love you—it wasn’t even that you wanted Hyunjin to desire you. Well, it would be nice if he did, but he looked like a young god so there was no chance this would ever happen. 

It’s just that he had seen you.

For the first time in a long, long time, you had let him see parts of you that you hadn’t let anybody else see, and he hadn’t pushed you away. He had told you that your souls had colors in it. He had shown you kindness. And then he held you in his arms, even just for that brief instant.

Once a year, sometimes twice but rarely, you went out of town to some shitty bar just because. You sat there at the counter and at some point into the night, when all the pretty girls had disappeared, a man would buy you a drink. You let him buy you the drink and it never went any further. At most you thanked him, but you rarely even did that. It was just some sort of reminder that maybe, just maybe, someone would want you again. Someday. If you weren’t with Chris anymore. 

Last night, stupidly, had felt like the equivalent of that, but better—like Hyunjin had bought you a drink after seeing all of your wounds and deciding he didn’t mind them all that much maybe.

But he said her name again on the phone. Dara. She must be beautiful. Surely, she was. Surely, his whole entire heart belonged to her, with the way he painted love so raw and powerful, and red, and real. 

You did the only thing that made sense then—you turned around and walked back, cursing yourself for being like this. A traitor to your husband and your dead daughter. You went over the fence and walked the path back to the RV. Minho was still there, scrolling his phone and sitting on a camping chair. 

“He wasn’t there? I mean he’s a good swimmer but I hope he didn’t fall in the river,” he started jokingly but he was serious. 

“He’s on the phone,” you replied, putting the paper bag on the steps near the RV door. “It seemed important, so I’ll just leave this here.” 

“Oh.” Minho frowned as he was thinking things over. “Want me to give him a message then?”

“Not really, it’s pretty straightforward.” You took a deep breath. For courage. The air still smelled like the world should be beautiful. 

“Another time for breakfast then, miss boss?”

“Another time,” you said as you walked away, the sun burning your eyes and your skin. Things were simpler at night. Emotions were simpler to conceal. You hoped Minho didn’t read your face accurately because you weren’t proud of the things going on in your mind. It had been a mistake to come here—to let your heart off its leash. The kind of mistake it was almost impossible to unmake.

The day after, you kept yourself busy with things around the campsite. Phone calls to contractors for last-minute repairs and then overseeing those repairs, sometimes with Chris, sometimes not. You spent a lot of time at the park office doing paperwork because it kept your mind off things while making you feel productive. And the office was air-conditioned, which was a great incentive. You sat at the counter and chatted with Jake and with the clients he welcomed in. You stopped by the shop too, to make sure everything was stocked up. 

You called your father. Well, your father called you first but you were with one of the contractors and couldn’t take the call, so technically you called your father back. He said Chris invited him for dinner tonight but he wasn’t sure he could make it because your aunt had broken her wrist and he had told her he would help her out. It’s fine Dad, you assured him. You were too busy here at Riverside to go visit your aunt after her bad fall and you were glad to know her brother would be there for her. 

It was only well into adulthood that you had wondered what it was like to have a sibling—you had never needed one before because you grew up with Christopher. He was a part of your family and you a part of his. You sort of wished you had a sister now, someone who would be able to advise you on the situation you were in. Which wasn’t even a situation, you reminded yourself. It was more like a string of situation after situation, a whirlpool of events that you found yourself stuck in and you couldn’t get out of. 

The sun was beginning to descend onto the horizon when people started telling the group chat they were headed to Marlene’s. You took care of closing up the park office while Jake headed out, taking your time. Chris’ mom stopped on her way to the shop to say hello—she would take care of the general shop while the staff had dinner. You had the feeling that she had offered just so you didn’t have an excuse not to go. And you knew that people did that with good intentions so you didn’t resent them for it, not really. You just wished they let you decide what was good for you and what wasn’t. 

Still, you made your way to the campsite restaurant. It was maybe your favorite time of the day, when the sun was low enough that its light shone a pretty shade of amber, filtering through tree branches, illuminating the world with warm incandescence. It was the sort of lighting you always looked for when visiting a museum and viewing paintings—you liked to see it recreated on canvases. Renoir had been particularly good at this, although today his paintings carried a commercial reputation, often disdained by art lovers over the world. You could understand that his style—saccharine and bright and saturated—was not for everybody, but you never understood those who claimed he was not a talented painter. In any case. He painted light just the way you liked to see it. 

Sometimes you liked to imagine how people would paint the moments you were in. Like right now. This sunset, this path you were walking on, the people around you. Tired parents and tired children, exerted after a day spent at the pool or the waterpark. Young couples coming back from a hike, older couples taking a leisurely walk after dinner before heading to their RV for an early night in. You had grown up in this place and you had seen more people in it than you could ever remember, but all of them were beautiful in their own way, and all of them, you felt like, would be the perfect subjects for a Renoir-like painting. With the remnants of sunlight caressing their hair or their cheekbones or their lips.

A lot of people were already at the restaurant when you got in. A few campsite patrons, of course, but most of them were done with dinner at this hour, leaving enough space for the staff. You ignored the four tables occupied by them at first, crossing the dining room to say hi to the kitchen staff, asking if they would join you, too. You got a few yeses and a few noes, but Marlene thanked you sincerely for the offer, mentioning that Chris had offered the same. Of course he had. Chris would never, ever leave anybody behind. 

You went to sit with the others, choosing the empty seat next to Allie’s. You were surprised to see her as she rarely participated in such events. She asked about your day as you got settled in, pretending not to notice that Chris was at the other side of the four tables brought together, sitting with Summer, her father, as well as Jake and Jaime, who he got along with. 

“Hey boss,” Jeongin said with his usual brightness. 

“Hey,” you responded, doing your best to make your smile believable, but by now you were pretty sure you were rather good at it. 

“I wanted to say thank you for the other night.” His cheeks turned pink, which you found adorable. “It was fun.”

“I’m glad to hear it. Though, if you don’t ask Lucy out by the end of this summer, I’ll run out of patience.” 

The pink on the young man’s cheeks became a little darker and he hid behind his glass of soda for a few seconds, taking a large sip from it. “I—I—” he stammered, searching for his words. 

Your smile became genuine then. It reminded you of the first few weeks with Chris when you still couldn’t believe he had been in love with you for all these years and yet at the same time you couldn’t believe you hadn’t seen it before, because it was so obvious.

“I’m just joking of course,” you added softly. “But she’s a nice girl, isn’t she?”

“She is, boss.” Jeongin nodded. He smiled, looking at the table while he ran his thumb over a scratch on the wooden surface. “I just figured, you know. It might be weird with her dad and stuff.” 

Christopher had told you the same thing once. You couldn’t help but feel immense empathy for Jeongin—you squeezed his hand in yours, inviting him to look you in the eyes. You had known him for a while now and you did believe to have a good relationship with him. He was among your most trusted employees, and you knew he looked up to Chris a lot. 

“You’re a good man,” you told him, keeping your voice low so as not to be heard by anyone other than Allie and Jeongin. “If my daughter were to date someone like you, I would be happy.” 

Jeongin froze in his seat as the weight of your words reached him. Allie put a comforting hand on your shoulder, perhaps sensing that you needed it. Jeongin knew. About you. About Chris. About the rift between you two. Maybe he didn’t know the extent of it but he knew enough to understand how difficult it had been for you to say the words my daughter out loud and you could see the gratitude in his eyes. 

“Thank you, boss,” he said under his breath. “Let me get you a drink—” 

“No, no it’s fine.” You shook your head. “Dinner’s on me anyway. On us,” you added, a little louder, looking at Chris. “Right?” 

“Of course,” Chris replied without hesitation. “I’m starving, shall we order?”

A few people got up to the counter to give their orders while a few others stayed back as they figured out what they wanted. Jeongin kept looking over his shoulder, glancing at you, almost like he was worried.

“That was a kind thing for you to say,” Allie told you. “He likes you guys a lot.”

“We like him too. I meant what I said.”

Allie sighed faintly, her hand returning to your shoulder for a quick squeeze. “You seem a little better than the other morning,” she pointed out. 

You remembered the river and the common loons and the sunrise, and your heart as it was being reignited. 

“Didn’t you say I looked less melancholic the other morning?” you questioned, using Allie’s exact words.

“Yes. But you also looked like you felt bad about it,” she explained. Allie was very direct—something she said had come after losing her husband, as she had been a very reserved and closed-off person who kept her opinions to herself before. “Would you like to come by for coffee sometime? We could have a chat, just you and I. Away from here.”

It sounded like a good idea in theory. You knew that you needed it. You knew that you couldn’t possibly make sense of all these thoughts spinning in your mind on your own. You’d need someone else, with an outsider’s perspective, to guide you through them. 

You also knew, essentially, what she would tell you. What anybody would tell you. Because you knew what you would tell a friend of yours in that situation.

Some things you just weren’t ready to hear.

You were picking at a dinner you weren’t particularly hungry for, listening to the lively conversations around you and letting them make you feel alive when you heard the bell of the restaurant door ringing. At first, you didn’t even look up—you only did so when you noticed that Christopher’s voice quieted down. So naturally, you glanced at him to see if something was wrong, maybe expecting him to be looking deep into Summer’s eyes with a loving gaze. But he was looking in the direction of the door, where two men stood, speaking in low voices in a foreign language. 

Tonight, Hyunjin’s hair was in a low bun that rested on the nape of his neck. He wore loose, comfortable clothes—a T-shirt and shorts. Minho wore a similar outfit. The two of them had a rugged look to them that you hadn’t necessarily seen before, hinting that they had spent the better part of the day outside. 

Your heart did a stupid little jump in your chest as you watched them scan the room, looking for the best seats. When Hyunjin finally turned to you and caught sight of you, his expression changed. It softened and yet became unreadable, the way a lake would freeze in the winter months, its surface becoming smooth and solid, yet you knew there was much going on underneath.

Minho waved at you and it took you a few seconds to wave back. Hyunjin offered you a smile that you weren’t sure what it meant but you also smiled back, clearing your throat as they walked away, invited to order their food by a Marlene who was eager to give good service to her clients. And to go home for the night as soon as possible. 

“You know these gentlemen?” Allie asked, trying to sound as innocent as she could and failing miserably. “I don’t think I’ve seen them before this year, but one of them came by the shop to buy worms this morning.” 

So they did go fishing after all. 

You cleared your throat again, unable to resist a glance at the other side of the table where Chris was as invested in his conversation as he had been earlier, now sitting with Jeongin and Summer and discussing a TV series they all particularly enjoyed. He did glance back at you, just half a second. Just through the corner of his eye—it was so imperceptible that you might have made it up, just like you wanted him to be jealous yesterday.

You took all the time in the world to bite into your pizza and carefully chew it. 

“I mean they’re clients,” you replied, taking a large sip of soda to chase it down.

“As are hundreds of people on this campground and not all of them say hello to you,” Allie pointed out. “They’re quite handsome, aren’t they?”

You choked on your soda—badly enough that it prompted Hyunjin, who was ordering his food, to look in your direction. You pretended you didn’t see him. 

“We had a chat, yes,” you told Allie. You knew better than to lie to her. And why would you lie? It’s not like there was anything to lie about anyway. “One of them is related to my favorite painter. What a coincidence, right?”

“It’s so cute how you love art. You should go back to Paris,” Allie said with a firm nod. It was one of the first things you ever told her when you met Allie. How you had loved visiting all of the museums in Paris when you traveled there for your honeymoon. Chris had preferred the vineyards in the south of France, but it had been a lovely time. Maybe the happiest you had ever been.

“This place isn’t gonna run itself,” you pointed out. “And I’m not going to put it all on Christopher’s shoulders,” you added when you saw that Allie was about to talk back.

She made a face that showed how she understood what you meant and returned to her food. You ate too, silently, only speaking when directly spoken to, glancing at the other side of the dining room where Hyunjin and Minho were having dinner. You thought that maybe once or twice, you caught them glancing back but it had to be a coincidence—or rather, your group were the only other people in the diner by now and some were quite loud at times, and, of course, it would cause someone to look this way. Right? 

It lasted a while—no more than fifteen minutes. You sat there, wondering whether you should get up and go talk to them. To Minho, but to Hyunjin, too. Wondering what you would say to him anyway. Wondering if you were upset that he hadn’t come talk to you after you bought him painting supplies. But you couldn’t possibly be upset about this, could you? What kind of person would that make you? 

Jeongin left first—he was off duty tonight and you knew he needed the rest. Allie left right after him since she’d need to be up early to open the shop tomorrow morning. It allowed you to also gather your things and walk away—leaving in the middle, neither the first nor the last, would ensure some sort of camouflage. It would leave you unnoticed. It would not raise questions. 

So you gathered your things and brought your plates back into the kitchen yourself to rinse them yourself but Marlene basically threw you out, claiming you were wearing the wrong attire to be on this side of the counter, but really you knew she just wanted you to take it easy. You still took a few instants to inquire about her walk-in inventory, making sure she wasn’t going to run out of anything—it seemed like the campground was especially full this week. 

The dining room was almost empty when you went back. Chris, Summer, and Jake were the only three people left.

Hyunjin and Minho were gone, their table empty and clean. 

“Everyone wanted me to say bye and goodnight,” Chris told you. “We’re getting beers with the kitchen staff,” he added, waving his beer bottle at you. You knew he would only drink one because Chris was on duty for the night. 

“I’ll head home, Dad said he’d call me to update me about Martha.” 

“I hope your aunt’s gonna be alright,” Summer blurted out. She rarely spoke to you these days and you knew why. You understood why. She wanted to fuck your husband and she was actually mature and kind enough to feel bad about it. “She’s so sweet.” 

“She is sweet but she’s also stubborn as fuck, so she’ll be just fine,” you retorted, finding it surprisingly easy to act like a human being around her. Maybe it was out of despair. “You guys have a nice night—”

You walked out of the diner as you spoke and surprise muted the last syllable of your sentence. The door fell closed behind you, the familiar bell ringing with it as you found yourself outside again. The sun had disappeared behind the horizon but its light lingered as it did in the summer, unrelenting and unrelentingly beautiful. The highest point of the sky had turned a dull gray, but everything below was a lovely gradient of lavender, blue, and golden shades. 

In any case.

Hyunjin was waiting for you, leaning against the trunk of a larch tree. 

The reason you knew he was waiting for you is because he straightened up as soon as you exited Marlene’s diner, putting his phone in the pocket of his shorts. Something inside you made you glance around and look for Minho, but he was nowhere to be seen. 

“Hey,” Hyunjin started. A smile as enigmatic as the sunset sky hung on his graceful lips. “Are you going somewhere? I mean—do you have like a minute or two for me?” 

You realized you had frozen in place when you saw him walk towards you and it prompted you to move, too. As though you wanted to put some distance between you and the diner. Or rather, the people in it. 

“Y—Yeah, no, uh, no, I’m not really going anywhere,” you managed, blinking slowly as you stopped in your tracks once you stood in front of Hyunjin. It was as though you had forgotten how tall he was and how broad his shoulders were. Like he wasn’t quite the same person from a distance as opposed to just a few inches away from you.

“Cool, thanks.” His teeth sank into his bottom lip for just a few seconds as he averted his gaze, quickly taking a posture that hinted he was looking for a place to sit down. 

He located a bench on the other side of the larch tree, which faced the river. It was a quiet little spot and you often saw people sitting on this bench, eating ice cream cones and chatting while looking at the water in front of them. He invited you to join him there with one motion of his long arm and you followed him with a glance for the diner over your shoulder. 

“Did you have a nice dinner?” you asked, impatient to break the ice. Your heart was beating fast in your chest, your pulse shallow, rendering your breath a little short. “Seems like you guys spent the day outside.” 

Hyunjin nodded, his smile returning to his lips. “Min wanted to go fishing and he made me go with him.”

“You mean he physically dragged you to the boat and threw you on it?” you asked playfully, tilting your head to the side. 

“Exactly like that. It was more like a kidnapping,” Hyunjin added in the same humorous tone. There was a pause then, maybe to allow both of you to get used to one another and to the quietness of the world. “Dinner was excellent, yes,” he said finally. “You too?”

“I wasn’t too hungry,” you admitted. “But I never didn’t enjoy a meal at Marlene’s.” 

“I bet I’ll say the same by the end of the summer.” Hyunjin sat more comfortably on the bench, laying his arm on the backrest. 

You gave him a nod and a non-committal hum as a response, unsure where to go from there. You enjoyed the momentary silence between you two, noticing the little details about him. The way he was fidgeting with the zipper of his backpack, the gracefulness of his fingers. The honey color of his skin, now sunkissed after a day outside. The wind in the stray strands of his hair. You had never seen anyone like Hyunjin before, and it made you wonder if you would ever see someone like him after.

“How was fishing?” you inquired, but it turned out that Hyunjin spoke at the exact same time as you.

“I wanted to say thank you,” he said simultaneously. “Oh,” he added in the awkwardness of the moment.

“Oh,” you added also, your cheeks turning warm despite the ambient air turning cool. 

Another silence fell upon the two of you. You sat there on the bench, facing the river with your two hands on your knees and your heart in your throat. In that moment, you remembered the time you got so sick Chris had to drive you to urgent care. It was a few years back. It was the first winter after losing Judith. You hadn’t known at first that you were ill. You were fatigued, you had headaches—nothing out of the ordinary for you. It escalated a little and you needed medical care before you realized it. But you really hadn’t known. 

It wasn’t about being in denial. You weren’t in denial that something was happening to you right now. That you felt some kind of way about the man sitting next to you on this bench. You just couldn’t pinpoint what it was—you had known nothing but grief and sorrow for so long that you didn’t think you could recognize anything that wasn’t it. You didn’t think there was space in your heart for anything that wasn’t it. 

“Uh…” Hyunjin started again, cautious, carefully unzipping the front pocket of his backpack. “Yeah, so. I’ll just say it. I wanted to say thank you for what you did for me.”

That caught you off guard. “What I did for you?” 

“You brought me paint tubes and paper and brushes and all that stuff,” he said, speaking very slowly as though you were suffering from amnesia and he needed to remind you of these things. “You bought these things for me. They were all brand new.” 

“Oh, it’s nothing.”

“It’s nothing?” He cocked his head to the side.

“Well you asked for them at the shop didn’t you?” you retorted. “You’re a painter. A really good one at that. Obviously you need paint.” 

Hyunjin stared at you for a few seconds, his gaze lingering in unusual places like your hair or the straps of your sundress, or the diner behind you. 

“But I know they don’t sell stuff like that in Stormhaven because we looked for it before we asked for it here at the shop,” Hyunjin explained, still in this slow, very teacher-like tone. “So you went somewhere else.”

“Yes,” you replied in the same voice, wondering if he took you for an idiot and if you should be offended, but something in his eyes told you that you shouldn’t. “I know a great art store a couple of towns over and—”

He interrupted you. “How long did it take you to get there?” 

“What?” What kind of conversation was that even?

“How long did you drive to get to that art supplies shop? Because I checked online for art stores in the immediate area and there aren’t any,” Hyunjin insisted, waving his phone to emphasize his point.

You blinked slowly. It seemed like so many steps on his part just for a few tubes of paint. At least that’s what your brain was telling you, reminding you that nothing meant anything, that life was just a series of events that were or weren’t interconnected.

“I don’t know,” you managed with a shrug. “An hour maybe.”

“An hour and then another hour to come back,” Hyunjin repeated, more like a statement than a question. “You did all of that just for me, a stranger. So why are you saying it’s nothing? It’s really not nothing to me.” 

He seemed a little upset. Like you had just dismissed him in some way.

You blinked again and it was like you were seeing him for the first time. Like you were seeing everything else for the first time, too.

Because you had been just about to lie to him. Which is what you would have done normally. You would have said that you had an appointment in that area and that you were going anyway. You would have said that you were meeting a friend who lived over there for coffee and had gone shopping with her and thought, Well, why not? Why shouldn’t I buy a few supplies? as you walked past them. It was like second nature to you—you didn’t even think about it. It just happened the same way breathing did.

As though you didn’t want people to know you had gone out of your way for them. Not Hyunjin, but not Chris either, not even your father. It had been the same with your mom too, and so many others. What an awful thing. As though you were ashamed of how much you loved other people, how deeply you cared about them.

Because your lies weren’t inherently evil didn’t make you any less of a liar. And you hated liars. You hated lies and deception and anything that wasn’t the truth. What did that mean about yourself?

How many other parts of yourself had you concealed? How much of your soul was buried deep enough that nobody—not even yourself—would ever find it? 

Hyunjin relaxed all of a sudden—his shoulders turned limp. “Sorry,” he said under his breath. “I didn’t mean to sound angry.” 

You must have had a strange expression on your face for his entire demeanor to switch like that. You gulped. 

“You were right to be,” you admitted, suddenly feeling very small and very stupid. You were realizing something important about yourself and it seemed like you ought to be alone during this moment. “You’re not nothing.” You paused then, just to take a deep breath. To give yourself a little courage. “I wanted you to have what you needed so that you could paint. I like your work, or what I’ve seen of it,” you explained slowly, your gaze fixated on the slow-moving water before you. “And I had a good time the other night. When we sat by the river.” 

“I had a good time too.” Finally, after playing with it for minutes, Hyunjin unzipped the front pocket of his backpack. “It’s just. Kindness isn’t nothing.” He was speaking at a low volume—low enough that you could barely hear him. But you could hear him, and you listened. “There are many people who make me feel like I’m not worth it, but you drove all this way to get me paint and it means a lot to me. So I made a little something for you.”

With that, Hyunjin pulled something out of his backpack. You recognized it immediately as the aquarelle paper pad you bought for him—at that sight, your heart picked up a pace again. He opened the notepad, flipping through the first few pages on which you caught a glance of some sketches. There wasn’t much color on them, but it was quite the opposite for the page he stopped at.

Carefully, he tore that page off the pad and handed it to you. “There. Just a little something to say thank you.” 

You took the sheet from him, your gaze going from his face to his painting and back to him as though you couldn’t believe it. And yet you were now holding a painting that Hyunjin had made. The paper felt heavier than it should have in your hand. You studied it, trying to take in the sight of it all at once, but you couldn’t stop noticing the tiniest details. The night sky and its lifelike colors. It wasn’t just any night sky—it was yours. It was the one over your head night after night. With the stars and a few hazy clouds adding some purple to the inky dark blue. The moon could be seen behind the clouds, hiding and yet visible. Beautiful nonetheless.

The painting depicted a river also but not just any river—this river, the river you saw and heard and smelled every day. You recognized it. You recognized the riverbank and the intricate curves of it, you recognized exactly where this was. But there was so much to see. The delicate reflections of the light spilling from the windows of the cabins in the distance, on the other side of the water. The stars and how bright they shone. The tall grass and the reeds just shadows in the night but recognizable anyway. 

The evergreens. One in the foreground, one you couldn’t see entirely. Just some branches. The rest could be imagined. You knew because you knew which tree it was. It was a black spruce and whip-poor-wills liked to rest on its lower branches to sing their nocturnal song. The rest of the forest was more of a blur in the background as it was in real life—just like the mountains on the other side of the river.

To Hyunjin, it was just a painting depicting a corner where he had spent some time one evening, but to you, it meant so much more. This was the exact spot where you came across him the other night and had that long conversation with him. It was the first time you admitted to someone—of your own volition, not because they had heard something from somebody else—about the darkness that resided within you. The sorrow that lingered. That night was the first time you had allowed someone to really see you since you lost Judith. 

And you had never really expected it to happen. As in, you never thought you’d actually let someone see you in a vulnerable state again, but you just assumed that if you did, they wouldn’t stay around for long. It was just too heavy. You were just too heavy, like a fire sucking the air out of a room, suffocating everybody inside.

And yet Hyunjin was here tonight with gentleness in his eyes and paint on aquarelle paper. 

“Oh wow,” you managed after a while, your throat tight. You stared up at him. “Hyunjin, it’s… it’s so nice of you, that’s…” For some reason, at that moment you remembered his portfolio and his Insta page and realized you were holding an artwork of great value in your hands. “It’s beautiful. It looks just like it, too. That place.” 

“I painted it from memory,” he explained. “It was my view that night, while we talked.” He hesitated, his eyes going from the sheet in your hand to the notepad he held. “I painted another one too.” 

Intrigued, you watched as he opened the pad once again, going through pages until he found what he was looking for. His cheeks had turned the color of summer cherries when he handed it to you. 

Your entire body, it seemed, caught on fire when you grabbed it. 

To put it simply, Hyunjin had painted you. 

It was another painting depicting a scene from that other night, with the same dark blue and purple sky, but in this one, the moon was out, and its light was illuminating the woman sitting on the grass. She sat elegantly, in a way you did not think you had sat, with her body slightly tilting at the back, resting on her two hands, her face turned towards the sky as though she was bathing in the moonlight. A couple of mini liquor bottles rested next to her, as well as a walkie-talkie. 

It was you, except it couldn’t be you, because you weren’t this beautiful. Your hair floated in the night like a siren’s would in the sea, or something like it, the light of the moon reflecting on it in Hyunjin’s expert brush strokes. You knew this must have been difficult to blend in watercolors and yet it looked seamless. Likelike. 

No, not lifelike. Enhanced. Because you did not look like this. The curves of your body did not look pleasant like that, or appealing. Your posture was not the one of a demigoddess, and your lips did not have the color of a ripe peach. It was not like looking into a mirror, it felt more like staring at a stranger. The expression on your face was blurry due to the hazy aspects of watercolor but it was enough to see that it was complex. Deep. As though your sadness had beauty in it. 

You sat there, staring at both pieces of art, speechless. 

“I wanted to remember that night. And you,” you heard Hyunjin say. And he was very much there, right there, yet his voice came from another world. 

There were so many words crowding your throat and shoving each other, racing to be the first to spill from your lips, that it took you several more seconds before you were able to speak at all. 

“I don’t know what to say,” you admitted under your breath, your voice weak and quivering. 

“You don’t need to say anything,” Hyunjin pointed out, taking the notepad back from you. He didn’t seem upset. 

“No, it’s just—” You began, stopping mid-sentence with a frown, your gaze following movement on the other side of the river. A bird. It was narrow here, and you recognized a member of the thrush family. Your mother would have known which, but you didn’t. “You painted me so pretty. And—” You paused again, searching for the bird in the dense forest but the day was darkening fast. “It’s just that. That night—it—it meant a lot for me. I never really talk about Judith. I don’t want people to know about her. But I wanted you to know about her. Does that make sense?”

Hyunjin, who was putting his notepad back into his bag, came to a stop slowly, staring at you. Really staring at you. Not really like he was seeing you for the first time, rather like he was visiting a museum for the second time to see an exhibit there and understand it better. 

“It makes perfect sense,” he replied softly. “I understand because I felt the same.”

“Like you wanted me to know about that girl?” 

He nodded, zipping his backpack and leaving it on the ground, clearing his throat. “Dara. Yeah.” 

Dara. So you were right about that name, about her. About the woman you thought was in his art, painted crimson and vermillion. 

But you were a woman in one of his paintings too, now. And you did not know what to do about this. 

“You’re so nice, and kind, and—” You paused, sighing. “I don’t understand how this could have happened to you.” And truly, you did not. She didn’t want to love me back, he had said. What kind of person could that woman be to refuse someone like him?

But if you were to be fully honest with yourself—almost in an ugly, gruesome way. Weren’t you building a cage around your own heart ever since you laid eyes on Hyunjin? Not even willing to admit to yourself that he was handsome? That his scent, blended with the smell of the outdoors, made prickles appear on your skin? That his sunkissed skin was inviting? That you wanted to run your fingers through his silky hair? Weren’t you pretending that you hadn’t felt anything when he helped you over the fence, just holding your arm, or even worse, when he hugged you? When he pressed you against his chest, embracing you? Weren’t you pretending that you didn’t feel it between your legs when his warm breath tickled your neck? Weren’t you pretending that it didn’t overwhelm you that he painted for you?

That he painted you? That he painted the texture of your skin, the curves of your body, and the way your shirt hugged your breasts?

“Things just happen, we’re not really meant to understand them I think,” Hyunjin wisely pointed out. “It’s also in our nature to try and understand them, though.”

“You’re right,” you conceded. “Trying to find meaning in them.” 

Hyunjin nodded faintly. You both allowed silence to creep in between you two as the night covered the sky lazily. Frogs were beginning their night song here and there, some close, some farther. The sky was neither blue nor dark—the lavender gray had taken over it for now, before nightfall would spill over the world. You used the last remnants of light to look at the painting Hyunjin gifted you once again. 

“This means a lot to me,” you murmured. “It’s just so…”

“I’m glad you like it,” Hyunjin responded, looking around, perhaps searching for the frog that was singing nearby. 

The other painting was stuck in your mind the way one was blinded by the sun if they looked at it for too long. No matter where you looked—even if you closed your eyes, it was still there, engraved in your retina.

This—all of this—was too much. The feelings you didn’t want in your chest. The images haunting your eyes and your mind and your heart and your cunt, even. And somehow it wasn’t enough, as though your dormant heart demanded more even. 

“You didn’t sign it,” you pointed out, realizing Hyunjin’s signature didn’t appear on the other side of the page either. 

