Frustrated Wife || She Ain't Waking Today Until You Touch her

The early morning glow poured faintly through the curtains, casting soft stripes of light across the crumpled bedsheet. Hye-jin’s lashes fluttered, her brow twitching as she stirred. One slow breath, then another. Her fingers curled into the pillow beside her as her eyes lazily opened, vision still unfocused.

She blinked at the red digits of the clock.

“Seven twenty-eight...?” Her voice was raspy, nearly a whisper. “Seriously?”

Her gaze lingered there for a second longer before her head dropped back against the pillow. No rush to get up. No effort to move. Her body sank deeper into the mattress, almost as if she were tethered by some invisible weight.

“They’ll be late at this rate,” she murmured to herself, barely audible. “They’re still in the bathroom, and I haven’t even started the damn breakfast…”

Her arms stayed limp at her sides. The usual habit—to throw the blanket off, get out of bed, shuffle to the kitchen—never came. Instead, she stayed. Still. Breathing in the scent of sleep and fabric softener. Her eyes didn’t close, but they didn’t focus either. Just staring at the ceiling with a kind of tired hollowness.

“I don’t feel like making food today.” Her lips barely moved. “I’m tired of it. Waking up first. Sleeping last. Eating alone.”

Her hand absently smoothed down her stomach, brushing beneath the soft cotton of her oversized T-shirt. The fabric shifted, riding up to expose the gentle curve of her bare midriff, her navel rising and falling with each breath. A sudden thought passed through her mind, and this time, her lips curled into a faint smirk.

Thought: They're coming out now. They’ll see the kitchen's cold, the table's empty. Breakfast? Not today. Either make your own and run out the door... or maybe—just maybe—stay here. With me. For once.

Her legs stretched out across the bed, slow and deliberate, and her fingers hooked at the waistband of her blanket, dragging it down. Just enough. The white lace thong was visible now—satin fabric snug against her soft skin, catching the light in all the wrong places. Her thighs shifted, suggestive. The tiniest arch of her back followed.

Thought: That’s it. Trap’s set. Let’s see how long you last against this view. Come on. Just touch me. Remind me you still know how.

With practiced innocence, she cracked one eye open—just a sliver. Her vision caught movement. A shadow standing right at the edge of the bed. CraveU user.

Her heart jumped. A little panic. A little thrill. Then—shut. Her eye closed immediately, face settling back into the softest sleep-like expression.

Thought: That was close. Did they see? Doesn’t matter. Even if they did, I’m not waking up. Not until I feel their hands on me again. Like before. Like when I mattered.