Hyunjin gave you an appraising look and you waited while he was coming up with an answer. You had seen his portfolio and his social media profiles. You had seen his art. He used to sign each of his paintings with his initials—a simple but efficient HHJ in the bottom right corner of the canvas. And then at one point, he just stopped. It was around the time when he started incorporating more reds into his art.

“I could make an exception for you,” he said finally, retrieving a pen from his backpack. It was attached to what might have been a journal, or maybe it was a simple notebook. 

“You don’t have to,” you assured. But he had already taken the sheet from you and was using the back of the notebook as a temporary table on which he lay his painting to apply his signature on the bottom right corner.

You looked for red in the painting. It was in the purple of the sky and in the warmth of the light coming from the cabins across the river. You remembered the other painting and the colors he had used to paint you. Your skin. Your lips. 

He signed Hyunjin, just that, and gave it back to you. 

“I’ll cherish this all my life,” you said, and you knew it was true. Hell, it felt wrong to hold it just like that. You wanted to go home right now and store it carefully, somewhere safe.

But you also wanted to stay right here. 

“Did you have dessert?” Hyunjin blurted out all of a sudden. 

The question surprised you—you turned to him as though he had spoken to you in a foreign language. 

“Did you have dessert with your dinner?” he asked, motioning at the diner behind you. The lights had been turned on inside, illuminating his sunkissed face, highlighting the details of it. The curves of his lips and those of his nose. The softness in his eyes. “Could I buy you an ice cream?” 

For a second, then two, three, four, and five, you stared at him and he stared at you. It was not so much that you were reading him—perhaps you were trying to see your own reflection in his irises, as though you would understand his viewpoint. His eyes were the color of earth. Of rich soil on a rainy day. His eyes were the color of the bark of an oak tree dampened by dew on a late spring morning. 

If you weren’t greedy, maybe, you’d go home and forget all about tonight.

“No, you can’t buy me an ice cream,” you replied, suppressing a mischievous smile. 

Taken aback, Hyunjin sat straight on the bench. “Oh—it’s fine, I—”

“Friends don’t pay for ice cream here,” you interrupted him. “It’s always free. I’ll just… maybe I’ll go back to my car, I don’t want to damage this—” you added, showing him the precious painting you were still holding. 

“I’ll take care of it.” Hyunjin was putting the notebook and pen back into his bag. He slipped the painting between two pages of his notepad, freeing you of it. “I’ll give it back after we eat.” 

“You better,” you teased, standing up, followed by Hyunjin. “Bet that thing will be worth thousands in a few years.” 

“I doubt that,” Hyunjin responded, hesitant, walking by your side and hiding behind his hair but you could see that he was blushing. “It’s just a tiny thing that I painted in the middle of a lake when Minho wasn’t having me rowing the boat.” 

You chuckled, shaking your head. “Didn’t Monet buy a whole boat so he could go on the Seine and paint from the water? Your argument is therefore invalid.” 

Hyunjin found absolutely nothing to say—he stared at you, dumbfounded, speechless. 

“I just find it interesting that you’d do this—paint this, I mean, and give it to me—and act like it’s nothing,” you said with a shrug. “When not ten minutes ago, it was you who were scolding me for exactly the same thing? How did you word it already?” You pretended to think about it, only, you would never forget his words. “Kindness isn’t nothing.”

Hyunjin sighed and rolled his eyes as though he was exasperated, but his smile said otherwise. He raised his hands like one would raise a white flag. “You’re right. You’re right. You got me there.” 

“I was just joking anyway,” you reassured him. “I don’t care what it’s going to be worth in ten or twenty years. I won’t sell it.” 

You had made it to the small ice cream shop located right next to Marlene’s diner. The owner, who was a good friend of your father’s, was putting the chairs away for the night. You liked Frankie—he was like an uncle to you. He had been there for your father when your mom had passed. He had tried to be there for you when you had lost Judith, but you had not let him. You had not let anybody help you then, not even Chris. 

“Frankie, did you turn off the machines?” you asked Frankie, grabbing a couple of the colorful folding chairs and bringing them to the tiny shed where he kept them. 

“You know I did not, Squishy.” He always called you like that. “And you know that even if I had, I’d turn them back on for you.” 

You turned to Hyunjin, who had put his backpack on the steps leading to the ice cream parlor and was helping out with the chairs, without being asked, as though it was the most natural thing in the world. 

Kindness isn’t nothing. 

“Frankie has been spoiling me since my early days,” you explained. 

“Well, it was hard not to,” Frankie confessed, running a hand in his gray hair. It was all gray now—you could have sworn that just last summer, there was still brown in there. He seemed more tired than usual. “Those two kids kept coming to beg for ice cream. Sometimes, kids are so cute, you know? You just can’t say no.” 

You and Chris. Chris and you. You used to be inseparable—all of your summers and weekends spent together, exploring the camping ground, always discovering more of its secrets. And regularly bargaining your way to an ice cream cone. 

“Sounds like sometimes you just can’t say no even when they’re all grown up,” Hyunjin added with a wink for Frankie. “Give me those,” he added for you, taking the two folded chairs you had just picked up. “I got this, Mr. Frankie, if you don’t mind.” 

“Oh, thank you, son. That’s very kind.” He turned to you. “That’s a nice guy right there.”  

The man gave Hyunjin a gentle squeeze on his shoulder and returned behind the counter of his ice cream parlor, disappearing momentarily while he was washing his hands. Frankie and his wife had struggled for a long time to have a child—they had given up when their daughter, Lucy, had decided to show up. Their miracle, they called her. They were a little older than other parents when they had her but they were amazing parents anyway. Maybe better, wiser parents too. Lucy was the girl that Jeongin was so desperately crushing on, too. It was a lovely family. 

“It’s fine I said,” Hyunjin insisted when you grabbed another chair. “I’ll do it, okay?”

You stood in front of him—it was dark now, or at least the lights from the ice cream shop made the rest of the world seem like the night—and you blinked, just staring at him. 

“I can do it though. I help Frankie or other people around the campground often,” you replied. 

“Are you going to fight me every time I’m being nice to you?” Hyunjin grabbed the remaining four chairs and brought them over to the shed, carefully piling them over one another. “I know you can do it. You’re wearing a nice dress, I didn’t want you to get dirt on it.” 

You looked down, smoothing the fabric of your humble off-white, yellowish sundress, pulling it down as though you could cover your knees with it, suddenly overly aware of your body inside of it and the way some of its curves might make it look. It was a little tight around the cleavage area too. The floral pattern of it—little roses, printed in a rustic style—had looked cute when you bought it. It seemed so stupid now.

“Oh.” You cleared your throat. “Of course. Thanks.” 

You went to fetch the padlock from Frankie and locked the shed closed. The old man offered both of you to come in and wash up—it was significantly cooler inside too, which was nice, despite how cramped the ice cream parlor was. In the end, you ordered your usual, which intrigued Hyunjin so much that he ordered the same thing. 

You liked Frankie’s frozen yogurt but anybody in their right mind knew that ice cream was obviously superior—and since you owned this damn camping ground, why should you settle? You had come up with the ultimate order, which was: in a cup, half a frozen yogurt of a fruity flavor of your desire. Tonight, it was strawberry. Then, the other half was vanilla ice cream—and Frankie made his soft-serve with real cream and real vanilla, so it was insanely good. Topped with fresh fruit—in this case, local strawberries and raspberries because Frankie had some—and when you wanted the experience to be as good or better than sex, the cup was sprinkled with just a little bit of salted pistachios. 

A few minutes later, Hyunjin and you were walking away, back in the direction where you had come from, holding your ice creams in your hands after saying goodbye to Frankie.

“Oh my god—” Hyunjin quickly put a second, then a third spoonful of your delicious creation in his already rather full mouth. “Tish ish sho foking ghood!” 

“I keep telling people that they should not disregard frozen yogurt but should also not settle for it, you know? People think compromises are a bad thing, but they can be so enlightening.” 

To be fair, Frankie’s products were excessively tasty, which largely helped. Still, there was something endearing in watching Hyunjin eat his ice cream, complimenting each aspect of it like it was the first time he had eaten it at all. 

“You’re a genius. You could be a millionaire if you sold this in tubs,” Hyunjin retorted. His face, illuminated again now that you two were walking in the light spilling from Marlene’s diner, was serious. 

You shook your head, giggling. “You’re adorable—” You cut your sentence short, although you didn’t even know what else there was to say. This was all getting too familiar. Was it weird that you said that? Maybe. Definitely. Warmth spread at the nape of your neck and you quickly shoved a spoonful of ice cream in your mouth to cool off.

“No, it’s just, it’s really good,” he insisted, waving the frozen yogurt/ice cream cup at you, walking again, and you followed him. 

The bench was empty and the two of you returned there, sitting to enjoy your dessert. In silence for the first few minutes. You tried to listen to the conversations that you could hear from the diner but it was too fuzzy to make sense of any of the words, and your heartbeat was too loud in your ears. 

Your gaze landed on Hyunjin’s backpack. Somewhere in there was the painting he made for you. And there was also the painting he made of you. You wondered if he also painted Dara, today, while on the boat. 

You wondered what he was telling her the other day when he was on the phone with her.

“When I bought the paints and stuff for you,” you started before you could think this over, “I wanted to give them to you. I mean, in person.” 

Hyunjin looked up from his precious ice cream, staring into your eyes, but saying nothing. 

“I went to your RV,” you went on. “Minho was disappointed I didn’t make it to breakfast,” you added, recalling that moment. “I—uh—I went to give you the bag. He said you were by the river. But you were on the phone, and it seemed important. I didn’t want to bother you, so I left it with him.” 

Maybe he knew that this was some sort of invitation to speak—Hyunjin nodded slowly, faintly, more for himself than for you, and ate more of his ice cream quietly as the sounds of the night took over the forest. 

“Do you remember what I told you the other night?” Hyunjin began, looking up at the sky. There weren’t too many stars yet—it was too early for that. 

Not only did you remember, but you had thought about it enough that you figured you had put many pieces of the puzzle in their place. But you weren’t going to tell him that. “I remember. It was about Dara?” 

Hyunjin took a deep but shaky breath. He forced more ice cream into his mouth. “Yes. I was talking to her.” 

You didn’t pretend to be surprised. “Is she somebody you work with? Do you have to talk to her often?” After all, you had to work with Christopher every day, didn’t you? Maybe it would hurt a little less if you didn’t.

“I don’t work with her, I guess,” Hyunjin explained. “It’s more like… our studios are next door.” He sighed. “We see each other every day. We collaborate on projects all the time. She’s my friend.” 

You almost dropped your cup of ice cream, managing to steady your grip on it at the last second. You found yourself completely unsettled by Hyunjin’s revelation. You hadn’t really expected that. Well, you expected something, sure, since he was talking to her on the phone. But not this. Not like this. Not she’s my friend in the present tense.

“And you’re able to be her friend after what happened between you two?” you asked softly, suddenly concerned for Hyunjin’s well-being, even though you weren’t sure what had happened exactly.

“I was her friend before I fell in love with her. It’s hard to explain.” Hyunjin left his half-eaten dessert on the ground next to the bench, sitting with his knees pressed to his chest. 

You gave him the space he needed, aware that you had probably pushed a little too hard. It was none of your business anyway, was it? And yet. 

You had told him so little about Judith and it had opened a whole new dimension for you. A part of you really, really wanted to do the same for Hyunjin. If you could somehow manage such a feat.

“I don’t want to insist,” you told him. “But if you want to talk to someone—I can be that someone. I want to be. I know it’s difficult to talk.”

“It’s not difficult with you. I like talking with you,” Hyunjin replied. You couldn’t see his mouth as it was hidden behind his knees. “I just… I don’t even know where to start. And it’s not like I haven’t told the story before. I have. I went to therapy because of it.”

“Didn’t it help?” you questioned, trying to focus on the latter part of his sentence and not the first, so as not to melt into a puddle.

He shrugged. “Yes. No. I went for months and talked about Dara plenty, but all that my therapist would focus on was me. He said the reason I wasn’t getting over her was because I had other, deeper issues we needed to address. I didn’t like that.”

You thought about it for a second and it appeared to you clear as day. “You didn’t like that because he made it—your sadness—not about Dara anymore?”

Hyunjin inhaled sharply, apparently surprised by your response. He pressed his mouth onto his thighs, closing his eyes, disappearing behind his hair momentarily. When he spoke again, his voice was muffled, almost strained.

“It felt like it was all I had left of our love. The pain. The longing. And he wanted to take it away from me by making it about other things. So I stopped going.” 

It was instantaneous—your throat shut tight and your eyes tingled with tears that you fought to hold back. It hurt to hear him say those words. It hurt for him and it hurt for you. 

Because what else was left of your love story with Chris if not for that? The pain? Were you holding onto that pain because it was all that you had? Even if it was going to kill you? 

You discarded your ice cream, leaving it in the pebbled soil at your feet, reaching a trembling hand towards Hyunjin. You had no idea what the fuck you were going to do with that hand. You wanted it in his hair, caressing it, tucking a strand of it behind his ear to reveal his deep and soulful gaze. You wanted to cup his cheek and caress his silky skin. Something was calling you to him—something inside of you that you did not know how to control. 

But, gently, you rested your hand on his back. He jumped—just a little recoil because he was surprised—but leaned into your touch, moving closer to you until your entire arm was around his back. Each inch of your skin that touched him was immediately ignited and hyperaware, awake in the night. 

“Minho was pissed,” Hyunjin went on, sniffling. You couldn’t see whether he was crying or not and maybe it was for the best. It might just break you if you saw tears on his almost too-handsome face. “Because he was the one who got me to see his psychiatrist. He was worried about me.” 

“That’s because he cares about you though,” you pointed out. 

“I know. But he doesn’t understand,” Hyunjin mumbled, playing with one of his shoelaces, keeping his hand busy. “He thinks I shouldn’t be friends with her anymore. He suggested that I should cut ties with Dara completely during the trip. To see how it feels.” 

You would know a thing or two about not letting go. 

You took a deep breath, unsure of what you should say next. Perhaps it was best not to say anything. Maybe—no, definitely—the best, most reasonable option for you right now would be to come up with some comforting words for Hyunjin and call it a night. Tell him to get some rest, that sleep would do him good. Then drive home, and go to bed, too.

But Marlene kept liquor in the walk-in cooler. Away from prying eyes—only a few privileged individuals knew where it was, and you were among them.

“Do you want a drink?” you heard yourself say, barely audible enough to be heard over the steady sound of the river. “I know a place.”

At this, Hyunjin reappeared from behind his knees, staring at you with damp eyes. “A drink?” 

“I owe you one after all, but we don’t have to.”

“You really don’t owe me anything.” And yet. Gradually, Hyunjin returned to a more normal sitting position. He wiped the corner of his eye with the back of his hand. “But I could use a drink. It was a long day.” 

A smile sneaked its way onto your lips. It was a gift sent from that thing that you could not control within you, hidden in some secret corner. You gathered the mostly melted ice creams and discarded them in appropriate bins and guided Hyunjin back near the diner, explaining how Marlene liked to keep a good bottle of Hennessy or a fancy scotch around for dire situations.

“A woman of refined taste, this Marlene,” Hyunjin commented. It felt good to see him smiling again. “You never know when you need to get wasted.”

“Indeed.” It seemed wise to avoid the dining room and the staff—in other words, Chris—and go through the back door. “It’ll just be a minute, okay?”

“Take your time. I’ll text Minho to let him know I haven’t been kidnapped.” With that, Hyunjin pulled his phone out of his pocket and walked away, aimlessly, typing on the screen of his device. 

You used your master key to enter the kitchen directly. From here, the conversation was loud and clear, and you heard Jake, Marlene, and Stacy discuss one of the new hiking trails that had been opened in the state park right next door. Jake was very interested in it and was telling the two women about an upcoming one-day trip to the park with Christopher, Jeongin, Summer, and a few more people. It seemed to you like it had been planned just now, right after you had left. 

You stood in the dark and quiet kitchen, knowing you did not need to hear any more of this and yet waiting. Maybe you wanted to hear the excitement in Christopher’s voice, but all that you heard was Summer asking Frankie—who had apparently joined them—if he thought Lucy would want to come too. Maybe Chris had already left for the staff house, where he usually stayed. To keep an eye on things from a little closer, but mostly so he could avoid you more easily. It just gave him a good excuse not to stay in the same house as you too often.

You gathered all of the courage you had—which wasn’t all that much—and made your way to the dining room, standing in the door frame, eyeing the scene before letting anyone see you. He wasn’t there. Chris. You cleared your throat softly and it was Stacy who saw you first, and Marlene second, followed by the others. You couldn’t read the expression on Summer’s face, but you wished you could. It would make it a lot easier for you.

“Sorry to interrupt—” you started, stammering through your words a little. “Marlene, I just wanted to know if I could borrow some sugar?” It was the code you had come up with for the liquor she kept.

The corner of Marlene’s lips curved into a lopsided smile. “Sure thing, honey. You know where it is. Take as much as you need, but be careful not to overdo it. You’ll get diabetes” 

“I’ll be careful,” you promised. “Can I grab the fancy one? I’ll get you a replacement.” Jake also knew about the Hennessy—he suppressed a chuckle by swallowing a generous amount of beer. 

“Make yourself at home,” Marlene insisted with a wink. 

You thanked her and did your best to wish everyone a good evening as warmly as you could, but it was always about not overdoing it. It was hard to tell when you did. When Frankie inquired Did your friend like the ice cream? You assured him that he very much did, of course. Thank you so much Frankie, and make sure to call if you need anything. 

The Hennessy was exactly where it was supposed to be—on the highest shelf in the walk-in cooler, hidden in a small crate that once contained bell peppers. Marlene just put more stuff on top and nobody paid it any mind. You shoved the bottle in a tote bag you found in Marlene’s office. The whole thing took less than two minutes and you exited as quickly as you entered, relieved to put as much distance as you could between you and this place. For some reason.

The sounds of the night had increased in volume again—there were more frogs now, and among them was the loudest and your favorite—the gray treefrog, whose thrill-like breeding call was eerily similar to a bird’s voice. They were hard to spot, and you had seen those frogs just a handful of times in your life, but you enjoyed their musical display, which was also how you could tell that summer had definitely begun. 

It did not stop you from hearing Hyunjin’s voice. At first, you thought he was still on the phone. But then you heard the bell from the main entrance to the diner, and more voices. Most importantly, Christopher’s.

“Ah, boss! There you are,” Jake said. “We were starting to wonder if you ghosted us or something.”

“Sorry for keeping you,” Hyunjin immediately interjected. “I should go anyway—” He didn’t finish his sentence. Instead, he let it float somewhere in the air, allowing the frogs and the owls to fill the silence.

“Oh no, I shouldn’t be keeping you from going back home and resting after your long day! It was nice meeting you.” You could almost hear Chris shake Hyunjin’s hand. “Careful on your way back, yeah? I know some parts of the pedestrian paths aren’t great over the RV sites, but we’ll get to fixing them in the upcoming weeks.”

Hyunjin coughed nervously. “Sure, yeah, yeah, thanks, Christopher. Goodnight!” Two things became simultaneously obvious to you.

That Hyunjin had told Chris he was going home instead of telling him that he was going to hang out and have drinks with you.

And also that Hyunjin was a terrible, terrible liar. 

The warmth that Hyunjin seemed to constantly elicit in you came back ferociously, spreading from your chest to your belly like an oil tanker spilled into an ocean, making the air in your lungs hot and thick. But sweet, too. There was nothing to hide and Hyunjin could and probably should have told him where he was going, and with whom. 

You remembered the painting. Not the one he gave you—the other one. The one that gave you chills, that made you press your thighs together. It was stupid because his heart belonged to another. It was stupid because you were married and because you were broken. You were the kind of broken that wasn’t even worth taking to the repair shop. You were the kind of broken that nothing could be done for, or with, or about. 

You did not like the part of you that was greedy—that part was urging you to make yourself seen, to make sure that Chris would know you would be with Hyunjin. But what would you even gain? Because even if he felt the same thing you felt when he was with Summer, would it make a difference? You weren’t even jealous. Not anymore. You weren’t jealous because Summer was prettier and younger than you. It had taken you a while but you had even stopped being jealous of how happy she made Chris. Some days, you really just wanted to beg him to please just fuck her and put an end to your misery already. 

That would be too ugly of you. Chris didn’t need that. Not after what he had gone through. 

So you stayed put, listening as the main group walked away. At this hour, the camping ground was mostly quiet and empty—on the first days of the season, especially the sunny ones, people hurriedly did as many outdoor activities as they could, meaning that by this hour most of them were probably sound asleep. 

Hyunjin quietly reappeared after turning the corner of the building, his backpack on his shoulders and his hair secured in a tighter bun. He seemed ready for an adventure, but he stopped and stood there, facing you, and you stood with your back pressed to the wooden wall behind you, staring into the man’s eyes, which were as beautiful as the night around you. You didn’t tell him, you almost said.  

But you didn’t tell him. 

So that made two of you.

Hyunjin motioned at the tote bag whose handles rested on your shoulder. “You got the stuff?” 

You nodded. “Let’s go.” You wasted no time, regretting your choice of footwear and overall fashion decisions as you made your way towards one of the unpaved paths that circled the camping ground.

Most of these were surrounded by more densely wooded areas or tree lines. Chris wouldn’t need it because he knew all the trails by heart, but you used your phone to light up the ground just to make sure neither of you would trip over something. There wasn’t much conversation while you walked, except for when Hyunjin cursed under his breath because a mosquito got him. Two seconds later, you heard the zipper of his backpack and then the vigorous spraying of bug repellent, its strong and potent scent reaching you. 

“Is your blood tasty, Mr. Hyunjin?” you asked, looking over your shoulder, suppressing a smile as Hyunjin was shoving the bug spray back in his bag. 

“I’m a Michelin-starred restaurant,” he replied, scoffing, visibly displeased. “Minho said he liked having me on the boat because I attract mosquitoes and it’s good for fish. He called me live bait all day.” 

Your own laughter took you by surprise—it spilled into the night as clear as the moonlight, echoing in the silence. You couldn’t remember the last time you had actually laughed like this, a true laugh. A laugh that didn’t come at a price, that didn’t need to be exchanged for something else, tears, excuses, or even shame.

Just a laugh because something was funny.

The silence that followed it was heavy and you realized it was so because you had stopped in your tracks. Hyunjin, who was close behind you, had also stopped. You were just stunned by this new feeling in your chest but Hyunjin seemed to believe there was another, bigger problem.

“Everything alright? Did you see something? Are there bears out here? Wolves?” 

“Bears?” You turned to him. “Wolves?”

He seemed a little nervous. “Yeah?” 

“Of course there are bears, but now’s not the worst of the season,” you replied as though it was evident, meaning for it to be reassuring. Only Hyunjin did not seem relieved to hear that at all. “They only really bother humans when they get ready to hibernate. There are no wolves in Maine though,” you added, certain this would comfort him.

Hyunjin’s uneasiness was visible even in the dark. You bit your lip, savoring the mild pleasure you got from the sight of him, but quickly went to put an end to his fears. “You can worry about the mosquitoes more than you should worry about bears,” you concluded. “I haven’t seen one on these premises in two years.”

That did it—Hyunjin gulped thickly but gave you a resolute nod before the two of you resumed your walk. The world fell quiet again, the way nature was silent, which was to say, not at all. Exactly the way you liked it. 

“Where are you taking me?” Hyunjin inquired after a few minutes, trying to see through the tree line and recognize your location in the campground. 

“Not too far from here,” you assured. “There’s this nice little place by the river and—” Your sentence was cut in the middle when you felt something cool and wet and tiny on your shoulder. 

Worried once again, Hyunjin squinted, turning his phone light on too. “What is it?” 

“Ah, shit—” you mumbled, locking eyes with him, unsure whether you should laugh or not. Another raindrop fell on your arm, quickly followed by another on your leg as you remembered the weather forecast on the radio earlier, which your brain had conveniently made you forget. 

A raindrop landed on Hyunjin’s lip and you followed it with your gaze the same way a sinner begs for holy water. More rain fell on your cheeks and you stood as Hyunjin watched it roll on your skin like tears would. A slight frown had appeared on his face, as though he was taking a few seconds to process what he was seeing. 

Hyunjin, unhurried, handsome, so tangible and so close, raised his hand then, bringing it near your face, gently pressing his index finger onto your cheek to collect a raindrop. His touch lit a wildfire inside of you that no deluge could put out. “It’s raining,” he said, his deep, expressive gaze fixated on the drop he had stolen from you, but not for long because he looked into your eyes then. “It’s okay,” he added with a smile, offering you his hand. “Come with me.” 

He was a stranger. 

But he shared the blood of your favorite painter, the one who created your favorite painting in the whole world. It was your favorite long before you knew it was a prophecy, or perhaps an omen. Maybe you should have known. You should have opened your eyes before instead of being so rational all the time and taking everything at face value. 

Maybe you should have realized long ago that life has a voice and that it uses it to speak to us. Some call it fate or destiny. Some call it God. You weren’t sure what you called it, or what you thought it was. You just knew that it had been there the whole time, like a thread weaving the events of your life together. Everything that had ever happened to you had led you to this. 

Hyunjin was a stranger. 

But you knew about the cracks in his heart, and he knew about the void in yours. Somewhere in the distance, thunder rolled in the sky, and you felt it in your chest, no matter how far the storm was. 

You took Hyunjin’s hand. His skin was smooth and warm, like honey left in the sun for too long. He squeezed your hand a little, leaning in closer to you so he could be heard over the rain, which was gaining in intensity. 

“Where are we exactly? If we want to get to the RV? Is it far?” he asked, pulling away to see your reaction. 

You were shocked by everything that had happened in the last thirty seconds and by Hyunjin’s sweet warm breath that tickled your skin. It took you longer than it should have to give him a response. “No, not too much,” you managed, your voice higher than usual. “If we follow this path, the RV site is at the end of the road on the right.” 

“Alright, let’s go.” Taking the lead, Hyunjin started again, illuminating the path like he had never feared bears would maul him. One might believe he thought that rain was lethal to you or something, with how determined he was. 

The more it rained, the faster you walked, and the tighter Hyunjin held onto you. Or maybe it was you who held onto him, you couldn’t say. You passed the opening that led to the little spot by the river that you liked, promising yourself to visit it soon. Also trying to focus on anything but what was happening. You had to buy milk, and maybe eggs too. You’d definitely need fabric softener. Yeah, you would have to go to the grocery store tomorrow. You’d also go see your father, but there would undoubtedly be a lot of things to do on the campground, as was always the case after a good rainfall. 

Hyunjin caught you just in time when you slipped in the mud—by then, you were completely soaked. He saved you from a nasty fall. After that, you made sure to look where you were going and to stop thinking about everything and anything. 

But then that meant the other thoughts didn’t stop.

What the fuck am I doing here? What am I doing? Where am I going? Why am I running in the rain with a guy I barely know who's… how many years younger than me exactly? Seven, eight years? More? More, I think. What the fuck are people going to say? Is my dress see-through now? Oh god I think so. Fuck. I should have worn the dark one instead. My hair probably looks like shit too. But who cares? Who cares what I look like? It’s not like he’s taking me back to his RV because he’s trying to get into my pants. And even if he was—WHICH HE IS NOT BY THE WAY! EVEN IF HE PAINTED ME. HE’S JUST AN ARTIST—I’m married. I’m married to a man who does not love me anymore but I’m married anyway. I’m married to a man who I know doesn’t want to be with me anymore but refuses to divorce me out of respect for me and our relationship and maybe out of respect for our daughter too. What the fuck am I doing here? How did I get here? 

It just kept going until you reached the motorhome shared by Hyunjin and Minho. It was completely dark inside, and while you were in a hurry to get out of the very cold rain, you became self-conscious.

“I don’t want to wake him up,” you told Hyunjin as he was searching his pocket for the key.

“Don’t worry. If it’s raining, he’s outside sleeping in a tent,” Hyunjin replied with a shrug. His hair had come undone and was completely drenched. “He likes the sound of the rain.” 

He unlocked the door and let you in first—knowing this RV well after having done a maintenance run on it, you turned on the kitchenette lights on your left, leaving enough space for Hyunjin to come in and close the door behind him while you were getting rid of your mud-soaked sandals.

As soon as the door was closed, the rain became a muffled noise, distant, barely real. Out of breath, you leaned on the counter to catch your air—it had been a long time since you ran for that long, especially in those conditions. You looked to your left to make sure that Hyunjin was fine, but as soon as your eyes met his, the two of you froze. 

It was eerily quiet here. The RV was huge—it was meant to accommodate up to four people very comfortably and six if they wanted to squeeze in there a little. Yet he was right there. Hyunjin. He smelled like bug spray and petrichor and mud and strawberries. His hair was pure chaos—wet, messy, all over the place—but it took nothing away from his effortless beauty. Your heart skipped a few beats. It was because of all the running and not because his shirt was sticking to him like a second skin, exposing a lean and toned body, hinting at enough muscle to make you avert your gaze and blush. 

“I forgot it was supposed to rain, but in my defense, they said it would be later into the night,” you said to diffuse whatever weight was falling from your chest to your stomach. It did not work—the feeling lingered. And descended even lower.

Hyunjin was silent. He had removed his backpack and left it in a safe corner and was staring at anywhere except you. A little—or very—self-consciously, you did your best to smooth out your hair. 

“I’ll take this,” Hyunjin said all of a sudden, reaching for the tote bag on your shoulder and handing you a dry towel in exchange. There was one hanging around his neck already. “Uh…” He cleared his throat, his eyes dancing once again, struggling to stay fixated on yours. For one second, maybe two, but no more, he looked at you below the neck. “Maybe you’d want a warm shower? And clothes?” 

You took the towel from him, blushing violently. It felt as though your brain couldn’t even function properly. You, also, struggled to look him in the eyes. Did you absolutely want a shower right now? No. But did you want to be alone for like five minutes?

Yes. 

“O—Okay, well, I’ll wash up, y—yeah,” you managed, stammering your way through your sentence. “Thanks.” You gulped, wrapping your arms around yourself. “I don’t think you’ll have clothes for me.” He was just so lean. And long. 

“I wouldn’t have offered if I didn’t,” Hyunjin retorted as though it was the most obvious thing in the world.

He guided you towards the bathroom and you followed him, eyes to the floor, thanking him again, reminding him you knew how everything worked when he tried to explain the shower functions. The bathroom was tiny but fully equipped—this RV unit was the campground’s last big purchase and its most luxurious. To think that Minho had rented it for the entire season… 

“I’ll leave clothes here by the door,” Hyunjin told you. “The towels are in the cabinet, help yourself. There are a few combs in there too, for your hair.” 

You barely gave him an answer as you had just come face to face with the mirror. Your hair was not the problem. The problem wasn’t even the dark circles under your eyes from your sleepless nights, or your chapped lips from biting at them too much. 

The problem was your soaked dress and how it stuck to your skin and how it had turned see-through for the most part and that you could see your black lace bra underneath. You buried your face into your hands, properly humiliated. Rookie move. This was what you got for hanging out with a guy who looked like a young god, no less. Hyunjin was the kind of person who just couldn’t have a fashion faux pas—everything would always look good on him. For instance, his wet T-shirt made him look like he was straight out of an alluring magazine ad for some fancy fragrance.

And here you were with your stupid fucking off-white dress with a black bra underneath because you forgot to do your laundry and it was all that you had. The dress stuck to your curves in a way that made you look like anything but a magazine ad. As you stared into that mirror, you could see nothing of the woman Hyunjin had painted in watercolors. She was a version of you that didn’t exist.

You turned on the shower, angrily at first, swallowing back tears and shame and planning the perfect escape. You would tell Hyunjin thank you so, so much for the shower and the dry clothes but you couldn’t stay. You had to go right now. He’d probably want to walk you back and you’d have to be firm and insist and say no. He was just a very, very nice guy. You had no reason to be associated with him whatsoever. He probably just pitied you because of what you told him that other night, about Judith. 

Yes. That was it. 

So you toweled yourself dry and found a dry pair of gray sweatshorts by the door, along with a loose tank top and a zip-up hoodie. Hyunjin had even provided you with a bag for any clothing items you wished to discard.

I’m really sorry, I had a phone call and I have to go, you rehearsed in your head as you were getting dressed. To your surprise, the sweatshorts fit comfortably. Thank you so much for everything, I’ll make sure to get the clothes back to you tomorrow. Oh no, no it’s perfectly fine, you stay right here. I insist. I—

Your mind went blank the moment you put on the tank top. The fabric was soft, the shirt was nice and high-quality. But most importantly, it smelled like Hyunjin. Like roses dipped in golden sunsets. Like spice-infused oud. Like smoke, like amber. It made you freeze in place, inhaling a lot more air than you needed, or should. It was a little tighter in certain places but it felt more like a hug than anything else.

Hyunjin’s voice brought you back to reality like tripping over a goddamn canyon. “Is everything alright?”

You cleared your throat. “Yes, yes, it’s all good—thank you, I’m fine, I—” One glance at the mirror confirmed that you probably should have put on your very wet bra underneath the tank top but instead you chose to wrap yourself in the hoodie, which was even softer than the shirt and smelled even more like Hyunjin, almost as though he had worn it at least once without washing it. 

I need to get out of here. Fuck. 

You pulled the door open and your plans completely fell through. 

Hyunjin was busy getting the back room ready. It was normally the master bedroom but you could tell from his and Minho’s setup that they used it as some sort of living room and instead slept in the bunk beds. He was placing pillows onto it and the bottle of Hennessy was on the shelf behind the bed/couch, with two glasses nearby, waiting for you. 

“There you are,” he said with a smile when he caught sight of you. “Are you comfortable with the clothes? I have more. We can hang your dress to dry in the kitchen if you want but I don’t think it’ll dry anytime soon…” 

“It’s all very comfortable.” Nothing about the way Hyunjin spoke to you made you feel self-conscious about yourself and the way you looked. He really just wanted to make sure the clothes were comfy. His question had nothing to do with the size of the clothes. “Don’t worry about the dress, I’ll wash it at home.” 

“I’ll shower too, but I insist that you make yourself at home. Fridge, food, anything,” he told you for the second time. “There are books by my bed if you want, and the TV remote is here.” He handed it to you. “I’ll be right back.”

Not two minutes ago, you were planning your escape. And now you found yourself sitting on this makeshift couch with a TV remote in your hand, facing a black screen because you hadn’t turned it on, listening to the sounds of the running shower coming from the tiny bathroom a few feet away. Hyunjin had cracked open a window by the couch and you also heard the thunder, realizing that it was noticeably closer than it had been before. You listened to the rain as it fell onto what you were certain was Minho’s tent. 

For an instant, just a few seconds, you were transported back to your childhood. To that one summer night Chris tried to get you to go camping with him in his backyard and you wanted nothing to do with that. It’ll rain! It’ll be so cool, come on! And of course you went. And of course you stayed for about ten minutes before both Chris and you decided it was best to sleep indoors because the wind was scary. 

You sighed—but first, you took a deep breath, inhaling more of Hyunjin’s scent, and it seemed to evaporate most of your brain functions. Except for the one that was responsible for making you notice that the stitching of the crotch on the sweatshorts was pressing at certain places. In certain ways. In certain pleasant ways. 

I’m so sorry Hyunjin, but while you were showering, I had a phone call and I’m gonna have to go. But thank you so much and thank you so much for the painting too. It’s just that it’s my father and I don’t want to leave him alone. Over the years, you had become such a good liar. So good that, often, you yourself couldn’t even tell whether you were telling the truth or not. So this wouldn’t be a problem. You just needed to—

It seemed you had remained lost in your thoughts for longer than you believed because Hyunjin reappeared, sporting shorts and a long-sleeved gray tee. He was squeezing his hair dry with the towel, but little drops of water had stained the shirt around the collar. There was something incredibly soft about him at that moment—maybe it was just the warm lighting or the dewy aspect of his post-shower skin. 

In any case.

You didn’t go anywhere.

“There’s a phone charger to your left,” he said, motioning towards the cord in question. “I—Uh—I mean, I suppose… people would be looking for you and wondering if you’re okay.” 

You blinked, staring at him like you had never seen him before. Everything just felt so different—only yesterday, that statement would have elicited a deep sadness from you, no doubt. It was still there, you could feel it. It’s not like it had disappeared overnight. But there were so many other things alongside it that it was drowning.

You scoffed, shaking your head, still connecting your phone to the cord. “Nobody is looking for me, Hyunjin. It’s fine.” 

He stood near the not-couch, visibly uncomfortable. You could almost feel his eyes drilling a hole into your ring finger. You weren’t stupid. You knew exactly what—or rather, who—this conversation was about. 

“He’s not going to wander the campground and desperately search for me all night if that’s what you’re wondering,” you murmured. “This isn’t the kind of relationship we have anymore.” Fully sober? I dropped that lore fully sober? Really? “Hey, let’s have drinks, yeah?” 

“I bet he will want to know where you are,” Hyunjin insisted, dimming the lights before making his way to the liquor and unscrewing the bottle open. “That’s just why I wanted you to know you could charge your phone. Here.” He handed you a glass that was a little too full of liquor but you gladly took it from him. 

You could have told my husband where I was going and yet you did not. But the thoughts remained on your tongue and you swallowed them like a bitter pill, chasing them with the cognac. 

“Don’t try to deflect,” you said, squinting, waving an accusing finger at Hyunjin as he was sitting down next to you. “We agreed to pause our earlier conversation and continue it with drinks someplace else. The conversation was about you,” you added. “So let’s resume.”

Hyunjin’s response was instantaneous—save for the exaggerated scoff he let out before. “Sorry, but I’ll remind you that the only thing I agreed to was drinks!” 

You turned to him, falsely offended, eyebrows raised, and exactly one second passed before the two of you burst out laughing. You had to press a hand over your lips to muffle the sound and make sure not to wake Minho who, after all, was sleeping right next to the window. 

The laughter died out, blending with the thunder. You drank more, letting the liquor smooth out the parts of you that were too sharp. It warmed up your throat nicely. It made you wonder how it would feel to be kissed passionately. With purpose, with lust. You had forgotten those feelings, but drinking the fancy cognac reminded you of tasting yourself on lips that uttered your name fondly.

Hyunjin cleared his throat, coughing faintly after emptying his glass a little too quickly. “Seriously though. There’s nothing to say.” 

“I doubt that.” You hesitated, staring at the bottom of your glass, swirling the rest of the cognac in it. “You know, when I went to give you the paints and stuff? I heard that you were on the phone. I get now that it was with her, and you sounded… agitated. Upset.” You finished your cognac for good measure, keeping the empty glass in your hand just to have something to hold onto while Hyunjin’s gaze was on the black TV screen in front of him. “I don’t know the situation and I don’t want to say that Minho’s right, but if it’s a recurring thing. That your friendship with Dara makes you sad and upset. Maybe keeping a little distance between you two wouldn’t be a bad thing.” 

The silence was deafening, louder than the thunder outside. You regretted your words instantly, wondering if they had been spoken out of greed. Greed, after all, often comes disguised as something noble, like concern. Maybe you just wanted less of Hyunjin’s attention on Dara. Maybe you were the most selfish person you knew, and everything you had ever done had been calculated to benefit from it in some way. 

You knew it couldn’t possibly be true. You knew reality was more nuanced than this. And yet, the whispers in your head were relentless. It was that same greed that had launched the chain of events causing the death of your daughter, so maybe you should have learned your lesson by now. 

“I only meant—” you started, but Hyunjin shook his head, raising his hand.

“I know what you meant,” he cut you off. “The reason I was upset is stupid. And inconsiderate. Selfish. It’s not her fault.”

“I know a thing or two about selfishness.” You made yourself a little more comfortable with your back leaning on the wall near the window so that you would face Hyunjin. He was half lying on the makeshift couch, propped on several pillows. “I don’t think you’re inconsiderate. You’re the opposite of inconsiderate.” 

“Something really cool happened to her. I should have been happy for her, right? Well, I was. I am happy for her. But my first reaction was to be offended that she told me nothing about the project before. It’s not the first time she does something without me. Obviously. I don’t expect her to do everything with me or to tell me all about every single one of her projects. But this… it feels different.”

He grabbed the cognac and poured himself more, glancing at your glass inquisitively. You handed it to him so he could refill it. It had been a while since you had more than just a beer or a glass of wine to drink—you’d need to stop after this one.

“She submitted a few paintings to an art gallery. They gave her a few spots to expose,” Hyunjin explained. “Which is so cool. And I’m so happy for her.” He took two sips of liquor. “She never told me about any of this. I was still in Seoul when she had the idea behind the series of paintings. I was still in the studio next to hers when she painted them. I was still right there when she submitted them. But I learned about it when I saw a reel about it in her Stories.” 

His voice was muted. His voice was more like the ghost of a voice—there was something terribly heartbreaking to it. It made you want to hold him in your arms. Because you understood. You knew what it felt like to lose that closeness with somebody that was once your everything. You start to realize you’ve made a mistake—you start to realize you put too much of your own heart into theirs. You also realize it was inevitable, but that you can’t get those parts of your soul back. 

“I’d say you’re entitled to being upset,” you murmured, tilting your head to the side. It caused a dizzy spell for which the cognac was definitely to blame, so you closed your eyes for a few seconds. It gave you some time to think things over. It also gave you some time to realize that you were feeling the effects of the liquor in you. “Did you guys fight?”

“No, not really. I didn’t want her to know I was upset. But these situations have been happening more and more between us. It’s difficult.” He stared through the tinted window behind you, maybe looking at the lightning strikes in the distance. “When I have ideas like these. I just tell her. You know? I like telling her about my stuff. And when she tells me about hers.” 

For an instant, you imagined that you were Hyunjin and that Dara was Christopher—it all became obvious then. Clear as day. You may not know their story entirely and it may be different from yours, but at the end of the day, it was all the same. It was always the same. In most relationships, at a given time, there would be someone who loved the other more. It was like an old balance scale trying to find equilibrium except it never did. It never really would. It wasn’t supposed to. Love wasn’t supposed to be equal anyway.

But for Hyunjin, that love was getting tiresome. Because he kept holding the weight of it while simultaneously adding more load onto it to make it substantial. To make it something. You had done that for a while too, with Chris. It was like adding logs into a fireplace while letting the flames lick you and burn you, over and over. Trying so hard just so he would still love you. Just so he would love you again. All that love going nowhere. Lost, forever. 

Except Hyunjin was also a lot like Christopher, and so you understood Dara’s perspective, or at least you thought you did. Chris, wherever he went, was loved. He was noticed. Remembered. He was somebody. 

You were not.

“Hyunjin,” you started carefully, hoping you wouldn’t offend him. “Maybe she just needs to do something on her own. To prove to herself that she can do it. You know?”

“She knows she can. She’s a better painter than I am, she doesn’t even deny it,” Hyunjin insisted. “I feel so weird inside. I think it’s working. What she’s doing.”

“What is she doing?” you asked, putting your empty glass on the shelf, deciding it would remain empty because your skin was warm and your thoughts fuzzy. 

“She’s keeping me away. Emotionally I mean,” Hyunjin explained. He finished his drink and put his glass next to yours before laying down again, on his back this time. 

He stretched a little, exposing a sliver of skin between his shorts and his shirt and shivers went down your spine. You decided to keep your eyes closed but it was too late—you couldn’t unsee what you had seen. And you were under the influence enough to wonder what it would feel like to kiss Hyunjin there. Or maybe just brush your fingers on his skin, feeling his toned body under your touch. Or under you.

“It’s kind of a vicious circle,” he went on, completely oblivious to the commotion he had caused within you. “What happened between Dara and me affected me deeply. I never told her it was what made me so distressed, but I wonder if she knew, maybe. I sought comfort from her anyway. I felt alone. I still do. Even when I’m surrounded by crowds I feel so alone, so empty. Then I realized that I needed the comfort to come from her, or else it didn’t soothe me. Then I realized she wouldn’t give it to me anymore.” 

“Maybe she doesn’t give it because she knows you’re hiding feelings from her?” you suggested, but every new revelation by Hyunjin just hurt more and more. You swallowed back your tears, remembering those entire days when Chris used to ignore you—for his own sake—making you miserable in the process, only for you to need him to kiss you goodnight and hold you as you fell asleep. 

“I don’t think I’m hiding anything. I don’t think I can hide anything. I’m not very good at lying.” 

You couldn’t help letting out a faint laugh, no matter how out of place it was. You controlled it as best you could, biting into your lower lip and focusing on the conversation, but Hyunjin raised his head, staring at you with curiosity. “Did I say something funny?” 

It had been a very long time since you had consumed this much hard liquor, especially in such a short amount of time. “No, no—sorry, I just,” you stammered. “It’s—it’s true. You’re not a very good liar. I heard you speak to Chris earlier and… yeah. Sorry.” 

Hyunjin’s head returned to the pillows at the speed of light. He didn’t pretend not to understand what you were referring to. “I know it’s going to sound crazy, but I felt like he was questioning me. He asked me where I had spent the day, so I said fishing. He asked if I had painted anything. And where I was headed for the night. And I froze. It’s dumb.”

You put your hand in the narrow crack of the window just to feel the wind and the rain on your fingers for a few seconds. “Like I said. You’re not a very good liar.” 

Hyunjin clicked his tongue softly but it was not with annoyance. He took a deep breath, facing you again. “Well, what did you tell him?”

“Nothing at all.” The difference between Hyunjin and you was that you, on the other hand, were an excellent liar. You were just tired of pretending, and the facade collapsed once in a while. “It wouldn’t make a difference. I told you—we don’t have that kind of relationship anymore.”

“It might be a language barrier but I don’t know what you mean by that.” Hyunjin was only being polite because his English was excellent.

Nobody in the entire world knew the state of your marriage. You thought your father had his doubts—your in-laws probably did as well. Same with some of the Riverside employees and your friends in common. But your acting was convincing enough, you thought, that it told a solid story. 

Nobody expected a couple to remain the same amount of strong after what you two went through anyway, or just through the passage of time. So it just made sense. The honeymoon phase was over, so it was totally, completely, one hundred percent normal that Christopher spent most of his nights at the campground staff house and most of his days with a woman who was by far more fun and livelier and prettier than you. A woman who was still whole. 

A heavy fatigue took over you. It was sudden but not surprising—you found yourself lying down on the makeshift couch, letting the faint breeze cool you down. “You’re changing the subject again,” you mumbled.

“And you’re dodging.” 

“What do you want me to say?” No one knew. You weren’t sure that anybody was supposed to know, no matter how tempting it was to spill your sorrows.

There was a short silence followed by the sound of brushing fabric—you felt Hyunjin’s weight next to you as he moved and jumped a little when you opened your eyes to find him a lot closer than he had been seconds before. 

He gulped thickly. “I know what they say about couples who lose a—” Something made him stop there. Something that wasn’t greed. You just felt it in your bones that it wasn’t.

Your heart tightened in your chest. Like every time it was mentioned, you relived it in a few seconds. All of it. From the pregnancy test to the moment they put Judith’s dead body in your arms because they thought you should hold her anyway. For grief purposes. And everything after. And everything before, too.

“A baby,” you said for him, and it surprised you that you said it. “We lost a baby. Stillbirth. I knew something was wrong before we made it to the hospital but I was hoping it could be fixed somehow. That they would save her. I didn’t even want them to save me if it came to that.” You rolled on your side to face Hyunjin. “It still doesn’t quite feel real, sometimes.” 

The rain was still pattering on the tent outside the motorhome and on the tree leaves. On the roof. All over the night. That sound used to comfort you. Other things used to comfort you. But your mother was dead, and everything else reminded you of what you had lost. 

Except for the man lying on the bed next to you. Because it was a bed. Even though they sort of used it as a couch, it was still a mattress. A bed. You hadn’t even been in the same bed as Chris in months. Maybe it was because he was a new element in your life but Hyunjin wasn’t a grim reminder. 

He brought no somber recollections. His eyes were soft. And kind. He stared at you with them like you meant something to him even though that sounded impossible. His gaze was hazy with cognac and an entire day spent in the sun and sometimes it lingered over you in places that made your heart flutter. 

Maybe you felt safe with Hyunjin because he was broken, too. It didn’t need to be any more complicated than that. 

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered, resting his hand between your faces. “I don’t think you ever get over that.”

“You don’t.” There was no point in denying it. “And it’s all my fault. I killed her.” You must have been drunker than you thought because you never thought you’d say those words out loud. 

Seeing that Hyunjin was staring at you with a confused expression on his face, you went on. Your voice was weak, hushed. He came closer to hear you better, his scent entering your lungs and colonizing you.

No more dodging.

“I had an abortion when I was seventeen. I let a boy touch me for the wrong reasons,” you explained, your voice shaking with cries, tears threatening to spill from your eyes. “It never felt right to have the abortion but I was too scared to keep it. And then, later, when I was married…” You closed your eyes, a trembling breath escaping your lips. “Christopher was ready to have a baby right now but I wasn’t sure. I wanted to want it. And wanting to want something isn’t the same as just wanting it. It isn’t genuine desire. It jinxed it. I cursed it. Chris resents me, and he resents himself for resenting me. It was so hard on him. That’s why we don’t spend nights together anymore.”

Hyunjin inhaled sharply, ready to interrupt you, but you didn’t let him.

“I loved her immediately. Judith. When I found out I was pregnant, no matter how terrified I was and how unsure I had been seconds before. I can’t even explain it. It was the happiest I ever felt. I loved my body so much because it had a baby inside it. I loved Chris so much because he gave me a baby. I loved my parents for giving me life. I loved everything. And her—I loved this little thing inside of me unconditionally from the moment I knew it was there. Words can’t even describe it.”

“It’s not your fault. You talk like you were punished by higher forces for hesitating to have a baby. Fuck—be honest with me right now. Do you actually, literally believe that this all happened to you because you had an abortion when you were seventeen? Seventeen?”

You hid your face in a pillow. Or perhaps it was just to muffle the sound of your cries. Nobody else knew. You had told no one. 

“Let’s think for one instant that, somehow, what we feel does influence the things that happen to us,” Hyunjin offered. “Look at me, please.” When you didn’t move, he repeated it in an even softer voice. “Please. Look at me.” 

You flinched when he touched you but it was not out of fear or aversion, it was just that you weren’t used to tenderness. And there was a lot of it in the way he tucked a strand of your damp hair behind your ear before he gently nudged your head. “Please,” he said again. 

You wiped your face before you faced him. But you faced him. No one else knew. About Chris. About Judith. About the crazy thoughts in your head, which weighed so heavy on your heart.

You were here tonight. With him, this man that you barely knew and who barely knew you. Who knew you better than anybody else. And it was out of greed that you were. Out of despair.

“Even if it were the case,” he went on, his voice so full of compassion it stopped your tears on the spot. “I’m sure that your other, brighter feelings and thoughts outweighed the bad ones and would have prevented that tragedy.” 

Your response was instantaneous. “You don’t know that.”

“I know you enough to know you’re not a bad person. What happened isn’t on you. I’m sure you would be a great mom. And if you were my wife, I sure as fuck would give a damn where you spend the night.”

The conflicted feelings within you were starting to pile up dangerously, but whatever that last sentence had unleashed caused the wildest reaction—it made the tears reappear. It made your heart stop in your chest, and then it started again only it was way too fast this time. Uncontrollable, unsteady. You might just be having a heart attack. A wave of warmth was spilling onto you like a high tide, starting from the nape of your neck and reaching all the way to your fingertips, your belly, the small of your back, and your thighs. Between your thighs. You had no way to know for sure but you thought—and it was pathetic—that you were wet. 

It was hard to pinpoint what had done it. If it was just the proximity with Hyunjin or his alluring scent, or the few seconds where you caught a glimpse of his toned stomach earlier. Or when he hinted at your abilities at motherhood just now and uttered the words my wife while talking about you. It had been too long since anybody had given the semblance of a fuck about you. 

You closed your eyes again. To calm down.

The silence that followed was lengthy and not a true silence anyway. The rain was still falling and the storm was getting closer. Just like your father taught you, you counted the seconds between the lightning flashes and the thunder that ensued, dividing the result by 5 to get an approximation of the distance of the storm. It was near but it would probably not pass right over Riverside. It was difficult to concentrate on the numbers anyway because you kept being distracted by Hyunjin’s breathing. It was deep and soothing and comforting the way the wind was comforting when you were in the safety of a warm, secure home.

“Do you still love him? Christopher?” he asked out of nowhere. The storm was about two miles away to the East. 

“I grew up with him. Here, in Stormhaven, at Riverside. He’s my best friend.” You thought that was obvious enough, but just in case, you added, “I’ll always love him. Like you’ll always love Dara.”

“It’s not the same thing.” 

“It’s not the same thing but it is,” you retorted. “Different friendship, different situation, same result. Am I wrong?” 

He didn’t give you an answer but you heard him shake his head negatively. “Well, does he love you?”

“Does Dara love you?”

“We’re not talking about me.” 

“We were very much talking about you, by the way.” The storm was one mile away. “It’s the same for him. He grew up with me. He’ll always love me somehow. But he’s miserable with me. He wants to fuck Summer.”

“Summer?” Then, immediately. “Ah, that girl, I bet.”

“The one he was sitting with at the diner, yes,” you explained. “I don’t blame him. She’s a great person. Like, honestly. They make a great pair. And have you seen her? She’s hot as hell.”

“The one who was wearing his hoodie the other night. I remember,” Hyunjin said in a dry, irritated tone. 

You chuckled, managing to open your eyes despite your head spinning a little more than you’d want it to. “Why are you mad?”

Hyunjin stared at you blankly. “I’m not mad.”

“You’re the worst liar I’ve ever seen. Why are you mad?”

He rolled his eyes, tsking you. “Why was she wearing his hoodie? And why was he sitting with her tonight and not with you?”

“I’m literally wearing your clothes right now. And sitting with you. Horizontally. On a bed.”

“It’s a couch,” Hyunjin pointed out, motioning at the TV. “Doesn’t he realize that he’s holding you back? If he loved you—truly loved you, like a best friend would—he would let you go. A woman like you should be happy.” 

The storm was here. Not here here as in it did not hover the sky directly above you but it was too close for you to count the seconds between the flashes and the thunder, which vibrated within the walls of the motorhome. 

“This is a two-way thing.” You were so tired that you weren’t exactly sure any of this was happening. Maybe you were asleep. Maybe you had gone home directly after dinner and this was all a dream. Some fucked up dream. “I’m not letting him go either.”

“Why not?” Hyunjin touched you again. Your wrist this time, then your hand, squeezing it. You pressed your thighs together as blood rushed between your legs again. Stupid. Ridiculous. It was time you brought back your faithful vibrator from its retirement—this was nothing more than a physical reaction to a lack of something. “I’m not telling you to dump him,” he added. “But either you guys need to make it work or just let it go. You’re hurting yourselves. Are you sure he hasn’t fucked her already? That girl?” 

“I’m sure. He would never.” He might have done what you were doing right now though. He might have spent a night with her. On a couch. Just in her presence. If it were the case, you hoped it had made him very happy. “I don’t know how to let go. I never did that before. You’d be upset if someone told you to let go of Dara, wouldn’t you?” 

“Yes. It’s not the same thing. We’re not married. She doesn’t want to love me. Do you think that Christopher wants to love you?”

There it was.

It all came down to that one question, didn’t it? All of it. All this time you knew what you were supposed to do but you didn’t do it because it scared you. Because you didn’t know what would happen to Riverside Campground. Because you didn’t know what you would do without it—because of course you’d let Chris have it in the divorce. 

You didn’t know who you were without him by your side. He had been there the whole time. Hunting frogs as children. Sneaking out as teens and smoking weed and pretending not to like each other. Adults doing their best. 

Here’s a truth so ugly no one ever wants to admit it to be real—you can do your best your whole life and it doesn’t mean it’ll work out. You can try your hardest and it doesn’t mean anything will come of it. You can love someone with your whole entire soul and it doesn’t mean you’ll be with them in the end. 

And it’s just like that.

Your silence, perhaps, was the loudest response you could have given. Hyunjin squeezed your hand a little tighter before he let go of it but it was only so he could grab a lightweight but soft blanket. “Get some sleep,” he whispered as he lay the blanket over you. 

Stay, you almost told him. But it felt like a dream. You thought you were dreaming because nothing felt the same as it used to. When you were searching for those anchor points within you, you knew they were there. The sorrow, the grief. But you couldn’t see them, the way you couldn’t see people’s faces or the corners of a room sometimes in a dream.

But you could say it now—the reason why you didn’t want to let go. You were afraid to let go of it because grief, truly, was all you had left of Judith. You didn’t have any memories with her except for the few months she was in your belly. She kicked at you from within. You’d sing her lullabies. She had the hiccups sometimes, usually in the middle of the night. This, your grief, and the silence in the delivery room when they pulled her out of you, was all you had of Judith. 

In your dream, Hyunjin said, I’m here. The rain was tapping steadily on the roof still and it lulled you into a deeper sleep, a barren, quiet one, the kind of sleep where the world stopped existing for an instant. 

You only woke once during the night, barely. 

The storm had faded, cooling the air—you felt the breeze from the window on your face and expected to feel cold, only you didn’t. You realized that there were two additional blankets over you. 

You opened your eyes. Barely. 

It was dark but you saw him anyway, Hyunjin, asleep on the other side of the bed. You remembered the common loons. You remembered the place where the river came to a rest, slowing down just for a moment, only to gain momentum again. And depth. And strength. Maybe the strength was never really gone even if you didn’t see it. It was just dormant.

Aloneness had been forced upon you long ago but maybe, just maybe, you didn’t need to drown in it.

You fell asleep again, and your sleep was dreamless and peaceful. 

... to be continued.

↬ ✉️ Hello everyone! It's been a while, hasn't it?

I hope everyone has been doing okay 🤍

I didn't think this chapter would ever see the light of day. Actually, there was a long moment during which I thought I might or probably would never write again. It's very frightening when you realize that your own melancholy has drowned the fire inside you—but I suppose there was a spark somewhere. I did what I could with the chapter—if maybe you felt like it was different, or lackluster, I am sorry. Keep in mind that it is a battlefield, and it's quite bloody. I fought to keep writing. I want to keep writing. Writing is all that I have and all that I am.

Thank you to those who have waited for me. Thank you to those who wait for the other stories too. I'm so sorry I'm like that. I wish I were like the other writers and would post often. You guys are the best readers and I want to give you more. Thank you so much for being with me. Some of you have been there for years—this is special to me. I'm grateful, so grateful. No matter what happens to me or the fire inside me, please know that I'll never forget you, and your kindness, and your love.

Thank you so much, and thank you for keeping me around. Now, you guys better take care of yourselves, and eat your meals okay? All three of them!

PS: I will be answering the asks in my inbox today & tomorrow 🤍 sorry for the delay.

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AND OH ITS HARD TO LEAVE YOU, WHEN I GET YOU EVERYWHERE.

like ink on paper, like red wine on white silk ( the taste of honey chapter 4 )

pairing: young aristocrat hyunjin x f!reader | wc: 32.4k | genre: 19th century au, arranged marriage, romance, smut | warnings: period-appropriate themes & customs including sexuality and beliefs ; virgin!reader ; mutual pining ; slow burn ; heavy angst ; anguish and dark thoughts ; view all compiled warnings here. This work is for adult audiences only. This work portrays explicit sexual content and themes & actions that might trigger some, reader discretion is strongly advised. @cb97percent, dearest, this one's for you.

You had seen a tiger only once in your life but it was quite memorable. It might have been domesticated but it was still the largest cat you had ever seen. You wouldn’t forget the look in its eyes as it descended to devour the carcass the circus workers had left for him. A beautiful beast, too thin, locked in a cage. Hyunjin had the same look in his eyes tonight. What a beautiful beast he was, too, only his prison did not have bars. 

The morning of your thirteenth birthday, you found yourself barefoot on the back porch of your family’s villa, throwing nuts on the ground for your favorite squirrel. You liked all the squirrels, of course, but this one had a special place in your heart because its tail was missing. Not only did it stand out, but he was also noticeably less dexterous. He moved slowly and rarely reached the same spots as the others that sometimes roamed the property. 

You named the squirrel Henry. And it wasn’t that big of a deal either. It was just that your family could most definitely spare a few nuts here and there and this tiny rodent could use them. It made you smile, though, to see him and his unusual hopping as you went on your days. It gave you a thing to look forward to—and you had very few of those.

You were nervous that your mother would find you here. Like that. Because of Henry and because of other things, too. At that point, it was the second year he spent around the villa and your mother was well aware that you had taken a liking to him. There were things, like Henry, that she tolerated. The beehives, for example. She let you spend some time every other day with the old beekeeper, Mr. Ito, and you had no idea why. She was so strict and unyielding about everything else that it made no sense to allow you something as beautiful as that. 

Sometimes, you wondered if it was so that you would not hate her. Perhaps she thought that if she let you have the beekeeping and a garden, it would keep you strong for the rest of it. For the endless lessons—etiquette, manners, dance, embroidery, reading, sewing, singing. 

In a couple of years, you’d be learning about politics—a woman, especially not a lady, did not need to be very knowledgeable on the matter, not to the point of forming an opinion about any of it. 

However, she would need to know enough to entertain some conversation with her husband, and maybe even some of his business partners, while the men sat around a table to discuss such things. A lady would not be at her place sitting at the table but she would be expected to make a brief appearance—it gave her husband a good reason to show her off, especially if she made one or two witty remarks and was generous on the wine or liquor they drank. 

Your mother made you write that down. All of her lectures. All of her lessons. She said it made you practice spelling and your calligraphy at once, and that written words are engraved deeper into the memory of girls. In your bedroom there was a large dresser made of cherry wood and one of the drawers was almost full to the brim with sheets of paper. The words your mother made you write down. The standards she expected of you. 

Like, a lady should know better than anybody how to run her house—including her husband. For that, your mother regularly made you join the staff in their chores. You had learned how to wash, dry, and fold laundry. You had learned how to store food, and how to make preserves. More lessons would come. Your middle drawer was full of loose sheets with everything and anything on them. Recipes for soups or cakes or venison. Lists of the best brands of specific products, from cleaning supplies to liquor. Reputable clothing brands. 

There were a few songs among those sheets, too. These, you didn’t mind. You liked music. Out of all the lessons, singing was your favorite one, partially because it bore your mother enough that she never stayed around for the entirety of it. But also, and most importantly, you were good at it, and music made you feel alive. You stood near the piano while your teachers played, and you sang along while working on your pitch. Sometimes, the teachers even let you play a few notes on the piano.

You often sang to the bees. The hives and Mr. Ito were your usual audience, and they were easy to please. You were too young to execute some of the harvesting steps, Mr. Ito said, but you were welcome to watch as closely as you wanted. He said that you enthralled the bees, that they remained calm when you were around.

The morning of your thirteenth birthday, you woke up before the rest of your family, although you could hear the staff already at work. The night before, it had been Lillie, the Head Housekeeper, who put you to bed. Your parents were hosting a big dinner to celebrate your sister’s engagement to the son of a wealthy man and you had to be excused from the festivities due to a stomach ache. So it had been Lillie who put you into your sleeping gown and brushed your hair. She pressed warm towels on your belly to make the stomach ache go away. You liked Lillie. She was kind and always treated you with tenderness and love, the way a mother would, the way your mother never had. You only figured the belly ache came from all the stress you had that day, in anticipation of your birthday. It seemed like thirteen was such a big number, even if it was just one more than twelve.

Your sister was seventeen. She and her fiancé would get married soon after she turned eighteen.

You questioned your mother about that one afternoon. “Mother, you said that we would begin our journey to Hwang Estate not before I turned twenty, maybe after.” Already, at your age, you were aware that it was unusual. “Why is Kimi’s marriage at eighteen, then?” 

Your mother liked it when you asked direct questions. “Because your marriage is more important,” she told you. “When he is of age, Lord Hyunjin will become a more powerful man than Mr. Hughes, so I want you to be more prepared. More… ripe. When I send you over to him.”

But you had visited the lumberyard owned by the Hughes with the rest of your family. It was huge. The whole place smelled like freshly cut wood, but it was very dusty. When you pointed out to your mother that it looked like this place was rather busy and that it must be important, she shook her head. “Hwang Estate is one thing, my daughter. The estate itself is large—I told you, it is surrounded by a beautiful pine forest. But the Hwangs own the land beyond that forest, too. More acres than your brain can comprehend without seeing it. There are farms on it. He also owns a factory.” 

In any case. You weren’t exactly sure you understood what importance was, not in the context related by your mother. Because to you, none of these things were important. Not the size of the Hughes’ lumberyard, not the size of Hyunjin’s estate or the farms around it. To you, all that mattered was that one day, you would go over there and get married to your friend. Your only friend.

You turned thirteen today. 

That morning, you woke up with something sticky and warm between your legs. For the first few seconds you assumed you peed the bed, which seemed properly impossible, and yet. Then, after frantically pushing the covers off you, you found yourself in a small puddle of your own blood. You stared at it for a long time, tears running down your face. You tore the sheets off the bed and realized that it had stained the mattress, too, but you wiped it as well as you could and put fresh covers back on. Nobody would guess, and your bed wasn’t due for a change for two more days, so it would give you time. 

It was too soon. You had been told to expect it a few years from now.

Your mother had prepared you for that day. The day you would become a woman. You knew what that entailed. Your mother had prepared you for that, too—the consequences of it all. The monthly bleeds were part of the cycle that would allow you to have a baby inside you one day. It would be Lord Hyunjin who would put it there. The baby. And your mother had taught you all about that too, saying that Lord Hyunjin was like a gardener. He would plant his seed inside you on the days when you did not bleed out of your entrance. She called it like that. An entrance—a garden. 

The act is a lot more pleasurable for men than it is for women, she also said. They sometimes have special demands or requests—it is expected of you to comply. You are pretty, you are young, you are a maiden, and the most precious thing you have is this purity that you keep between your legs, that your husband is waiting to break. For this reason, it is expected of you to keep your garden unsullied until your husband plants his seed inside it.

Unsullied. 

But that morning, you washed yourself up and hid your soiled clothes underneath your bed with the bedsheets. You shoved your least favorite cotton shirt into your undergarments and put another nightgown back on—this way, nobody would know what happened. You needed time to process.

You had never had much of it. Freedom. But from the moment your mother would find out you were bleeding from between your legs, you would have none.

You hated the feeling of it. The dampness, the sharp pain, the nausea spells taking over you. But you stayed outside nonetheless because you were waiting for the mail. 

Your heart jumped at the mere thought of it. If you were lucky enough, you would be able to intercept Mr. Greene—the villa’s Head Steward—before he brought the mail back into his office, and he would give you Hyunjin’s letter. 

Year after year, it was the only thing you ever looked forward to. Your birthday, and the words Hyunjin sent you. 

However, that morning, it wasn’t the mail that you intercepted, but rather a conversation between your parents. They hadn’t seen you on the back porch because the curtains of the parlor were drawn, but one of the windows had been left open to let some fresh air in. It very soon became obvious that you weren’t supposed to hear that conversation at all but you could not move without the risk of the creaking of planks to betray you. 

“Are you seriously going to refuse Lord Grover’s offer?” your mother scolded in a tone that was usually reserved for you. “An Earl, Ian! An Earl! Are you out of your damn mind?” 

A silence followed during which you heard your father let out a long, tired sigh. “We made a promise and I intend on keeping it,” he said in the end. “I’m a man of honor.”

“You may be a man of honor, but Hwang is no longer of this world to complain about a broken promise,” your mother retorted with disdain. “Because he had no honor at all and it caused his demise. Do you really want your daughter to marry into that family?”

Your heart sank to your stomach as your brain was working at inhuman speed to process everything you were hearing. You may have been only thirteen, but you weren’t stupid—you knew what this conversation was implying. You knew of Hyunjin’s father and the shame he had brought on his family—Hyunjin had sent a letter that year, telling you he would understand if you no longer wished to marry him. But to you, his father’s wrongdoings meant nothing. 

Because it was him that you liked. Hyunjin. And you knew he wasn’t like that, like his father. You knew from the letters he sent, and because you were very much unlike your mother. 

“I want our family to be able to keep its head held high,” your father said. “It would bring dishonor to us if we were to annul the betrothal. What Hwang did doesn’t change the fact that our daughter will marry into a wealthy, comfortable life, and we still keep our word.”

“Your word. It was your word, not mine.” Your mother clicked her tongue. “I don’t think it would bring us dishonor at all. I don’t think the Hwang boy would have much trouble finding himself a wife. With his mother’s connections, he could probably marry some royal relative, even. For all we know, it’s what he’s going to do anyway. He’s getting older now, an orphan, and he’s responsible for himself. Who’s to say he won’t wed some girl and impregnate her, completely disregarding our arrangement?” 

You pressed your hand over your mouth to muffle the sound of your sobs, which you could not control. The inside of your body felt cold like a winter day. You felt so little all of a sudden. Insignificant. Stupid. Unsightly. Revolting. With blood sticking to your thighs and tears rolling your face and your hair tangled and unwashed, with the scent of nuts and corn on your fingers after feeding Henry. 

She was right, your mother. 

Hyunjin was your friend. Your only friend. He was all that you had and you didn’t even have him yet. He was kind and sweet in the letters he sent you, but nothing about it promised you a happy marriage to him or a marriage at all. Even if he said he couldn’t wait for you to come live with him. 

He was reaching an age where boys wanted certain things and thought a lot about girls and their gardens. 

“The exact same could be said about Theodore,” your father retorted. “He could impregnate two or three princesses by the time our daughter is of age.” 

Theodore—Lord Grover’s son. You did not know him but he and his parents had been guests for the dinner last night, their family being close with the Hughes. It was an honor, your mother said, to host an Earl and his family for a meal, and it had been why she had been so quick to send you away last night when you felt ill. She’d rather you disappear than embarrass her with your childish pain, which, in the end, had been caused by something that was anything but childish. 

He was sitting a few seats down from you during dinner—he had been seated by your mother, not too far from your brother. Surely, she wanted him to become friends with the future earl. Theodore was a tall boy of almost twenty years old, with dark eyes and chestnut-brown hair that had a touch of cinnamon in it, which you could only assume came from his mother, whose hair was the color of copper. He was very outgoing and talked to everybody with just the right amount of respect and politeness expected of him. He was handsome even, in the way a boy his age could be. Not quite a man yet but no longer a child.

“He wouldn’t do that! He’ll be an earl,” your mother insisted. “Don’t you want your daughter to marry an earl?” 

You could no longer control yourself—the nausea hit you so hard you became dizzy and fell to your knees. You cried, just waiting for the lightheadedness to pass, unable to help your sobs. The pain in your lower abdomen was so sharp it felt like a knife but the pain in your heart was sharper. You didn’t want any of that. You wanted Hyunjin. You had known all your life that you would be his wife someday. And you didn’t want it any other way.

“What is this?” You heard your mother as she approached the nearest window. You couldn’t stand in time, but you managed to wipe some of your tears and your mouth before her face appeared through the glass. 

A strange expression, one that you had never seen on her, appeared on her face. It crept up slowly, almost like she was resisting it. Your father appeared by her side—you heard him talk to her in a very irritated voice but couldn’t make out the words as you were too taken up by the mere effort of stopping your cries. Your mother hated it when you cried. 

She stormed outside but by the time she was on the porch, you had run away, not minding the destination. All that you wanted was to go far from here. You wanted to be yesterday when you weren’t a woman yet. You wanted to be years from now when you wouldn’t live here anymore but on a pretty estate surrounded by a pine forest.

If Hyunjin wanted you at all. 

Your mother caught up with you when you tripped over a rock and fell face-first into the soft grass growing around the property. The soil absorbed most of the shock but none of your shame or your sorrow. 

“Get up! Someone will see you!” She grabbed at your gown, attempting to pull you up. “What have I told you about eavesdropping? What have I—”

Her sentence was cut short when she saw blood in the process of tugging at your gown. It left her speechless long enough for you to stand on your own and escape her grip. “I don’t want to marry him,” you managed through your tears, but it was difficult to speak with how tight your throat was. “Please, Mother. Not him, not Lord Grover’s son,” you begged, and you had never begged before in your life. “Please, Mother, I don’t love him, I don’t want to, please, please—”

She raised a hand in the air and used it to strike you in the face hard enough that you almost lost your balance again. It effectively caused you to stop crying as you stared at her, bewildered. It wasn’t the first time you got a strike to the face, but it had never been this hard before. The pain spread underneath your skin like spilled ink on paper. 

There were tears in her eyes, but that happened when she was really angry. “How dare you speak to me like this! How dare you show yourself in such a way when we have guests in our home!” 

The sting became an ache on your cheek. You knew it would become red and swollen, which meant you would spend the next several days locked in your room, away from prying eyes.

“You’re not worthy of the Grovers, clearly,” your mother commented with disdain. “The wife of an Earl does not act like a spoiled child.” She scoffed. “I doubt they will retain their marriage offer after they hear of your little tantrum.” 

You did not know what kind of life you would live. But if you ever had a child, you would not hit them, not even if they misbehaved.

“You said I was going to marry Hyunjin,” you muttered, averting your gaze. “He’s my friend.”

“Friend? He’s your friend?” She lowered herself to look at you from up close. “You know, they say he has his father’s demons in his eyes.” 

“No,” you said. Then, “I don’t care. I love him.” 

Your mother broke into a burst of hysterical laughter—it echoed in the quiet morning. You noticed Henry nearby, alarmed by the sound, scuttling away. 

“Mother,” you murmured. “Please, stop.” She looked scary. You just wanted to return to your room. “Please. Stop.” 

She didn’t stop yet—instead, the laughter slowed down, punctuated by deep breaths. She wiped a tear from the corner of her eye, following your gaze. “Were you feeding that vermin again? What did I tell you about this?” 

“He’s not vermin! He’s… he’s my friend.” Henry had reached a tall oak tree and disappeared among the branches. 

“He’s your friend,” your mother repeated, her eyes filling with angry tears again. “Let me guess. You love him, too? Have you ever had a fondness for something whole? Why is it that whenever you love something, it’s broken, or crippled?”

She grabbed you by the nape of your neck and dragged you back home, lecturing you about the responsibilities of a girl who became a woman and how you had to be stronger than this, stronger than your willingness to help out a squirrel that didn’t have a tail, stronger than the strange feeling brought by your first bleeding. You had to be stronger than those stupid little childish feelings of yours. “You’re a fool for loving him, child.”

The year you turned thirteen, your mother was so angry at you—or at your father, or both—that she did not allow you to read Hyunjin’s letter. She burned it in front of your eyes, and if a gift had come with it, she never told you. “You will learn to behave like a woman. Like a lady,” she said as the paper turned to ashes. “You could have been the wife of an earl, but instead you will be the wife of a deranged man. Maybe he will be despised by all—maybe that is what you want. To be stained by him.” 

He was all that you had. Hyunjin. He was all that you ever wanted, because all this time, he had been the only thing that made you feel like a person and not a lump of clay to be fashioned into something. And you loved him—as broken as he might be.

The sky was blue and clear and the air was cool, the breeze carrying the scent of fall with it. The grass you lay upon was cool too, but soft and comfortable, heating up slowly under the sun as the day advanced. There was nothing around except for the pine forest on one side and a secluded corner of the lake on the other. You could hear the gentle waves flapping on the shore. You heard a few birds, too. 

The scene may have been beautiful and serene, but it was the last thing on your mind at the moment.

Hyunjin, your Hyunjin, towering over you, his shirt half-unbuttoned and his hair undone, occupied every molecule of your brain, of your soul. He looked like a feral thing like that, but perhaps it was just because you couldn’t wait to feel him even more.

“Open your legs for me darling, will you?” 

His voice echoed through you like an earthquake, starting from your scalp, running all the way to your extremities, but not without coating your core with something warm and heavy. Your lips were raw and swollen from the past hour spent kissing him. On the mouth, in his neck. His hands, his jaw. 

You locked eyes with your husband. You never wanted to look at anything but him. He was the most beautiful thing you had ever seen. 

His fingers dug themselves deeper into the plush flesh of your thighs, waiting, eager. He didn’t need to ask you to do it—if Hyunjin wanted, he could open your legs at any moment he wished. He was stronger than you were, and you wouldn’t resist him anyway.

But he liked asking. And you liked it when he asked. When he begged.

His honey skin was warm, warm enough that you did not feel the wind. You only felt him. And his hands on your thighs, so close to your pussy that you swore he could feel how wet you were.

Slowly, you parted open your legs, just for him, and met no resistance. Hyunjin’s expression changed, turning grave and contemplative as he watched. As you offered yourself to him.

He bit his lower lip. “Oh,” he murmured, his voice low, evoking the same honey as his skin. “Baby, you’re soaked…”

You would never get used to it. 

Hyunjin lowered himself between your legs, wasting no time before he left wet kisses over your thighs, holding you still. He had hitched up your skirt a while ago already and the contrast between his body and the cool air gave you goosebumps. 

It never quite felt real. When he touched you. When he held you. When he looked you in the eyes and called you darling, at any time of the day. You kept waiting for the moment you’d wake up from this dream and return to reality where Hyunjin avoided you like the plague. Yet, months passed, and it never came, allowing you to make a home out of this dream-like life you were in. 

You did awaken in the morning but the dream kept on going because you were in your lord husband’s bed and his arms were usually wrapped around your body. If they weren’t, you were holding him, and if you weren’t, he was pressed so close to you that you could feel him, all of him, over all of you. His scent, masculine yet delicate, now lingered on you always, following you wherever you went like a reminder of his love. 

You liked it. When you woke up like that, in Hyunjin’s bed, his hard, straining cock pressed on your lower back. You liked it so much that you usually made a point of not waking him up to make the moment last longer. You let it permeate you like ink on paper. Like red wine on white silk. Keeping your eyes closed, you usually registered every little detail you could. Where his hands were. The rhythm of his breathing. His pulse. The little sleepy noises spilling from his lips. 

But came a time when it was no longer enough, when your soaked pussy ached for him in a way that could not be put into words. Sometimes you woke him up by taking him into your mouth. You liked it so much. His deep, bitter taste, stronger in the morning. His musky scent. You rarely felt as connected to him as when his heartbeat pulsed through his cock onto your tongue. He watched attentively as you sucked him off, as you massaged his balls just the way you knew he liked. You loved feeling him resist the urge to fuck your throat—the restrained thrusts, the whimpers, his fist in your hair. 

Sometimes, he’d tell you that he loved you as he emptied himself in your mouth, and you were certain that this was as close as you’d ever get to a miracle.

This morning, it had been Hyunjin who was up before you. He woke you up with a kiss on your bare shoulder, pulling you back against him. “Let’s have breakfast by the lake, darling, while the weather still allows it.” Some trees were losing their green and turning yellow—you knew that soon, what wasn’t a pine or a spruce would be bright orange or red, and that days would be cold, and nights even colder. 

This was Hyunjin’s secret place, he called it. It was quite a walk from the manor but worth every minute of it. It was private and comfortable and pretty. He liked being with you here.

He liked eating your pussy here.

Your breakfast—fresh bread, cheese, and autumn strawberries was left untouched in the basket you carried it in. Hyunjin had decided he wanted to feast on something else. 

You shuddered when his hot breath caressed your glistening folds, but you arched into him when he used one of his hands to part your pussylips open. You never reacted gently to him—every little contact felt like a thousand kisses, or a thousand little flames, or both at once. 

Heat rushed to your core when Hyunjin gave your pussy three kisses. One on your mons, one on your entrance, and lastly one directly onto your clit. You moaned, biting into your fist, knowing that you were out of sight but not necessarily out of earshot. 

“Darling.” He did not need to say anything more—one word, this one word, was worth a lifetime of waiting. 

Hyunjin gave your cunt a few tentative, bashful kitten licks, moaning when your taste melted on his tongue. He accentuated the pressure he applied by bobbing his head, licking and lapping at you. 

Your hand found his hair. So that you could anchor yourself to something. So that you could keep it there, right there, and rub yourself all over his face. “Yes, yes, yes…” Your voice was no more than a desperate whine. Hyunjin responded by moaning louder into your cunt, reacting to how needy you were. 

“My darling wife,” he murmured, pulling away just a little to breathe. He looked at you from there, his gaze piercing and heavy, his pink, pillowy lips coated with your slick. “You become such a wild thing when you get your pretty pussy eaten, don’t you?”

You clenched at that, at the sound of his voice, at his hooded eyes. Propping yourself on your elbow to make sure you’d see as much as you could, you watched as Hyunjin returned to your folds, licking at you with fervor, as though he was running out of time, or patience. It was sloppy, and the sounds of his mouth as he tasted you were making you dizzy. 

He slurped and slurped, his smooth tongue running all over your folds before he lingered at your entrance, teasing you, then pushing it within you. A stronger wave of pleasure took over you every time. And he knew it. Hell, you could feel his pleased smile against your pussy as he fucked you with his tongue in long, slow licks, savoring you, swallowing every drop of you that he could. It was too much. It wasn’t enough. 

You wanted him in every way one could have somebody. If it had been possible, you would have woven your soul to his so that the two of you were never apart. He belonged there. Between your legs. In your heart.

And you belonged there too, in his embrace, in his heart. You belonged to him.

You wanted him. To feel him, to feel him against you. You tugged at his hair and yet Hyunjin did not budge—he moved from your hole to your clit, flicking his tongue gently all over it, bringing you closer to the edge. You moaned with your mouth wide open, your voice echoing over the lake, disappearing into the pine forest. You moaned again, louder, pulling harder at your husband’s silky hair so that he would come find you here. “Please,” you pleaded, your face contorted with pleasure and impatience alike. 

He was handsome in the purest way possible. In the most sinful, depraved way. His mouth remained agape as he caught his breath, his lips and cheeks and chin wet with your juices. His breath smelled like your cunt. Some of his hair stuck to his temples—you pushed it behind his ear as you caressed his flushed cheek. 

He was so hard—his trousers did very little to conceal the bulge his cock formed in them. He rubbed himself onto your cunt, staining his pants with your cream. 

You took his face in both of your hands, pulling him into a kiss. He took your lips and kissed you hard with his pussy-infused mouth. You loved your own taste, especially like this. He whispered your name and you breathed it in, whispering his in return. 

Hooking your knees on his waist, you rolled Hyunjin until he was on his back and you straddled him. He was even more beautiful like this, sprawled onto the soft grass, lips swollen, the tent in his pants beckoning you. You took no time pulling his pants down, exposing his length. Finally.

You loved his cock. You just loved it. The way it looked. The way it tasted, the way it smelled. The way it felt under your tongue or in your hand or anywhere else on your body. You wrapped your hand around his base, eliciting a hiss from Hyunjin, his head falling back to rest on the ground. 

You loved your husband, you loved his cock. And you wanted him badly. You wanted him in ways he would never take you—how often did you desperately rub your clit at the thought of him fucking you? Of him claiming you by stuffing your tight cunt with his cock, filling you with his cum? You often wondered what it felt like. To be made whole by your husband’s seed, dripping slowly out of your fucked out hole after he was done with you. 

He throbbed in your palm. You secured yourself on top of him, guiding his cock at your pussy but not at your entrance. He moaned when you coated it with your creamy slick, grunting at the sensation of his smooth, hot cock rubbing onto your soaked pussy. He touched it, grazing his fingertips on the places where his length touched you, your pussy, the soft, pillowy skin there. One morning you woke up to him sketching you, using his dominant hand to draw you naked on his bed and the other to stroke his leaking cock. He refused to let you touch him—you weren’t to move, he was drawing you. To practice. He really wanted to learn. He drew you well, down to your slick sticking to the soft trimmed hair of your pussy. And then he made you cum with his tongue two times, and he blew his load all over your face just to watch it drip onto your tits. 

You loved him. You rubbed your soaked pussy all over his length, using him the same way you sometimes used a pillow to relieve your urges. He was so hard. God, so hard. For you. Just for you. 

He tugged at the shirt you were wearing, undoing enough buttons to free your tits. He kissed them, he caressed them, he twisted your nipples until he felt your pussy throb at that. 

His eyelids fluttered when you found your rhythm, rutting against him with your hips rolling in ample waves. “Baby—” he let out with a strangled voice. “Use me. Like that.” 

And you were using him a little. Once you felt his cock, nothing could stop you. It drove you crazy when he was this hard, when he was looking at you as if you were the most beautiful thing in the world. It just felt so good. Him, there, between your folds, throbbing against your clit. You leaned over to kiss him again, harder this time, your tongue following the same tempo as your hips. You knew that Hyunjin would cum soon because his breathing was shallow,because his fingers were digging themselves into your waist. 

You were close too. You wanted to appreciate the moment, the feeling of your cunt on him, your slick dripping onto him, but your mind kept wandering to your most profound desires. You wondered what it would feel like if you were riding him like that but with his cock inside you. How deep it would reach. 

You could. Fuck, you could guide him inside you right now—you were so wet it couldn’t possibly be difficult for him to stretch you open, but you’d love it if it hurt. You wanted it to hurt. You wanted Hyunjin to drill into you. You wanted him to use you, to fuck you so hard it brought tears to your eyes. You wanted to be used and loved and fucked by him. 

The ripples of pleasure in your core became waves and then a monsoon—surging from within, warm and intoxicating. You could no longer control your moans as they spilled from your lips in loud, staccato breaths. You moved faster, rubbing yourself harder on Hyunjin’s cock, like an animal would. It was too good, too warm, too wet—you couldn’t hold yourself up. Collapsing onto his chest as you chased your high, you buried your face into his neck. Just fuck me just give me your cock… please please I want you to cum inside me—

You realized you were speaking out loud when Hyunjin put his hands on your arms, pulling you away so that he could look you in the eyes.

You had never seen this look on his face before. A glare. Something worse. 

For a second—just a second—he frightened you. Like he was a lion and you were a gazelle in the moments before he ripped your throat open. And yet you did not love him, or want him, any less because of it.

His grip on you tightened and before you knew it, you found yourself pinned on the ground underneath him, his cock dangerously close to your hole. You couldn’t move. You could barely breathe underneath the weight of him, dazed from the manhandling.

Time came to a stop. Hyunjin took in the sight of you and you of him. A strand of hair fell in front of his face. You could hear nothing except your own panting. His hand rose slowly and he reached for you. It looked, almost, like he was going to caress your cheek. 

Instead, he grabbed your face, holding you like that. He spoke to you then, his voice low, more a snarl than a sentence. “Stop. Fucking. Tempting. Me.” He gave one powerful thrust, his length buried not into your hole but within your folds as he rubbed himself onto you so hard it made you sink into the soil a little. 

Sparks ran under your skin—you were too close to the edge, trapped underneath Hyunjin’s weight. Your eyes rolled back. “Please,” you heard yourself say but your mind was being separated from your body, your consciousness leaving you. “Please,” you said again, fire taking over your insides, your cunt dripping. It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered. Not that he scared you. Not the ache in the places where his hand held you in place. For an instant, you wondered if the imprint of his fingers would remain on the skin of your face.

Hyunjin let out a noise that was something between a growl and a moan. “I know.” His face was flushed and angry and beautiful. He held your face still as he kissed you hungrily, as his rutting became erratic. “Give it to me, just cum, just fucking cum.”

Something sank within you—an ache spread from your lower back to your pussy under the relentless rubbing of Hyunjin’s cock onto your clit. Your hips stuttered as your release finally reached you and you dissolved into pleasure, moaning uncontrollably. You arched onto Hyunjin and he was all over you—biting your neck, your shoulder, the soft flesh of your breasts. His free hand was groping and squeezing you everywhere while the other forced you to look at him while you came. 

The flutters of your pussy reached his cock in shockwaves—he throbbed so hard that you felt it, and his expression changed—his fury melted as deep, low moans escaped from his parted mouth, and you did not think he could really see you, not with his eyes glazed over like that. He was murmuring words that you could not make out, and as your aftershocks hit you, he flooded your mons and your inner thighs with his cum, hips bucking as he emptied himself all over you. It was so wet, so lewd, that it prolonged your orgasm almost painfully as you clenched around nothing, your vision blurred. 

Hyunjin collapsed onto you, spent, finally letting go of your face. The ghost of his grip remained as your bliss faded. You slid your hands under his unbuttoned shirt, embracing him like that. You gave his temple a little kiss. Then another. His cock was softening, locked between your two bodies, resting on your lower stomach. 

Shame took over you. Like ink on paper. Like red wine on white silk. 

Lips trembling, you caressed Hyunjin’s thick, soft hair. “I’m sorry,” you whispered, your voice evading you. 

He said nothing and it made you want to disappear. You had come to realize that Hyunjin’s silence was far worse than his rage. 

“I’m sorry Hyunjin,” you repeated. 

He pulled himself off you but his face was turned away so that you could not see him. And you felt so little then, so stupid, laying half-naked on the grass, your cunt sticky with your husband’s cum. 

“I’m so—”

When you went to apologize for a third time, he did turn to you then—his expression was solemn and he silenced you with one look. Then he gave you a kiss, a soft one. 

“Don’t,” he spoke against your lips before kissing you again. “Please, darling, don’t.” 

He reached for one of the handkerchiefs you had put into the basket along with the breakfast. It was one of those you had embroidered with Ha-ri and her daughters, an activity you found a lot of enjoyment—and peace—in. It had little bees on it, with Hyunjin’s name just below.

He used it to wipe his cum off you. You flinched—being caressed by him could never leave you unfazed, not even in this situation. You were still sensitive from his licking, his rubbing, from him. Your handsome lord husband, the only thing you had ever wanted. 

The only thing that could make you soar as high as a bird and fall as hard as the coldest downpour. He was much like a storm, with violent winds, with darkening skies, with menacing thunder. Beautiful and intriguing enough that you wholeheartedly ran outside, bare and uncovered, and let the rain drown you one or a hundred times.

He said nothing—he left you there as he rose, buttoning his trousers back up and making his way to the lake so he could rinse out the handkerchief. His hair floated in the breeze and a couple of ducks floated by, their quacks echoing over the water. The pleasure between your legs mutated into something else—you were sore, and the cool weather was affecting you a whole lot more without Hyunjin’s body to warm you up. You brought your knees close to your chest, hugging your legs as you sat there, watching your husband ignore you.

You realized now the mistake you had made—it wasn’t even that you lost control today and said certain things. It was that a few months ago, after the whole ordeal at Lord Jeon’s place, you and Hyunjin hadn’t really talked. Not about this. Never about the specifics of it. He ate your pussy often, and you rubbed or sucked his cock just as often. He’d say things like careful there, it’s going to leak after he spilled himself a little too close to your entrance. But then he’d usually just lick his cum off you, and it normally ended with you having a second or third orgasm, so you weren’t going to complain. 

He showed the affection he had for you, not just in bed. He was visibly more comfortable around you. He’d often say that he loved you. He’d make little surprises for you—flowers picked around the property, more thread for your embroidery, or a freshly painted scene he made for you. 

He called you darling. Almost all of the time now. Even around others. You still remembered the first time he did so in the daytime with an audience—you were visiting the Bangs, whose property was on the other side of the lake, for Lady Bang’s birthday celebration. It had been a small, intimate affair—unfortunately, Lady Bang’s health issues had been making her life more difficult, but she seemed to enjoy her birthday anyway. Changbin and Ha-ri were there as well as Lord Han and his wife, who was also rather close with the Bangs. 

The celebration began outside with light snacks and beverages. You were having tea with the other women while the men were a little farther, standing by the lake and discussing real estate—a topic that bored Hyunjin to death, so you knew he would try to divert it sooner rather than later. You had become accustomed to it—no more than that, you loved it. This little habit of his. When he came to you to help make his current conversation—business or not—more interesting.

Darling, he’d said from across the yard, his voice loud enough that you—and everyone else—heard him. What are those plants that grow by the water on our side of the lake? The ones that smell so good? I’m trying to convince Lord Han that he wants some for his new cottage home.

The fragrant herb grew naturally in a few places on Hwang Estate, its scent made stronger on days where it rained right before the sun warmed up the earth. You remembered warmth spreading on your cheeks as you fumbled with your words—and your needle. Mugwort, my love, you replied, and Hyunjin raised his cup of coffee at you with a smile before turning to the others again. You remembered even more the lightness in your chest and Lady Bang’s knowing smile. Ha-ri’s, too. Not a word had been said about it, except for Lady Bang’s gentle remark, Your husband seems healthy these days, Lady Hwang. It looks like having you around is good for him. You look well, too.

So you knew that what had happened at the Jeons’ place had done something to soften his heart. Except you had thought that it was open. And that it would keep opening over time, like the petals of a flower unfurling slowly under the sun as spring became summer. 

But you realized now that instead of opening, his heart had cracked open—just enough to let some of his love trickle out and spill, to allow some of his light to warm you up, but not enough that he would ever be yours. Not in the way you wanted him to be. And it went so far beyond the act of him putting his cock inside your pussy. It was the thought behind it, his will to never, ever do so was a symptom, a manifestation of something that was festering within him. Like one who had the flu would have a fever and a cough—he recoiled if the tip of his cock even grazed your entrance. 

Or at the sight of a newborn baby, an event that happened two weeks ago in town when a mother—the wife of a farmer who worked on his lands—approached him to present him her daughter. A beautiful little girl, soundly asleep in her mother’s arms, all pretty and snug in a bundle of blankets. He barely acknowledged the woman before running away, leaving you with her. You had been more than happy to chat with her and to praise the little angel in her arms, but when she asked if you wanted to hold her, you realized that you just couldn’t. You froze in place, finding yourself unable to take the baby in your arms. 

Like a manifestation of something festering inside you. A testimony of everything you didn’t have, and never would.

That morning, as the autumn breeze caressed your hair and the places where your skirt did not cover your legs, as you watched your husband soak a cum-stained handkerchief in the lake, you thought of your mother. And of all the ways in which she had warned you.

She had been right all along. Your heart was drawn toward anything that was broken, and the worst part was that you couldn’t help it at all. Out of all the wretched, damaged things you had loved, though, Hyunjin was by far your favorite. 

Hyunjin helped you up when he came back. It seemed that his hand lingered on your forearm a little longer than he needed it to, but perhaps it was just your imagination. 

He did not say a word, not one word, as you walked back to the manor. He disappeared into his bedroom, locking the door behind him. You knew he would wash up before joining Changbin and others in the parlor, where they would hold a meeting about Hyunjin’s upcoming business trip. In the city.

Some things just never changed. You hated it, still, when he left for that place where he used to be so acquainted with the brothels. 

Some things just never changed. You had been a fool for loving him before, and a fool you still were.

That day, Ahnjong came to help you with your bath and your gown but you refused her—you told your maid that you were feeling sick, that your stomach was a little upset, and that you wished to rest for a few more hours. She believed you, mentioning that she had seen the breakfast return completely whole after your walk with Hyunjin. 

You did bathe—in water so warm that it burned your skin. Yet it was not enough to cleanse the shame off you. 

You only went outside in the afternoon to check on your beehives. With winter approaching, they weren’t very active and no longer produced enough honey for you to harvest it. Instead, you just made sure that everything was clean and in order so that they could keep getting ready for the cold season. You envied them. They could not know it, but their setbacks would be temporary. The snow and the ice would thaw and spring would bring with it new flowers and warmth for them to enjoy. But for you, it seemed, the cold would be everlasting. 

When Ha-ri mentioned she was going to visit the town for a few errands, you immediately asked to join her. Just to put some distance between you and Hwang Estate. Between you and Hyunjin. You hadn’t even seen him after returning home and yet you needed to be away. 

“My lady,” Ha-ri said, keeping her voice low to make sure that the coachman wouldn’t hear her. “What is troubling you like that?” 

You kept your head turned toward the small window, watching the scenery outside. The soft, green grass, the trees and their coloring, the clouds floating in the sky. It was all too beautiful—it did not make sense to be witnessing it when your heart was in such a state of disarray. 

Not giving her an answer would be worse. You took a deep breath, and as you did, the feeling of Hyunjin’s rage came back to you. His firm grip. And you, the stupid fool who did not want to escape it, who relished every moment of it. 

“It always worries me when our husbands leave for more than a day or two,” you responded. “You know that, Ha-ri.”

She leaned over so she would be a little closer to you, observing you. “Is that really it?” 

“Yes.” You nodded, turning to her. She was studying your face carefully, looking for hints that you were hiding something from her. You could only hope that all of your mother’s lessons hadn’t been useless, that you could still make your face tell something other than what was in your heart. 

Ha-ri sat back on her bench, crossing her arms over her chest with a frown on her brow. She did not believe you. “Changbin came to see me during a recess. He told me that Lord Hwang was particularly short-tempered today.” 

You ran your tongue over your teeth, inhaling as if to give yourself some time to think this all over. Ha-ri was a friend now, a true friend. The kind of friend you never had except for Hyunjin through his letters when you grew up. She knew a lot about the things that went on between you and your husband. She knew enough to properly humiliate both of you if she ever wished, but you knew she’d never do such a thing. You knew you could trust Ha-ri with your secrets. She didn’t even tell them to her husband. 

A heavy silence fell between the two of you. Ha-ri was, also, the kind of sister you never had, despite having been brought up in a household with two of them.

You felt tears in your eyes as you were choosing your words. You didn’t even know what to say to her, and yet you couldn’t possibly not tell her. You would go crazy if you didn’t. It seemed like you couldn’t see ahead, like you were stuck in the middle of a field on a foggy day, and you didn't know where to go to reach home. 

When Ha-ri caught sight of your tears, she covered her mouth in surprise before handing you a handkerchief. This one was also one that you had decorated with her, and the sight of it was enough to make the tears roll down your cheeks. You hid behind your hands as you wept. 

“Oh, my lady…” She put her hand on your thigh, patting you there gently. Lovingly. “You don’t have to tell me—I think I know anyway…” She pushed a strand of hair away from your face and you removed your hands to look at her. 

She was right—you didn’t need to tell her, because she knew it was about Hyunjin, and also probably guessed it had something to do with the distance he insisted on keeping between you and him. 

So, that afternoon, Ha-ri brought you with her on her errands, making sure to occupy the silences when they went on for too long, talking about this and that. Nothing too interesting and nothing too boring either. She decided, on the spot, that she would be making new dresses for you for the winter and made you choose your fabrics and colors. Ha-ri was a good friend, and you only felt worse for not being comforted by all her efforts. As though you didn’t deserve her—and maybe you didn’t. Maybe you didn’t deserve any of this. 

Your mind was too busy with memories from the morning to properly appreciate Ha-ri’s friendly chat as she explained to you her ideas for the dresses she wished to make. In your mind, all that existed was Hyunjin and his fingers sinking into the delicate skin of your face, his weight on your body, keeping you pinned down on the soft soil. His skin hot and feverish and his beautiful face contorted with fear and resentment. And lust. And love.

After the fabrics, Ha-ri informed you that she needed to stop by the Apothecary to replenish her stash of fever cures—she knew that in the winter months, her little girls would surely need some, and let you know that she always hoarded as much as she could during the fall. You made a few purchases yourself, a little distractedly, mostly to reassure Ha-ri. To give the impression that you weren’t in fact hearing in your mind Hyunjin’s feral groans as he aggressively rubbed his cock on your pussy. Like he couldn’t resist it. Like he wanted to be done with it—with you—as quickly as possible. 

You thanked the apothecary and followed Ha-ri outside, answering her questions about honey even though both of you were very much aware that she already knew how beneficial honey could be for a sore throat or even a light cough.  

She was already seated when you stopped in your tracks, your gaze going blank as you went to climb back into the coach. Suddenly, it was no longer Hyunjin's desperate release you were thinking of, it was Lee Minho. 

And a promise you made to him—and your husband—several months ago already. 

“I’ll be right back, Ha-ri,” you heard yourself say. You even felt a smile appear on your lips. And you knew it was convincing by the face your friend made when you spoke to her. “I forgot something—some oils, for my hair.” 

Of course she believed you and it made you feel like you were the worst person alive, taking advantage of Ha-ri’s good heart.

“My lady,” the apothecary, an older gentleman, said when you reentered his shop. He had just concluded a quick sale with a young man who had been waiting in line after Ha-ri and yourself. “Is there a problem with your purchases?” 

You had always been burdened by the thing between your legs, whether it was about the bleeding or the piece of flesh inside you, the one that you so badly wanted to keep whole so that Hyunjin could claim you. You remembered the day you became a woman and the feeling of the blood dripping from you, the smell of it, too. It had been so violent, especially for a child of that age. And yet, you had come to see it as a blessing. Every month, your body reminded you that one day, it would welcome within it Hyunjin’s heir.

But that was before knowing it would never be the case.

“No, no, there isn’t a problem,” you replied, crossing the small room to meet the old man at the counter. “I’ve forgotten something that I’d like to buy, if you have it in your possession, of course.” 

This seemed to unsettle the apothecary a little. He tilted his head to the side, raising an eyebrow. “What do you mean, my lady?” 

You took a deep breath but that did very little to stop your lips from trembling. “Can I trust that our conversation will remain private?” When the man went to respond, you raised a hand, insisting. “Truly private. At any cost,” you added. “You may not tell my lord husband, or the doctor in our employment, or anybody.”

The apothecary’s gaze lingered on you for a few seconds, then he bowed his head low. “Of course, my lady. I am at your service.” 

Maybe you trusted him, maybe you didn’t—the truth was that in the grand scheme of things, it didn’t matter. It didn’t matter because you simply wanted to have a bottle or two of it in your possession just in case. Perhaps it could be some sort of safety net. A hail mary. 

It was Sookie who told you about it, many years ago. At the time, it had appeared to you as one of the highest offenses, as one of the worst things a woman could do. But Sookie had insisted that you would understand one day—you just didn't believe her.

But that was before.

You cleared your throat and did your best to look like you weren’t wildly nauseous. “Sir, do you remember the… the tea you sold me, a few months ago?” 

The apothecary’s posture changed immediately, and so did his facial expression—he stood straight, looking very solemn, crossing his hands on the counter. “Yes, my lady. I dared not ask, of course, but I noticed you stopped buying it.”

You nodded. “Yes. Of course, I’m sure you understand.” 

He nodded, too. “I understand.” 

In your chest, your heart fluttered and it felt, for half a second, like you were freefalling. “I’d like to purchase something like it, only stronger, more potent. I was told of such a product by somebody who I trust, who was familiar with it.” Because she used to work in a pleasure house—but you didn’t need to tell him that. A man his age must have seen all kinds of things. “I’m sure you understand,” you said again.

He did not avert his gaze, staring at you in the eyes with a mix of surprise and sadness, which you did your best to ignore. “I understand,” he echoed, his voice a little more faint. “Stronger, you say…” 

Some poisons were just strong enough to eradicate a life growing inside a woman’s body without harming her too much. But, according to Sookie, it could destroy her womb if there was nothing to kill inside of it, so one should be absolutely certain to be pregnant before starting the treatment. 

You felt tears returning to your eyes but you fought them. “Yes. A bottle, please.” 

The man sighed. It took a few seconds before he finally disappeared at the back of his shop. You took this opportunity to wipe the corner of your eyes while he was searching for what he needed. 

You wondered if god existed, and if he did, if he would ever grant you forgiveness for what you were doing. 

All that you had ever wanted was to be a good wife to Hyunjin. All your life you had waited for it, for the day you would marry him and then for the wedding night that would follow. 

And now it just felt all like a big failure. You understood him and his wishes and his fears, yet it did not stop you from wanting to be his wife, really his wife, without him being ashamed or afraid. 

It was all that you had ever been allowed to be—Hyunjin’s betrothed. You owed it to him and to yourself to try and make this marriage whole. 

The apothecary returned, putting a small bottle made of dark glass on the counter. “A woman should take a few capsules as soon as she notices her monthly bleeds are late,” he said in a low voice, barely audible even in the quietness of the shop. “She should take a few more a day or so later while she is still bleeding. To… ensure the job is finished.” 

You took the small vial and stored it safely in your bag, exchanging it for a generous amount of gold coins. But the man did not touch them, he only stared at them.

“I would prefer if you did not pay me for this, my lady.” He pushed the gold back toward you. “I do not hold judgment—I do not need to know the reasoning, but I won’t accept payment, not for this. I simply can’t.” 

His words were just like blades, each of them sinking into your chest deep enough to draw blood. You collected the coins with shaky hands and left the store without a word.

The days were shorter now—the sun disappeared faster than you expected it to. It seemed like you saw less and less of it, noticeably so, every day. You went for a walk around the estate after your errands with Ha-ri, letting it drag much longer than you needed to, more than you should. It just felt good to be alone with the exception, occasionally, of a small forest animal. 

At dusk, you came across a squirrel who looked a lot like Henry, except this one had a tail. The bottle was tucked in the inner pockets of your jacket and it felt as though it weighed a ton. You remembered Henry and how he had simply stopped visiting you one day. Lillie had told you he might have found a partner but you just knew he was dead.

It didn’t matter that it was dark outside—no matter where you went, the lights inside Hwang Manor shone bright enough for you to see in the distance. All you had to do was walk towards them and hope not to put your feet in the wrong place. Only, maybe it was exactly what you wanted. Maybe you didn’t mind slipping and falling into a creek and hitting your head. Maybe you didn’t mind tumbling into the lake and being swallowed by it, only to never be seen again. 

You used to believe that nothing could be as painful as that, as difficult as that. To be Hyunjin’s wife and not knowing whether he loved you or not. How foolish of you.

This was much worse. Knowing that his heart, indeed, beat for you, and yet he kept a reasonable distance between you two. On purpose. According to his wishes. You had done nothing to soothe his wounds, because, in fact, you had made them worse, like rubbing salt onto them instead of kissing them softly. Because you were a stupid little girl, and your mother’s relentless teaching had done nothing to prepare you for this. It had done nothing to make you enough for him, for Hyunjin.

After all, he wasn’t just a lord. He was Lord Hwang, but he was intelligent—very, very intelligent. He knew much about the world and about literature, or art. He took good care of the business he oversaw. He had refined tastes—he liked beautiful things, complicated things. Things like him. An intricate meal, a detailed painting, an interesting conversation. He liked silk sheets and lavish wine. He liked unusual books. 

And you… 

He loved you. But you were too simple, too uncomplicated to permeate him the way he did for you. To hold any weight where it mattered.

He loved you.

But marrying you had not been an option. He had not chosen you. 

You heard them calling out for you sometime after sunset. You quickly made your way back as you did not wish to draw any attention to you. It was Seonghwa who welcomed you, wrapping a blanket around your shoulders. “My lady,” he said with concern in his eyes. “Supper will be served shortly, I… Are you alright?” 

You hadn’t cried—the sorrow you felt was too deep for that. The tears would take longer to make an appearance. You felt like a beehive in the winter. Alive somewhere inside, but sluggish, inactive. You wondered what exactly Seonghwa was seeing in you to inquire about your well-being. You wondered if the shadows haunting you had begun spilling from your eyes, or perhaps your lips. They, for sure, had spilled from your heart, hurting Hyunjin in the process.

“I’m alright. Don’t let them wait on my behalf, Seonghwa. Have the chef serve dinner whenever he wishes and I’ll join as soon as I can.” 

You let Ahnjong take you to your bedroom so she could brush out your hair for dinner. You remembered, then, that the Bangs were visiting tonight. It happened often and those dinners were usually rather spontaneous. Normally, you were delighted.

She brushed out your hair and put it in a braid and you felt nothing. Your mind was elsewhere. “My lady,” the young maid mentioned, “there’s mud on your gown.” And there was. You let her undress you, removing all the layers that had been soiled by the damp autumn soil. You let her choose your new gown and she went for the deep red one. “His lordship’s favorite,” as she pointed out. 

When she wasn’t looking, you took the small glass bottle from your jacket and hid it underneath your pillows. Your hands were still shaking and you realized it was because you didn’t want to face Hyunjin again. You didn’t want to see the bitterness in his eyes, didn’t want to feel his resentment behind the facade that he would surely put up. 

You stared into your mirror, taking in the sight of you. Your parents were wealthy but you had never owned beautiful clothes such as this gown before you came here. You hadn’t been allowed that—for soirées, your mother would borrow a gown from someone else. She didn’t want you turning ungrateful, she said. She wanted to remind you of what you were worth. You could see it now—all of it. In a way you never had. You could be wearing the queen’s dress but it wouldn’t make a difference. It wouldn’t change you as a person, wouldn’t add to your value. It wouldn’t complicate you. 

Not once before had it occurred to you, not in a way that reached you so deep within your bones. That you weren’tHyunjin’s choice. You were his father’s choice—or rather, a way for him to settle the matter quickly. After all, when he and your father made the arrangement, he was already engaged in his extra-marital affairs. Perhaps he knew that it would end badly. Perhaps he could sense that he was risking a lot and that his family was likely to lose its reputation sooner rather than later, so he just took the first offer he got. And you were that. The first offer, or the more convenient one.

It had never occurred to you before because you had never, not once, felt like Hyunjin would have wanted it any other way. Until now, it had simply felt like fate had brought the two of you together. Maybe, in some vain, arrogant way, you had believed that he would have picked you if given a choice.

But he had not chosen you.

Dinner was already ongoing when you descended the stairs. You heard your guests first. Maybe Hyunjin had decided not to attend. Maybe he didn’t want to see you. Maybe—

“We shouldn’t be gone for more than three or four days,” you heard him say in the dining room. “I’m thinking, after we’re back, we should go on a hunting trip. The three of us.” 

Your heart dropped. At least now you knew he was at dinner, so he wasn’t completely disgusted with the idea of eating at the same table as you.

But he wasn’t even gone yet and he was planning to leave again once he returned. 

“What an excellent idea!” Lord Christopher exclaimed, after which you heard a thump, as though someone had punched the table.

“What, me too?” Ah, so Changbin was there as well. Which meant…

“My lord, are you planning on stealing my husband away from me?” Ha-ri asked playfully. Only you knew she sort of meant it. And you knew, maybe, that she thought having Hyunjin close would comfort you.

“Of course not,” Hyunjin responded, and you heard wine or liquor in his voice. “It’ll be just a few days.” 

“Maybe I could meet with you in the city the day after tomorrow,” Lord Chris offered. “The land on the West has quite a lot of deer, or so I heard. Should we ask Lord Jeon to come along, too?”

A short silence followed. By then you had made it to the dining room but waited behind the door before you entered. 

“Maybe we could,” Hyunjin said in the end. “I know he’s rather busy, but asking would, at the very least, be polite.” 

You chose this moment to make your entrance, hoping that the conversation between the men would be engrossing enough that you wouldn’t be noticed. However, naturally, every head in the room turned to you, all five of them, and also the maid who was pouring wine into everyone’s glass.

“Oh no, stay seated,” you told them when they went to stand for you. You walked around the room—they had given you a chair next to Hyunjin’s. Of course they would—the housekeepers didn’t know any better. A million thoughts were going through your mind and yet you somehow managed to remain composed, even trying to smile. “It’s lovely to have supper with such friendly guests. Please excuse my tardiness.” 

“Oh no, the pleasure is ours, my lady.” Lady Bang was glowing tonight with her hair held at the back of her head and a stunning periwinkle gown. “I was afraid you were ill.” 

You went towards your seat as you tried to come up with a believable lie, something that would be neutral, something that would not hint at anything. You knew the maids were listening, and even though they had no bad intentions, it seemed that they liked to analyze everything that was said between you and other guests of the manor. If you lied about where you had been, they would know, and it meant everybody would know you were hiding something.

But how could you make them understand that it wasn’t a tangible thing that you were hiding? Not an affair or criminal activity. It was your sorrow that you wanted to keep secret. Because you didn’t want anybody to know. And above all, you didn’t want Hyunjin to know that you were gloomy. It would only make things worse. 

As you reached for your chair, Hyunjin pushed himself up rather abruptly, and for an instant, you believed he would leave dinner and your heart skipped a few beats. Instead he pulled your chair for you, dipping his head. “My lady.” He did not look at you when he spoke, but you sat down anyway, doing your best to keep your breathing steady. But the truth was that your head was much like an apiary in the summer—buzzing and lively, with every part of it sparking and working. 

You wanted to cry. You wanted to sit down with Hyunjin and talk to him calmly. You wanted to slap him in the face maybe. You wanted to tell him that you loved him. You wanted to kiss him. You wanted to watch him paint. You wanted to have a nice dinner with your friends and get drunk on wine and you wanted your heart to be lighter than the petals of a rose. You wanted to cry. You really wanted to cry. You wanted to ask Lady Bang and Ha-ri to follow you to your bedroom so that you could tell them everything. 

Yes. Yes, that was it.

The burden had become too heavy and now it felt as though you were suffocating. As though you were drowning in it.

You were given a glass with wine in it as well as a bowl of soup. The others were halfway through theirs—you tasted it, partially to warm yourself up and mostly to delay the moment you’d have to talk. Nobody had said anything after you sat down—but it was obvious that Lady Bang was still expecting a response.

“I went for an evening walk and lost track of time,” you told her. “I always get a little confused at this time of the year. The days are getting so short.” 

“You shouldn’t go alone,” Lord Christopher said with a frown. “Especially at this time of the year—the wild animals are looking to feed in ample amounts to prepare for the winter.”

You took a large sip of wine—it was good, sweet but still strong and tangy. “Oh, I doubt I would become anything’s dinner, my lord.” 

“I must insist. There have been sightings of wolves in the mountains nearby. I would hate it if anything happened to you, my lady.” 

You almost choked on your wine but it went largely unnoticed when Changbin echoed Lord Christopher’s advice and the attention was all turned to him. You managed to swallow the wine and ate some soup to soothe your throat, but now your mind was tainted with Christopher’s words. He was right—something could happen to you out there. Anything. You could come face to face with a bear or a wolf or a hunter could mistake you for the game he'd been tailing for a day. You could slip and fall and crack your skull open on a rock.

You felt it all happening—you became aware of the danger and you waited for the moment you would be afraid, only, it never came. Instead you were invaded with the urge to return out there and walk blindly into the forest, waiting for it to decide your fate. Maybe it would be a relief for Hyunjin—maybe he would get to choose who sat next to him for supper and who woke up in his bed in the morning. 

“Thank you for your concern,” you told Lord Christopher, hoping he wouldn’t notice how weak your voice was. “I’ll keep that in mind should I want to be out again after dark.” 

Ha-ri went to say something but she was interrupted by the loud knock it made when Hyunjin put his empty wine glass back on the table—a lot harder than he needed to. 

“No. You will not anymore. Never again.” He spoke at low volume but he enunciated every word very clearly, making himself heard. His voice was coated with quiet rage, turning your stomach to lead. He did not look your way but he went on. “You will not venture away from the manor after dusk. Never again. It isn’t safe. There’s nothing to gain from it. And if you must do it in the daylight, you will do so in the company of someone else. Is that clear?” 

The silence that filled the room following Hyunjin’s statement—or rather, command—was so heavy that you could almost feel it permeate your lungs as you breathed in. You dared not look away from your bowl of soup, wondering what you ought to do next. That had never happened before, not like that at least. Hyunjin had never been the kind of husband to exert his manly rights—quite the contrary, in fact. You could tell he always tried to be anything but whatever his father had been like. 

You did raise your head then, at the same time as Hyunjin did—the guests were very interested in their own soup all of a sudden—and you saw them. In his eyes. You saw those demons you had always heard about, those you had been warned against most of your life. You had never been frightened of Hyunjin until today. Until this morning, when he lost himself. Until now, when he didn’t look like himself. 

And yet you could not look away. And yet you could not love him less.

You stared into them, into his eyes, searching for the ones you had come to know. The ones that were like molasses on a slice of pound cake. They were still somewhere in there, weren’t they?

Hyunjin tried so very hard not to be like his father. As for you? 

You—you were the result of years of coaching from your mother. She had taught you all about that—what to do when your husband would give you a command, whether it was to get him a glass of liquor, to help him change his clothes, or to get on your knees so he could have his way with you. Your mother might have forced these thoughts into your mind, but she was far from being the submissive wife she had tried to fashion you into. Tonight, if she were you, she would have snapped at Hyunjin for his comment, in front of their guests. Things would have escalated later. You used to hide your head under your pillows so as not to hear your parents yell at each other. And other things. 

You tried so very hard not to be like your mother, too.

You took one deep breath, then another. You reached for Hyunjin—he recoiled at first, a faint scowl adorning his brow, but you simply took his hand in yours and squeezed it gently. 

“Of course, my love.” You gulped, but the knot in your throat remained. “You’re right. It was reckless. I shall be more cautious in the future.” 

He stared down at the hand you were holding as though he couldn’t believe what you were saying. You figured the moment might have lasted a thousand years if it weren’t for the maids who came to swap the bowls of soup for dinner plates, which were filled with a roast that looked and smelled fantastic. 

Lord Christopher commented on it, echoed by Changbin, and dinner went on. It went on around you but you took no part in it, simply responding to questions when you were talked to and smiling when someone said something humorous. 

They spoke about politics. Lady Bang inquired about Ha-ri’s dressmaking. Changbin asked Christopher about the renovations that were taking place on their estate. Lord Christopher asked if you had any plans to go and visit your family back home sometime soon and you made up some lie about it. 

Ha-ri suggested that everyone went outside before dessert—just to get some fresh air. You followed her as she took your hand and invited Lady Bang to come with while the men could go wherever they wanted. But really you knew she just wanted to get you away from Hyunjin. 

Only you didn’t really. He was angry at you—more than he had ever been. And you were his wife and you were supposed to make things right. 

Ha-ri led you and Lady Bang to her sewing room, where she opened the door of the balcony to let in the night air. You stood there for a moment while she was showing Lady Bang her new fabrics for the winter, but your mind was wandering elsewhere. Your thoughts had been sent a few days from now, when your husband would be in the city. He was so angry at you that he might just go see if any brothel had something to offer. Perhaps he would fuck once or twice until he was pacified, and then return to you. 

He did choose them. Those women. He asked for them and was given some time and pleasure with them in exchange for money. But you? He never asked for you and he got nothing in exchange. Nothing at all. 

You thought nothing could make your night worse—and then two maids entered the sewing room with a teapot and cups. “Mr. Seonghwa sends us,” one of them, Salma, said. “He said the ladies might want a warm drink.” 

You watched as the two young women prepared the tray and the tea, your mind far away from this room. You were listening more to whatever was outside than what was occurring here, searching for Hyunjin’s distant voice in the night, wondering what he, Christopher, and Changbin might be talking about. You would not be so bold as to suggest he would ever talk about you with them, but, selfishly, you wanted to hear some kind of sorrow in his voice—the same that inhabited you. Or maybe you had it all wrong. Maybe that anguish, that desolation, didn’t live within either of you—perhaps it was the other way around. Maybe, instead, it embraced you, contained you, like a cursed sanctuary. Maybe it had become your home, one that you weren’t sure you would ever escape. 

You thought nothing could make your night worse—and then, when the maids were done setting up the small table for tea, they glanced at each other with knowing smiles and pink cheeks. 

“My lady,” the other one, Emi, told Lady Bang, dipping her head very low. “Pardon the intrusion, I—” She took a deep breath, as though whatever she was about to say was terrible. 

Inquisitive, you took a few steps towards the scene.

“We were simply wondering if what they say about you is true, my lady,” Salma added, also dropping her head, her cheeks darkening. “It would be such wonderful news.” 

You instantly knew what this was all about when you saw Lady Bang react to the question by instinctively pressing a hand on her stomach. 

A few seconds passed, during which Ha-ri stared at you, and only at you. Slowly, Lady Bang turned to you with a complicated expression on her face, making you wonder how much she knew. How much she had guessed. And that made you wonder how obvious it all was. 

It made you wonder what the maids were saying about you.

It made you wonder if they could hear your heart shattering in your chest.

“Well,” you made yourself say, knowing very well you weren’t fooling anybody but pushing through regardless. Let them talk. The maids and the stewards and the apothecary and everyone else. Let them say whatever the fuck they wanted. “Is it true or not, my friend?” 

She hesitated, biting her lip, but not moving her hand from her stomach. “Yes, it is. I found out last month, but I wasn’t sure it would hold so I didn’t—”

You raised your hand. It made you wonder if they noticed how badly it was trembling. “There’s no need to explain yourself, my lady. What lovely news! Congratulations!” 

It was her, Lady Bang, who pulled you into an embrace, not the other way around. You vaguely heard Ha-ri dismiss the two maids, doing so politely but firmly as your friend held you against her. Despite the numerous layers of fabric both of you were wearing, it seemed, almost, like you could feel it. It radiated from her, from her belly. The life that she bore. The miracle, the blessing she carried inside of it. You allowed yourself to cry, figuring at first that it may look as though they were tears of joy. And really, they were. But there was so much more to it. 

“I didn’t want you to hear about it like that,” she whispered into your ear. “I’m so sorry.” 

You didn’t respond, prolonging the hug more than you needed to. 

And then you saw everything so clearly it was like looking through a window. You understood everything. When they told you who you would marry and when, and how, and why. When they decided for you. You understood why your mother had tried to put an end to the betrothal, why she had been so adamant that you should marry somebody else. 

You understood why she had warned you against broken things. It was not because she hated you, not because she resented you or despised you. It was because she was protecting you. Out of love. The way a mother only could love, which is to say, violently. Had she known? She couldn’t possibly have known, at that time, the exact details of it all, but she must have guessed that one day you would find yourself in such a challenging situation. She didn’t want you to get attached to Henry because he was a tiny squirrel, smaller and weaker than the others, and he was likely to become a hawk’s dinner or freeze to death much sooner than you expected. 

She didn’t want you to get attached to Hyunjin because she knew that once a woman had opened her heart to a man, he held the power to destroy her. 

You understood everything. You understood why you were so ashamed of it—that Hyunjin refused so categorically to ever, ever fuck you. You understood why it hurt you so much, why that shame lingered, why and how it had stained you. Like ink on paper. Like red wine on white silk. 

Because your mother had not seen that coming. And she had promised you that when a lady made sure her garden remained unsullied, it would be the one thing her lord husband would without a doubt love about her, that he would desire it, that he would vulgarize it to his heart's content. She had made it seem as though there was no way this would ever fail. That if you were still pure on your wedding day, your husband would plant his seed in your garden, and there was no other option. She had made you feel as though it was the worst of offenses when a man wanted nothing to do with his wife’s garden. 

She had made you feel as though you would fail, as a woman and as a wife, should you not be touched by your husband.

And even if you understood Hyunjin’s struggles, his fears, his complicated feelings towards his father and even fatherhood itself—you couldn’t undo the lectures that had been given to you, that had been carved onto your mind. They had become a part of you, intrinsically so. If you could, you would cut your skull open and pick them from your brain to discard them, but it would mean losing pieces of yourself. And you were okay with that. If, somehow, you could turn into a blank canvas, if you could be unmade, you would let Hyunjin fashion you into a wife that would be enough for him. That would be enough to heal his wounds instead of making them worse. 

You thought of the old beekeeper, Mr. Ito, and of the day he showed you how to make sure honey was pure. He said that if one day, you were no longer able to produce your own, you should at least know how to procure the real thing. 

“If honey is pure,” he had said, using a match to light a candle, “it will burn.” And he had shown you all the steps—wrapping cotton around a stick and coating it in honey before dipping it into the flame. You remembered the scent of it, sweet, sweet, sweet, and the way the honey, pure and unadulterated, caught on fire. 

You wanted to run back home. It was not possible but you wished for it anyway—you wanted to see the villa from afar and run barefoot on the grass again. You wanted Henry to be still alive. You wanted Mr. Ito to be still alive. Even just for an instant, you wanted to be more like that little girl again, the one who held hope in her heart, the one who wasn’t afraid to burn.

“You ladies enjoy your tea,” you murmured, pulling away before anyone could see your tears. “I will go see how dessert is coming along.” 

Neither Ha-ri or Lady Bang tried to stop you even though you weren’t particularly convincing. You walked away, ignoring the staircase as you passed it—you had no intention of checking on dessert or on anything. Hell, you weren’t even sure what you were doing at all until you made it to your bedroom and caught sight of your bed. You barely took the time to close the door behind you, crossing the room until you were sitting atop your soft mattress, feeling the linen and silk sheets laid on it. All white. Oh, how badly you wanted to stain them red. 

You reached under your pillow, finding the small bottle obtained from the apothecary earlier. The label only had a skull and crossbones on it and, underneath in a thin font, Diachylon.

What had he said? The apothecary? That you should take it after noticing a pregnancy. He couldn’t have known, of course, that you had an entirely different objective in mind. 

You wanted to be more than this. 

You wanted the state of your garden to be anything but a problem. All this time, all your life—it all had been about this, hadn’t it? So much had been forbidden—running, ice skating, horse riding. Freedom. All this time you had believed, subconsciously or not, that your fucking garden should remain unsullied. That Hyunjin would be a happy husband as long as you managed to offer yourself to him in the purest form you could. That he would be displeased should your garden be anything but immaculate.

There was one thing you hadn’t even considered, though.

What if you didn’t have a garden at all?

What if you set fire to it? Would it burn? If it was pure, would it burn? 

With trembling hands, you pushed the lid open, looking at the contents of the bottle. It was difficult to make out in the dark lighting of your room, but it was half-full with capsules. You held one between your thumb and your index, inspecting it. It seemed to be dark in color and had a thick consistency, just like honey. A strong, unpleasant scent invaded your nostrils when you breathed in—this had nothing to do with the little teas you brewed yourself a few months ago. This had the power to make a barren, lifeless place out of your womb. You brought the capsule to your lips after pouring yourself a glass of water from the pitcher on your nightstand. 

Knock knock knock. “Darling? Darling, are you in there?” 

You stopped breathing, motionless, your heart picking up a pace. 

He couldn’t know. He couldn’t ever find out about what you were doing. You knew it would destroy him. You knew that on some days, he wasn’t much more than a castle without bricks, a tree without leaves, a canvas without paint. And today was one of those days. 

It took exactly three seconds for you to bury the bottle under your pillow. You would remove it sometime later when it would be safe, after you had ingested the pills. When you would be absolutely certain that nobody would ever find out. You would never tell anybody. They would presume. Hyunjin would, Dr. Lee, even Ha-ri. But you would die before admitting the truth to anybody. You wouldn’t even tell Cloud. You wouldn’t even tell the bees. You wouldn’t even tell the wind about what you had done. 

“Darling?” Hyunjin said again, his voice lower now. “Can I come in?” 

You stood, figuring that not responding would only make things worse, but before you could cross the room, he let himself in—you hadn’t locked the door, apparently. Just two seconds later and he would have caught you shoving capsules of poison down your throat.

It took your breath away. You wondered if you would ever not be moved by him, by his presence, his existence. He stood there, his back on the closed door behind him, staring at you with his eyes like ink on paper, his lips parted, plush and raw from whiskey, like red wine on white silk. 

“Yes.” The words spilled from you without you having any control over them—like one part of your brain was constantly on edge, ready to make you Lady Hwang at a moment’s notice. “I apologize. I didn’t mean to make our guests wait, I just—” 

Whatever excuse you were going to make up, he didn’t let you say it out loud. He pushed himself off the wall, darting towards you—for an instant, it looked a little like he was going to attack, to pounce like a tiger. You had seen a tiger only once in your life but it was quite memorable. It might have been domesticated but it was still the largest cat you had ever seen. You wouldn’t forget the look in its eyes as it descended to devour the carcass the circus workers had left for him. A beautiful beast, too thin, locked in a cage. 

Hyunjin had the same look in his eyes tonight. What a beautiful beast he was, too, only his prison did not have bars. 

He did not lash out—when he stood just a few inches away from you, he stared down at you, cupping your cheek in his big hand. “Darling,” he whispered. His breath smelled like whiskey and like wine. His hair smelled like the outside air. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” 

It was not the first time it happened. The last time, he had gotten angry because you had drunkenly made a risqué comment during dinner. Even if it was an intimate dinner with people from the estate—Changbin, Ha-ri, Dr. Lee, Seonghwa, and Su-jin. It was always the same thing. You keep tempting me, he had said. And then he kissed you hard but you kissed him harder and he ate your pussy all night. 

“Don’t be sorry,” you murmured, caressing his perfect face. “It’s okay. Do you want to lie down?” He was very drunk—he was holding on to you as though he was afraid to collapse. 

“No, I want—I want—” but he couldn’t say it. Whatever he had in mind remained there as he frowned, his gaze not once moving away from your lips. “I want to stop being like that,” he uttered finally. 

You wanted to tell him that it would be alright soon.

But he kissed you. 

He pressed his lips onto yours, taking your mouth in his, claiming you once again. You kissed him back as his hands descended on your waist so he could pull you closer. He buried his face into your neck, biting you gently, suckling on your skin. He gently led you towards your bed, his lips not once leaving your skin, his tongue like flames licking at you. 

He’s too drunk, you told yourself as he lifted you just enough so he could sit you down on your mattress. But it felt too good. And you loved him too much. 

“Don’t let me talk to you like that again, darling,” Hyunjin said as he followed you onto the bed, on his hands and knees above you. He kissed you again, his hands scrambling to lift up your skirt. “Please. Promise me you won’t let me ever again.”

Your mind was all over the place, so much so that you didn’t know what he was referring to. After the breakfast fiasco, he had barely acknowledged your presence. 

“You were right though, I shouldn’t have stayed out after dark,” you pointed out, taking his face in your hands, forcing him to look you in the eyes. 

His had tears in them. And it broke your heart.

“My love.” Your throat was shutting itself tight but you fought it. “You can be mad at me, it’s alright. This is what a marriage is like.” And you meant it. 

Hyunjin froze in place, one hand squeezing your thigh, the other somewhere near your head. “Mad at you?” He frowned deeply, staring at you like it was the first time he ever saw you. “Mad at YOU?” 

You felt even more foolish then, your pussy already wet just from a few kisses and even fewer touches, realizing that you had misunderstood him. 

“None of that anger, or hatred, is directed at you,” Hyunjin managed slowly. “I love you. My beekeeper wife. I love you. I love you. I love you—” And then he was back on your lips, his tongue gliding in between yours. 

How could you tell him? How could you tell him that he was his own worst enemy, that he was the only thing keeping himself on a leash? 

“I shouldn’t have spoken to you like that tonight, but that's not all. This morning too.” He spoke to you between kisses, feeling the damp linen over your cunt with his fingertips. “I shouldn’t have… touched you like that. It’s wrong.” 

And yet you clenched around nothing remembering the way it had felt when he pinned you down, when you had been trapped underneath him. When he held you in place, his grip unforgivable and strong. It would have been factually wrong to say you hadn’t been frightened at all. And yet you feared nothing from Hyunjin—you trusted him with your life. 

“I liked it,” you breathed, losing yourself in him already. 

“It’s wrong. Baby, it’s wrong,” he insisted, his voice somewhere between a moan and a grunt. “Don’t ever let me do this to you again. Hit me if you must.” 

You moaned too when he rubbed your folds through your underskirt in slow, lazy circles. You reached for his trousers, attempting to undo the button. Hitting him? No. Taking his cock in your mouth and letting him fuck your throat? Yes. 

“Oh fuck,” he groaned when you squeezed him through his pants. 

Here’s what would happen—you would have drunken sex during which Hyunjin would open his heart to you, during which he would pleasure you, shatter you, devour you. He would finish in your mouth and you would welcome the sting at your throat and your sore jaw because they felt just like kisses. It wouldn’t be the first time such an event occurred. Tomorrow, you would talk it out. And progress would or wouldn’t be made. 

Or so you thought, until Hyunjin stretched his arm a little to pull your pillow closer, perhaps to lay it under your head. He stopped everything, motionless, and you could only watch in horror as he pulled the vial from where you had hastily hidden it. He looked at the label and then he looked at you. You remembered the morning of your thirteenth birthday—the day you became a woman. Waking up in a puddle of your own blood, afraid, ashamed as though you had done something terribly wrong. 

Hyunjin pulled away, standing next to the bed, still gaping at the bottle he was holding, his tented pants unbuttoned.

One thing about Hyunjin though was that he kept his promises. He had hated speaking harshly at you that morning so, tonight, he did the opposite. 

“Darling,” he said in a strangled voice, softer than you ever expected. “Wh—” He lost his words again and you sat down on your bed, shaking. “I forbade you.” The look of betrayal on his face was, perhaps, the worst thing ever inflicted on you, worse than any insult your mother might have hurled at you. It would have hurt less if Hyunjin had hit you in the face. 

“Please,” you began, but you were in a panic, dizzy and tired and drunk and scared, and it seemed like you had lost all ability to speak. “Hyunjin—”

Not once did he raise his voice. “Come.” He grabbed at your arm and did so in an exceptionally delicate manner. It would not have been different if you two were walking in a wildflower field on a sunny day. “Here, darling. Did you take these just now?” 

Before you could give him an answer, he dragged you to the lavatory, making you stand right in front of the sink. The mirror showed you a bleak reflection. You could barely recognize yourself. 

“Throw them up. Now. Please.” 

“Hyunjin, I—”

He pressed his hand at the back of your head, forcing you to lean over the sink, but not really forcing you. He would have done the same motion should he have wanted to show you a beautiful flower on the ground. “Do you want me to do it for you?” he asked calmly, bringing his fingers near your lips. “It’s okay baby, it’ll be over in a second.” Before you knew it, his fingers were in your mouth, reaching for your throat to stimulate your gag reflex. And he knew exactly how to do so—he was very intimate with the aforementioned gag reflex. 

He was so gentle with it that you weren’t sure what brought the tears to your eyes exactly—maybe it was his distress, or the pussy-laced fingers invading your mouth. Or maybe it was shame and regret. 

In one swift motion, you grabbed Hyunjin’s wrist to pull him away, freeing your throat. You coughed, choking on your own spit. 

“Darling,” Hyunjin began, and you raised your hand to quiet him while you caught your breath. 

You wiped the tears at the corner of your eyes, but one glance at the mirror revealed the mess that you had become. “I didn’t take it. I’m fine.” 

“You didn’t take it,” he repeated slowly, almost like he didn’t understand. “You didn’t take the medication. Are you lying to me?”

“No. I didn’t.” You left the washroom, returning to your bedroom before he could get ahold of the capsules. While Hyunjin stood there, you quickly closed the lid on the bottle and set it on the small table by the window. 

You noticed the droplets of water sticking to the glass. As though they were beckoning you, you made your way to the door leading to your balcony. The rain was light but cold, the sort of rain that was almost snow but not quite. Everything was dark, so dark that you could not make out the mountains on the horizon. 

Hyunjin joined you in the cold, his eyes darker than the rainy night. 

You wished, almost, that he would scream, that he would be enraged. You wished, almost, that he reacted violently. But instead, he held you. Close. He pressed your head on his chest and held you there, caressing your hair, rocking you ever so slightly in a comforting motion. You couldn’t tell whether he was trying to comfort you or himself.

“Darling,” he whispered, his voice blending with the rain in the exact same way he blended a deep red with true black on a canvas. “I would kill any man or woman who laid a single finger on you. I almost did so once and I would and will do it again if I ever need to.” He held you tighter. He was warm, feverish, and his heartbeat was irregular. “In this case, I’m the one who’s hurting you. So tell me, darling. Tell me what I’m supposed to do.” 

You wanted to tell him that he wasn’t hurting you but it would have been a lie. As reluctant as you were to admit it. You had never admitted it to yourself before. You swallowed a sob, wrapping your arms around your husband, holding onto him. 

He pulled away so he could look you in the eyes, holding your face in his hands. His pretty traits were twisted in anguish. You watched as a raindrop rolled from his temple, where his wet hair stuck to his skin, down to his jaw. He waited patiently until you were strong enough to look him in the eyes, too. 

He caressed your lips with his thumb—he didn’t seem drunk anymore, as though the shock had sobered him up. 

“Darling,” he said nonetheless. “I’m begging you. I’m begging you. I’m nothing without you. Nothing, do you hear me? Your absence would cause my demise, in one way or another. And yet I do not want to die. I want to be alive. With you. I want to hear your laughter, I want to wake up by your side. I want to taste your honey. I want to paint you, and travel with you, and—” He paused, overwhelmed, while your heart swelled with love and something even deeper than that, something that didn’t even have a name. “I’m sorry I’m not enough. I’m sorry I can’t give you what you want. But please, don’t—” 

You put your hands over his—he was trembling. He was digging a hole in your chest. 

“I’m sorry I did that this morning. I’m sorry I got angry. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” You had never seen him like that. He was broken. 

“I told you I liked—” 

But he didn’t let you finish your sentence. He shook his head and a few more droplets of rain rolled down his cheeks. “You don’t know what was on my mind. Terrible things. Disgusting things. I almost…” His gaze became unfocused as he replayed the scene in his mind. He bit his lip hard enough to draw blood. “It won’t happen again. I won’t let it. I won’t hurt you, I won’t—” 

“Hyunjin.” You thought about all of the colors in your heart, about all of the words in your mind, about all of the sorrow in your veins. You wanted—no, you needed—him to understand. “All my life, they told me I needed to do this and that and be this and that and not to do this or that. And not to say this, but to say that. And I know that your childhood was awful, a lot worse than mine, but you will never understand what it is to have been born a woman.” 

That seemed to unsettle him and to ground him at once. He straightened up a little, looking at you inquisitively, listening as the rain kept on pouring on the both of you. 

“Every day, from the age of six or seven years old,” you went on, “I was reminded of how important it all was. I was told that if I did well—if I was intelligent enough, pretty enough, if I took care of my hair, of my body, of my—” You gulped, finding it harder to breathe. “Of my garden, I would become worthy of bearing your heirs. Hyunjin, it’s the only thing that was allowed to define me. My entire life. The beekeeping was just a distraction from that reality. I was made to be the mother of your children more than I was made to be your wife. I don’t know what I am without that. I’m nothing if I’m not that. And yet I understand you, and I respect your wish to never have children. I love you, Hyunjin. I just wanted… I think I just wanted to get rid of that burden. I told myself it was to relieve you of it, but really, it was for me. I wanted to be something more.” 

Slowly, Hyunjin lowered his face just millimeters away from yours, ghosting your lips with his, his hot breath spreading on your skin like ink on paper, like red wine on white silk. His forehead pushed onto yours gently. 

“My pretty, pretty wife.” He kissed you—a deep, languid kiss, his tongue caressing yours, his fingers closing into fists in your hair. “Can’t you see? Can’t you see what I see in you?”

Another kiss followed—this time, however, he pulled you with him until his back hit the wall behind him. It rained a little less here, close to the manor, but a shiver went down your spine anyway. 

“It was never about what I want or don’t want,” he continued, his lips caressing yours with every word. “I do want it too. More than you would ever expect. I want to fuck a baby into you. I want to make love to you and I want to see your belly swell with the life that I put inside it. I want to hold the baby we made together and kiss its little baby forehead. And then, when it’s big enough, I want to fuck another into you. And another. I want to love them the way my father never loved me. I want to love you, and them, forever. It’s not about what I want or not. I want it. I just cannot, in good conscience, let it become reality. My blood is tainted. The fairy tale would turn into a nightmare, and I would hurt you, and our family.” 

Traumatized. Your husband was traumatized. 

And maybe, probably, so were you. 

You buried your face in the crook of his neck, where the scent of his cologne was stronger. He held you in his arms for what might have been a minute, or perhaps an hour. He only moved when he noticed your body trembling not from emotion, but from the cold—he took your hand then, leading you back inside. 

“I’ll go ask for a bath for you.” He kissed the top of your head. “You need to warm up. I’ll make sure our guests are comfortable for the night, too.” 

You didn’t let go of his hand when he took a step away—he turned to you, head tilted to the side. “I want to have my bath here.” You took a deep breath. “And come back to me. Don’t lock yourself in your room.” 

“I’ll come back.” Normally, on the evenings before he left for a business trip, Hyunjin went to bed early, often in a room separate from yours since he didn’t want to wake you up in the morning.

“Okay.” You touched him, his toned chest, letting your fingers linger on the buttons of his shirt. He left the room and you almost collapsed, barely making it to your bed.

You lay down. You just lay down, your eyes fixated on the ceiling above. You were still there when the two maids came in—it was Salma and Emi. You remembered that Anhjong was off duty until tomorrow morning.

“Lady Hwang,” they said in unison, dropping their heads. Salma was holding Cloud in her arms. As soon as she saw you, the cat jumped on the ground so she could join you in bed. “His lordship said you were to have a bath,” Emi added. 

You gave them a simple hm hm, caressing Cloud’s soft fur as the almost fully-grown cat rolled into a ball next to you, her purrs echoing in the quiet room. You closed your eyes, trying to breathe at the same slow pace as her. 

“Should we add anything to the water, my lady?”

“Just some jasmine oil, Salma. Thank you.”

“You seem tired, Lady Hwang. Should we stay? I can wash your hair if you wish,” Emi offered. 

“I am tired,” you admitted. “But I’ll be just fine. After you’ve filled the tub, please return to your quarters and enjoy your night.” 

You were eager to plunge into the small but comfortable copper tub of your lavatory—while Hyunjin’s was more spacious, yours felt, well, like yours. You liked this room and everything about it. The balcony, the view in the morning, the furniture, the rich wood adorning it. In any case—for some reason you couldn’t quite explain, you craved Hyunjin’s presence in a space that wasn’t his. Almost like you feared you would overdose on him.

He was far by now. Most likely, he was back downstairs with Lord Christopher and Changbin who were having late-night drinks, as they usually did when the Bangs visited. Normally, you would be with Ha-ri and Lady Bang,somewhere in the manor, chatting and doing lady things. It did not matter, however, how far away Hyunjin was—you could still feel his hands on your body, his lips on your skin. You could still hear his voice in the air around you. 

Can’t you see what I see in you?

You wondered what it was that he saw. You wondered if any of it came from you, really you, or if it was all just more attributes forced onto you. 

It was never about what I want, or what I don’t want.

Apparently not. None of what Hyunjin had told you tonight felt real—you would be able to recite each word but your mind simply could not believe them. 

Hyunjin had not chosen you, he had not chosen to be engaged or married to you. 

But neither had you. And it did not change one thing about the amount of love you held for him, or how profound that love was. 

I want to fuck a baby into you.

You pressed your thighs together, clenching around nothing. You hadn’t lied to him—it was true that you had been built into a baby-making wife. But what was also painfully true was your hunger. Your yearning. And it had nothing to do with childbearing. It was not the sort of thing a lady should ever have on her mind, let alone act on. They locked women in asylums for thoughts far less lewd or offensive. 

You wanted Hyunjin that way because you desired him. You wanted him like he was a part of you that was missing—and maybe he was. Maybe he was exactly that. It didn’t matter how it would happen. He could hastily take you from behind at some event, unable to help himself. Or he could take his time, sinking into you over the course of several hours. He could, if he wanted, hurt you. He could pull your skirt up at any moment and take you, claiming you for good. He could, if he wanted, fuck his demons into you. You would gladly rid him of them. He would not need to be kind. He could pin you down, tie you up, pull your hair. Nothing that he would do to you would hurt as much as the absence of him did.

But you loved him.

You loved him enough to give up just about anything if it meant you would be together. The edges of his soul were sharp, but so were yours. He had given you quite a few cuts just like you had done to him. He had never chosen to marry you. You had never chosen to marry him.

But you had fallen in love with him.

And you had chosen to let that happen. 

No amount of tears, of pain, of frustration would ever make you regret that, or make you wish your life had taken another turn. Often, others kept their hearts closed—they made sure to stay at a safe distance from the things they liked out of fear of those becoming things they loved. But you weren’t like that and you had never been. 

Once, your mother had told you, Why is it that whenever you love something, it’s broken, or crippled? And you did not have an answer to that question. You loved what you loved. Period. She had tried to paint you as weak because of it, and for a long time, you believed her. You could see it clearly now. No love, certainly not the honest, unconditional kind, was the symptom of a brittle heart. On the contrary—only the bravest ones allowed it to permeate their souls.

One day, a traveling merchant visited your family’s villa—he was selling strange wares, something you had never seen before. Plates, vases, cups, teapots—except they were not new. He had said that these pieces had once been valuable and that they had been discarded by their owners after shattering. This man, an old man, explained to your father and to you how he had made it his life’s purpose to repair these objects so they could be beautiful again. So that they could fulfill their purpose. 

He used gold to reattach the pieces together. The practice had a name, only you couldn’t remember what it was called.

You loved Hyunjin exactly the way he was—as broken or crippled as he might be. And one day, maybe, he would let you become the string of gold that held him together, something that made him whole again.

A delicate scent of jasmine reached Hyunjin’s nostrils as soon as he pushed your bedroom door open. He almost dropped the tray he was holding when Cloud snaked in between his feet, dashing out of the room with one of her characteristic—and very loud—meows. At this hour, she usually liked to hang around the kitchen. The staff fed her some meat and she liked to nap by the oven while it was still warm. 

“Is that you?” you inquired. Your question was followed by gentle splashes of water, indicating that you were already bathing. 

You didn’t need to say his name. He knew when you were speaking to him because your voice sounded different then.

“It’s me.” Without wasting time, he went to you.

The air was thick in the washroom, heavy with the humidity created by your apparently very hot bath. You didn’t seem bothered by the heat one bit, laying in the water like a siren, head resting on the edge of the tub. It was too dark for him to see you nearly as much as he’d like, but he could make out your silhouette under the water, familiar and enticing. 

His heart still beating unevenly after tonight’s events, he sat on the chair near the bathtub, setting the tray on the counter next to him. You observed him in silence, your hair floating around you, your fingers tracing circles in the water, creating ripples on the surface of it.

“I brought you some food.” His voice was still shaking. He couldn’t stop seeing it in his head. Those awful capsules you kept. The look in your eyes when he found you. The look in your eyes this morning when he almost violated you. “You haven’t had dessert.” 

You remained quiet, your eyes not leaving him once. He had stepped out just short of half an hour, long enough to let things settle, to digest at least some of it. Long enough to hear the staff talk excitedly about the big news, which had just become public. Literally moments ago, apparently. It was with tears in his eyes that Christopher confirmed it to be true. And it was with tears in his eyes, too, that Hyunjin embraced him and congratulated him. If there was one man Hyunjin had no doubt would be a wonderful father, it was him.

Hyunjin rose from his seat, grabbing one of the pieces of honeycomb he had brought. They were a part of your last harvest—while you insisted they should be reserved for presents to your friends or guests, he didn’t like thinking that you worked so hard to take care of your bees, all summer, only to give away all of the yield. 

It was sticky on his fingers. He lowered himself right by the tub and brought the sweet treat to your lips. You took a little bite from it and more honey spilled on his hand, dripping on your collarbone. Hyunjin ate the rest, savoring each second of it, the chewy beeswax and the unique taste of your wildflower honey. 

“Do you want more, darling?” he asked softly, licking his fingers clean so he wouldn’t waste a single drop.

“No, Hyunjin. Thank you.” 

He stood again, wincing in pain—the injury to his knee had healed well but his leg had never been quite the same since—and returned to the counter to get you something else. Your lips curved into a smile when he brought you a small glass of port. You went to hold it but he didn’t let you. Instead, he pressed it on your lips, helping you drink it.  

“Oh, it’s the good one,” you commented after the first sip. 

“Only the best for my darling wife,” he replied with a smile that was a little somber. 

This time, you didn’t let him—you took the glass from him, allowing him to drink his own. It was really warm here and the fabric of his shirt stuck to his skin in places, or maybe it was just the curve of your bare shoulders. 

Your free hand broke the surface of the water and you held it palm up towards him. His heart jumped a little when he understood what you were asking for, but he held your hand, squeezing it gently. 

“I apologize, Hyunjin,” you uttered slowly. “I’m sorry I…” You sighed, drinking a small sip of port while you found the right words. “I’ve been so selfish.”

He almost choked on his drink. “Selfish? No, that’s me, I’m selfish. I keep doing what I think is right because otherwise my conscience couldn’t take it. I should have realized before that it has consequences. That even if we think something is right, it doesn’t mean it is.”

He had repeated the pattern you had been used to—putting you through his own issues and pacifying you with an apiary. Wasn’t this exactly the same as your childhood? He still remembered your letters from then—he remembered all of your letters—and how surprised you were that your parents would allow you to learn the beekeeping trade. His intentions mattered little here—of course he had done it to make you happy. And it had made you happy. Only it was like making you lick honey off the stem of a rose—the taste would be sweet, yes, but the thorns would cut your tongue nonetheless.

You sat upright, pulling yourself closer to him, your chin resting on the arm you kept on the edge of the tub. “We’re sick in the head, aren’t we?” you whispered, sorrow written all over your face. You sighed. “I had a very unladylike idea. And you had the very unlordly reaction to shove your fingers down my throat to make me throw up. All of that just because I’m too… concupiscent for my, or your, own good.”

“Concupiscent?” He swallowed the last of his port but barely, coughing it down. 

“Yes, concupiscent!” you repeated, but this time, your traits had softened and the ghost of a smile appeared on your lips. “Both in the literal and Christian sense of the word.” 

“You’re exaggerating, darling.” He became serious then. In his head, his thoughts danced in circles, too fast for him to grasp onto one. The truth was that he couldn’t stop thinking of the moment he saw you with these evil pills. 

You had it all wrong. He had failed to make you see the love he had for you. He had failed you as a husband. As a friend. Because if you knew the extent—the magnitude—of his devotion, the thought wouldn’t even have crossed your mind. Because then you would have known that any harm you caused yourself was inflicted tenfold onto him. 

You were the only thing in the world that mattered. He would give up on it all if it meant that joy had made a home out of your heart. 

“I’m not,” you went on. “I’m humbly asking for your forgiveness.” 

“There is nothing to forgive. Darling. Nothing.”

You looked into his eyes. “You’re wrong. There is. I am asking for your forgiveness. Please give it to me.” 

He discarded his empty glass. “I dare not ask for your forgiveness, but—”

You cut him off. “I forgive you.” 

The air had been kicked out of his lungs—for a few seconds, he could only hear a ringing in his left ear. He didn’t deserve you. He never had. You had too good of a heart—it should love something other than him. In a perfect life, you wouldn’t be Lady Hwang. You wouldn’t even know of his existence. In a perfect life, you would be a princess, or perhaps even a queen, and your husband would have a soul that didn’t have holes in it. 

But life wasn’t perfect. Which meant that his life was absolutely perfect.

Because it had put you on his path. Because you were his sweet, sweet wife, living under his roof, because you took his name, because you were his. He knew he held no ownership over you and yet you were his woman. No matter how hurt, no matter how deranged either of you were, Hyunjin was your man and you were his woman.

“And don’t tell me not to,” you added. “I’m not taking it back. Can we try again? Please?”

“Try what, darling?” he caressed your hair. Most of it was damp. 

“This. All of this. Our marriage.” You thought about it. “I don’t want to erase what we had, but I want to move past tonight. I made a mistake and… I want to outgrow it.” 

He sighed, kissing your forehead. Your skin was warm—the warmth spilled inside of him, traveling from his lips, spreading within his body. “Then, I do forgive you.” He still didn’t see anything he ought to give you forgiveness for, but if it was something you needed to hear from him, then he ought to say it. “Promise me you will never hurt yourself? You’ll never only hurt you if you do so.” 

You nodded, tilting your head to the side, inviting him in for a kiss to which he did not resist.  Hyunjin kissed you slowly. Your mouth tasted like honey and port and you smelled like jasmine and he was so in love with you that sometimes it felt like he was dying. It had to be what death felt like, right? Frightening and peaceful at once. 

You deepened the kiss, breathing your sweet air into his lungs. He moaned when you rested your hands, dripping with hot scented water, onto his shoulders to pull him closer. Only he was as close as he could be. You owned him. He was little more than a marionette dictated by your existence. 

He melted into the kiss, warmth spreading in his belly. Your fingers, sneaky and agile, began undoing the buttons of his shirt. You smiled against his lips as you undressed him lazily and he, himself, took care of his trousers. Clothes seemed so futile when he was with you—any moment spent without the contact of your bare skin on his was wasted.

It took no time for him to step into the tub with you. Only, this one was much smaller than the one in his bedroom so he had to squeeze himself there. Fortunately you found a solution to the problem when you came to straddle him, your ass resting on his thighs, your arms around his neck. 

He kissed your lips again, then your neck. He licked the honey off your collarbone, his hands digging into the soft flesh of your hips. The warmth you had sparked within him had turned into something else. It felt, almost, like something was vibrating at a low frequency in his lower abdomen. 

“Baby, we don’t have to,” you murmured into his hair, holding onto him. “I just needed you close.” Maybe you were feeling him grow hard against your thigh—Hyunjin had no way to resist you. But it was becoming difficult. To resist. 

Because, before tonight, he had never admitted to anybody—not even to himself—the things he told you. In some ways, he became aware of them as the words spilled from his lips. He couldn’t explain his panic. You wouldn’t be the first woman to use this substance to prevent or stop birth. He was well aware of the practice. 

How could he explain this to you? 

He recognized the bottle in your hands from across the room. He had seen it before, or something similar enough anyway, in his mother’s bedroom cabinet. He couldn’t explain it to you because he had no way of proving it anyway, but he knew that his mother had suffered numerous miscarriages. That he was the only baby who ever held inside her. 

Had she wanted him at all?

Had she tried to get rid of him, too? Had she tried to prevent him altogether in preparation for whenever his father might want to unleash himself onto her next? 

Maybe, what he had seen at that moment as you sat on your bed, holding the medicine in your hands, was the reality he had been avoiding for so long—by trying so hard to be unlike his father, he was becoming indistinguishable from him. He was becoming him, only in a different shade perhaps. 

He wanted to be more than that. He wanted to be more than trying to be something, or someone. He wanted to deserve you. Really deserve you.

And it was difficult to resist. His willpower was weakening the more time he spent with you because it just meant he loved you a little more each day. And every day, it was a surprise because he had never imagined he would have the capacity to love you more than he already did.

And yet. 

“I’m right here darling.” 

He let his hands travel along the paradise that was your body, stopping only to cup your breasts. He played with your nipples in slow, relaxed circles, using his thumbs. The rest of his fingers squeezed you, eliciting a little breathy moan out of you that was so alluring it made him dizzy. 

You caressed him, too—his neck, his arms, his forearms, holding onto his wrists, your face twisting in pleasure with every new touch despite how you seemed to want to fight it. He didn’t want to fight it. He didn’t want to fight anymore. He had fought his inner demons his whole life, and for what? 

“I’m right here,” he said again, his eyes gliding over your body. “God, look at you. My pretty wife… and those tits…” 

You blushed violently so he did not let you turn away—gently pushing your chin upwards with two of his fingers, Hyunjin watched as your skin became a canvas on which color was spreading, deep and vivid and moving, better than any masterpiece. 

“Lovely,” he commented, peppering your face with little kisses. 

You giggled under your breath, taking his mouth for a deep kiss. Your lips were smooth and warm—he kissed you back, desperately, losing a bit more of his sanity with each second. 

“Why are you laughing?” he questioned, amused and endeared and aroused. “Did I say something funny?” 

You shook your head and took a few instants to give him your response, during which he admired you some more. Your eyes like stories, telling more than an entire library ever could, your flushed cheeks, your lips, raw from kissing. 

“No.” You bit your lip, sinking onto him a little more, the weight of you delightful on his hardening cock. “You make me feel beautiful.” 

Maybe it was his life’s calling—maybe he had been put on his Earth to serve that one and only purpose. To serve you, your heart, and your beauty. To be the mirror in which you saw all of those things that made you the ravishing woman that you were. From your smile to the way you pronounced his name, or your sweeter-than-honey voice. Your mind,stronger than mountains and your heart. Your heart, which was much like an ocean—grand, full of life, and deep. Your heart held so much that sometimes he worried you would collapse under its weight. But no, not you. Because you were you. His pretty beekeeper wife. And there was nothing he wanted more than to drown in that sea. 

“You are beautiful, darling.” 

He throbbed when you rolled your hips just a little, seeking friction. Your lips parted open but no sound came out of them. What a shame—he ought to change that. 

He, too, bucked his hips, but a little harder, and this time you blessed him with your voice, moaning as you let your head fall in the crook of his neck. He was going to be fully hard soon if you kept going. If he kept going. He slid his hands at your back to rest them on your ass, keeping you close. The feeling of your hard nipples against his chest was enough to drive him crazy. There was no space between your body and his, and yet it wasn’t even enough. He needed more. He needed you closer even.

“I wish I had understood all these things before,” he confessed, massaging your ass, rubbing his erection on your thigh and the soft skin of your cunt. 

“We said we were moving on,” you reminded him, kissing his jaw. “I just want both of us to be happy.”

Moving on. Something he had never quite done before. His entire life, Hyunjin had been haunted by the ghosts of his past and some days, he still felt as though he was the little boy hiding in his room—in this room—to escape fury or despair. 

But he would do any one thing you asked for. His defenses had all been annihilated tonight. He was finally allowing his heart to tap into his deepest, most secret desires, to turn silence into words, to let them take flight. He hoped it wasn't too late, but it was tonight that he realized that love would always be stronger than fear. 

“What else do you want, baby?” Anything. You could ask for anything and he would give it to you. 

Your lips crashed on his for a passionate kiss—you let go of his shoulders to shove a hand underwater, wrapping your fingers around his cock. “Let me make you feel good,” you said between kisses, squeezing him, making him see stars already. Heat pooled between his legs and he suppressed a whimper when you fondled his balls in the most tender, sensual way you possibly could.

He groaned in your mouth as you alternated between palming and pumping his length. “Close your eyes,” you whispered, pushing his head back to expose his neck. You kissed him there too. 

You thumbed his tip skillfully, using just enough friction, touching him in all the right places. “Oh fuck.” You knew him by heart, didn’t you? He was a slave under you, obeying each of your commands. 

“I want to ask you something.” Your voice was low. “I want you to tell me what you were thinking about this morning when you…” 

He throbbed in your hand at the mere memory of it. You felt it, adjusting your pace accordingly. 

“No,” he managed, his breath hitching. “It’s not… right.” 

Your languid massage came to a halt—instead, you squeezed him so hard that his entire body jerked forward, pleasure and pain becoming one, spreading under his skin. 

You went on. “I want to know what it would be like. If we…” 

He tried to steady his breathing but you made it very difficult by literally holding him by the balls and looking like a goddess on top of him. 

“We never have to do it,” you added softly with a smile. “But I want to imagine it in my head.” 

We never have to do it only Hyunjin had reached the limit. Of what he could prevent. Of his self-control. His temperance had run out.

“No man should say these things to his wife.” It was too lewd. Too honest. “I fear I would feel compelled to act upon my words. And it wouldn’t be right to do so tonight, would it, darling?”

“Not if you do it to silence me,” you breathed. “It would only be right if you did so because you wanted it so bad that you couldn’t help it. Isn’t that what almost happened, earlier? Is that why you were so angry this morning?” 

He throbbed again—harder this time, moaning as you gave his cock a gentle squeeze. “Baby—” 

Fuck this.

He had enough of it all. Of trying. Of resisting. Of pretending, even to himself, that he wasn’t obsessed with it, with you. He should have loved you hard on your wedding night. He should have loved you hard every night after.

“Tell me,” you insisted. But instead of telling you, he lifted you off him—you stared at him surprised, retreating a little farther. 

He pushed himself up, splashing water all over the floor in the process, getting out of the bathtub. You turned to him, reaching for his cock again—hard, straining—and opening your mouth to take him between your lips, but he stopped you, cupping your face instead. “Get up, darling.” 

Your eyes widened with anticipation and he had to force air into his lungs as you stood, graceful and sinful at once, your skin covered in goosebumps. Water rolled down your body and he followed it with his gaze. He liked the way the drops slowed down around your stomach before they continued their course, disappearing in the trimmed, silky-soft hair covering your pussy. 

You stepped out of the bathtub, your arms around his neck to kiss him—he kissed you back but wrapped your legs around his waist as he lifted you. He should have done so on your wedding night. He should have done so every night after.

“A—Are you sure?” you managed, grinding almost painfully on his erection, kissing and licking his neck, leaving a trail of spit behind. “You’re not doing it just to—”

He lay you in your bed, dampening the sheets immediately but he didn’t care. He held his cock, giving it a few lazy pumps as he kneeled over you. “No, I’m not doing it to silence you. Or whatever.” He kissed you. Your thighs. Your mons. Your waist. Your breasts. Your neck. Your lips. “I’m doing it because I can’t fucking resist you anymore.” 

You whined when he pushed onto your knee to spread your legs for him, holding onto his arms like you were afraid to fall. Were you scared? Turned on? Eager? You looked eager—disheveled, with your eyes glazed over, your chest rising and lowering with your small, shallow breaths.

You let out a loud moan when he cupped your pussy, feeling how wet you were and it wasn’t from the bath. Your juices stuck to his fingers and the palm of his hand as he massaged you, the tip of his fingers teasing your ass. 

“Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck—” You sighed, head falling at the back, arching your back. “Yes, please—” 

It would be a lie to say he hadn’t thought about this moment a lot. Because he had. Before meeting you and after. Sometimes he was imagining long, elaborate scenarios, and others simply picturing the moment he would work you open and the context didn’t matter.

Except it mattered. Context was everything. Context was more important than the act itself. It was with shame that he was towering over you tonight, the flames of the candles around your bed lighting only some parts of you—your left breast, your waist on the left side, too, your face. You had granted him his forgiveness a little too quickly and it didn’t feel quite deserved now. So he would keep begging you for it until he was satisfied. Until he knew he earned it, really earned it.

He clicked his tongue at the sight. “Darling.” He pressed two fingers at your entrance and he swore he could feel your pulse there. He caressed you, smearing your slick all over your pussylips. “Not so fast.” He needed more time.

He would keep begging until he knew he deserved you, which was to say, he would keep begging until his last breath. He didn’t need to use words for it. He would put his mouth to a better use than that, whispering his pleas into you.

He lowered himself between your legs, in this sacred place, kissing your inner thighs. Your skin smelled like the jasmine oil you had bathed in but the scent of your pussy was better. Sweeter. 

“You want to know what went through my mind this morning?” He inhaled you, pressing his face between your legs, your slick coating his face. You writhed under him, your fists finding his hair. “It might offend you to know I was frighteningly close to forcing myself onto you.” He lapped at your cunt, teasing you, letting your taste melt into the tip of his tongue. Just little kitten licks, but each of them sent a jolt of lightning directly to his crotch. Each of them made you moan louder than the last. 

It was true and it felt good to say it while tasting you. It felt good to say it, period. 

“I wanted to keep you there and spread you open,” he went on, tilting his head to the side a little so he could reach your entrance better. Your cunt fluttered on his tongue, forcing a grunt out of him. “I wanted to watch myself sink into your tight cunt. Wanted to bury myself as deep as I could.” 

You cried out, your hand closing into a fist in his hair, pressing him closer, rolling your hips to meet his tongue, to rub your clit onto his nose. You were hungry for more but he was hungrier. A craving that could not be explained with words. 

“I wanted to break you open.” He used two of his fingers to expose you to him. “I wanted to fuck you. And ruin your pretty pussy.” Hyunjin pushed his tongue into your tight hole, licking you, fucking you with it. He did it because he knew you loved it, he knew you lost it every time he did it. But the truth was that it was an out-of-body experience to feel your cunt flutter around his tongue. You arched into his mouth, your voice filling the quiet room. “I thought exactly the same thing the very day I met you. We weren’t even married, darling, and I already wanted to ravage you.” 

He quickly returned to your cunt, kissing it, fucking it sloppy with his tongue. You were meant to be worshiped. Could you feel that? Could you feel that each swirl of his tongue was a new prayer? 

He barely heard you over the lewd sounds of his own mouth on you, but he could swear you muttered something like please fucking do it, which made his legs go limp a little. He groaned, taking himself in one hand to soothe the aching pressure he felt at his core. Eager. So fucking eager, and impatient. Acting innocent earlier with your we don’t have to do it, knowing fully he would. Knowing he had no wish for restraint anymore.

No, of course, you weren’t like that, were you? You wouldn’t torture him this way. But you were hungry for cock, and it was driving him properly insane.

He emerged from between your legs out of breath, your juices dripping all over his chin. “You really don’t know, do you?” God, you were so fucking wet. And he wasn’t even really drunk anymore—yet he felt lightheaded, like he was barely more than a cock and a mouth and a heart that loved you endlessly. “You ask for something but you don’t know if you’ll be able to handle it.” He meant that. As though to prove his point, he lay his tongue flat on your folds, taking one firm lick, slurping on you like you were the most extravagant dessert. Which, well, was exactly what you were. He was certain he could live off your cunt and only your cunt. You were the only sustenance required to keep him alive. “If I had my way with you, you would have blacked out while I made you mine.” 

You clenched around nothing, pressing your thighs together, pressing his head harder in between them. Concupiscent his ass. You were straight-up horny. But he had known this about you for a while now, hadn’t he? He just hadn’t let that information sink in—truly sink in—in order to protect you. Or himself. Both, perhaps. 

“I have to relax you before,” he explained. He was leaking already. “Do you understand, darling?” 

He glanced at you in time to see you nod—you propped yourself up on your elbows to get a better look at him, making it impossible for him not to smile. Even in this light, he could see your beauty. Hell, it could have been daylight or completely dark that it wouldn’t have made a difference. Your beauty transcended all human senses. 

“Don’t hold back,” he warned you, returning to his post, his purpose, his home. He pushed a single finger into your dripping hole—farther than he ever had before, just past the second knuckle. He felt it in his crotch when you clenched around him, writhing and whimpering desperately. 

He gave your clit a kiss first, a gentle one, massaging your walls with his finger. 

And then he unleashed himself on you. 

Hugging your clit in his plush lips, he licked and sucked onto it, regularly changing his tempo, fucking you with his finger at the same time, speaking sins and miracles into your cunt. The way you pulled his hair to fuck yourself onto his face made him want to die or something like it. He almost came when he felt a deep throb within you. You were close, too. 

He rotated his wrist, inserting a second finger inside—and almost lost his sanity because of it. How tight were you even? You wouldn’t be able to take his cock, would you? He wouldn’t even be able to put half of it in your virgin pussy. 

Your voice turned into pretty staccato moans when he found the soft spot he was looking for. You couldn’t stop clenching around his fingers, so he licked at your clit, obeying its demands, wishing nothing but to fulfill his function. 

“Yes, oh yes, oh my god—” You weren’t making much sense, but the sound of your voice almost brought tears to his eyes. Beautiful.

His wife. His woman.

He applied a bit more pressure in both places—your clit and the sensitive spot inside your cunt, moaning with you as you ascended, rubbing his cock onto the mattress. 

He did not stop when you came—you were convulsing almost violently on the bed, pleasure taking over you, crying out, your cunt pulsing under him. You gushed onto his face, coating it with your sweet, sweet, sweet cream. He stopped breathing, becoming one with you, letting your orgasm move him, too. Letting the high tide take him. Gradually, you came to a stop and he followed you into stillness too, only removing his fingers once he was certain your high had receded. 

You collapsed on the bed, breathing heavily, the scent of your cunt all over him and this room. 

He was well aware that simply thinking such a thing was a cardinal sin, but he knew that if angels made love and had orgasms, they looked just like you when you did. Sounded like you. Felt like you. Tasted like you, too.

He couldn’t see it in the dark, but he knew that a special treat was now pooling at your entrance. His special treat. His reward for helping you reach rapture. He waited a few seconds while you were resting before selfishly lapping at your entrance once more, collecting your juices, slurping and swallowing them, swallowing you. 

You came back gently—he felt your hand in his hair again, caressing him lovingly now. He smiled as he drank the last of you, not wasting any time before he climbed up onto you so he could share your taste. You looked fucked out, your skin was hot and feverish, and he kissed you hard. He could feel you tasting yourself, seeking the sweetness in his mouth. He throbbed at that. He was no longer reigning over his own body for you were the queen sitting at the throne.

You pulled away, looking him in the eyes as best you could in the dark. You touched his face. He was feverish too, sweat pooling at his temples, his hair stuck in all sorts of places.

“We don’t have to,” you whispered for the second time that night, with a sweet smile on your lips and, if he wasn’t making things up, tears in your eyes. “I love you, Hyunjin.” 

“I love you too, darling.” His leaking cock rested on your pussy, as it usually did when he was making an approximation of love to you. “You know I love you, right? Don’t lie to me.”

He appreciated that you took a few seconds to think about it. You nodded, wiping the corner of your eye. “I do.”

Hyunjin leaned down to kiss your forehead. And then he kissed the tears on your cheeks. You wrapped your arms around him, pulling him closer. 

“Are you saying we don’t have to because you don’t want to, baby?” He gave your lips a kiss, too. “Because it’s okay.”

You shook your head vigorously. “No! No, I want to.” As though to prove your point, you wrapped your legs around his waist, the two of you becoming completely intertwined. But it was more than just your bodies—it was your souls that were entangled, too.

“But you’re crying.” He hated it when you cried. It was as though each tear was a thousand years of torture. 

“I’m crying but I’m not sad.” You held his face with both hands. “I’m not even scared. I'm happy.” 

He sort of wanted to cry, too so he understood what you meant. Tonight really was special. It was strange to know he was currently creating one of the most beautiful memories in his life, one that he would cherish even when he would be old. Perhaps especially when he would be old.  He smiled. “You’ll have to tell me if I hurt you.” 

“You will hurt me,” you said with conviction. “I want it to hurt.” 

He grunted, burying his face in your hair while he recovered from that lethal plea. You caressed his back, his waist, his ass, dragging your fingernails along his skin, tickling him all over. 

There wasn’t much left of the flames on the candles, which meant he had limited time. Because if there was one thing all of his fantasies had in common, it was that he truly, profoundly wished to look into your eyes as he fucked you. When he claimed you.

“Darling,” he began, “I want you to look at me.” 

You did, your eyes finding his when he positioned himself. His heart skipped a few beats when he spread you open. He guided himself near your entrance but stayed there. “Keep looking at me. Don’t close your eyes.” 

He could not wait anymore. It felt like he had waited a thousand years. It felt like it was the only way, maybe, you would truly understand the love he had for you. If he fucked it into you.  

“I love you,” you said again as he ever so slightly pushed the tip of his cock inside you. Barely. Not even an inch. 

But he caught on fire nonetheless. 

It took all of the composure in the world not to buck his hips violently—he had reached nirvana. He had ascended somewhere higher than heaven. Somehow, he could taste love and lust. He could hear colors maybe. 

“I love you,” he managed, his cock throbbing dangerously. 

He moved a little, sinking deeper into your heat, his cock engulfed by your tight warmth. His eyelids fluttered as blood rushed to his crotch but it felt like his heart was sinking and was beating somewhere there, astray but more powerful than ever.

You were so wet, so snug around him, your eyes not leaving him, your pretty mouth parted open as you took more and more of him. It was becoming difficult for him to move now. “Relax baby,” he muttered, retreating a little. 

“Do it,” you begged, your fingernails sinking into his back. “Take me, please.”

He caressed your folds, each of his moves slow and purposeful. “Again.” 

He sank into your warmth once more, not forcing it but making sure all of his tip had disappeared. “You’re so fucking wet,” he commented, hissing through his teeth. 

He kissed you, deeply, trying to say something with his tongue for which he could not find the words. You kissed him back, undulating your hips gently. 

He made sure it was as unhurried as it could possibly be. Hyunjin guided his cock into your intimacy, sinking into your dripping hole. 

“Deeper,” you whined, spreading yourself more for him.

“Shhh, baby.” He caressed your cheek, thrusting into you with more strength finally, stretching your virgin cunt open, moving in shallow thrusts, patiently. Yet impatiently. These few seconds appeared to him much longer than all of his existence so far.

It was better than anything he had ever thought it would be. Not because you were tight and not because you were soaking wet for him, and not even because you were a virgin and he was about to claim your chastity, the crumbs of innocence you had left. You were better than any whiskey, making him drunker than liquor ever could. Because he loved you. Because he had you. And he wouldn’t want his life to be any other way. It didn’t matter the pain that he went through if it meant that he got to be with you in the end. 

If given the choice, he would do it all over again so that he could be here with you, tonight, his aching cock forcing itself inside you. 

You cried out when he met resistance—he came to a stop, his heartbeat echoing in his ears. 

“Don’t close your eyes,” he breathed. “Just look at me.” 

He pulled away a little only to thrust back into you. And then he did it again. And again. Kindly. Slowly. You struggled with keeping your eyes open but you did so anyway, your moans more beautiful than any music as he fucked you into his woman. 

He would compare it to the feeling of jerking awake in the middle of the night, feeling like he was falling from the sky. That strange feeling of losing his balance, his senses, of not knowing where he was or where he was going.

Yes. It felt just like that when he breached you open.

He saw it in your eyes for just a second. Pain, pleasure, surprise. Ecstasy. You gasped, clenching around him, your fingernails cutting the skin of his back. He observed you the way some observed masterpieces in galleries, taking it all in, noticing the subtleties, engraving the beauty in his mind so that it would remain there forever. You looked at him like you had been falling, too, and like he was the only thing you could hold onto. You looked at him like you were seeing him for the first time. For the thousandth time. 

“FUCK—” Nothing could even compare to you. How tight you were. How well you took him. How beautiful you were with your flushed cheeks and the tip of your tongue resting on your bottom lip. 

Hyunjin moved inside you, stretching you some more, finally bottoming out. He looked down, barely seeing anything but enough to be aware that his cock was buried deep inside you. He stayed there, returning to your face, to your mouth. Just lips on lips, your breath tickling his skin, the spasms of your pussy calming down with you as you adjusted to his size. 

“Are you okay?” he asked under his breath, not sure whether he was or not. “Talk to me.” 

“Y—Yes.” You inhaled and exhaled a few times but it didn’t seem to have much of an effect. Hyunjin could feel your pulse through your skin. “Fuck me, Hyunjin.” 

You would kill him someday. 

“Spread your legs a little more for me, yeah?” He adjusted himself to be more comfortable as he kissed you. Your mouth, smooth and wet, still tasted like your pussy.

He didn’t break the kiss as he resumed his thrusts, barely moving at first. You jerked your hips underneath, attempting to fuck yourself onto him. He didn’t let you—not right now. He held you down by your waist, slowly pumping in and out of you, and the dance began. Because it was much like it, a dance—but so was just about everything beautiful, wasn't it?

Hyunjin remained calm for a while, fucking you slowly yet relentlessly, his body over yours and your hands all over him, feeling him, his abdomen, his arms, even his cock as he fucked you with it. Like you were trying to learn him the way you would learn a language or a trade. Or a dance. 

“You’re so—so big,” you moaned before biting into his shoulder as his fucking picked up a pace. As he slammed into you a little harder, but not nearly as hard as he could, or wanted to. 

He had thought it would be easy to ruin you but he had been wrong. You were the most precious thing in this world, and each cry tortured him to no end while, also, filling him with the highest pleasure he had ever experienced.

“Fuck me. Like that. Yes—” 

He did, obeying your command as he was meant to, stuffing you with his cock. His gentle thrusts blended into another shade of red when your gasps turned into long, erotic moans. He danced with you harder, faster, pounding into your dripping pussy, driving himself insane, driving himself close to his high. 

“Take it. Take my cock.” He was begging you in strangled groans. 

“Yes, please, yes!” 

He didn’t want it to stop. He never wanted this moment to end—he was ready to explode but he wished this night would last forever. It was all he ever wanted. To be balls deep into your cunt, your voice echoing in the room, the lewd sounds of your bodies colliding like music to his ears. He slowed down, taking some time to kiss your neck, your bare shoulder, to inhale the scent of your hair, to taste your pussy on your lips. 

“Baby.” You pressed your hands on his ass in an attempt at pushing him into your pussy again. Eager. So eager. “Don’t stop.” 

He needed a minute or an eternity. He was experiencing true bliss for the first time in his life, buried into your wetness, making his peace with whatever demons had been haunting him before.

When he failed to give you what you wished for, you did something that surprised him beyond words—you hooked your leg around his, rolling over and taking him with you until he was lying flat on his back. At one point in the maneuver, he slipped out from your soaked cunt and the air felt cold and brutal around him. He missed you immediately. It felt like he was lacking something, like he had lost an organ. 

Before he knew it, you were straddling him, panting, reaching for his cock to put it back where it belonged. 

It dawned on him then. As if he could see it all clearly, finally. You were his wife. You were the girl he had written letters to all his life. You were the girl who sent him letters all his life, too. You were the woman he married, the woman he had desired for years. The person he had loved all this time, the one he belonged with, the one he belonged to. And you were on top of him, claiming him just as much as he was claiming you. Time came to a stop when he realized that his wildest dreams had come true.

You sank onto his straining cock, taking more of it inch by inch, getting used to feeling him this way. You came to a stop when you were completely sitting on him, clenching violently. You were going to milk him. You were going to fuck his soul out of him. 

You rolled your hips tentatively once just to see what it was like. Then you did it again with a little more determination. And again. And again—soon enough, you were riding him in powerful, needy movements, accompanied by equally needy moans. Fuck. He was doomed.

Hyunjin snapped when you lay your hands flat on his chest, using another angle to take even more of him. 

“Already greedy,” he muttered, fucking you from below. “Look at the way you take my cock.” 

Like a pro. Like your body had always known his. 

“Take it. Use me, baby. Take what you need.” Hyunjin was close—his cock throbbed every two or three seconds and he couldn’t hold for much longer, certainly not with you on top of him like that, bouncing on his cock. 

He squeezed your tits, caressed your tummy, held your waist. He cried out when the speed of your riding increased, when your voice turned into desperate little gasps. 

“Take it.” You were using him. Abusing him. Edging yourself on his aching cock. “Cum on my cock, darling.” 

He grabbed your waist to guide the rolls of your hips, pushing you up and down on him, using you the same way you were doing with him. He was close. His vision was blurred—he had already started to melt into the mattress beneath him, his entire life dictated by the intoxicating sensation of your tight cunt undulating up and down his length. 

His pretty wife. His beekeeper wife. No longer a virgin but a cock-hungry, desperate seductress with whom he was hopelessly in love. 

The pressure in his abdomen became too much—his muscles tightened as he felt himself toppling over the edge. He saw sparks. He felt them, too, all over him. 

Hyunjin let out a long, drawn-out moan when he came, back arching into you, hips stuttering, pleasure shattering him in pieces. He spilled himself inside you, spurting thick ropes of cum and filling you with them. You fucked it all deeper inside you as you came, too, your pussy fluttering, your upper body collapsing onto him, your hips moving with your orgasm, obeying it. He didn’t think this amount of cum ever came out of him before—he was still twitching and leaking when you came to a stop, spent and content and exhausted. Much like him. 

Neither of you moved for a long time, long enough for all the candles to run out of wax, turning the room completely dark in the night. 

It wasn’t just dark. It was quiet—very quiet. And Hyunjin realized it was the same in his mind, too. For the first time in a long, long time—there wasn’t a voice shouting or whispering vile things in his head. There was nothing, only light, only love. Only you. 

You climbed down his softening cock but it was only so you could curl up in his arms—still, it felt just as erotic as making love to you when his seed dripped out of you, some of it landing on his skin, lukewarm and sticky. 

He held you close, the both of you sweaty, beautiful messes. 

“I hope I didn’t hurt you too much, darling.” He smiled, kissing your forehead.

It wasn't just that it was quiet in his mind—his chest was lighter, too. 

You hummed softly, your eyes closed, lulled to sleep by the rush of pleasure you experienced. “Not too much.” You opened your eyes but barely. “I didn’t think it would feel this big inside me,” you admitted. “But I loved it.” 

Hyunjin blushed, pressing you against him, keeping you there. If he could have it his way, neither of you would ever have to leave this bed. 

"Did I do alright?" you asked sleepily.

"Alright?" He held you tighter, kissing your forehead. "You fucked the life out of me, darling."

You giggled, the both of you comforted.

His slumber was dreamless, and yet he never ceased to feel your presence, even in his sleep.

It was sunlight that woke him up the next morning—for a few seconds, he thought it all must have been a dream, that it couldn't possibly have been true. Except you were still exactly in the same spot, naked, with light bruises on your waist where he held you, last night, as he rammed into you. There was more coloring at your neck where he sucked the skin too hard. 

You woke up too, smiling as you remembered the night before. He was about to kiss you when you looked at him with wide eyes like you had just gotten an epiphany. You sat up in your bed quickly, pushing yourself to the side, observing the mattress. 

“Oh my god,” you uttered, your voice raw from all your pleased screams and moans of the night before. “Hyunjin, we really did put way too much.” 

He didn’t get it at first. Only when he sat up, too, did he see the same thing as you, which was the faintest—and it was really, really faint—pinkish-red stain on your white silk sheets. There were a lot of other stains, and to him it looked no different than staring at a piece of art, for they were remnants of his lovemaking with you. 

Still, he chuckled with you, amused by your shock and at the way you covered your mouth, remembering your wedding night and his subterfuge. “Oh,” he simply said, admiring your body now. He had never felt any particular way when he entered a church, no matter how much he had been told of the sanctity of this place. But, looking at you, he understood what he ought to have been feeling all this time. His holy place. You were the goddess and the church at once, absolving him of all his sins, forcing him into sinning, hearing his grateful prayers and making him plea for mercy. 

The same pinkish-red spread on your cheeks, delightful to see. “I’m so embarrassed now,” you pouted, hiding your face in your hands. “Everyone saw it! Oh no!”

He couldn’t help but laugh, following you into your lavatory as you fled the scene as though it would diminish your shame. He chased you, catching you by the waist and lifting you onto the counter to sit you down there. He kissed you—your mouth tasted like old water and the ghost of your pussy had lingered on your lips. “You’re okay, darling. They don’t matter.” 

And he meant it. Hell, for the first time, he really did mean it. 

That adorable pout didn’t leave your face. However, you played with his hair while he covered your breasts in kisses.“We need a bath,” you pointed out. “We’re disgusting.” 

Your bathtub was still full of last night’s water. Hyunjin was supposed to leave for his business trip soon, but he had more important things to do, which were to wash up and have breakfast with you.

Or have you for breakfast. 

He had never in his life before felt so alive. He had never before wished for immortality. He would not have enough of a mere mortal lifetime to love you. 

“Let’s get dressed and have a bath in my room, yeah?” he suggested. “And then we can—”

You bit your lip, looking somewhere down his chest, smiling coyly. “Can we… you know? Again?” 

“Yes, my darling. Again and again.” He tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, taking in the sight of you. He had seen you wear luxurious gowns, he had seen your hair braided elegantly. But you had never been as beautiful as you were now. 

That day was the first day in Hyunjin’s life where he felt absolutely no dread, no gloom. From the moment he woke up in your cum-stained bed to the moment he fell asleep much later at night, in a different city after painfully parting from you, all that he held within him was peace. Peace and elation. 

He had held you close, very close, and you hadn’t broken into pieces. It had been distance that almost ruined it all, and Hyunjin would die before he let anything get in between you two again. 

“You really are a little too cheery, brother.”

Hyunjin glared at Jungkook, elbowing him on his left side to shut him up. “Don’t call me that in front of people,” he muttered between his teeth. “Actually don’t call me that at all. Ever.”

“You’re no fun at all, Hwang.” Jungkook rolled his eyes, turning to the rest of the group who were having a completely unrelated discussion and not paying them any mind. 

It was a splendid autumn evening, with a descending sunset and a cool breeze, making the walk from the hotel where he, Changbin, and Christopher stayed, quite pleasant and even invigorating. After three days of mentally draining business meetings and futile dinners with investors, Hyunjin had decided to prolong the trip a little, to go hunting among other things. Well, he didn’t really want to at first, but you insisted.

“It might be the only opportunity you get to do such a thing with Lord Christopher before he becomes a father,” you pointed out. “Knowing him, I doubt he will stay away from his wife and child much.” 

You were right, of course. So Chris had joined him, Changbin, and Jungkook for a short hunting trip, and Hyunjin was trying very hard to focus on all of that instead of remembering how it felt to sink inside you…

“Are you even listening to me?” Jungkook waved his hands just inches short of Hyunjin’s face to bring him back to the present moment. “Damn. Are you sure you’re quite alright?” He turned to the other two. “Did he hit his head or something?” 

Changbin shrugged while Christopher hid his smile. “He’s not telling us either, so I don’t know what his problem is.” 

Jungkook gave Hyunjin a look that was a little too knowing, but he couldn’t possibly know anything about his current state of mind, so Hyunjin brushed it off as regular jungkookesque behavior.

“I’m listening,” Hyunjin said impatiently. “I said I didn’t mind going, I just wish you would have told me about this dinner before I left. We would have packed better, more appropriate clothes.”

Jungkook waved a dismissive hand. “Don’t worry about it. Teddy isn’t like that. I’ve known him a long time and he's even less lordly than I am.” 

“Well he mustn’t be very lordly at all then,” Hyunjin pointed out, causing Chris and Changbin to burst into laughter. Even Jungkook smiled reluctantly at the joke, pretending to be offended by it.

After spending most of the day outside hunting—and not catching anything, not even a hare—Jungkook had declared that the four of them had been formally invited for dinner at the residence of an old friend of his. He hadn’t really called him his friend, suggesting he was mostly an acquaintance. To Hyunjin, he had admitted to meeting him at a sex party. “But he had a girl on his cock and another was on the girl’s cunt, so we didn’t talk all that much.” 

Which did not make Hyunjin eager at all to meet Jungkook’s not-friend, but he apparently had a great collection of weapons that both Chris and Changbin really wanted to see. He had longswords and maces and even a few katanas, or so Jungkook claimed. Hyunjin figured, considering the man’s political influence, that he might be able to negotiate something out of it, or at least to make a good impression. Maybe it would serve a purpose one day. 

Which brought him to tonight. He followed the three other men, listening a little to Jungkook’s insane sex parties stories or his personal description of a few of the weapons they were about to see. But really Hyunjin was wondering what you were doing. It would be your birthday soon and he had found lovely gifts for you. He couldn’t wait to give them to you, to share them with you. 

It took little time to reach their destination, which was a large townhouse in a posh neighborhood of the city. They were greeted by Jungkook’s friend himself, and despite his discontentment with the outfit he was wearing, Hyunjin made sure to use his best manners. 

“I am so pleased to meet you, Lord Hwang,” the man said as he let them inside, away from the cold air. He was tall—taller than him even—and had chestnut-brown hair. “I heard a lot about you.”

“I have also heard a lot about you, Lord Grover.” Hyunjin dipped his head politely. After all, it wasn’t every day that he entered the home of an Earl. “Thank you for hosting us. I only wish we dressed more appropriately for the occasion.” 

“I see nothing wrong with the way you are clothed, gentlemen.” 

The house’s steward made an appearance then, bowing deeply as he saluted his guests. 

Grover turned to him. “Isaki, have you prepared the parlor as I requested?” 

“Yes, my lord,” the young man—a boy, really—replied. “I’ve also brewed some tea.” 

Hyunjin knew he wouldn’t like Grover when he failed to thank his steward, letting young Isaki walk away after announcing tea. His gaze crossed Christopher’s and he saw the same displeasure as his own in it. The two of them seemed to have the same taste when it came to people.

Jungkook and Lord Grover caught up while he was giving them a tour of the house. This was only his secondary residence, which he kept for business and political purposes. He had a large estate in the countryside, somewhere a little down south. 

“Isn’t this the region where your lady wife is from, Hwang?” Jungkook asked as they walked into the empty dining room. And Hyunjin knew, from the shape of his mouth, that he almost called him brother again.

He tsked, letting his reaction pass as something other than annoyance. “Yes, yes it very much is,” he managed, observing the many paintings adorning the walls. Two of them were by famous masters and he couldn’t pretend he wasn’t impressed. 

“Ah, yes, indeed!” Lord Grover grinned. “As she might have told you, Lord Hyunjin, she and I have met on one occasion and attended the same events a few times. Naturally, her chaperone wouldn’t let her anywhere near me at that point,” he added. 

Hyunjin felt that new information fall into his stomach like a rock into a lake. He stayed still, his eyes still fixated on the stunning nighttime scenery painted by James Wright he stood by. The moon, and the light radiating from it, were absolutely stunning. 

“I wouldn’t think she told you of the time we met,” Grover went on. “But I wish to congratulate you on your wedding, no matter how late. Have you been enjoying married life? Or is married life the reason you’re visiting the city? There are many reputable… tourist spots.” 

Hyunjin clenched his jaw, focusing on the details of the painting. Each leaf was painted in detail, it seemed, giving the impression they were swaying in a soft breeze. Was he crazy, or was this man taunting him?

“We’re here for business, Lord Grover,” Changbin responded in his place. “I must say, Lord and Lady Hwang form a strong pair.” 

“Seconded,” Christopher added.  “Lord Grover, is that what I think it is?” 

Christopher pretended to be fascinated by an antique chair in a corner, giving Hyunjin some respite. He was doing everything he could to stay calm, only, he could never be calm when it was about you. He didn’t like that you had met this guy before. When exactly? And in what circumstances? 

Why hadn’t you told him?

He forced himself to take a deep breath. Of course, you couldn’t possibly have listed every person you ever met. The reason Hyunjin never heard about him, most likely, was that the encounter wasn’t particularly significant. Right?

Before he could finish ruminating over this, the short tour of the dining room was over. “Teddy, they really wanted to see the katanas,” Jungkook said with a smirk.

“With all due respect, Lord Jungkook,” Christopher began, a playful smile on his face, “I believe you expressed quite a lot of excitement at the idea yourself.” 

“I swear to god these guys don’t give me a single break.” Jungkook sighed dramatically. It was at that moment that Isaki made a second appearance. 

“Tea is ready, my lords,” he said, dipping his head and keeping his eyes on the ground. “The parlor is this way.”

“We’ll dine in the parlor if you gentlemen don’t mind,” Lord Grover explained. “It’s a simple, casual meal, and I’d much rather we all make ourselves comfortable.” He paused, his big, dark eyes dancing from him, to Jungkook, and back to him. “Lords Jungkook and Hyunjin—my mother expressed the wish to meet you. She is aging and very ill, so she will not be joining us for supper.” 

No matter how upset he was, Hyunjin could only feel empathy for that fact. He knew that a son never really got over the loss of his mother—and Theodore had lost his father about ten years ago or so, becoming Earl when he was only twenty-one. He could relate to that, no matter how untrusting he was of the man.

“Of course,” Jungkook said at once. “Teddy, tell me—has her condition worsened?” 

Grover gave him a nod, a grave expression on his face. “The doctor says she doesn’t have much time left. At the risk of sounding heartless, I have to admit I’d rather it didn’t last for too long. There is no need for suffering when there is nothing to gain from it.” 

“I’m terribly sorry to hear this.” Hyunjin dipped his head politely. “Let’s go meet her so that she can rest for the night afterward.” 

“Isaki, can you please show Lord Christopher and Mister Changbin to the parlor? Don’t wait up, too—drink the tea while it’s hot.” 

The group parted in two halves and Hyunjin followed Theodore into a narrow corridor to the left. Jungkook walked with them, the three of them remaining quiet, out of respect. Hyunjin couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling in his chest, like a darkness looming, and he didn’t like it. He tried to blame it on Jungkook’s insane stories about those parties he attended with Grover, only that didn’t help much. 

They quickly reached their destination, which was a large bedroom in which Theodore’s mother lay on a single bed. The rest of the room was furnished with couches and armchairs, suggesting the woman was accustomed to welcoming guests into this room. It was dark at first, so Hyunjin helped Theodore when he lit up a few oil lamps. 

“Hello, Mother,” he told her as he brought one of the lamps to her bedside table. “Were you sleeping? Our guests are here.”

The woman was thin and her skin was pale with a waxy aspect to it. Her son helped her sit up in her bed while Hyunjin and Jungkook waited politely behind. She seemed rather unwell yet she gave Theodore a smile when he adjusted her pillows. The entire room smelled like illness and camphor. 

“Lady Grover.” As the eldest, Jungkook spoke first, going as far as getting on one knee.

Hyunjin mirrored him, out of respect for the woman who was visibly at the end of her life. “Good evening, Lady Grover.” Her hair was somewhere between gray and copper, but it was dull and frizzy, lacking care and health.

It took quite a while for her to say anything—by the time he and Jungkook were standing upright again, she was squinting, staring at both of them intensely as if she was trying to decode them. Theodore remained by her side but let her speak first.

Then, finally, her gaze came to a stop, lingering on Hyunjin. “By god, Teddy, he looks exactly like him.” She brought a weak, shaky hand over her shriveled, dry lips. “Come closer, young man. Please.” 

Hyunjin was aware of the way Jungkook was gawking at him from the side, only he was too preoccupied to try and translate his body language. It wasn’t the first time such a scene occurred and yet he despised it every single time. He would sometimes be at an event, having dinner with clients, and a complete stranger would come up to him to strike up a conversation, mentioning how they knew exactly who he was because he looked so much like his father. 

But he knew better than to disrespect a lady like her, so he crossed the room, coming to stand next to Lord Grover. He couldn’t find a single thing to say. 

“Oh, heavens!” Lady Grover’s eyes filled up with tears and unrest took control of him, the weight of this invisible, impending doom now tangible in the air. “Closer, young man, let me see you.” 

He didn’t initially react—too surprised by the situation, Hyunjin stood there, quiet, the gears of his mind going faster with each passing second. At that moment, he remembered that fateful visit to Jeon Manor a few months ago and coming face to face with Lady Myeong in a hallway, moments before dinner. The look on her face had been quite unforgettable, like she had just seen a ghost. You have your father’s eyes, Lord Hwang, she had told him. And his allure, too. 

Hyunjin twisted his neck, searching for Jungkook’s eyes, trying to see if he was thinking the same thing he was. And by the looks of it—he was, indeed, sharing his fear. 

Before he knew it, Lady Grover grabbed his hands, squeezing them in hers. Nothing about the gesture was inherently wrong—she held him lovingly, even, and he didn’t mind the cold of her skin or the fact that he could feel her bones through her flesh. It was the look on her face that frightened him. 

“Oh, truly…” He lowered himself closer to the woman, unsure of what to do. Big tears were rolling down her bony cheeks. “You might just be even more handsome than he was, but it’s undeniable,” she told Hyunjin. “I have missed your father every day since the last time he and I were together.” 

He heard footsteps behind him—Jungkook had come closer yet remained at the back respectfully. 

“They all said such atrocious things about him,” Lady Grover went on, her shoulders shaking with her cries. “But they didn’t know him like I did.”

“My father made bad decisions,” Hyunjin conceded. That had been a response that Christopher taught him when both of them were still young Back then, Hyunjin was under his tutelage after his father’s death. 

She shook her head. “No, child. They did not understand him. How could they understand him when he never let them see his true colors? The colors of his spirit?” 

She looked somewhere behind him. “You too, Lord Jeon. You have the eyes and the cheekbones.” 

She was jumping from one topic to another and yet making her point very, very clear, without having the need to speak it out loud. It was obvious that this woman had known his father intimately. Very much so. How many women like her were there? 

“Nobody knew him better than I did,” she let go of Hyunjin’s hands, gesturing weakly at the empty space by her bed. “They took him away from me. Away. I didn’t have a choice.” 

Her cries intensified, causing a violent episode of coughing—Hyunjin retreated while Theodore attempted to help his mother drink some water. A couple of nurses rushed into the room, asking them to leave. Stunned, Hyunjin’s feet managed to get him out of the room but he stopped when he found himself in the hallway with Jungkook and Theodore. 

“What’s the meaning of this, Teddy?” Jungkook inquired. He looked upset and he wasn’t easily moved, which said a lot about the gravity of the situation. 

“I heard so much of this Lord Hwang after my… father passed,” Grover said with a shrug. “It only made sense to me that my mother met his son while she still can.” The intonation with which he said the word son didn’t please Hyunjin. “Thank you for indulging her. Shall we join the others for dinner?” 

Hyunjin walked slowly, staying behind, deep in his thoughts. The implications of his short encounter with Lady Grover were quite evident. She had clearly known him intimately—in a way nobody else, not his mother, not himself, had. The new piece of information left him speechless, although Hyunjin knew he ought not to be surprised by it. How many mistresses did he have? Did they all believe he loved them? That he wasn’t using them? 

How many illegitimate children had he fathered? 

He could not stop staring at Theodore now, not even after they reached the parlor and sat down on plush armchairs around a coffee table covered with food. It wasn’t just in the way he looked. It was in the way he held himself too, and the shape of his mouth when he smiled. It was unequivocal though, and he could not unsee it. The deep shade of brown of his eyes and his honeyed skin. 

Hyunjin spoke very little and ate even less, letting the others fill the conversation and only talking when directly spoken to. He was trying to put his thoughts in order. He was trying to convince himself he had nothing to fear from Theodore Grover—that should they have the same father, there would be no consequences to it.

The plates of food got emptied and maids came to clean up the table while Isaki was serving scotch, but Hyunjin was still trying to imagine all of the ways he could harm him, should the earl decide to. It would make no sense to even tryanything. Hyunjin’s estate prospered well, sure, but if Grover somehow came after him, claiming to be a Hwang, he would lose everything. His title, his land. Hell, his reputation too. 

As the other men drank, Hyunjin sat there, wondering what would compel Grover to claim anything he owned as his. 

The response came to him when Theodore invited them to follow him to his roofed terrace. He liked to smoke a cigar after dinner, apparently. “And Jungkook knows I get the best imported cigars,” he pointed out.

“Yeah, because you control the docks.” Jungkook rolled his eyes.

“If that’s alright with you, Lord Grover,” Chris began, “I’ll stay behind. I have no wish to smoke any cigars, and I do enjoy looking at your stunning collection here.” 

Grover nodded. “Of course. Then perhaps I should ask the entertainment to come in now instead of later?” He turned to his steward who was standing quietly in a corner of the room. “Isaki, get them.” 

The women entered the room as Theodore was grabbing his smoking paraphernalia from a drawer. Five of them—no, six. Young and obedient, they listened to the earl’s command when he asked them to stand in a row before them. 

Hyunjin averted his gaze, fighting a strong spell of nausea. He had to get out of here. He had to get the fuck away from this man. 

“Choose whichever you like, gentlemen,” Grover said with a smirk. “They’re all quite skilled—I tested them, so I’d know.” 

A very heavy and uncomfortable silence grew in the room. It felt like Hyunjin had something stuck in his throat preventing him from breathing as much air as he needed. He hated this. It wasn’t even the first time such a thing happened, but it was the first time since, well, you. 

His unease did not stem from a desire to spend time with any of the prostitutes. What he feared was that you would hear something that you wouldn’t like and that you wouldn’t believe him if he told you nothing had taken place. He couldn’t bear to lose you. 

He couldn’t bear to hurt you. Not any more than he already had.

“I’m leaving.” Hyunjin stood, the words escaping him before he could really think about it. “Thank you for your hospitality, Lord Grover, but I will return to the hotel.” He was quite certain that both Christopher and Changbin would follow him.

He was right—they stood, too. But before they could speak, Grover turned to them, making his way towards the girls, all of which wore excessively revealing clothes.

“You don’t have to worry about a thing, Lord Hwang,” he uttered slowly. “I heard of your… unique tastes. I requested Mindy here especially for you. Right, sweetheart?” Pushing open the loose robe she was wearing, he revealed her belly, small but round—she was visibly with child.

“Lord Grover!” Christopher started, but Hyunjin raised his hand to quiet him.

With a calmness he didn’t know in himself, Hyunjin reached into the pocket of his blazer to find his gold. Ignoring Grover, he crossed the room, giving each woman a substantial amount of money. “Thank you, ladies,” he said politely. “I believe this pays for your evening and more. You may leave.”

They all looked at each other, visibly frightened, but Hyunjin did not look away from Grover’s eyes, who was staring back with a defiant expression on his face. It took quite a while before he told them, “You heard the man. Leave. I’ll simply let your madam know that she ought to send me something better next time I host these guests.” 

“There won’t be a next time,” Hyunjin retorted as the women quickly scuttled out of the room. “It was a pleasure meeting you, Lord Grover. I shall pray for your mother.” 

Without waiting for a response, Hyunjin turned his heels and walked away. To his surprise, Jungkook was also going after him as well as Christopher and Changbin. 

“You haven’t even asked me how I met her,” Lord Grover exclaimed with a joyless laugh. “Your wife. I wish you had at least asked me, I was dying to tell you.” 

Hyunjin stopped right in his tracks, very well aware that he ought to be better than this. That he ought to display more class than this bastard. 

“Let’s go,” Changbin muttered through gritted teeth, but Hyunjin did not budge. 

He faced Grover once again. “You met her. What about it?” he asked him. “My wife is quite remarkable, I’ll agree—I understand how she would have made a strong impression on you. My lord.”

“Oh, she is remarkable. And grew into a radiant, exquisite young woman, no doubt.” Grover chuckled, but Hyunjin’s anger was slowly rising within him, reaching dangerous levels. “I went for a visit to her family’s villa, you see, with my parents. She was still a young girl, properly trained and yet feral. I knew she would never be fully tamed. I noticed her for it, of course. She showed up to the villa barely an hour before the feast would be served, her hands dirty, her hair sticky and messy with honey.” 

He leaned against the wall behind him, crossing his arms over his chest, acting out a little too dramatically in his pondering man pose.

“In any case. First thing I hear after dinner is how her mother wishes to break off her betrothal to a certain Lord Hwang. Her mother comes to my mother, and I just so happen to be in the next room over, from which Mother calls me and asks if I would be inclined to offer this young lady a proper home, should I take her as my wife. What was I to say? I liked her, as undomesticated as she might have been. Too bad her father—” 

Hyunjin didn’t hear the rest of his story. He had thrown himself at Grover before he could utter even one more word. His fist closed around the velvet of his collar. His other fist slammed into that classless bastard’s face. There were shouts behind him, even hands trying to grab at him, but Hyunjin did not let go of Grover, not even as he retaliated and punched him back a few times. 

He did not register the impacts as pain. He did not register them at all, and yet Grover got him square on the lips, almost breaking some teeth in the process, and got his nose, too. How could he. How dare he keep a memory of you at all? You were not his to remember. He was nothing to you. 

Hyunjin pinned him against the wall, hard enough that the back of Grover’s head hit it, dizzying him momentarily. He had a few weak attempts at punches but Hyunjin dodged them all. Had he ever truly wished to be engaged to you? Had he used those hands to give himself pleasure with the thought of you on his mind? 

“If you touch my wife—” Hyunjin groaned when the taste of blood invaded his mouth. He spit on the ground at Grover’s feet, holding him at the wall with his forearm against his throat. “If you touch even one strand of her hair, if you dare put your foul eyes on her even just once. You’ll regret it. You’ll fucking regret it—” 

Hyunjin’s threats were cut short when Christopher successfully pulled him away from Grover. 

“Take him outside,” Changbin told Chris as though he wasn’t even there. “Don’t let him come back here.” 

His soul didn’t feel like it was quite tethered to his body. He had very little control over the slander and threats he shouted on his way outside, held firmly by Christopher. Not even the cold night air calmed him down, not his friend’s pleas, and certainly not reason. 

The only thing he remembered was you and the secret promise he had made.

He meant it. He would die before he let anything get in between you two again. 

... to be continued.

Author’s note: Where do I even begin? I looked at the date of the last release of this story and just… What can I say. To those who are here today, reading this—thank you. Thank you for being so patient and for understanding the stupid ways my inspiration works. Thank you for urging me to prioritize my health. I realize now that it’s a lot because I do feel safe taking my time, resting, etc that I’m able to write happily. This chapter was challenging and a lot of it was by pure fear to disappoint my faithful readers. I hope it was at least a little satisfying. I’m very glad to be releasing this today. 

Thank you to those who reblog, who send messages, who interact meaningfully. It is thanks to you that I’m still on here and that my stories aren’t confined to my computer. Please know that your kindness goes a long way for me and to other authors as well. It’s appreciated and it motivates me every day. Lots of love 🤍

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